Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
RENZO
Dante looks up, surprised to see me.
I drop into the chair across from his desk and watch him while he finishes his call. His suit jacket slung over another chair. Shirt wrinkled. Tie hanging loose.
What the hell have I missed?
“Is anything salvageable?” He listens for a beat, then curses under his breath and drags a hand through his hair.
That’d be a no.
“Keep me updated,” he finishes, before hanging up and tossing his phone aside.
I tilt my head. “Let me guess. You haven’t spoken with Massimo?”
He shoots me a glare.
“Why not?”
“I was told the window of opportunity has closed.” He tosses his phone on his desk. “That motherfucker is costing me a small fortune in losses.”
Well, shit. Massimo’s too proud. We waited too long.
Because of me.
Frustration coils in my gut. A simple conversation might’ve changed everything. Now we’re headed straight for war.
“Here’s what I propose,” I say, drumming my fingers on my thigh. “Surveillance every-fucking-where. On his holdings and ours, his place in Sicily, wherever else you want drones overhead. Let’s see if we can catch whoever is responsible.”
I’ll swing by my apartment, see if my phone is there and not in a club or dark alleyway. Reconnect with my guys. Reignite the Sicilian team. Then it’s back to the farm, where I’ll slip the shackles back on and wait for Fina to get home, and for the video feed to start filtering in.
“About Rhode Island …”
Jesus. My father’s a demanding prick.
“I’m good.”
“Are you?” I read the concern in his eyes, and shame hits deep.
“Just peachy.” The lie tastes refreshing. Doesn’t mean it’s true. I understand how fragile sobriety is; one asshole doctor and I’m back at the bottom. One little taste and I’m zero to nothing once more.
She’s seen me at my worst but has yet to witness me at my best.
Do I really want to drag her, everyone—even myself—through my shit again?
I stand.
“How about an early lunch?” Dante asks. “Somewhere else than Zia Teresa?”
I shake my head. “I’ve got to get my men and equipment in place, then get back to the farm before Fina returns home.”
He grunts.
“What?”
“She’s taken good care of you during your recovery. So much so, you almost sound eager to return.”
Typical Dante. Lover to many. Loyal to none.
But my answer surprises him as much as it alarms him.
“She didn’t just sober me up, she saved me.”
FINA
Out of breath, I slam the barn door shut before the rooster can assault me again. Blood trickles down my calf where he struck. He’s definitely left his mark.
The cocky feather-devil.
“What the fuck happened?” Renzo bursts out.
I didn’t come racing back to the farm to be attacked by poultry. No. I came for sex, orgasms, and the thrill he always stirs up in me.
Talk about a buzz kill.
“Just another male trying to knock me down a peg.” I remove a sanitizing wipe and Band-Aid from my purse, then dab at the wound like I’m not furious.
Chains rattle as Renzo tugs at them. “He’s outside?” Concern echoes within his tone, but there’s nothing he can do, not with those iron cuffs on his wrists and ankles.
“I left a hay bale in the drive this morning. When I came back, it was gone. He’s scared shitless of them.”
“An animal hurt you?”
I don’t answer. He gets a star for answering correctly.
Silence stretches. I finish sanitizing my hands when he finally speaks, voice low and rough, causing my stomach to tangle in knots.
“Maybe the wind took it.”
“Wind?” I laugh. Italy’s in a heat wave. There’s barely a breeze. “You hungry?” I ask, grabbing the tote and stepping closer, so done with this discussion and the feathered nuisance.
“Fucking starving.”
Guilt tugs at me. If I open that cooler, I know it’ll be empty.
Not much to do all day but eat and sober up.
But Dante gave strict orders. One month.
I won’t break my word. I get busy laying out tonight’s feast. An antipasto starter, grilled salmon with capers, fresh roasted vegetables, and cannolis Aunt Teresa made earlier this morning.
She questioned me sneaking double-portion meals into the bag.
I told her it was just an old LA habit, grab-and-go convenience. Nothing more.
“Fina.”
The way he says my name, low and rough and ripe with hunger, sends a jolt straight to my core. I freeze midreach, the cannolis trembling in my hand as I meet his eyes.
“Dinner can wait.”
My breath catches, and heat flares low in my belly.
I nearly drop the cannolis.
“I’m starving for you.”
Chained or not, this man could ruin me. And Lord knows, I’m prepared to be ruined tonight. Completely. Thoroughly. Hands shaking, I set the cannolis beside the other food, taking time to summon my courage before facing him to spring my surprise.
But Renzo beats me to it.
He’s stripped, his clothes draped over the chain as if he casually hung them on a clothesline, and wearing nothing but my necklace.
The pearls hang at his throat, soft and elegant against the brutal cut of his body.
A low hum resonates deep inside my chest.
There’s something electric about pretty things on dangerous men.
His hungry gaze rakes over me, then he prowls forward, jerks me toward him, then dips his head and bites my throat first and nipple second.
I cry out, more shocked than anything else. This version of Renzo is my wildest fantasy brought to life.
I’m forced toward the hay bale, his hand clasped around the back of my neck.
“Bend over it.”
No babe. No Fina, Fina. Fina. Just an order.
Impatient, he gives me a small push, and I fall forward. In an instant, he’s thrust two fingers inside me.
I’m wet, and full, so full. My walls tightening around him.
“You don’t come until I say so. Capisci?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
His palm connects with my ass. His slap doesn’t hurt, not with the leather straps across my bottom running interference.
He works a third finger inside.
“Please,” I moan. “Harder.”
“Jesus,” he grinds out. “I’ve got to see you stuffed with my fingers.” He withdraws, and I hear movement behind me before he flips my dress up over my hips.
Several tense seconds pass.
I grow impatient and wiggle my ass.
“Holy fucking shit.”
Right. My surprise.
Bianca and I spent our break at her favorite boutique. I’m in black leather lingerie, with a sheer lace bra and underwear wrapped in leather accents. Leather straps crisscross my breasts, abdomen, groin and ass. The ensemble gives a total bondage vibe. My pulse hasn’t slowed since I first saw it.
I wait, anxious for his next response.
The wait isn’t long.
“You buy that for me?” he demands, tone deep and husky.
“Kind of,” I admit.
I feel him stiffen.
“You,” I whisper, “and me.” Because we can’t both be bound and tied at the same time. Because I love the thought of being completely, utterly subdued.
His breath dances across my neck as he arches over me and, in one fluid motion, rips my dress off. At this rate, I’ll be replacing dresses like hair ties.
I’m lifted, spun around, and set on my feet.
One thing I’m instantly sure of—every Euro spent on this dress was worth it.
“You’re fucking gorgeous.”
My lips turn, and I bask in his praise.
“But asking for trouble.”
I lift a shoulder. “We’re past that now, aren’t we?”
A low growl escapes his throat. “You don’t want me to hold back.”
“Well … no.”
“You trying to kill me?” he grinds out.
“Perhaps later.”
His chuckle fills the barn. “Fine, babe. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Without warning, he hoists me and slams us into the nearest wall, then with one ferocious thrust, drives deep inside me until he’s fully seated.
I anchor my thighs against his hips and hold on, pleasure wrapped in a sweet pain, the kind that comes from my tight body accepting his brutal intrusion.
He doesn’t slow but pounds into me. Chains swinging, our hearts keeping rhythm.
I bite my lip. It hurts but feels incredible.
His hand slides down, and his fingers scissor my clit as he flexes his hips, so each thrust hits a place that makes me lose control.
I cry out, pant, and whimper. Tension building to where, within seconds, I’m ready to explode.
He curses and growls. “Don’t you fucking come until I say so. Capisci?”
He pinches one nipple, then the other, making sure I hear him.
I do everything in my power to obey.
Except he’s too much. I’m full of him, and not just his pretty cock.
His skin’s a raging inferno against me, his heat matching my own. His muscles flexing around me, sexy as sin.
The pearls dragging across my collarbone, slapping my upper chest.
I hiss and squeeze around his massive girth, fighting for control.
It only sets him off, and his thrusts become more frantic.
“Renzo,” I plead, needing his words. Then, when I don’t hear them, I arch forward and bite his neck.
He’s wild. Merciless. And just when I can’t hold off anymore, incredible.
I cling to him as my climax hits me like an earthquake.
He drives deep three more times and then stills, unleashing inside me.
“Yes. Yes. Yes,” I chant.
I’ll be bruised and sore. Lord, I might be unable to walk.
“You okay?” he demands after a while.
I smile against his neck.
He tenses and jerks me back so he can look at me.
I want to joke and make light of what we’ve just done.
Instead, I answer truthfully. “Never been better.”