Chapter 7
Seven
DOMINIC
T he house is silent as I close the front door and step into the overstated foyer. Unease settles in my stomach, but I ignore it, pulling out my phone and scanning through the latest betting forecast for the underground fights happening next weekend.
The irony that I enjoy betting on sports when I’ve spent the last ten years enforcing my father’s sportsbook isn’t lost on me. Turns out, gambling comes with the same high that freediving does. And at least gambling doesn’t inherently mean I might not come back. Victor and I have made something of a tradition of betting on Lorenzo’s fights. Not that we’d ever actually tell him. He’d throw the fight just to fuck us over. So far, we have a perfect score.
You see this?
I send the screenshot of the current odds. Victor responds in under a minute.
Bit busy, D. But yeah. He’s fucked.
Chuckling, I walk down the long hallway toward my father’s study. Before I make it there, a man stumbles toward me, his sobs echoing off the tiles and walls. He clutches his bloody hand to his chest, his tears streaming fast enough they’re leaving marks on his shirt. My first instinct is to help him, but I crush it before it can get me in trouble. Anyone sobbing in this home did something to earn my father’s ire. That training rewards itself when Nico turns the corner, following behind the man, his hands shoved into his pockets, his lip pulled up in a sneer. He’s my father’s favorite bodyguard and has the bullet scars to prove it.
I step out of the way before the man can fuck up my suit. That explains why the house is so quiet. Mamma hates being here when Father is conducting this sort of business.
The bodyguard tips his chin toward me.
“ è pronto per te ,” he says, his low voice gruff and a touch irritated.
“ Grazie , Nico.”
The blubbering idiot that decided to cross my father startles as his eyes land on me. The movement has splatters of blood dropping to the polished floor. Nico rolls his eyes.
“Walk,” he orders the man, crowding him toward the foyer. He sighs as he passes me but offers a fast smile just before they disappear around the corner.
I wonder what he did to piss off Father.
I don’t bother asking, continuing down the corridor and sliding into my father’s study, dropping into one of the leather wingback chairs facing his desk. He glances up once I’m seated, his frown so ingrained, I’m half-convinced it’s permanent. The small lines around his lips certainly suggest it is. His hair is more gray than when I saw him a few weeks ago. A thread of guilt weaves through my ribs, but I ignore it.
He could have told me there was no option to get out. He could have forced me to stay, and he didn’t. Whatever has him looking this concerned is no longer any of my business.
“You managed to avoid every single camera on the premises,” he says.
I nod. “I was trained by the best.”
Him. No unwanted press happened unless I was incapacitated. If I didn’t want photos floating around, they didn’t happen in the first place.
“It would have been easier if you had allowed at least one photo, Domenico ,” he snaps.
I shrug. “Jasper and Rylan consented to photos. I’m sure theirs are searchable if you care enough to look.”
He scowls but doesn’t comment. He doesn’t approve of my relationship with Jasper. He’s not so bold as to say it to my face, but I know it’s there in the set of his shoulders and his subtle iciness toward my lover when we are here for family brunch every Sunday.
Again, not my fucking problem unless he decides to make his dislike more noticeable.
Without a word, he pulls a small packet of papers from one of the desk drawers and slides them toward me.
“Here is the information on the trust. It’s officially signed over to yours in perpetuity. You will be available for extreme circumstances with me and your brothers.”
I nod and stand.
If Mamma isn’t here, I don’t want to be here for any longer than I have to.
“ Domenico ,” my father growls, warning ringing through his tone. I pause, keeping my irritation from my face. “Do not make me regret it. You were a keystone of this business, and your absence is already felt. You will make me proud in this now, instead, understand?”
I ignore the tightening of my chest and the sinking sensation in my stomach.
“ Certo, padre .”
Jasper’s hold tightens on my wrists, his teeth biting into my neck, and I arch under him. He hums as I grunt, holding back the noise I know he’s waiting for. He shakes his head and sighs. His mouth drifts lower down my chest and belly until he traces my hip bone with his tongue.
My dick aches, but I keep my mouth closed, my breathing unaffected.
This game that we play is one of my favorites, and I’m not about to let it end too quickly. Control is something I have in abundance.
“We have three perfectly good bedrooms,” Rylan mutters.
Jasper looks up, his lips leaving my skin. The view the movement gives of his chest and thighs? That control slips through my fingertips, and I let the moan slip out. He squeezes my wrist even as his lips quirk into a knowing smirk.
“We’re watching a movie,” he says, completely serious.
I grunt and arch up into him, letting my dick press into his stomach. He wraps his free hand around my neck, pressing in with the slightest pressure. My dick jumps, and the pressing forward of his hips tells me he felt it, too.
“ Tesoro ,” I murmur.
Rylan laughs, the sound echoing off the high ceiling and wall of windows overlooking the ocean. “A movie. With the TV off and your shirt thrown halfway across the house. Sounds convincing.” His voice is laced with dry amusement, and I smirk.
Jasper laughs and shrugs before pulling away from me, his hands running down my chest as he sits back on his knees. “I got distracted. You have a recording session tonight?”
It’s Thursday, so not the typical schedule Rylan has with one of the local recording studios. Both of them already have double rehearsals with the philharmonic, so he tries to push things out to other evenings if possible.
“Duty calls,” he murmurs.
Jasper pouts, his shoulders dropping. There’s the soft tapping of Rylan setting down several items before the click of his shoes on the hardwood. His shadow falls over the large sectional before I can actually see him where I’m still laying across the cushions, held mostly immobile by Jasper straddling my thighs.
Rylan leans over the back of the couch, running his hand through Jasper’s blond hair and pulling him closer until their lips just touch. Just like that, our game is forgotten, my lover seamlessly handing control of the play over to us. I palm Jasper’s thighs, letting my fingers trace up the seam of his sweats until I can hook them in the waistband. His breath hitches, and I grin. Rylan’s scent explodes from him, filling the space around us with its citrus undertones. Mine is much more subtle, the rut suppressor keeping it from being so all-consuming. I’ll be the last to admit it, but the two scents complement each other, his lighter citrus to my darker. There’s an irony there, I’m sure.
Jasper’s chest shudders with his panting, a palm flat against each of us. He watches Rylan with a half-lidded gaze, his cheeks flush with color. He’s gorgeous.
“ Cazzo, sei perfetto, Tesoro .”
The praise falls from me before I even realize I’m going to say it.
Jasper groans, his hips lurching forward, his cock nudging against my hand. Rylan laughs again, deep in his throat, before claiming our lover’s mouth and twisting a hand into his hair to force the kiss deeper. Nights like this? This is what I’ve longed for, what I went against my father and the blood-soaked legacy laid at my feet to achieve.
“Please,” Jasper gasps between kisses. “Oh, fuck, please .” He writhes in my hold, and I move to cup him, letting his length fill my hand as I stroke him from tip to root and back. My own cock jumps at the strangled noise he makes.
“I’m going to be late,” Rylan says, resigned acknowledgement threading through his voice. His grip tightens on Jasper’s hair as he runs his lips over his jaw before biting into his neck. Jasper shudders.
It’s enough permission for me.
I have Jasper’s sweats halfway down his thighs when the doorbell rings and my phone buzzes with the camera notification.
Jasper’s groan this time is full of frustration, and I echo it with my own.
“I’ll grab it,” Rylan says, already turning away from us before I can even let go of Jasper.
I sit up, kissing under Jasper’s ear the moment I’m close enough. Rylan’s voice is a low thrum through the room but too indistinct to hear exactly what’s being said. The thread of surprise is easy enough to hear, though. Jasper frowns, lacing our fingers together as he adjusts to sit beside me. The door closes, and Rylan’s steady stride eats away the distance. I glance over my shoulder.
“What the fuck is that?” I ask.
Rylan has a nondescript envelope in his hand, a shell-shocked look on his face. Like the person at the door delivered terrible news. My gaze narrows on the envelope as he holds it up for both of us to see.
“That was a Council intern,” he says after a minute.
Accidenti .
“We were hardly even there,” Jasper says, rounding the edge of the sofa and taking the envelope from Rylan’s limp grasp. He has it torn open and the pages unfolded before I can even get across the room to them.
His face pales as he reads over whatever list of potential Omegas the Council has assigned us.
My stomach revolts at just the thought. And seeing it affect Jasper like this? A growl rumbles through my chest, the possessive rage easily burning to life under my sternum. Not even the rut suppressor is enough to snuff it out completely.
“You promised me,” Jasper hisses.
I shove my hands into my pockets and lean against the back of the couch, letting them stay across the room. I have no desire to see the list, especially if whatever Jasper’s seen has him this distraught. And as angry as his reaction is making me right now? Best I stay away from Rylan.
“And I followed through,” Rylan snaps back. A muscle in his neck feathers as he clenches his jaw. “You left with us. When could I have possibly snuck off to talk with her again, Jasper?”
Jasper’s hands tremble as he shoves the list into Rylan’s chest. “And yet she’s on the fucking list, Rylan. The list that we can’t decline because it’s our first gala.”
Rylan’s growl is even louder than mine, the violence in it barely restrained. He flexes his hands at his sides even as he snarls. I push off the couch and cross the space, wrapping my arm around Jasper’s waist and pulling him against me. I kiss the spot where his jaw meets his neck, and he relaxes into me. His breathing is short and shallow, and the trembling moves to encompass his entire body. Like he’s scared for his life.
But why? Logically, there’s nothing terrible about shortlisting. Yeah, I’m pissed. It’ll be a disgusting amount of paperwork to get the match annulled if the Council actually selects us for one of the faceless names on the sheet of paper. But no amount of bureaucratic nightmare warrants this level of reaction.
“Why is it such a bad thing?” Rylan asks after several long moments. “What happened to us following through in good faith if we’re actually selected?”
Jasper shakes his head, and Rylan growls again.
“What the fuck happened between you?” he asks, spitting the question between clenched teeth.
“She’s the fucking Omega,” Jasper hisses, his voice breaking. The small omega symbol flashes in the light of the room as he pulls it away from his chest. “She ripped my heart out, and even now I still can’t quite manage to get over her. There’s no guarantee that Dominic’s maneuvering will work fast enough to keep us from having to see her if this goes through.”
Rylan takes a step back, his eyes wide.
“I’d rather fucking vomit on stage than do that,” Jasper admits, nearly sobbing in my arms. “I don’t know what I’ll do if I come face-to-face with her again. She… she was everything to me.”
The confession rings through the room. I tighten my hold on him, keeping him steady.
The Council better not make this permanent. Jasper in a mess like this? It has me ready to use all the lethal training at my disposal to avenge his torment. Killing Omegas is one of those things I absolutely detest. But whoever this woman is he’s describing? It sounds like I won’t feel all that sorry over this particular one.
“I’m sorry,” Rylan says at last. He blows out a breath. “I…” He shakes his head. “I have to go.”
Jasper collapses into me as the other part of our triad leaves the house, grabbing his guitar and other equipment without looking back.
“Dom…” His voice trails off.
I mess with the waistband of his sweats. “Let me distract you, Tesoro .”