Chapter 13
MARCO
I can’t stop thinking about her.
She laughed in my dreams last night as she took my hand, leading me through the winery in the dark until we finally reached a secluded spot where we lay down on a blanket and had hot, sweaty sex beneath the stars.
Her body was as innocent as her mouth, so fresh and willing beneath my fingers. She never stopped moaning my name.
I woke up with a raging hard-on that two rounds with my hand barely eased, leaving me gasping and spent.
Fuck. She’s going to ruin me if I let this continue, and not just with my family.
My mind is in a permanent knot of frustration, too—not that Karina is doing it on purpose—and I have no idea what to do to stop it.
My concentration is out the window and that’s dangerous, considering I have a race that I absolutely have to place in today.
I can’t keep spending my nights tossing and turning over a woman I know I’m not supposed to have.
Her whole clan will be at the race today, a blessing and a curse.
It’s not enough knowing that I’ll catch a glimpse or two of her if I’m lucky—I need more.
Grabbing my phone, I scroll to her contact and contemplate sending her a text.
She’d been hesitant to give me her number, which was odd, considering she had no problem sneaking onto Bellanti property to find me.
But I get the sense that someone must check her phone regularly, or that it’s being tracked.
The Brunos must be incredibly paranoid. I mean, think about it: what the hell reason would someone have for keeping such close tabs on an innocent like her?
Karina Rossi isn’t the type to be involved in anything dodgy. The woman screams naivete.
Or does she? Maybe that’s her play. Maybe the innocent facade is how she maneuvers through the mob world, picking up information for her uncle while the unsuspecting don’t give her a second thought. She’s the perfect spy, honestly. Who would suspect someone like her?
I frown as I roll up the sleeves of my dress shirt. The thought isn’t so far-fetched. But if it’s true, Karina could be a wealth of insider information. The kind that my family needs to finally put the crimes against us to bed.
I have to find out just how much Karina knows about what her family does.
My brows knit together and I rub my temples, irritated at my line of thinking.
Until this very moment, I’ve only thought of Karina as a beautiful woman who has attracted me unlike anyone else ever has.
And now I’m thinking of her as some sort of double agent, or a pawn or something.
Think, Marco. What do I need more? Karina herself, or the information she might have that could help my family?
Fuck, why did this have to get complicated? Because she’s a Bruno, you dumb fuck.
Pissed at myself, I finish getting dressed and storm into the kitchen for breakfast. My stomach is tight with nerves and I know I won’t be able to eat much more than toast and coffee.
Normal for a race day, when my adrenaline starts early and doesn’t fade until long after the race is over.
All those fight-or-flight hormones, compounded by my thoughts taking a rocky turn with Karina.
I hate that I’m thinking of her as an informant, but my family is at risk from the men in her family.
I might want her, but I have to protect the Bellantis any way that I can.
“Jesus, what’s gotten into you? That’s not your normal race day face,” Armani says as I walk into the dining room.
“That’s the face he wears when he knows he’s going to lose.” Dante thinks he’s funny as he sips his coffee. My sister-in-law sits next to him, rolling her eyes at her husband and shooting me a kind smile as she takes a bite of her Belgian waffle.
“Ha, ha, ha.” I sit down and immediately have the urge to stand again. I don’t want to be here. I need to get to the track. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, bro.”
“Seriously, what’s up?” Armani gestures at the steaming plate in front of me.
Apparently breakfast has already been served—one of my brothers must have requested this for me. Poached eggs, ciabatta toast, bacon, fruit: all my usual race day foods. I didn’t realize I was running so late. Too caught up in deviant thoughts about how to get Karina to talk.
I grab my toast and force myself to take a bite. “Nothing’s up. Quit yapping, both of you. If your mouth is flapping, you’re not eating.”
“Christ, didn’t Dad used to say that?” Dante says.
I go completely still. Shit, he did. It just came out of me.
My brothers look at me. Frankie does, too, but her expression is more concerned than shocked.
“Yeah, I guess he did,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t know where that came from.”
Though maybe I do know what drummed that up.
My thoughts. My dark, twisted thoughts about working Karina over to find out what she knows.
I haven’t even fully decided that I’m going to use her like that, but now that the idea is there, I can’t shake it.
There’s a little bit of our father’s manipulative personality in each of us, I guess.
I’d always done my best to shy away from it, tried to keep it buried by investing so much of my time and energy in racing.
Yet here I am, being a dick. A true Bellanti after all.
Frankie lets out a little gasp and touches her belly.
“What is it?” Dante pushes his chair back from the table and looks at her with a frown.
She breathes hard out of her mouth and in through her nose, then lets out another breath with a soft, tight hum.
“Braxton Hicks,” she murmurs.
“Huh?” I say, my gaze darting between them. “Do we need to get you to the doctor?”
“They’re false contractions,” Dante explains. “It’s common. But are you sure that’s all it was? Maybe Marco’s right. What if—”
“I’m fine,” Frankie insists, taking Dante’s hand and looking into his eyes.
The way they look at each other makes me feel like I’m witnessing something intimate, clearly not meant for me. This little twist tugs in my chest. Armani glances at me.
“Remember what the doctor said?” Frankie says, soothing Dante now. “Real ones don’t go away that fast. We’ve been through this before.”
Dante nods, but the stress lines around his downturned mouth tell a different story. “Do you want to go lie down? I’ll get the heating pad for your back.”
Frankie laughs. “Honestly? I just want more of these waffles. With extra syrup.”
Dante is out of his chair before she’s done speaking. He kisses the top of her head and then disappears through the swinging door into the kitchen.
“You’ve trained my brother well,” Armani tells her, grinning over the top of his newspaper.
“Nah. He was always a good one. He just didn’t know it.” Frankie sighs and leans back in her chair, her huge belly barely fitting in the place between her chair and the table.
I never imagined Dante would be so content, so happy. He was always such a brooder. Armani you could get a laugh out of, you could take him out for a beer, but Dante? Never. Everything changed once Frankie came into his life.
Not that she and my brother had the best start initially, when she was forced into marrying him.
They seemed to hate each other in the beginning, all sharp words and constant power struggles, the tension between them so thick you could practically see it in the air.
Yet somehow, with time, they found their way to one another—and now they’re inseparable.
They don’t just love each other, they like each other.
They respect and admire each other. They’re a team.
And I’m glad. I can see how they’re both better for it. They’re what happy looks like.
A classic case of enemies to lovers. Forbidden fruit to sweet wine.
Could the same ever be possible for Karina and me? A woman connected to my family’s sworn enemy, a woman who could be the key to our revenge. I just don’t know.
It’s strange. I’m normally the happy one.
Mr. Happy-go-lucky, all day long. Problems and drama don’t usually stress me out, because I work hard to keep my distance from them, and my family is always teasing me about the smile on my face.
But I don’t feel like myself lately. And I sure as hell have never spent so much time thinking about how to make someone else happy.
Observing the way my brother and his wife interact, I can’t help wondering what it would be like to have what they have, too.
I need to see Karina before the race.
Turning to Frankie, I lightly touch her arm. “Are you okay until Dante gets back?”
“Actually, I think my water just broke,” she says.
The newspaper crunches to the table, chairs sliding across the floor as Armani and I both jump to our feet like we’ve been electrocuted.
“Holy shit, what do we do? Marco, call 9-1-1!” Armani’s voice goes uncharacteristically high.
Laughing, Frankie holds her hands out in an apologetic gesture. “I’m sorry! I was just kidding. You guys can sit down. You should have seen your faces, though.”
Dante walks in with two fresh plates of waffles drowning in syrup. “What’s happening in here?”
I wag a finger at Frankie and give her a wink before getting up from the table. “Your wife is a menace. And on that note, I’m heading out.”
No one stops me as I exit the dining room, texting Karina as I go.
15, quarter before.
I hope she remembers. We snuck beneath row 15 the first day at the races. If she meets me a quarter hour before the race starts, I might be able to kiss a few secrets out of her. Or at least get a feel for just how involved she is in the Bruno family’s business.
Given more time, I could peel that innocent disguise right off her sweet body and get all the truth I need, one way or another.
My phone buzzes with an incoming message.
Yes.
Excitement slams into me, filling me up with a familiar tingle. This is how I normally feel on a race day. Hyped, revved, confident. My lips stretch into a smile. Thank God, the old me is back. I don’t ever not want to feel this way. Nothing makes me feel like this except racing.
Well…until Karina.
Grabbing my keys, I slip into a dark leather jacket and slide on my sunglasses.
The top is down on my Stingray as I speed down the highway.
I go faster, faster, flying past everyone.
Wind whips my hair and tugs at my sunglasses but I don’t stop.
Maybe I’ll get pulled over; maybe I won’t.
The cops would have to catch me first, though. And I’ll make sure they won’t.
Because I’m not stopping for anyone today. My heart pumps, my mood soars. Every sense is on high alert as adrenaline zips through my veins, electrifying my nerves.
Speed. It’s the only thing that makes me feel this alive.
I crave it.
Now that I think about it, it’s no wonder I’ve been so caught up in this whirlwind courtship with Karina.
It’s my perfect speed.