The Dominator : a dark mafia romance

Chapter 12

When we got back, his convertible was waiting for us at airport parking, and he drove us home. It was nice to not have security. It felt almost normal. Almost.

When we got home there were two security guards outside, but there was no Sarah as Tommy revealed he had sent her on a surprise holiday to see her family and she’d be a few more days. I thought that was very sweet of him.

She left me a note telling me that she’d prepared some meals in advance and froze them for us to get us through the next few days, if needed. I surveyed the refrigerator, pantry, and freezer and she’d stocked everything up well and there were plenty of ingredients for if I wanted to cook from scratch instead of simply defrosting and heating food up. She’d made a few casseroles, some batches of soup, had multiple groups of marinated meats in zippered freezer bags, a few batches of pasta sauces, and a few lasagnas.

Tommy had gone to his office right after putting our luggage upstairs, telling me he’d be taking care of a few things and that he’d be a few hours. I went upstairs to unpack and found a gift box beautifully wrapped in silver paper with a big pink bow on it on the bed with my name on it. I opened it and it was a shiny new laptop. It was metallic pink, just like my fishing rod, and when I booted it up the screen wallpaper was a photo of the pond at the farm from the view of the hayloft doors at sunset. My heart swelled.

This man wanted me and said he loved me. I so wanted this to work. I wanted the emotion I felt at the moment to be real, not just another brief reprieve from pain.

I spent a few minutes playing with it, did a few quick personalization things, a few Google searches, and then went downstairs to his office. The door was open a few inches, so I pushed it open. He was in his office chair, but had the chair swiveled away from the desk to face the window, which had a view of the pool. He was on the phone.

“I don’t care how difficult; I need you find out the truth about Carlita and Greg O’Connor and you get me answers within the next two or three days. Got me?”

I swallowed hard. I almost wanted to back out before he saw me, but he was turning around. His brows shot up and he gave me a one second gesture.

“Good. Yeah, bye.” He ended the call and his expression softened. “Hi.”

“Hey. I got my present.”

“Hm?”

“The laptop?”

“Oh yeah.” His eyes lightened as what I was talking about dawned. “Ordered that before we left, but it got here too late for you to bring it. Like it?”

“I love it. Love the color. And I especially love the background picture.”

He gave me a big smile.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Come here,” he replied.

I rounded the desk to get to him, climbed up and straddled him in the office chair. He reached back to close the blinds on the window behind him. As they were closing, I saw that a tall, blond guy strolling by the pool. My thoughts momentarily flickered to Earl. If Earl weren’t dead, he’d probably be the man strolling by the pool right now.

“What’s wrong?” Tommy asked.

I shook my head, pushing away that thought plus the urge to ask about that phone call. No point, because it was clear he was still waiting for information.

“Forget it. I don’t want to get into heavy discussions right now. I wanted to show my gratitude.” I leaned in and kissed his neck, feeling a flood of relief at seeing that silver chain around it. My lips touched it as well as his neck. Maybe that wasn’t an accident.

“Mm, okay. We can talk later. We need to have a chat, actually. Can’t put off the heavy discussions indefinitely, but right now I’m quite happy to focus on your gratitude.”

The idea of a chat freaked me out. Was it about us? Was it about my parents? Was there some shoe about to drop that would overwhelm me even more than I was overwhelmed already? I needed to push everything negative in my head away right now. I didn’t want to give him any sort of negative vibe. I didn’t want any stress putting a black mark on today. And if he was stressed about that phone call, I needed to try to erase it.

I was thoughtful for a second. “I’m not only grateful for my awesome pink laptop.” I kissed his earlobe.

“Mm,” he replied, cupping my bottom with both hands.

“I’m grateful for it and…” I said.

“And?”

My fingers threaded into his hair, “And the lovely jewelry you bought me while we were away.”

“Mm hm.” He squeezed my rear end, and I could feel him bulging beneath me.

“That you couldn’t bear to leave me here while you were away because you’d miss me.” I kissed his neck again.

“True story.”

“And I’m grateful that you love me,” I whispered against his collarbone and then kissed the top of his chest, where his shirt was unbuttoned.

I heard a sharp intake of breath. Now his hands were in my hair.

“Why are you grateful for that?” he whispered.

In my mind the thought flashed that if he didn’t love me and was who he was with me without that emotion it’d be intolerable but there was more. So much more. So much that I couldn’t even articulate to him. That this beautiful, fucked up, powerful man wanted to spend his life with me, that he wanted me to have all sides of him, that there were things he wanted from me and things he needed from me, that he had pledged to be with only me. That he’d put the huge burden of giving him everything he needed on me, that he would put himself in the path of bullets for me. That he would give me everything he could to make me happy and fulfilled because I was his. And that he was so remorseful for hurting me; it was everything.

I looked in his eyes. “Because it’s you. My dream guy. And it means I get to be yours.”

The heat that flickered in his eyes lit my blood on fire. Yes, he made it my job to be his, whatever that entailed. The realization that I wanted that job was more than a realization; it was a revelation. I knew in my head it was crazy, but yet it made sense for me.

Submitting to him was freeing. No more fighting, stressing, worrying about freedom. There was actual freedom in this. He’d love me, he’d protect me. And I didn’t have to change who I was to be what he wanted because he kept telling me I was perfect. If I could harness that power I had to keep him sweet most of the time, and to make the rough sex a game instead of letting it get out of control, I could do this.

I’d learn how to do this, and the rewards would be the bliss I got when I let go and it’d keep him sweet enough. Not just orgasms but this peace that I’d found came over me in those moments after I gave in but before I let my mind beat myself up because I’d given in. I wouldn’t have to beat myself up anymore. I’d have more bliss than pain. And when I got pain, I’d use it to release the shit in my head that was trapped there. I’d purge that crap one game at a time.

Funny how I suddenly felt like bliss could come from pain. Funny how meeting him changed my life in a heartbeat and funny that being with someone for just three weeks could change my whole outlook, my whole way of thinking.

“I feel like a very lucky girl, today. The casino, the laptop, you…”

“I’m the lucky one, baby girl.”

There seemed to be so much sincerity in his voice, on his face, that I felt like I was going to burst into tears. I didn’t. Instead, I climbed off his lap and got on my knees on the floor in between his legs and fumbled to undo the buttons on his jeans. I reached into his underwear and pulled his cock out. He made a hissing sound and arched a little. I looked up at his face and he was staring intensely at me, baring his teeth a little, his shoulders all tense.

I moved toward him, and the tip of my tongue touched his cock, but then there was laughter outside.

Startled, I looked up. The blinds were closed, so no one had seen us. But there was talking outside the window. A guy was talking on the phone. Tommy had been looking down at me with lust in his eyes but then that laughter made him snarl at the window. He took my hand to pull me up. “Upstairs,” he said and tried to tuck himself back into this pants. Clearly, things were far too awake down there to make that comfortable.

He thundered, “Fuck off away from my window, Dex!”

“Shit, sorry, Boss!” was the alarmed reply.

“Gimme two minutes, baby,” he whispered. “Get upstairs, get naked, and wait for me.”

He winked and I dashed off.

How on earth did I luck out like this? I was a diabolical, cold-hearted, sadistic prick. And this beautiful, sweet girl had been through so much shit with me in a few short weeks but yet she was declaring her love for me. Not only did she declare her love for me, but she was also making it her mission to take care of my needs, on her knees even. I had everything. Everything I wanted. I didn’t deserve it, but I was gonna fuckin’ take it.

I could see it in her eyes, the way she examined me, wondering if I was going to be approachable, the way she was careful and then took cues from my mood but still seemed to be the Tia I’d fallen for so far, mostly. She wasn’t 100% okay yet, but I could see that maybe, if I was smart about all this, she could be. I was a lucky sonofabitch. I just hoped I didn’t fuck it up by taking things too far with her.

I almost broke her the other night in the hotel room. It had to be divine intervention that the show I’d gotten talked into bringing her to was some kind of epiphany for her. I didn’t really wanna go to the show and subject her to Goldberg’s brand of kink, but being out in public, having her pretend we weren’t entrenched in the middle of our relationship falling apart…I guess I just wanted it to last a little longer.

When I saw what unfolded on that stage and how she reacted to it I didn’t know if it’d ruin her or bring her back from the cusp of breaking. It was like she understood a bit more about me, enough to help us move forward. Where we’d end up ultimately, who knew, but for now she was okay, it seemed.

When she declared herself mine, it had been the highest moment I could remember. Until she said she loved me, too. That had blown me away and made me want to make sure I never fucked up again. I knew I’d fuck up, though. The question was…how badly?

I tamed the beast momentarily by putting it away, and then went out and read Dex, who wasn’t new but who was new to the house security team, the riot act and then headed upstairs to get a blowjob from the girl I loved. That was another thing; she was going to give me something I knew couldn’t be easy for her after Mexico and I’d make sure she knew how much that meant to me.

* * *

Tia was on the bedroom floor naked, and not just on her knees but fucking bowed down, her elbows touching the carpet and her ass in the air. The laptop was on the bed so I strolled past her and lifted it off and put it on the nightstand.

“Baby,” I said, my voice gruff.

She rose up onto her knees and looked at me with huge eyes and a whole lot of what looked like fear on her face.

I stepped in front of her and put my hands in her hair. “I love you,” I told her.

“I love you, Tommy.” she said softly, making every nerve in my body come alive, and then her expression softened. She undid my pants and took my cock into her hand, kissed the tip and then slowly ran her tongue from the tip to my pelvis. Then she planted a kiss on my abdomen and then did the reverse, taking her tongue slowly back to the tip. She then proceeded to take half of my cock into her mouth while gripping below that with a tight fist.

She looked so fucking sexy, alternately closing her eyes and getting into it and looking up at me, like she was looking to see if she had my approval. It was like she was worshipping my cock, and it was beautiful to watch.

I didn’t want to come in her mouth, I wanted inside her and if I didn’t stop her, it’d be all over. So, after absorbing the feel of her mouth for another minute I leaned down and caressed her face before pulling out, taking her by the hand and guiding her to the bed.

When I reached between her legs, she was fucking soaking wet. I got inside of her and rubbed her clit, making sweet love to her. I wanted to blow, but held back until she arched her back and cried out my name at which point, I detonated inside her. We fell asleep together afterwards, arms wrapped around one another, my cock still inside her.

I’d waited for him on the floor in that pose after remembering the man on the stage and seeing it again having checked out a BDSM website quick for information about dominants and submissives, and it’d obviously done the trick, pleased him. I bookmarked the site so I could get more information later. I found the whole thing exciting and got wet just thinking about surprising him like that, waiting in a submissive pose.

But, I almost had a panic attack waiting for him to come to me because two feet away from where I waited on the floor I knew there were two guns and a knife.

I had alternating visions playing like a movie in my head of me shooting him in the head with his gun and me plunging his knife into my own stomach. My heart had hammered in my throat and my ears had gotten hot. The sound of his footsteps when he’d come in had made me feel like I was about to commit one of those two acts and I really didn’t know which one it’d be.

But, then as soon as he called me baby and told me he loved me, he was all I saw. The weapons under the bed were momentarily gone from existence. I was afraid I might be losing my mind.

* * *

He spent the next day in his office and as it hit late afternoon I asked if he wanted me to cook something for him. He surprised me by saying he wanted to go out for burgers and to see a movie. I was shocked he didn’t want to just chill and do nothing since we’d just gotten back last night. I was also shocked that he wasn’t tied up with work after being away, but he told me that his brother had everything well looked after and there was nothing too pressing.

It was near sunset, but it was still sweltering-hot outside. We’d gotten dressed in shorts, tank tops, and flip flops and Tommy looked so young and carefree compared to his polished serious suit persona. He told me he knew the perfect burger joint. We swung in, filled out burger contracts (a checklist of how we wanted our burgers prepared) and ordered milkshakes. He ordered chocolate and I ordered vanilla. Of course my face got flushed when I asked for vanilla and he laughed, then kissed me breathless while we were waiting for our order. With the food on my lap, he drove to the same beach we’d gone to after that first date. I wondered if he’d taken me there on purpose so that I’d see we could have sunsets on the beach sometimes.

We found a picnic table and ate. It was the perfect burger. He looked at me with this mortified look when I swiped one of his onion rings (a really crispy one) and then shoved it under the bun of my burger then gave me a big kiss and stole one of my fries, which led to me feeding him half of my fries one by one, looking at one another all googly-eyed. We got to watch the sun set, all cuddled up together. It felt like we were a normal couple.

He kept looking like he wanted to say something. But he didn’t. I could’ve said stuff too, but I didn’t. So much was exchanged in those glances, it was almost like a conversation that didn’t need words. He wanted to know I was okay. I wanted to be okay. I didn’t know if I was okay, but I was trying to be. Maybe if he never got like that again, I could be. Maybe I could make sure he never got like that again. I knew I was taking on a huge responsibility for something that might be completely out of my realm of control, but I wanted us to work, so I wanted to try.

After eating, we went to a drive-in and I fell asleep watching the movie. It was some fast car / gun-toting/ lots of explosions / bro-mance partner cops type of movie. I woke when he re-started the car to drive us back.

* * *

The next few days were amazing, playing house without a housekeeper. I’d been keeping the house tidy, cooking for him, doing laps in the pool and spending time in the basement gym, doing research on my pretty pink laptop about him and his sexual tastes, and considering options for online school.

I played Miss Pacman on the arcade machine in the basement, determined to beat Dario’s #1 spot high score. In a few days I was at the #2 spot and I wasn’t giving up. I put “TiaTyson” as my name on it.

I’d had two conversations on the phone. One was with Lisa about wedding plan ideas, and an upcoming baby shower for Luciana. I told her I’d come over and meet with her and the sisters and we could make plans. She told me they were all happy to help so I said I’d talk to Tommy about dinner on the upcoming Sunday and then we’d sit down and go over things. The second phone conversation was with my best friend Ruby.

I’d brought it up to Tommy after afternoon sex when we were all cuddled up afterwards. I nervously told him I needed to talk to her, to put her mind at ease because she’d just been wondering about me for all this time, and because I’d promised Rose that I’d call her. By not calling I’d be leaving them wondering and worrying about me.

He said it was fine, but that I had to remember that any call could be being recorded and that I had to be very careful of what I said. I assured him it’d be fine to talk to Ruby and that I understood. When he left the room I braced myself with a deep breath and dialed her cell.

First, she was pissed at me. I’d just disappeared for weeks and she’d only heard that I’d run off with a guy. Her parents had evidently protected her from their suspicions even in the beginning when they were involving police and my social worker.

I was easily able to sell her on this being a case of a whirlwind romance, especially with the way I’d been obsessing about ‘ice cream parlor hottie’ before grad. The guy from the ice cream parlor had swept me off my feet and we’d moved in together. She was a romantic at heart and so it wasn’t at all hard to convince her that this was just all that’d happened. She was mad at me but said she’d seen how gorgeous he was when he picked me up from the post-grad party in that convertible. When she asked why I was all upset at the house after grad and why I’d disappeared like that I said, “Let’s just say my father did something to seriously disappoint me.” She’d replied with a knowing, “Enough said.”

Hallelujah.

I told mostly the truth, or at least selective parts of it, about how Tommy had come in and flirted with me (which she’d already known), I stretched the truth a bit by saying he found out our parents knew one another so had my Dad arrange for us to meet. I told her he’d wined and dined me, taken me on a vacation, that we’d had sunset beach walks, made love in a hayloft when he proposed, told her that I knew when my dream wedding dance song came on and that he’d picked that moment with the fireflies and the stars in the sky to ask me to marry him that I didn’t need to wait to get to know him better, that everything he was in that moment was just what I wanted in a husband.

I told her he was protective, fiercely protective, that he was strong, that he was smart and funny, and that sometimes he could be so sweet that it made my heart melt. I also told her a little about the panty-melting sex. That it was hot, not what it entailed. She practically swooned over the phone when I told her he’d repeatedly made me come hard, not once, but two and three times per sex session.

I told her I was getting married in a few weeks and that of course she needed to be my maid of honor. She was sort of awestruck and didn’t ask me a lot of questions. She gave me shit about not calling a few times during the conversation, but I just kept saying it had to do with shit about my dad that I couldn’t talk about and then she’d say “Enough said” and let me off the hook.

If it’d been Beth or Mia, I know I’d never have gotten away with it. Mia wanted to be a journalist and Beth wanted to go into law. They’d be tag-team interrogating me, trying to understand why I just disappeared, why all the plans were suddenly out the window for a guy I’d just met. But Ruby wasn’t a skeptic; in fact, she was a lot like a Disney princess who was listening to me and envisioning the day her prince would come. I cut her short when she told me that Mia was there and wanted her to pass the phone and said I’d call back later.

When I hung up, the bedroom door slowly swung open. Tommy was standing there. By his face, I could tell he’d heard the whole thing. I wasn’t surprised he’d eavesdropped at all, but couldn’t be mad because he strode in like a man with a mission and ravished me until I’d had two orgasms. He told me that it was beautiful to hear the way I’d chosen to tell the story of us. He’d heard me tell Ruby how beautiful he was, what an amazing lover he’d been. I’d said something to the effect of him fucking me into oblivion multiple times a day, which was pretty much true because we’d been at it like rabbits for the past few days. Vanilla rabbits, though.

After hearing that phone call, he looked so moved, then made love to me so tenderly I wound up crying during the first of the two orgasms.

He kissed away my tears and then brought me to climax again, murmuring how much he loved me, how he wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life making love to me and making me happy but then he whispered in my ear that not only would he make love to me for the rest of our lives but that he’d fuck me for the rest of our lives, too, and that while he’d fucked before, he’d never made love to anyone before. He would never make love to or fuck anyone but me ever for the rest of his life.

I knew that to him sometimes he wanted to make love and sometimes he needed to fuck. Those whispers spoke to me, let me know that he would sometimes want one and sometimes need the other. I knew it would be my job to be what he needed, to feed his sexual appetite, and I was determined that I could do it.

And I was happy. I was waking up in the morning to sex, I went to bed and had sex (or was woken up by it if I fell asleep first), and the day after we were home from Vegas I’d been washing a frying pan in the kitchen sink from the breakfast I’d made him, and he’d come in and screwed me from behind. Just waltzed in, lifted up my sundress, slapped my ass super hard, and then took me with his cock and his fingers and I didn’t even get the way unsexy yellow rubber gloves off.

When he finished, he washed his hands, grabbed an apple from the fridge, winked at me and then went back to his office. I was just standing there, propped up by my elbows in front of the sink with the ugly yellow gloves on, skirt up, hair all mussed up, and feeling boneless and thinking that it was fairly calm for Tommy but it’d definitely been fucking.

It’d been three days of mostly sweet, beautiful vanilla sex and cuddling and talking (but never about the serious dark stuff we eventually needed to discuss) and just enjoying one another. We did things like curl up in front of the big screen at night watching TV or movies, I cooked for him, we had a naked swim together (it must’ve been premeditated because he’d obviously made the bodyguards leave for a while because I never saw them). He’d just lifted me after sex, both of us naked, and carried me through the bedroom balcony doors down the stairs and then jumped into the pool with me.

I’d said, “Hey! What about security?” and he’d answered, “Do you really think I’d allow anybody to lay their eyes on your beautiful, naked body?”

We hadn’t left the property since we got back from the drive-in. He’d spent time on the phone in his office a lot, but he spent a lot of time with me, too.

Sarah was due back and the next day we were having dinner at his father’s. And I was starting to get a little worried because there’d been no sex games since Vegas. He didn’t seem stressed; he seemed fine. But how long would it last? Would I see the sudden shift so I’d know it was something I needed to handle proactively, or would it come out of nowhere and blindside me?

Maybe I should initiate something. Or maybe we should talk. Every time he came in the room I was in, I was looking to see if his necklace was on. He’d talked about us needing to talk a few times, but it never seemed to happen. I couldn’t blame him for that; I wasn’t initiating it either. It was easier to be ostriches with our heads in the sand, pretending there wasn’t an elephant looming in the corner.

As he held me that morning after our wake-up sex, he talked about the possibility of moving Sarah out.

“Why?” I asked, tracing the pattern of his tattoo, my head on his chest.

“She’s gonna get in our way. I like that I can just bend you over anywhere I like without worrying about someone else coming in.”

I laughed but then turned serious. “She already warned me not to put her out of a job. She’ll be pissed at me, put a price on my head.”

“She won’t be surprised. She cleaned and cooked at my condo but has only been live-in since I moved here so hasn’t had time to get too comfy. Nita’s retiring so we can move her back there until Pop retires. He may even want her to come to the Caymans. She’d have her pick at either of my sisters’ places, too, helping with the kids and their houses. And if she wants, she can come in here to clean on a schedule you set up with her. If she doesn’t want to take care of multiple houses, I’ll hire someone part-time. Then it’s just us most of the time. You’re a way better cook than she is, anyway. If you don’t mind feeding your future husband, that is?”

I winced, “Oh, please, please, please don’t tell her that. And no, I don’t mind. I love to cook. And you have a very healthy appetite, my future husband.”

He laughed and then kissed me. “We need to talk,” he said.

I felt my heart constrict. His tone was serious.

“Okay,” I said, hesitantly.

“I don’t want to just brush shit under the rug, baby. We need to talk some things out and I need some info from you.”

A talk. Finally.

He looked thoughtful for a second and then seemed to change gears. “First, I’ll go get us coffee and cook you breakfast,” he said. “I do a mean stack of flapjacks.”

More procrastination.

“Ooh,” I answered and stretched out. “Bacon, too?”

“Duh? Of course.” He kissed me and left the room.

I was now on his side of the bed, and I was suddenly very aware of the weapons under the bed. Maybe him saying we needed to talk jolted me out of my self-imposed stupor. I leaned over and hung over the side and looked under the bed. I couldn’t see very well so I reached my hand up and yep, still armed to the teeth.

I rolled back under the blankets and got lost in thought. I’d been so happy these past few days, but he was right, we did need to talk about stuff. It was healthy that he wanted to, wasn’t it? What wasn’t healthy was me wanting to keep ignoring it with the idiotic notion that anything bad or dangerous would just go away.

The last few days had been just what I needed, a bubble with just her and I. I was finding a way to blend my work life with my relationship with her. Things with work were going well, smooth, and I was thinking about our wedding, a honeymoon, about the future.

I hated that we’d soon have to leave our bubble. Here I was, putting talking to her about her father and Pop again off with breakfast, but before I pricked the bubble with a pin, I wanted a few more moments of peace, to show her what life could sometimes be. It was like I was trying to fortify things before bursting the bubble or something.

I used to help my mother make big breakfasts on weekends before she got sick. Breakfast was the only cooking I’d done. Really, she’d only let me handle the cracking of the eggs and the putting bread in the toaster and popping the button down as I was just a kid, but it made me want to learn how to do breakfast so when I lived on my own for the first time I mastered the art of breakfast. I’d had burnt pans and smoke alarms going off at first, but I’d gotten there.

Before Tia, if I wasn’t slammed with work, I’d make it for myself and sit alone and eat it as I read the paper on a Saturday or Sunday. I wanted to make making Tia’s breakfast on a weekend morning part of our tradition together as a couple. Someday, kids would be part of it, too. Sundays were important in my family, always had been, and I wanted that for when me and Tia had kids. Breakfast with us, dinner with the whole family. Church, maybe, too. She’d be a good mother.

I had things to figure out, but I was confident that I’d get to where I needed to be with the business, with ensuring I’d eliminated threats. But I wasn’t so sure in one area. Sex. I wasn’t clear how that’d be managed. I was loving all the vanilla we’d been having, surprisingly, but that might’ve been because of the guilt I felt about Vegas.

How long before I wanted more flavor? How long until something tipped me over the edge of frustration and I took it out on her? How did I get what I needed without hurting my relationship with her? Better yet, how could I make myself not need it?

She loved the pancakes. She ate everything on her plate and asked if she’d be getting a repeat performance the next day, since it’d be Sunday.

I agreed and couldn’t bring myself to ruin the day with talk about the dark shit in my head, the shit I was dealing with regarding her father and my father. I needed to do it soon, though. I was at a dead end with Zack, my PI, and needed answers from her. She didn’t ask about what I wanted to talk about, but she broached another topic.

“Um…” she said, after she loaded the dishwasher. I’d been sitting at the kitchen island reading the paper and finishing my coffee.

I looked up from the paper and waited.

She was looking a little nervous.

‘What’s up?” I put the paper down and showed her she had my full attention.

“I’ve been doing some reading.”

I waited. She looked at the ceiling and then summoned some courage.

“About dominants and submissives and I was wondering if maybe…”

This oughta be good…

I jerked my chin up to encourage her to continue.

“Maybe we should outline some things. Like they did in Fifty Shades of Grey; they had a contract of guidelines and safe words and…”

I started to laugh. Her face went red.

“I don’t want a submissive, baby girl.”

She frowned a little and then moistened her lips, “Okay…”

I got to my feet and closed the distance between us, backing her up against the pantry door. I took her face into my palm and rubbed my thumb along her lower lip,

“I want a cock slave. No safe words. Whatever my cock wants you give me. Whatever I want. Degradation, humiliation, I could order you to fuck someone else while I watch, fuck a girl…”

The color drained from her face.

“You good with that?” I gave her an intense glare.

She swallowed hard.

I couldn’t fight it: I laughed. “Gotcha.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s not nice.”

I let out a big belly laugh.

I turned around to go back to the island and she swatted my ass hard with her open hand.

“You need a spanking, Mister!” she growled at me.

She was fucking adorable. I grabbed her and threw her over my shoulder and carried her upstairs. She paddled my ass with her palms all the way up, calling me cruel, mean, a jackass.

When I got her onto our bed, I kissed her and said, “Don’t try to define us, okay? All I know about our relationship is that we’re on a road together and I’m trying to take us someplace good.”

She nodded, emotion making her eyes all sweet and wet, and then gave me her mouth.

Tommy had to go out before we got a chance to talk about anything serious, so I had hours to myself. I wondered if it’d get to a point when I could come and go as I pleased. I wanted to talk to him about it, but he came home in a pissy mood. So, I decided that I needed to think up a game, so he and I could play. Maybe I could fix his mood.

I made a homemade lasagna for dinner (despite the three in the freezer) and it seemed to help with his mood; he told me it was the best lasagna he’d had in years.

“If I was having a cook-off to pick my wife and this was your entry, baby, you’d win. Hands down.”

“If I didn’t cook well would I be out of the running?” I pouted.

“Not at all; just sayin’ if cooking were a qualifying category, this lasagna would buy you the race.”

I beamed. His mood had lifted a little, but he seemed preoccupied.

“You seem a bit tense,” I said, walking to his side of the table. I placed my hands on his shoulders and leaned down to whisper in his ear. “How about if you grab a shower and meet me in the bedroom and I give you a full body massage? Then maybe we can play.”

He smirked. “I’d love to, baby, but I have a conference call in…” He glanced at his phone, “Five minutes ago. Shit. Rain check?”

“Sure.” I deflated. I leaned over to clear his plate.

He pulled me down onto his lap and claimed my mouth with his. “Dinner was delish, baby. I can’t wait for dessert. Half an hour, hour tops, okay? I’ll try to keep Saturday nights and Sundays as free as I can going forward.”

He planted another kiss on me, then lifted me off his lap and swatted my bottom playfully.

I chewed my lower lip, giving him a heated stare. He returned it.

“What flavor tonight, Tommy?” I asked, trying to look as seductive as I could muster.

“Mm,” he eyed me up and down. “Neapolitan?”

I smiled and gave him a nod. A little vanilla, a little strawberry, and a little chocolate? Sounded good to me. I cleared the table as he strode off toward his office.

“Okay,” I told her, “You’re gonna put me to sleep.”

She was sitting on my rear, massaging my back with sweet smelling oil. I was on the bed, a towel around my waist.

“Maybe you need to sleep,” she told me, her lips against the ridge of my ear.

“But, I have plans for us.”

“Neapolitan plans?” she murmured.

I laughed. “We need to talk first, baby. Switch.”

She got off me and lay beside me on her belly. I climbed onto her backside and kneeled, not putting my full weight on her, lifted her t-shirt and pulled it off her, leaving her in just a pair of Daisy Duke jean shorts and her bra, a sexy, red satin one. I snapped the band and she jerked and then giggled shyly. I kissed her shoulder and then wiped oil from my own over-oiled shoulders, transferring it to her body, working it in to her back and her shoulders. She let out a little moan that went straight through my groin.

I ignored what her sexy moan made me wanna do; I needed to talk to her, not let myself get distracted again. The best way to do that was probably to stop touching her so I could stop thinking about getting inside of her and just play the recording.

I wiped my hand on the towel beside her, reached for my phone, which was on the nightstand, and put it beside her head.

“Listen,” I said and planted a kiss on her shoulder. “Then we’ll talk. We have to talk about this and then we have other shit to discuss. It’s going to be a lot. But it’s important. Okay? I didn’t want to come to you with this before I had everything figured out, but I’m at a dead end and need info from you before I can go further.”

She nodded softly. I brushed her hair behind her ear with my fingertips, kissed her temple, and then I pressed play on the recording while I continued to gently massage her shoulders and then moved down to her legs as the recording played what Greg O’Connor said to me outside the hospital when Tia had the allergic reaction. She tensed up almost immediately, upon hearing her father’s voice, but I kept massaging gently.

“…known your family for years. I’ve wanted to be on better terms and I tried to patch things up with Tom. He just didn’t wanna know me because Lita chose me over him, you see. And he always had this grudge about that. He told me one night out of the blue in a dark alley when he turned up after a poker game I was in that he’d have her back and that if he couldn’t have her, he’d make sure I didn’t either. He was in love with her, had been since they were kids, but he was best friends and business partners with her older brother, someone even more connected than he was, so she was off limits. A few years after your ma died and Lita’s brother died he tried to hook up with her but she broke up with him a few months later and when she met me, she told me her ex was a crazy possessive, psycho. She started to see me on the rebound, probably, but got pregnant so we got married before we really knew each other. I loved her, though. She was amazing. He said Tia should’ve been his. If we hadn’t had Tia, he wouldn’t have lost Lita. I was scared he was gonna hurt Tia. He was a bad motherfucker and I was afraid for my life, too. I tried to befriend him, started working on one of the crews, but when he found out about it, he canned me. All this shit kept happening to me and it was like he was out to destroy me. I know he was behind a lot of it.

Then he left us alone for a few years. But me and Lita had a huge blow-up about my gambling and partying, and she took my daughter and left. But she came back a few days later and wouldn’t say why. I think she’d gone to him, but changed her mind. Or maybe he’d kidnapped her and she got away. She wouldn’t tell me. He turned up drunk and stormed into my apartment and told us if she didn’t leave with him, he was taking Tia instead. Started screaming in my face telling me to pick whether I wanted to keep my wife or my daughter. Lita pleaded with him, but he pointed a gun at me and finally took Tia, put her in his car. Lita tried to change his mind, go with him, but he said it was too late. Tia got so upset that he let her come back a few hours later but he told me it wasn’t over. Lita killed herself a few weeks later. Your father showed at the funeral and told me he’d be back for Tia someday. That I took from him, so he’d take from me. Hinted that he was responsible for Lita’s death. I carried that shit around for years. Always watching my back, always wondering if she really killed herself. I was fucked up. I know it affected my relationship with my daughter. I just, I dunno, malfunctioned. But I want a relationship with her. I thought maybe you and I could be friends. I could work for you. See my daughter, be in her life, help you with the business. We’ll be family after you get married. Maybe Tom will finally let it all go now. Think about it. Will ya do that for me?”

I turned it off and climbed off her and got into a pair of boxers. She stayed still. I gave her a minute and then asked, “Do you think your mother was depressed before she died?”

“Yeah,” she said softly.

“Long before or for just a little bit.”

“Long, I think.”

“Do you remember my father taking you out of your apartment?” I asked her.

She was quiet for a minute. This was key.

“I do,” she said eventually, climbing up onto her knees and then she twisted and planted herself down beside me and re-fastened her bra and then reached for her t-shirt.

I passed her a bottle of water from the nightstand and she took it with trembling hands.

“I knew he was familiar,” she said, pointedly. “I knew when I met him that he was familiar. But I couldn’t place it. Then when I found that picture I gave you, I knew he was really familiar beyond the picture but still didn’t know from where. When I heard that recording, when I heard it, I saw it playing like a movie in my head. I remember him putting me in his car and I was crying and crying and he tried to settle me down and told me he’d buy me a pony, build me a dollhouse, take me to Disney World. He said he’d give me anything I wanted. I wouldn’t stop crying for my Mom and finally after he drove around for a little while he took me back. Maybe I blocked it out. I don’t know. If it was just before she died maybe I blocked it out.”

I nodded. “Do you remember you and your mother being kidnapped or being with my father somewhere for a few days?”

“No, I only remember him taking me and driving me around in his car until he took me back.” She got this horror-stricken look on her face. “Tommy we’re not, oh my god, we’re not siblings, are we? Is your dad–”

“No,” I told her, “No way. You’ve got O’Connor’s eyes, no doubt about it; that man is your father.”

She was quiet for a few minutes, eyes looking active, like she was combing through details of her memories.

“I don’t know if my father killed your mother. I’m trying to find out. There’s shit to sort out about my own mother’s death, about your mother, your uncle, lots of shit.”

She sipped her water with her eyes on me.

“You heard my father’s best friend was your mother’s older brother. His daughter, your cousin, Bianca, she’s married to Nino, Nino who came to Vegas with us.”

She looked shocked.

“So, I grew up with your first cousin. She’s my age.”

Tia was flabbergasted, “I know no one from my mother’s side.”

“Your Uncle Joe, a man I called Uncle Joe all my life, he died in a car crash. Some say my father staged it over a business dispute. I’ve heard it over the years but never believed it.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Earl told me he flipped on our family and took you because he found out my father had his son Michael killed because Michael was about to expose him for being involved in a meth op. If that’s true, Pop kept it from me and Dare. Earl said he didn’t wanna hurt me but saw red and wanted back at my father. Castillo made promises, promised to deliver Pop to Earl for revenge down in Mexico and they chose you as the tool, knowing who your ma was.”

I reached for her water and she passed it to me. I took a swig and continued, “I hear that my pop may have killed your mother alone and I’d never believe it. Your father, zero credibility. But that you remember him taking you and that he picked you for me, and the other shit that’s unfolding,” I shook my head. “I have a lot to figure out.”

She blew a long breath out and put a palm over her forehead.

“You okay?” I reached for her. I half expected her to pull away, but she didn’t. She climbed onto my lap and put her head on my shoulder and her arms around the middle of my back.

“Don’t know. Are you?” she asked.

“If I have you, I will be,” I said.

She gave me a squeeze.

“Tell me about your family,” I said to him. “About your childhood, about your pop, about the business.”

I suddenly wanted everything on the table.

He leaned back against the headboard and let me settle against him, putting his chin on my head.

“My mother died of Cancer. I was just a little kid. Spent a lot of time by her bedside as she was dying, and she said a lot of fucked up shit. Shit a little kid shouldn’t hear. I think it went to her brain before she died. Pop was out running the business; it was around then that the business started to really flourish. He was raking in money hand over fist and my ma was in bed dying a slow and painful death. A few months later he married Dare, Tessa, and Luciana’s ma. The math didn’t jive so I figured out later that that she, Annette… had Dare before Ma died. They showed up and moved in just days after ma died; Dare was a toddler and she was pregnant with Tess. They divorced a couple years later but Pop kept all the kids. She lives in Italy. Comes by every year, but not much of a relationship. I get the impression that’s the way Pop wants it. Pop’s third wife died in a car crash. Maybe he killed her.”

He shrugged and continued.

“She was a bitch and now I think about it, it wouldn’t surprise me. All the fucking car crashes, huh? All my life he had such high expectations of me and my brother. We work to earn his respect on a continuous basis; it has a short shelf life. He pushes and pushes us and is always testing our loyalty. I got to a point where I wouldn’t let him push me. I started to show him before he had to push. Now I have all this to figure out.”

He sighed before continuing. “If this is who he really is, how do I live with that? I know we’ve ordered people dead. But they’re enemies, not family, not innocent. I’ve practically run the business the last few years. I handle a lot of the legit stuff and some of the shadier shit, too, and Dare and I have plans on how to get shot of the shadier stuff because we just don’t need it. We have money, we have power, and we do well. We know where to focus to boost earnings even more and without the risk, without having to pay people off, without worrying that the house of cards’ll tumble down at any minute. When Pop retires, we have a plan, a good one. I know I’m not the ice cream shop guy you wanted, baby, but I’m planning for a better life for us.”

“You are better than the ice cream guy,” I told him. He looked so distraught right now. “You’re real, Tommy. You’re a man with many layers and the fact that you’re looking for the truth even if it’s not what you want to hear? That’s huge. The ice cream guy probably wouldn’t have rescued me from Mexico, probably wouldn’t have done a lot of the things you’ve done. He was two dimensional. I’m here with you, not him.”

“The shit I’ve done that’s hurt you. That’s hurt others.” He looked lost.

“I’m Thomas Ferrano Jr. Maybe the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Maybe that’s what’s wrong with me. I’m his son. It’s so fucking fucked up, baby. He goes from being a philanthropist to doing this fucked-up shit. He’s hiding behind the charity, the talk about family, about loyalty.”

I threw my arms around him and squeezed. I had an ache spread through me, an aching desire to help him. His pain was palpable.

“Will you tell me about the necklace?” I whispered.

He let out a big sigh and then finished my bottle of water. “It was my mother’s. One of the last lucid talks I remember with her she put it around my neck and told me that if I wore it I’d remember to be a good boy. Maybe she knew the apple wouldn’t fall far, too. Some of the shit she said, warned me about, it was all riddles to me but now I think she hated Pop when she died, and knew I’d probably turn out like him. Sometimes she screamed at me like I was him, told me why she hated me. I think she was afraid for me and what I’d become without her to guide me. When I have to make hard decisions that I know she wouldn’t have approved of, I can’t wear it.”

“You’ve been having a lot of epiphanies,” I said softly.

“Yeah,” he said. “Never told anyone this shit, baby.” He shook his head, then rolled his eyes.

“You don’t have to be the apple. You are your own man. You already want to change the way that this family earns money; you can change other things, too.”

“I’m not giving you up.” He looked at me with ferocity.

“What?”

“I told you not to ever ask me to give you up.” His jaw muscles flexed.

I shook my head. “That’s not where I was going with that. I don’t want you to give me up, Tommy.”

He didn’t believe me.

“I don’t,” I assured him. And it was true. There was hope in me for him, for us.

“You don’t want to go home?” he asked and there was pleading in his eyes.

“I’m home. You’re my home.”

He shook his head like he doubted what I was saying, got up and walked to the bar and poured a drink. “Want one?” he asked.

I nodded.

He drank a shot of whiskey and then poured another shot. Then he reached into the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine and poured me a glass.

I was surprised and a little hurt that my declaration had no apparent effect on him. “I just mean that you don’t have to let the darkness engulf you. You could go to therapy. Maybe you should.”

“Fuck that,” he said through gritted teeth and I stopped talking and accepted the glass of wine. I took a sip and then decided to try again.

“But…”

“Fuck that!”

He downed the shot and threw the glass; it shattered against the wall, making me wince. He stormed out of the room, slamming the door.

I bit back tears and just sat and stared off into space. I thought about the recording. I thought about my parents. I thought about Thomas Ferrano Sr. I thought about who Thomas Ferrano Jr. was, why he probably was the way he was, and I knew that there was hope for him, for us.

He knew his father was wrong. If his father was guilty of all of the things that he looked to be guilty of, Tommy wouldn’t just stand for it. The demands that had been put on Tommy from a young age, losing his mother, had all caused this darkness in him. That he could also be sweet and fun-loving was hopeful, wasn’t it?

I wondered what would happen next, how Tommy would get to the truth. I also wondered how I’d cope with the fact that the man I was about to marry was the son of a man that might have been the reason my mother was taken from me.

When I got ready for bed I put on the blue and white checked shirt that was on the chair beside the bed. He’d worn that before I gave him the massage. I put my nose to the sleeve. It smelled like fabric softener and it smelled like his aftershave. It was comforting to smell it. I fell asleep with the sleeve against my nose, absorbing the fragrance, wishing my nose was against him.

I didn’t know if he’d gone out or if he was in another part of the house, but he clearly wanted space, so I just turned out the light and climbed under the thick, fluffy duvet sniffing the sleeve and imagining he was beside me.

Just as I started to drift off, I heard him come in and then I heard the sound of the shower. When he got into bed a few minutes later he didn’t touch me, didn’t reach for me. I crawled over and put my head on his chest and my palm over his heart. He still didn’t touch me. He just lay there. The tension in the air was so thick.

I rubbed my hand up and down his chest and touched his skin with my lips and snuggled in. He let out a sigh.

“Tommy?” I whispered.

He didn’t answer me.

“I’m here for you,” I said.

“Yeah?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” I draped a leg over his and rubbed the sole of my foot up and down his calf.

“Tia.” His voice was laced with warning.

“I’m yours, baby. Take what you need,” I offered, trailing my hand down toward his waist.

He caught my wrist before I reached my goal.

“Fuck, baby. You don’t know what you’re offering.” He shifted me off of him and put his hands over his face.

“I do. I can take it,” I said huskily. “Be your cock slave…” I moved back over and started to tongue his nipple.

“Athena, I’m good. Go to sleep.”

“Tommy, I can take it. If you don’t release it now it’ll get worse and it could be more than I can handle, I’m here for you, let’s play a game, I –”

He put his hand over my mouth. “I just spent two hours beating a punching bag to a pulp so that you don’t have to deal with it instead. I am fine. Go to sleep.”

He took his hand off my mouth.

“Tommy–”

His hand came back over my mouth and stayed there.

After a few minutes, he lifted it.

I didn’t say anything. He pulled me against him and I kissed his chest and eventually fell asleep with my nose against his skin.

What has she become? Some armchair psychiatrist who thinks she knows how to keep me from going overboard?

I could’ve shown her that she hasn’t a fucking clue how bad it could get, that it could get even worse than it did in Vegas, but I didn’t wanna hurt her, don’t want her to think she’s in over her head with me – especially after I’d already almost broken her. I had my head together enough that I wasn’t looking to inflict anything on anyone. What I was craving was finding out the answers I needed. Even if her offer did make me as hard as a fucking rock.

Did my father kill Carlita O’Connor? Did he kill Joe Trulia? What about Earl’s son Michael? What else was going on here? And what the fuck should I do about it?