Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
S ix months later
Bianca
“Is this okay? Is the blue too light?” I ask Sandro. It’s a silk corset dress I bought months ago because it was too beautiful to pass up on the hanger. Once I tried it on, it fit me so well I didn’t care that it cost my entire allowance for a month.
An eyebrow goes up. “It’s a wedding, not a club. That’s too damn short.”
Huffing, I flounce out of the living room and back to my room. Jerk. It’s not that short. It’s only two inches above my knee. My question was if it was too light, not if it was too short.
A part of the reason I loved it so much was that I felt pretty in it without ninety percent of my body hidden by fabric. I was slowly feeling comfortable in my skin and with my body. What can I say? Hearing Gaetano call me a stunner and that women who looked like me made money at the brothel freed some of the negative thoughts that kept me completely covered up all the time.
It’s not fair the way Sandro wants it both ways. The women he dates wear half the clothes I do, yet I’m constantly told to cover up. There’s also the way he keeps me away from the Outfit most of the time and uses me whenever it benefits him.
He planned on going with his latest woman of the week, except she canceled at the last minute. The problem was that it was a la familia event, and if he went alone, people would start to talk about him needing to get married again to be seen as more stable. A few months ago, the most amazing thing happened: Sandro was given the official title of Luca’s number two.
For years, Luca believed his father was Al Toro. Luca’s mother and Al knew the truth but never told him. When the Don of the Outfit died a few months ago, Luca found out the truth. His father was a capo in the Outfit in Chicago by the name of Tony Sabatini. He also found out he had a brother, Dominic.
With the Don’s death, Dominic became underboss to the new Don. Once Luca shared he didn’t fully trust in his number two and only put up with him because Chicago told him to, Dominic fixed things so Sandro could be Luca’s number two, with more than Luca and Sandro knowing it.
The only problem with his change of status is that it came with more eyes on him. If he went with me, he could put off the talk as I still needed him. At the same time, he didn’t like me going to the events and people approaching him about setting me up in an arranged marriage with their sons or even themselves.
Since I’m curious about it and want to see the wedding of one of the top members, I don’t dare give Sandro an excuse for leaving me at home. I heard the budget was more than a million dollars. It’s an older member in his fifties getting married to a twenty-one-year-old woman, five years younger than his youngest daughter. The gossip about it has been raging for the last month.
I give in and go with the pink and blue floral maxi dress I wore for my graduation more than a year ago. It’s a little tight. Damn it. I managed to get to a size sixteen for graduation. In the last eight months, I kept Gaetano’s assurances in the back of my mind and did not let myself freak out when I noticed my weight going up. Oh my god, even my breasts have gone up a cup size. I can’t zip it up, not even a little.
Frustrated and fighting back tears, I put on a robe and go back out into the living room. “I’m not going. I’m too fat. The blue dress is the only thing that fits for a wedding. And you think it’s too short?—”
“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t cry. Don’t say that. You’re not fat. Wear the dress. I’m your brother. And I don’t want to deal with all the men looking at you. You look good in the blue one. That was my only problem with it.” His hand goes under my chin, and he swipes at my tears with his pocket square. “I’m sorry, I’m not good with this whole you growing up thing. You’re my little sister, and I worry about you. Ignore me.”
All I want is five hours of shopping so I can pick out the perfect dress. Except I don’t have it. So it’s either this dress or nothing. “Are you sure?”
“I’m positive.”
Gaetano
I fight back a yawn. This is the last damn place I want to be. However, to turn down the invitation would be an insult to Paolo Tomasi. Tomasi was preening about trapping the girl into marriage with him. The man was determined to get a son after divorcing his wife of twenty-five years, who had only given him six girls.
Checking my watch, I begin the countdown to how soon before I can get the fuck out of here. The service will probably run a half hour to an hour, and then I’m making an appearance at the reception, an hour tops. After that, I don’t give a fuck who I’m offending, I’m out of here.
While a priest is conducting the service, we’re at the hotel on the strip in the main ballroom, which has been split into two rooms. This room for the ceremony and the reception is in the room next door. The place is filling up fast with made men coming all the way from Chicago to pay their respects.
Dario appears with a tiny blonde on his arm. Spotting me, he makes his way toward me. The tiny blonde is ahead of him, which would mean she would sit next to me instead of him—I shake my head. He sighs, moving to sit between me and his date. She offers me a wary smile and a glimpse of her tits in a dress too low-cut for a wedding. I don’t acknowledge her.
“This is going to be interesting. I heard the mom is trying to talk her into her dress. She’s crying and tried to pull the fire alarm.” Dario whispers to me.
I shake my head. “Her parents are broke. If she doesn’t marry him, her father is dead. Tomasi knew what he was doing, getting the father into debt with him. Apparently, he’s had his eye on her for months. She’s got four brothers, and she’s the only girl. All Tomasi cares about is having a son.”
My eyes are on the door when Bianca comes through it. A curse word slips out of me without permission.
“Damn, she’s grown up some.”
I flash him a look of warning and bite out. “Stay the fuck away from her.”
Sandro sees me and nods. Since Sandro is Luca’s right hand now, there’s no sitting in the back for him. He takes his place at Luca’s side in the row behind Tomasi’s family. I want to send my fist into the eyes of every man in here who is staring at Bianca. That dress is too fucking short and hugs her ass like a caress. Her legs are on display, and fucking hell, if I didn’t know her breasts were real, I wouldn’t believe they are from how high and firm they are beneath the silky blue dress she’s wearing.
Christ. What the hell is Sandro doing letting her wear that fucking dress? I’m grinding my teeth so hard my jaw aches.
She turns and meets my eyes. The smile she gives me is small and hopeful. I don’t dare return it, but I can’t look away.
“What the hell is that?” Dario hisses at me.
I shrug like I don’t know exactly the question he’s asking, and check my watch for the tenth time since I walked through the door. “What are you talking about?”
“Jesus, Gaetano. You said you didn’t want to fuck her.”
Pissed he could see it, I meet his eyes and lie my ass off. “No, I do not,” I respond in Spanish. For fuck’s sake, he said that too fucking loud. Spanish isn’t a huge jump from Italian—there are enough words that are about the same, but anything besides English is better. Especially when talking about something that could get me killed. In Spanish. “Drop it, Dario.”
His exhale of air is low. “Damn it?—”
The words are lost as the wedding march music begins playing.
I avoid his eyes as everyone takes their places, and the obviously crying bride is walked down the aisle.
After a ceremony filled with tears and the bride being prompted for every response, I’m in the reception area. A six-piece orchestra plays in the corner of the huge room. I’m pointed to the table where Sandro and Luca are. There are place cards designating who should sit where, no one pays attention to them and sits where the fuck they want.
I’m beside Sandro, with Bianca on his other side. Luca is beside her, with his longtime girlfriend clinging to him.
Luca shakes his head. “I fucking hate weddings. How soon before I can get the fuck out of here?”
“I’m thinking we have to wait until after dinner, which they aren’t serving for half an hour. They got to take pictures or some shit.” Sandro sighs. “Like that’s going to go well when her face is so swollen from crying the photographer will have to be gifted to fix that shit in editing.”
“It’s so sad,” Bianca murmurs low as she sips on her water.
I don’t dare look her way. Dario is staring a hole into me from across the table. With the women at the table, we can’t talk family business, but we talk the business of the casino—who is staying at the hotel, how many guests are expected for the weekend, and plans for the upcoming week.
After dinner, I’m heading back to the table after using the restroom. The plan is to dip the fuck out as soon as I get close enough to Sandro to let him know when I’m stopped by a small hand on my arm.
The woman is extremely tall, thin, and has had too much liquor. “Hey, gorgeous. Want to dance?”
I stare down at her hand until she finally understands and removes it. Once she does, I look into her wide blue eyes. “No.”
Face red, she shrugs and moves on. “You don’t have to be so rude.”
I’m almost back to the table when I spot Bianca on the dance floor with Johnny Rigetti’s kid, Johnny Junior. A wannabe with no self-discipline and a too-pretty face.
Sandro is seething. His eyes meet mine before they go back to Bianca on the dance floor. Fuck. I see the question, the plea, and want to ignore it. Nothing good could come from my getting close to her. Not a fucking thing will come from it but my death.
Except, I can’t. I can’t ignore it. Jaw tight, I make my way to Bianca. His hands are too damn low on her back, inches from her ass. The growl comes out of me without permission. “Sit the fuck down, Johnny.”
Johnny is spooked. He wants to argue. But he looks from me to Bianca and is smart enough to disappear.
Chocolate eyes are melting up at me. “Did you growl at him, Gaetano?”
I refuse to acknowledge the warmth flooding my chest at her saying my name. Or maybe it’s that she’s all of two feet from me, and all I have to do is take one small step to feel her body against mine. “That dress is too damn short,” I mutter. “And he had his hands on your ass.”
“He did not have his hands on my ass. What does it matter to you, anyway? You were busy with the giant woman who has fake tits, by the way.”
Her bottom lip is out, and I would give my right hand up to find out what the lip tasted of—is it the cherry of her red lips, or is it the redemption of my black soul? Jealousy is in every line of her sexy as fuck body. Good. I love knowing she’s jealous. Love that she hates the idea of anyone touching me, the same way I hate the idea of anyone even looking at her—man or woman.
“The woman didn’t interest. I told you once that a body like yours makes more money than a skinny chick—I said it because I spent it.”
Those chocolate eyes blink fast. “You pay for…”
“I don’t pay a woman to come. I pay her to leave. It’s simple: little girls like you think about things like holding hands or spending time with each other. Those things don’t interest me—ever.” I say the words harshly, needing her to understand them. Even if she weren’t my best friend’s little sister, she still wanted things I couldn’t give her. I couldn’t be what she deserved and needed.
It works. She flinches as if it were a physical blow. Her jaw works, then suddenly chocolate melts up at me, and her smile is so big it stuns me. “Then it’s a good thing that Johnny does like the idea of spending time together. He asked if we could spend time together after the wedding. I think I’ll go make sure he has my cell phone number.”
With her chin up in the air, she turns to leave. It happens without me thinking. My hand wraps around her wrist and yanks her up against me. Fucking hell, I can’t breathe at how amazing her body feels against mine.
It isn’t those big eyes melting, it’s her whole body as she grins wickedly up at me. “It feels,” her hips bounce against mine. “Like you’re a liar.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Sandro frowning at us, and I’m brought crashing down to earth. “You don’t feel anything.” I grind out the words. “Not a fucking thing.” My hands on her hips keep her in place as I take a big step back. “Do you understand me?”
Blinking back tears, “I don’t understand?—”
“Your brother will kill me, Bianca. Have you ever known your brother to not keep a promise? He saved my life, and I turned around and saved his. But that doesn’t matter if I’m the one who could keep him from breaking a promise he made to your mother on her deathbed. So you don’t feel anything, Bianca. There’s nothing to feel. There can never be anything to feel.”
Bianca
“There can never be anything to feel.” The words haunt me all day and into the night.
It’s midnight, and I’m chomping glumly on queso and chips when the door to the suite opens suddenly.
“Hey, what are you doing up?” Sandro sighs as he massages his neck.
I shrug. “I wasn’t tired. Just thinking…”
“Thinking about what?” He steals a chip and a sip of my soda and sits down across from me.
“I’m glad. I guess I don’t have to…you know, get married to anyone in the mafia against my will like that poor girl today. But what if I do…want to?”
Sandro’s jaw tightens. “Is it Johnny?”
Oh shit. I shake my head fast. “It’s no one. I was thinking out loud, like what if?”
An eyebrow is up. “What if, is I would kill him. I kill whoever thinks they’re going to have you living this life. You’re not in this. Not with anyone. If you don’t want to get married, you don’t have to get married. What you won’t do is end up with a member of the mafia. Do you understand me, Bianca? Please tell me you do, and I don’t have to kill someone.”
Oh my fucking god. Sandro would do it. Gaetano is his best friend, and he saved his life, but he would still kill him. I swallow a hysterical giggle because this is not my life—this isn’t real. A man I want as badly as I want my next breath will die if my brother finds out he wants me too. There is no having Gaetano and my brother in my life at the same time.
“Of course, I—you don’t. Never mind. I said I was thinking out loud. I’m not interested in someone in the Outfit. I’m not, and I never will be. I promise you that.”
His sigh is low and slow. “Good. That’s good.” Smiling, he leans over and kisses my cheek. “Don’t stay up too late. Love you.”
“I won’t. I love you, too.” I mouth the words to him.
With another smile, he’s gone. I stare after him, wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do. And then the words are there: I’m not worth dying over. That’s the answer from Gaetano himself. I’m appealing to him in some way, but not enough for him to go against Sandro, and that’s his answer: I’m not worth it to him. I understand. I’m not mad, but I do resent him—as stupid as it sounds.
I resent the fuck out of his not thinking I’m worth everything to him. I would give up everything, everyone for him—without hesitation. And maybe I’m stupid for doing it, but I would. As much as I love Sandro, I know he doesn’t love me enough. I would love Gaetano with everything in me, with the last breath in my lungs, but he won’t do the same…so it’s not enough
Gaetano
I bring up the file with the best videos of Bianca and click on the one where she’s in her dorm late at night, touching herself while she moans my name.
God, she is so fucking beautiful. That mouth pouting and slick from her tongue slipping out from between her lips…so fucking sexy. I longed to reach out and touch her skin glowing beneath the nightlight. It’s guttural the first time, I barely understand it.
My name on her lips, her fingers are buried in her pussy. And she is thinking of me. She wants my fingers to be inside her, for my cock to take the place of those fingers. The way she whimpers her need for me is so sweet.
Freeing my cock from my pants takes four seconds too long. And christ, my hand squeezes to keep me from spraying my load too damn fast. One hand is up under the long shirt she’s sleeping in. “Gaetano.”
It’s a whisper I could hear as if she screamed it. I would die to hear it on her lips once more. I play it again as I work to keep from coming too fast, too damn fast. When it’s to her, those lips, that mouth, I can’t hold it in a moment longer and sigh her name as I find my release.
“There can never be anything to feel,” I say the words aloud, needing to hear them as I fall into a restless sleep. The words imprint on my soul as I fumble to the heaven of sleep and dreams of Bianca.