Chapter 16
16
AMARA
Okay, I don’t think I’ve ever had anything as delicious as this meal right here. I don’t even care that I’m basically gorging myself and probably have it all over my face. This meal is worth the embarrassment that will probably come to me the minute I’m finished. God, Nico’s chef is amazing. If he cooks like this all the time, he seriously needs a raise.
When I finally finish my food and sit back, I see Lazaro watching me with a smile as he finishes his own plate. “Are you a little less, what did you call it, hangry?” he asks me in amusement.
“Yep. Lucky for you, or I’d be terrible to deal with. Just saying.” I smirk at him, making him chuckle.
“I’m sure I can handle you, dolcezza . I would put you in, what did you call it? Air jail. Yes, air jail.” He looks so pleased with himself that he’s remembered, that I can’t help but smile.
“Air jail doesn’t always work, and that would only piss me off more,” I warn him.
“Lucky for both of us, you’re adorable when you’re pissed.”
“I am not. I’m fearsome, and you should avoid pissing me off,” I sniff. Why is it that men always say women are ‘cute’ when they are pissed off? I heard a few women talking about that one night outside the salon, and I didn’t get it then, either. You’d think men would understand that pissed-off women are creative, no matter their size. And the bigger they are, the harder they fall.
He laughs outright. “You keep telling yourself that, dolcezza .”
“You would think he would listen, wouldn’t you, darling?” a feminine voice says, drawing my attention. I turn to see a strikingly beautiful woman walking in from a side door with a smile on her face, and I instantly know that this is Lazaro’s sister. “Especially considering all the times I made him hurt for that same reason. Mostly when we were growing up, but there are recent times when he stuck his nose in where it didn’t belong.”
“I’m going to pay you back for that,” Lazaro warns with a scowl.
Sofia dismisses that idea with a wave. Watching her, I try not to squirm in my seat. God, she really is beautiful, and even with these fancy clothes on, I feel frumpy in comparison. She has some of her father and brothers’ height; I put her at about five-ten, and despite her hair being up in a tousled bun, I can tell that it’s thick, lush, and the same dark brown-black color as Lazaro’s. Her eyes are dark like Lazaro’s too, though her face must be her mother’s because that’s where the similarities to her brother end. She’s wearing a simple pair of black pants that hug her curves and a white blouse with pearl buttons that show off her slim shoulders and full breasts.
She doesn’t look anything like a housekeeper, in my mind. This is a woman who is used to running things, and if she decides she doesn’t like me, I’m going to have a much harder time here than with Gia or Sienna. I swallow down my nerves when she comes to a stop at the table between Lazaro and I.
“He thinks that because Papa isn’t here, he can get away with that,” she tells me with a conspiratorial wink. “But he knows that if he even dares to try, he’s going to end up on his ass or with something sharp sticking out of some vital part of him.”
I blink at that. “You’d stab him?” I blurt out, shocked. Wait, wouldn’t that get her into trouble? Brother or not, he’s the Underboss’s bodyguard, which I have to imagine is a prestigious position.
“Darling, I already have,” she laughs. “If there’s no knife available, I chuck things at their heads when they start to get too bossy. You’ll figure out soon enough that none of us are the type to back down from the other. And now that you’re here, and this one has decided to stick to you like glue, that extends to you. So if he pisses you off, just find something heavy or sharp and give it a throw. He’ll learn.”
“Sofia,” Lazaro says warningly, glaring at her.
Sofia ignores him and holds out her hand to me. “Sofia Cattaneo. I’m sorry I haven’t gotten to meet you until now, darling. It’s been a bit of a whirlwind getting this place back into shape from while I was gone. I go away for a few weeks, and the place falls apart.”
I take her hand and quickly shake it. “Amara Stanley. It’s nice to meet you, and it’s not a problem. I know you’re busy.”
“Speaking of which, I have a few complaints to make about the service,” Lazaro quips, then hisses from between clenched teeth when Sofia slaps him upside the head with barely a glance. My eyes are wide as saucers, and I’m trying to figure out what the hell is going to happen now. Is Lazaro going to lose his temper?
“He thinks he’s funny, when we both know he has nothing to complain about,” Sofia tells me mildly. “He’s just trying to piss me off.” She glances at our empty plates and smiles. “I see you liked the lasagna and rolls?”
“They were delicious. Please thank the chef for me.”
She winks at me. “You already did. It’s our mother’s recipe and a favorite. Even with this whole lot being a pain in my ass, a dish from home will help make things easier for them.” Another reason this woman is going to be tough to measure up to. She surprises me when she adds, “I’ll give you the recipe.”
“Oh no, I’m not a good cook,” I rush out. “Honestly. I haven’t had a lot of practice and there’s no way I could disgrace your mother’s recipe.”
Sofia waves that away. “I’ll teach you, don’t worry. And I’ve messed it up plenty, so there’s no worry there.”
“One time, it was nothing but mush.” Lazaro snickers. “Papa made us eat every last bite, but even he struggled. After that, he wouldn’t let her cook for a good month.”
Sofia shrugs. “I learned, and I did enjoy watching you struggle.” She grins.
“Pretty sure I was sick for like a week after,” Lazaro mutters. Sofia ignores him, but I know she heard, if the annoyance in her eyes is anything to go by.
“So I hear you’re opening a salon,” Sofia remarks to me, abandoning the subject of her previous cooking fail. She grins. “I hope you have some space for me because I really need to chop off a few inches, and I’d like to reshape it too. Spice it up.”
“I can do that. I think the others all want their hair done too, so I’ll make sure you guys get priority over the men. Men’s cuts are much easier and faster anyway. Are you?—”
“What do you mean, ‘over the men’?” Lazaro demands, interrupting me. “You’re going to be working on other men?”
I blink at him in surprise, and Sofia’s lips widen into a wicked grin. “I don’t know how to make that sentence any clearer,” I tell him drily. “Of course, I’m going to offer haircuts to the men. It’s stupid for them to create a space for me, only to use it on a few people and leave it empty the rest of the time. Did you hit your head this afternoon? Or is the New York City smog a little much for you up there?”
Sofia snorts out a laugh. “Oh, darling, yes, I’m going to like you immensely,” she beams, patting my shoulder.
Lazaro’s face is thunderous as he stares at me. It’s such an abrupt change that I’m not sure how to react. I’m not scared of him, but I’m also not sure what part of my statement he’s upset about. Is he really that upset that I’m going to be running my business here? That’s stupid, especially considering I told him I don’t want to sit around and do nothing. “No,” Lazaro grits out between clenched teeth. “I forbid it.”
“You idiot,” Sofia laughs, even as fury builds inside me. “Darling, when you stab him, just remember: he’s already not that pretty, so aiming for his face isn’t going to do any more damage than he already did to himself.” Then she turns and leaves, still laughing as the door shuts behind her.
“What the hell is your problem?” I snap incredulously. “What the fuck do you mean, you forbid it?”
“Exactly what I just said,” he snaps back, leaning forward in his chair. Is he trying to look imposing? All he’s doing is pissing me off further. “The only man that gets to have a seat in your chair is me.”
This guy is seriously insane. Obviously, what he said to me this morning about going at my pace is bullshit. But what did I expect, really? I burst to my feet, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. “What the hell is your problem?” I demand, hands going on my hips as I glare at him. What I really want to do is reach out and strangle him, but I don’t think both hands will fit around his neck, so unless I want to take Sofia’s suggestion, this is the best I can do. For now. “Where do you get off ordering me around like that? You don’t get to forbid me from anything, Lazaro. Especially not something to do with my business.”
His expression darkens even further. “I think that you’re mine, and I don’t want any of those other fuckers getting anywhere near to you, let alone close enough to have you leaning over them and touching them. Those fuckers will probably try to touch you back, and I’ll have to kill them.”
I stare at him, sure that I’m not hearing him correctly. “That’s what this is about?” I demand incredulously. “This is all about staking some stupid fucking claim over me? What exactly do you think is going to happen — that some man is going to come in and sit down, and I’m going to throw myself at him and beg him to take me then and there?” It’s too idiotic even to comprehend.
Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because Lazaro shoots to his feet, face flushed with fury, and his eyes dark and raging. He looks maniacal, and I’m swiftly reminded that this man isn’t the one who spent the night and early morning hours sitting close to me to make sure I slept peacefully; this is the man who killed multiple people who tried to take me back home. A man who has no problem taking out anyone who stands in his way.
And right now, that’s me. I’m pretty sure he’s not going to hurt me, but I’m too angry to care.
“If that were to ever happen, Amara, I’m warning you right now that I will kill him,” he tells me so softly that it sends a shiver down my spine. “Slowly, painfully. He will beg me for death long before I’m finished with him. No one gets to touch you. So be very careful in threatening me or even hinting at such a possibility, because I don’t make idle threats. Do you understand?”
“I understand that you’re being overly dramatic for no reason,” I snap as I glare furiously up at him. My mind is screaming at me to be careful, but I’m past listening.
“Dramatic?” he repeats silkily.
“Yes, dramatic. What next, are you going to tell me I need to walk around blindfolded so I don’t look at another man? Confine me to the room and only let me out for fresh air at night, when all the guards and any other men that might be around won’t be able to see me? Wouldn’t want them to accidentally catch a glance of me, right? What, you think they’re going to take one look at me and climb all over themselves to get to me? You’re being ridiculous and stupid. I’ve been walking around with the girls all day, in the presence of several men, and not one of them has done any such thing.”
“Being over-dramatic would be gouging out eyeballs for daring to look at you for too long,” he corrects me.
I gape at him. Did he seriously just say that? “You’re insane,” I rasp. “You can’t go around saying things like that, Lazaro.”
“I don’t say things I don’t mean, Amara. Ever. And when it comes to you, all bets are off. I will do anything and everything I need to do to make sure you’re safe.”
“A man looking at me doesn’t endanger me, you overgrown oaf,” I yell at him, completely exasperated. “And none of this has anything to do with me doing hair. It’s hair, for fuck’s sake. Most of the men around here have shorter hair, so it’s not like it’s going to take me a long time to do. Ten, fifteen minutes tops. I doubt anyone is going to fall in love with me and cause a problem in such a short amount of time. Or is it me that you don’t trust around your men? You think I’m so desperate for a man that I’ll throw myself at anyone for attention? Is that what you’re trying to imply here?”
Those last questions are bitter, biting, and I hurl them at him like daggers, yelling at the top of my lungs to sharpen their point.
“Don’t you dare compare me to those fuckers,” he hisses, incensed. His fury rolls off him in waves. I should be staggering, cowering under the weight of it, but fuck that.
“Then stop fucking acting like them,” I hiss back. “That entire fucking town thought I was a whore. That I was so desperate for a man’s attention that I was offering myself to them the moment they walked into the shop. That I just wanted to trap another one of them. To fuck up their lives like I did their pastor and his son. And now, here you are, acting like I’m going to entice these men in my chair the same way.” Saying it aloud makes my throat burn. Pain fills me, clawing at my insides, that he’s turning out to be just like them.
No, I’m not going to stand here and take this. Not again. I’ve taken it for most of my life, and I’m done. So fucking done.
I turn on my heel and stalk to the door, my footsteps pounding on the floor.
The next thing I know, Lazaro wraps his arm around me, whips me around, and then lifts me to sit on the end of the table. Before I can shove at him or try to get down, he cages me in with his arms, leaning down to close the distance between us. I glare at him indignantly, not allowing any of the tears I want to cry to fall. He doesn’t deserve any more of me.
His face is hard, but his eyes no longer hold their earlier fury. Instead, they’re shadowed with something that might be guilt, but I can’t be sure. “Let’s get one thing straight, Amara,” he says calmly, at a volume meant for only the two of us. “You are nothing like what those fuckers ever said, and I’ve never thought or said that you were. Do not insult me by lumping me in with them.”
“Then stop acting like them.”
“It isn’t you I’m worried about, Amara,” he huffs out. “I never once said I was worried about something that you would do. I said I worried what they would do. Namely, the men that will be in your chair, ogling you and trying to sweet talk you into giving them a shot.”
“You really distrust your men that much?”
“A man in my position never fully trusts anyone that they don’t know as well as they know themselves. The only men I’ll ever trust are my own brothers, both by blood and choice, my father, and Pietro. I don’t know every single soldier we employ, and I certainly don’t know Nico’s men. So no, I don’t trust them.”
“Why the hell would you bring me here if you don’t trust them? You told me I’d be safe here, Lazaro.”
“You are safe here, dolcezza , but that doesn’t mean I’m going to back off and wipe my hands of everything. You’re mine, Amara. You might not be ready to hear that or accept it, but I’m done tip-toeing around it.”
“Tip-toeing?” I repeat, dumbfounded. “You call this tip-toeing?”
His gaze darkens further. “Amara, you have no idea how much I’ve held myself back to keep from frightening or overwhelming you. So yes, I would call all of this tip-toeing.”
Before I can remind myself how stupid of a question it is, I blurt out, “And what does not tip-toeing look like?”
He stills as he stares at me, unblinking. Then, like a switch has been flipped, his hand comes up and wraps around the back of my neck in a possessive grip. It’s my turn to still, and my heart pounds wildly in my chest as he uses the other hand to press against my lower back, pulling me forward so that our faces are mere inches apart. My hands seek purchase in the fabric of his dress shirt, curling and holding myself steady.
“Possession, Amara. Complete and utter possession. The kind that reminds you all day, every day, that you’re mine. Where I mark you over and over again; a physical warning for them, but also a reminder for you in case you ever doubt or forget. The kind that will always know where you are, who you are with, and has no fucking problem reminding anyone and everyone that you’re taken. The kind where you’re in my bed every fucking night for the rest of our lives.
“A bed where I will give you every possible pleasure I can, to show you what you’ve missed out on. What you’ve been needing from me, and only me. No other man will ever enter your thoughts while you’re with me, Amara, because you’re going to be my sole priority. I will be the first and only man to hear your cries of pleasure, your pleas for more, and the one you beg to stop when you’re sure you can’t take any more. But I won’t stop, colombina . I won’t let you shy away from anything I give you. I will push you to your limits, I’ll hold you when you eventually fall over them, and then I’ll do it all over again. Because there is nothing that will stop me from having every single part of you, Amara Stanley.
“I will push you and push you until I know your every thought, your every fear, your every joy. I will be the one to remind you of your strength when you’re at your lowest. I will be the one you reach for when you need assistance or comfort. I will make sure that I’m so deep under your skin that you will never be able to get me out. There will be no more waiting until you’re ready for me, Amara. No more taking it slow and easy to help you trust me. I will demand your trust, I will demand your submission, and I will demand your passion. Because everything about you belongs to me, Amara. Everything . And no one keeps me from what’s mine. Not even you.” Then he tilts my head back so his mouth can come down on mine.
God, this man and the way he messes with my head. I need to push him away. Tell him this is not happening, that he can take his ideas and fuck off. But his tongue sweeps into my mouth, his grip tightens as he deepens the kiss, and all rational thought evaporates.
I’m swept away into a vortex of passion and desperation. I’m not sure which part of that is me and which is him, or if we’re both feeling the same things. All I know is I need more. I need it all. I need everything he’s offering me. I vaguely hear fabric ripping as I claw at his chest to get closer, desperation making me crazed.
Lazaro moans into my mouth, his grip firm enough to leave bruises as he kisses me harder, demanding more. Then I feel myself falling backward, his hand on my neck coming up to cup the back of my head, protecting it from smacking against the table. My hands move from his shirt into his hair, refusing to let him up or pull away. He gives me what I demand, then he nips at my lips, making me gasp at the sharp sting.
He takes that chance to pull his mouth away, letting my hands fall down from his head. He catches them, caging both my wrists in one hand and yanking them above my head. I gasp in surprise, but I’m too far gone to feel anything but the desire burning through me. I see lust in his dark eyes as he takes me in, pausing on my breasts before coming back to my face. “So fucking pretty,” he rasps. “And all mine, aren’t you, colombina ? All of this, laid out for me, ready to let me do whatever the hell I want, because you know I’m the only one who can make you feel this way.”
I don’t know what he wants me to say to that. Or if he even wants me to say anything. I only want him to kiss me again.
He chuckles darkly, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking, and even though I’m embarrassed, I don’t have the capacity to care. Instead, he leans down again and whispers, “I can’t wait to take you in this exact position, naked and open for me. I bet you’re so wet right now, aren’t you, Amara? So needy that you don’t know what to do. But you know you want more, don’t you? You want my mouth, my hands, anything I can give you.”
“Lazaro,” I whisper, not sure what to ask for. I’m not innocent where sex is concerned, considering my history, but this is the first time I’ve ever actually wanted someone this way.
“What do you need, dolcezza ? Tell me,” he coaxes, his other hand moving down my thigh, gripping it tightly and pulling it up around his waist, opening me. “Tell me what you need, Amara, and I’ll give it to you. Anything. All you have to do is tell me.” Then his mouth is back on mine, and I struggle against his hold on me, needing to get closer, needing to touch him.
I moan into his mouth when he once again sweeps his tongue inside of mine, trying to follow his lead. Suddenly, he releases my arms, and I swiftly lower them to wrap around his neck and cup the back of his head in one hand. God, this man can kiss, and I love it. Who knew that I’d ever like something like this? Maybe it’s just because it’s him. I don’t really care right now. All I want is more.
I wiggle my body, moving my legs so they can wrap around him, even as he moans and his hands come down to cup my ass. He lifts my hips up off the table and presses me tight to his body. I feel his hardness, setting off another shockwave of need inside me, and I moan into Lazaro’s mouth.
“Fuck I love that sound,” Lazaro grits out as he pulls his mouth from mine abruptly. “I need to hear it when I’m deep inside you, Amara.”
“Lazaro,” I whimper.
“I have you, colombina . I have you,” he assures me. Then he presses his mouth back to mine in a quick, hard kiss. His grip on my ass tightens, and I moan again when my center touches his; I can feel his erection pressed tight to parts of me that are starting to come alive. Parts I hadn’t realized existed until this moment. I want more of it. I want more of this sensation, more of this desire, and more of him. More of everything only he seems to be able to give me.
“As entertaining as this little show is, some of us still have to eat at that table,” a voice says loudly, full of amusement. “Lazaro, Papa and Pietro are looking to speak with you. You might want to wrap this up before they come snooping around, asking questions you might not want to answer.”
There is nothing like a cold dose of reality to remind you exactly where you are, what you’re doing, and with whom. I freeze, ripping my mouth from Lazaro’s and turning to find Urso standing with Zeno and Massimo, all three of them grinning wildly before they keep on walking and shut the door behind them.
I’m too shocked to really comprehend just how bad this is for a few long, tense seconds, but when I do, everything turns to ice inside me. What the fuck am I doing? What the e ver -loving fuck am I fucking doing?
Before I can even attempt to shove Lazaro away from me, he eases me away from him and back into a sitting position. Then he grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger, staring intently down into my eyes. “We’re not done, Amara. Not by a long shot. I meant every fucking word I said. We’ll finish talking about this later.”
Then, in a move that has me reeling, instead of leaning down to kiss me again like I’m sure he’s going to, he presses a tender kiss to my forehead before he eases away and turns to walk out the door, barking at Mario to stay with me at all times. Then he’s gone without another look back.
I stare through the open door, everything inside me screaming to run. I am clearly in danger of allowing yet another man to walk all over me, but something stops me. Some other part of me wants to know more. Wants to see just what he has in store, and if it will be as intoxicating as what just happened.
The most dangerous thing about it is that that part of me might just be winning out. I can’t let that happen. I hop off the table, knowing what I need to do. Lazaro is going to be pissed, but I don’t care.