15. Liana
LIANA
I’ve met what seems like a hundred members of the Gallo and Conte family and had three glasses of champagne, so I’m starting to get a headache. I hand back the toddler I’ve been carrying around on my hip and start to look for Vincenzo.
I have many questions—the biggest one being why he invited the Conte family. The Contes and Gallos have been at odds for decades, and I’ve never seen them invited.
Not until this year.
Dario’s “truce” with Vincenzo confuses me. Vincenzo and my father always hated Dario's father. That was part of the reason I never told my father I was seeing Dario.
I look for Vincenzo, Dario, anyone I know, but the only person I lay eyes on that I recognize is Beth. She’s dolled up in a little black dress, her bleached blonde hair up in a bun.
I smile widely and head over, tapping her on the shoulder from behind.
She turns with a scowl on her face, but it quickly turns into a smile when she recognizes me. She hugs me, whistling.
“Look at that dress! It fits you like a glove.”
“Thanks!” I chirp, a little tipsy. “Dario hired a seamstress and a stylist for tonight.”
She blinks. “For one night? And you said he doesn’t want to get back together?”
“He doesn’t.” I lean in to whisper in her ear. “I’m just his arm candy.”
“You’re drunk,” she drawls, laughing as I straighten up.
I frown. “I’m not drunk. Just a little... bubbly.”
She shakes her head but she’s smiling. “Where’s Sonny tonight?”
“With Marie, my nanny. Dario had her hired when we first moved in.”
“A nanny, a new tailored dress, your hair and makeup done...” She whistles again. “Seems like you’re cleaning up.”
“It’s not like that and you know it. I hate every second of it.”
But that sounds like a lie even to my own ears. I don’t hate tonight. In fact, I’m having a pretty good time.
That doesn’t change anything, though. I need to get more information about Dario’s involvement in my father’s death.
“Have you seen Vincenzo?” I ask, and Beth nods, pointing over toward where he’s standing, smoking a cigar with another tall, older man.
“Excuse me,” someone says behind Beth, and I blink at him. He’s tall, handsome, wide across the shoulders. Clean cut. Totally Beth’s type. “I was wondering if the lady would like to dance.”
Beth just stares at him and when he doesn’t back down she points at herself. “Me? You want to dance with me?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Yes, is that a problem?”
She flushes. Beth is always awkward around guys; she has absolutely no flirting skills.
I push her by the waist toward him and she bounces against his chest.
“Go on,” I hiss, and she smiles shyly as he takes her hand and leads her out onto the dance floor.
I chuckle, watching them, and then make my way over to Vincenzo. He’s standing by himself by the time I get to him, his face ruddy from alcohol, but he’s not reeling drunk.
He never is, no matter how much I see him drink.
Mobsters have a second liver, I’m pretty sure.
“Look at you, all grown up,” he teases as I walk up, putting an arm around me and dragging me into a quick hug. “How have you been holding up?”
Tears spring to my eyes as he hugs me. I haven’t spoken to many of Papa’s associates. Felicia kicked me out before I was able.
It makes me miss my father all the more.
“I’m... hanging in there.”
“And that boy of yours?”
I smile widely. “He’s doing great. Growing like a weed.”
“Takes after his grandpa.” He pauses. “No news, I guess?”
I solemnly shake my head, biting my lip.
“Ah.”
I know what he’s thinking. My father is dead. I know it, he knows it. Everyone knows it. All I need to know is who did it to him.
“Listen, Uncle Vincenzo, can I speak to you in your office?”
He raises his eyebrows but nods, leading me up the stairs and into a large office with a desk that spans nearly half of the room.
He sits behind it, pouring himself another glass of scotch.
“Want a drink?”
I wrinkle my nose. “I’ve had enough tonight, but thank you.”
He chuckles. “Are you a tequila girl, like your father?”
I grin. “Yeah, cut my teeth on it, so to speak.”
“Everyone always wants sons, but I would have given anything to have a daughter like you,” he muses. I put a hand to my chest, feeling touched.
“Thank you. Listen, I wanted to ask you about someone.”
“Yeah?”
“Dario Conte. You haven’t invited the Contes to any of your parties in decades. What’s changed?”
He blows out a breath. “His parents were killed.”
“I know, but that doesn’t negate—”
“My problem wasn’t with Dario,” he says firmly. “And I’m not holding onto a decades-long grudge after Arturo’s death. My beef died with him.”
“That’s... mature of you.”
He smirks at me. “Do you think of us mobsters as immature?”
“Sometimes,” I admit, knowing that I can speak freely with Vincenzo. He’s practically family. “Vincenzo, do you know what happened to my father?”
He shakes his head. “I wish I did, cara. But he just... disappeared.”
I nod, tears still burning at the backs of my eyes.
“He used to be good at that, disappearing,” he says, but there’s something in his voice that tells me he knows this is different.
Before he married Felicia, my father had been a womanizer, for sure. He’d taken off a dozen times, but he’d always kept in touch with me, and with Vincenzo.
This time, it’s been radio silence.
That only means one thing in this lifestyle—he's gone.
I sniffle, lifting my head, and Vincenzo makes a distressed sound in the back of his throat.
“I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories, cara—”
"You didn’t,” I say quickly, patting the creases out of my dress. “Thank you for your time.”
He nods and I walk into the hallway, taking in a deep, shaky breath to calm myself.
Once I’ve collected myself, I walk down the stairs, looking for Beth.
She’s dancing with that tall man and looking up into his eyes.
I chuckle, hoping for the best. Beth has... attachment issues, and she falls in love fast.
Probably too fast.
But who am I to judge?
“Excuse me,” a low voice says from behind me, and I turn around, recognizing one of Dario’s cousins.
“Benedict Conte,” I say with a smile, giving him a half-hug. “I don’t think I’ve seen you since our high school graduation.”
He’s fifteen years younger than Dario, just like me, and we were in the same grade. We even went to a dance or two together.
He chugs out a laugh, looking down at me with glassy eyes, and I realize he’s drunk.
I can’t help but giggle when he braces himself on a nearby table.
“Jesus. I didn’t even recognize you, Liana. You look... amazing.”
“You look good too,” I say. It’s true, he does look healthy despite his level of intoxication.
“Do you want to dance?” He leans down close to my ear when he says it.
I put my hands on his chest, smiling at him and opening my mouth to say no, when a large shadow falls over me.
The tension in the air is palpable. I can feel Dario’s eyes glaring at my back.
“Maybe not tonight,” I say quietly, pushing him away, but he whines.
Dario clears his throat.
Benedict looks at him as if seeing him for the first time and swallows visibly, putting his hands up.
He walks away without a fuss but Dario grabs onto my elbow, almost roughly.
“Hey,” I mutter, but then he’s dragging me up the stairs and into an empty room.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
His breath is hot on my neck as he backs me up against the bed. My knees hit the back of the mattress and, still tipsy, I go down, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“He asked me to dance. I said no.”
“Didn’t look like no to me. You were touching him.” His jaw is clenched tight, a muscle jumping there. “You’re supposed to act like my wife, not some mafia groupie.”
I cock an eyebrow. “Are you calling me a whore?”
He huffs out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t put words in my mouth. I’m just saying, be...”
“Be what?”
“Be my wife,” he says, clearly frustrated, and I look up at him blankly.
“I told him no, Dario. I don’t know what else you want me to do.”
“Maybe act like you’re mine, for once.” His voice comes out a low mumble and he leans down, cupping my face and kissing me even as I start to protest.
I’m not his. Not anymore. Maybe I never was.
But God, I want his hands all over me. I want them ripping off this expensive dress, trailing down between my legs...
It’s like the only time I feel anything since my father disappeared is when Dario is touching me.
What does that say about me? That the man who ruined me is the one who’s also saving me?
“Li,” he says against my lips but I’m too far gone.
I’ll blame it on the champagne later, but now, all I want is him.
I wrap my arms around his neck, kissing him again and again and his fingers are already at the zipper on my dress, slowly sliding it down over my shoulders.
His breath hitches when my breasts break free, bouncing out of the bodice.
He tugs me up just long enough for the dress to pool on the floor.
I grin wickedly at him, backing up to the headboard and spreading my thighs to show him I’m not wearing underwear.
“You... you came out without panties?”
I shrug. “Didn’t want pantylines.”
He growls, striking almost like a snake, latching onto the base of my throat and leaving a bruised mark there.
“You’re mine tonight, Liana Rossi.”
“Alright,” I agree, feeling loose from the champagne. “Just for tonight.”
His eyes snap to mine, searching my features. I don’t know if he finds what he was looking for.
He lies on the bed between my thighs, looping my knees over his shoulders. I gasp as he presses his face against my sex, inhaling like I’m some exquisite perfume.
His tongue laps at my clit and I rock my hips, grinding my pussy against the flat of his tongue to get more friction.
He groans against me, locking his forearms over my hips and keeping me in place as he latches his generous mouth around my clit. He sucks and laps intermittently, keeping me right on the edge.
“Dario, please,” I whimper.
“Please what, bellissima? Use your words.”
“Make me come.” The words come out in a rush as he shoves two fingers into my entrance. “Ah, Dario, fuck!”
“Don’t worry, baby. I’ve got you,” he murmurs against my sex and then latches around my clit again, nearly vibrating his tongue against the most sensitive spot.
I arch my back and cry out, hoping that a mansion this nice has soundproof walls. My orgasm spills over me slowly, a full-body experience, the hair on my arms standing up as I clench around his fingers.
Dario sits up on his knees, unbuttoning his slacks and shoving them down over his ass, freeing his thick erection.
“Wait,” I mumble. “Want you in my mouth.”
He lets out a groan that’s almost a whine. “Fuck, Li. Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”
I smirk. “You know I’ve always liked having something in my mouth.”
He takes his index and middle finger and shoves them into my mouth suddenly, making me gag and moan as pleasure rips through me. I taste myself on his fingers and it only makes me hotter.
He shoves his fingers in and out as if fucking my mouth and my eyes drop to his erection. It bobs against his stomach, hard and leaking from the tip.
Dario wants me, wants me so bad he can’t stand it, and I love every second of it.
But God, I’m going to hate myself in the morning.