12. Dante
CHAPTER 12
DANTE
I can’t forget that kiss, dammit. No matter how hard I try to erase it from my memory, something about her keeps dragging me back in.
There are plenty of other things I could be doing right now.
Instead, I’m hanging all over her and my niece, and why?
Because I can’t accept the fact that she’s denying her feelings about the Bellagio kiss.
Okay, fine, I can’t accept that she’s denying me .
It shouldn’t matter. I don’t get tied up in relationship strings. I like living day to day and on the edge, not answering to anyone, chasing down targets, free as a fucking bird to come and go as I please.
And yet, here I still am.
How excited would Matteo be to know that this girl has me completely inside out right now, to the point where I’d consider hanging around here for longer?
We walk back into the apartment and Aisling is draped over Anya’s shoulder, her chubby arms hanging limply at her sides.
The kid is completely starched.
I watch as Anya rubs her back and cradles her as she walks into the nursery to lie her down for a nap. She peeks at me over her shoulder and grins at me before she disappears down the hall. Her ass swings gently from side to side, her leg muscles tightening with every step.
Christ, do I want them wrapped tight around me.
And of course, my balls tingle as a result of the X-rated images now wallpapering my mind.
She doesn’t realize that every time she lets me in a little bit, my cock gets more and more excited at the prospect of making her acquaintance.
But she’s the au fucking pair.
Off limits.
Besides, she’s young. Just a kid. I have no business being around her, with her, on top of her…
Argh!
I push back my hair and grab a beer from the refrigerator, using the granite countertop to pop off the top.
The cool liquid hits my lips and I guzzle it down, mainly to cool off what’s igniting deep inside of me.
My cell phone rings and I grab it out of my pocket, stabbing the Accept button.
“Patty,” I say. “What’s going on?”
“I just came from a meeting,” he says, his voice dropping. “And Conor dropped a bombshell on us. Are you ready?”
“When it comes to your fucknut brother, I’m never ready, so just give it to me.”
“He’s coming with us to Vegas. Says it’s time to make amends with Heaven, for the family, for my father, for everyone. He wants to meet his niece, says he’s wasted too much time being angry. He wants to unite our families once and for all.”
My jaw drops. “Shut the front door.”
“It’s fucking true, dude. I felt like my head was gonna spin off my body.”
“You think your dad or your aunt had something to do with it?”
“I don’t know. I mean, Niall and Quinn were always gonna come, but my dad is a stubborn sonofabitch when he wants to be. As much as he misses Heaven, he’ll never make the first move.”
“And forgive me for being a little suspicious of Conor suddenly wanting to be one big happy gangster family after he almost killed his sister.” I take another sip. “You sure he wasn’t high?”
Patrick chuckles. “No, I didn’t get a chance to check out the toxicity report before the meeting.”
“I’m just sayin’…” I shake my head. “Maybe when the shit with the Russians went bad and he fucked over Vigo, he decided he needed more muscle so he decided to use the christening as an excuse to connect.”
“I don’t know what the reason is, but he seems damn anxious to get out there.”
“He’s gotta be running from something. And the last thing we need is for whoever or whatever is chasing him to show up on our front door step.” Patrick and Conor aren’t on the best of terms, but it’s still his brother, so I opt against telling him that I will fuck Conor’s shit up permanently if he starts trouble out here. I don’t need his bad decisions chasing down my family.
My trigger finger itches and damn, I’d love to play target practice with Conor’s head.
“Well, listen, give Matteo a heads-up. He needs to be prepared for whatever this will become, you know?”
“Yes, I can’t wait to have that conversation since he’s so gracious and agreeable when it comes to shit with your family.” I roll my eyes. My brother has been on edge for the past months, knowing that the other shoe is about to drop.
And here we go.
We’ve gotten tangled up in way too much lately, starting with that whole standoff with soldiers from the Volkov Bratva at Roman’s place back in Manhattan. Seems like my brothers have this knack for getting involved with women who wear bright red targets on their backs…targets that somehow are transferrable and end up splayed across ours.
In the case of that bratva run-in, Roman’s fiancé, Marchella, ended up on their radar because of her idiot brother. He killed the nephew of some guy named Boris after the nephew surprised him during a raid on a drug stockpile.
I get it.
The kid was family and Boris wanted to avenge his death.
So, the Russians came, they saw, they wanted vengeance.
But we didn’t let them have it.
Instead, I drove their vodka-soaked asses outta our territory and back to Brooklyn.
They didn’t like that much. And Boris always vowed he’d be back to collect on what he was owed.
He hasn’t, and it’s because he’s a low-level pawn with no real authority in the bratva hierarchy. There was no order to kill Marchella. It was pure bloodlust on Boris’s part. He had no backing when he showed up at Roman’s, just a grudge.
I rake a hand through my hair.
The last thing we need is to have the Russians up our asses again because of Conor. We already put that to bed. Volkov and Matteo had an unspoken agreement to leave the whole thing in the past, and I’ll be damned if it gets resurrected.
And if they came here looking to roast his ass, I’d gladly hand it over.
Vengeance be fucking theirs.
Anya appears in the doorway of the kitchen, one of the straps of her sundress slipping off her shoulder. She casually leans against the doorframe, her long blonde hair cascading down her arm as she eyes me with curiosity.
“Listen, I’ve gotta go,” I mutter, my eyes never leaving her face. “I’ll call you after I speak to him.” I click the End button and put my phone onto the granite countertop behind me. The neckline of her dress is low enough to give me a peek and my fingertips sizzle with longing. I want to drag them up and down the sides of her slim torso again, feel her body hum under the palms of my hands.
I clear my throat. “Where’s, ah, the baby?”
She shrugs. “Our little outing must have been too much excitement for her. I changed her diaper and she never once opened her eyes.”
“So I guess that means it’s time for your first official break,” I say, a teasing smirk playing at my lips.
“I guess so,” she says softly, inching toward me. “You know, I’m perfectly capable of occupying myself. I’m the au pair. I don’t need one myself.”
“You’re saying you want me to leave?” I ask, her floral scent close enough to taunt my nostrils.
“I’m saying that I don’t need a keeper.” She runs a hand through her long blonde hair, lazily throwing back her head. Her tits press tight against the fabric, and the deep ache in my balls is back.
Not that it ever really left.
But damn, I’d love for someone to give it some relief.
A little lick, rub, and tug action would make me blow like a fucking volcano, make my head right again.
Anya parts her lips, turning her face up toward mine.
I should be thinking about damage control.
She reaches out, placing her hand on the counter next to me, her hip grazing mine.
I should be thinking about finding Conor and beating him to a bloody pulp.
Instead, I’m thinking of all of the different, creative ways I could be this girl’s very naughty, kinky keeper.
I meant it when I said I’d punish her.
I’d fucking make her scream, beg, cry, and wail for more.
I press my body against her, backing her into the stainless steel refrigerator. “I’m saying you do,” I growl, reaching behind her and fisting her hair as I crush my lips against hers.
Fuck! No!
Wrong, wrong, wrong!
I plunder her hungry mouth with my tongue, coiling heat raging through every extremity.
But God, it feels so right.
And in that moment, I forget that she’s my niece’s au pair.
I forget she’s a kid herself.
I just get lost in her — all of her.
I dig my fingers into the small of her back and she bucks her hips against me, rubbing herself against me. My cock is so hard, it’s ready to explode through my shorts. I slide it against her, making her gasp as I rub my bulge against her pussy. I reach around and knead the flesh of her ass before lifting her into my arms.
She throws her arms around my neck, her teeth tugging at my lower lip as she thrusts into me. And just like that, I’m dry fucking her in my brother’s kitchen.
The au pair.
On her first day of work.
I’ve completely corrupted her.
And basically let her do the same to me, because, let’s face it.
This girl is no innocent.
The palms of my hands tingle as I smack the plump globe of her ass. I love the sound…the power I have over her in that instant. Her eyes fly open, her face flushed a deep shade of pink. The feeling of my hand hitting against her flesh sends electric currents directly to my balls, and I can come like a rocket right now if I let myself.
Just from spanking her.
She looks at me, her eyes half-hooded and I grab her by the hair. “You’re a dirty girl, aren’t you?” I hiss. “You come out here with your dress falling off of you and you expect me to ignore it? Huh?” I tug her hair harder and a tiny mewl escapes her lips. “Your job is to be a good girl, but you’re so fucking bad, aren’t you? And you deserve to be punished.” I smack her again, bringing one hand around to her pussy and slipping my digits into her wet slit. I drive them into her as she writhes against me. “You’re so wet. That tells me you love it, that you want me to punish you, that you like my hand stinging your ass. Is that true, Anya? Tell me!” I grunt, balancing her in one arm as I drag my fingers in and out of her soft pussy.
She whimpers against me, her head resting against the refrigerator. “Yes,” she whispers.
“Louder!”
“Yes!” she whisper-shouts. “Oh my God!”
The click of the keycard sliding into the door lock sounds. “Fuck!” I whisper as Anya’s feet hit the floor. She hurries to adjust herself, but there’s nothing I can do about myself.
No adjustments to be made.
It kind of is what it is.
I wink at her, giving my fingers a quick suck. She grabs the back of my head and kisses me hard on the mouth before jumping back once again.
When Heaven and Matteo walk into the kitchen, at least we’re a respectable distance apart from one another.
Shit, if these walls had eyes…or cameras…
I’d be dead, that’s for sure.
Heaven beams at us, and I can tell right away from the glint in her eye and the pink tinge in her cheeks that she’s finally gotten laid.
Good for them.
And good for me.
“I didn’t expect you guys back so quickly,” she says, pulling open the refrigerator and grabbing a bottle of Pellegrino sparkling water.
“Yes, well, I didn’t have much to move over here,” Anya says. “And Aisling was so tuckered out that she fell right asleep.”
Heaven gives Matteo a knowing look. “Yeah, well, we know how long that lasts, and it’s never enough! I bet she’ll be babbling in about ten minutes. I swear, I don’t know where her energy comes from.”
Anya laughs, her bright white teeth flashing in the late afternoon sunlight streaming into the windows. The gold highlights in her hair shimmer, and I ache to run my fingers through the glossy waves again.
Matteo snaps his finger, and the sound jerks me from my borderline X-rated thoughts about the sexy new hire. I look up and see that his forehead is pinched. He nods toward his office and we back out of the room while the girls keep up a steady stream of chatter about things I can’t be bothered to follow right now.
I need to focus, and not just on the memory of Anya’s hot body pressed against me. Matteo is not happy right now, and I have a feeling I already know why.
He closes the door behind us and collapses in his chair, holding a hand to his head.
“Matty, you should be relaxed right now. You just fucked your wife. Why isn’t that making you smile?”
He slams his fists on the desk. “Because of her fucking family, Dante. Because I just found out that asshole brother of hers is coming for the christening after all of this time not seeing Heaven, not speaking to her, not even texting to ask about Aisling.” He shakes his head. “I swear to Christ, if he ruins this for her, if he dares make her anxious or upset or?—”
“We’ll all have him, Matty. Don’t worry about that.”
He rubs the back of his neck. “We need to corner him once he gets here. I wanna hear directly from him what the hell he’s doing with the Volkov Bratva. We escaped them once. I don’t want to make a habit of it.”
I nod. “Patty has nothing.”
Matteo rolls his eyes. “Why am I not surprised? He’s too GQ to be useful.”
“Well, if Conor doesn’t make a move, Patty can’t track it. It’s not entirely his fault. It’s not like he’s missing anything.”
Matteo lets out a groan and sits back in his chair. “You know what? I’m calling Roman.” I come around behind him and sit on the edge of the desk. He stabs my youngest brother’s phone number into his laptop and waits until Roman answers. He’s covered in whipped cream and chocolate syrup.
I stifle a laugh but Matteo just glares at him.
“You had to answer the call like that?”
“I thought it might be important and didn’t have time to clean up,” Roman says with a shrug. I can see his fiancée Marchella in the background giggling and playing with their puppy Bella.
She’s also covered in cream.
“I feel like we’re interrupting something,” I say with a snicker.
Roman licks some cream off his finger. “Well, then get on with it so I can get on with it, yeah?”
Matteo’s lips stretch into a straight line. “Conor is coming to the christening.”
“Shit,” Roman says. “Did he call Heaven?”
“No, Aunt Maura sent me a text. He fucking couldn’t have even sent it himself, that pansy ass prick!” He fists his hair. “Guys, I seriously wanna kill the bastard. Like ‘drag a fork down the front of his chest and then gouge out his eyes’ kill him.”
“Easy,” Roman says. “Do we know why, all of a sudden, he wants to be included in family shit again?”
“I have a feeling it’s because he’s done something stupid and needs us to bail him out. He’s got nobody else because everyone else on the planet wants him dead more than we do,” Matteo grunts. “But there’s a problem. He’s gotten himself involved with the Volkov Bratva. You remember them, right, Romo?”
Roman groans and rolls his eyes, spraying some whipped cream directly into his mouth. “Those fuckers. I thought we were rid of that bullshit. How’d Conor get mixed up with them?”
“None of us know,” I say. “But Patty and I went to that place in Brooklyn to investigate while I was in New York and ask one of the top guys some questions.”
“And? How’d that go?” Roman asks.
“Not great. He was already dead.” An image of Red Death flashes before my eyes and my cock thickens. Fuck, where the hell did that come from? A tiny twinge of guilt takes hold because I had my tongue down Anya’s throat and my dick pressed against her only a few minutes ago.
Besides, the assassin blew me off before I could get anything else from her.
She’s gone.
Over.
Vanished into thin air.
I’m envious. I used to be so damn good at that, too, pulling the whole disappearing act thing after a hit.
Christ, I need my life back!
“You think Conor did it?”
I sigh. “I think there’s a lot we need to find out. And Patty’s been tailing him, but no luck. He hasn’t seen anything suspicious. Then the travel plans came out and the puzzle pieces are falling together. It all points to some fallout with the Volkov Bratva. I’d stake my life on it. He’s coming to us for salvation because if they catch him first, they’ll incinerate his ass.”
“Okay, so what do you need from me? You want me to go to Hell’s Kitchen and dislocate every limb on his body and put him in traction so he can’t fuck around with the outside world for the near future?” Roman asks. “Done and done.”
“No, just keep an eye on him, Romo. Ask around, go in the back door.”
He flashes a wicked grin. “Fuck yeah, bro. That’s my plan. Right after we get off the phone.”
I roll my eyes. “Just use your network and figure out what the hell the Russians have on him. And how much money he owes them since it’s gonna become our debt to pay.”
“The hell it will!” Matteo says. “I’d rather let them pull the skin from his bones before I give them a goddamn penny!”
“If it’s gonna keep Heaven and Aisling safe, you’ll pay,” I say with a pointed look.
He lets out a sigh and collapses back against the chair. “I know. But I might have his dick cut off anyway. Just because of everything he’s done to screw us over. You know he’s angry that I shut down every deal he’s managed to make since nobody is gonna pick Conor over me as a business associate.”
“Yeah, that’s gotta be pissing him off big time. No wonder he went to find the Russians in Brooklyn. Except now he’s screwed them over too.”
“Romo, we need to keep his black cloud away from us. Make it happen, yeah?” Matteo snaps.
“You’ve got it.” He looks down at himself. “Can I go now? I’d really like to fuck my fiancée.”
Matteo doesn’t reply. He just hits the End button and shakes his head at me. “The future of the family, huh?” he grumbles.
“Hey, be thankful it’s only whipped cream. Things could be worse. At least we don’t have a Conor.”
“Yeah, thank fuck for that,” Matteo mutters. “There’s no way I’m letting him anywhere near Heaven and the baby, by the way. You make sure that you have a target on him at all times and you pull the trigger if he so much as picks his nose and it looks suspicious.” He shakes his head. “I don’t trust him for shit, and if he’s coming here for money, that’s all he’s getting. I will put a knife in his eye if he makes one false move.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be right behind you to twist it when you do.”