Impossible Odds: A Mafia Romance (The Five Families Book 4)

by Jill Ramsower

  A shift had occurred in those eternal seconds.

  Something monumental and catastrophic.

  Overwhelming and divine.

  The tight lines around Giada’s eyes smoothed, and her pupils dilated until the only color remaining was a ring of deep forest green. She took in a long, steadying breath as if gathering her courage, then parted her lips.

  “And if you’re right?”

  The words were a whisper. Barely more than a shaky breath, yet so much more.

  They were a reluctant confession.

  Surrender.

  Giada’s gaze was still guarded, but a new wary vulnerability was embedded in her features. I searched deep into her kaleidoscopic gaze to make sure I hadn’t misread her, but there was no derision, only desire.

  Like a shark scenting blood in the water, my predatory instincts screamed at me to claim my prize. To seize what was being offered with greedy abandon. But even drunk on the prospect of victory, I knew that yielding to my hunger for her would be disastrous.

  Deciding to test her resolve and give us one last chance to avoid disaster, I lifted myself away from her, leaving a foot of space between us. She could have shoved me backward onto the buckets, giving herself plenty of time to slip away, but she didn’t. The brazen temptress didn’t move a muscle.

  “Turn around,” I ordered firmly, the gravel in my voice betraying the slip in my control.

  Giada held my gaze as she debated internally.

  I refused to soften my stance or give her any reassurance. I wasn’t there to coddle her. If she was brave enough to toy with the devil, she could summon the courage to dance with him as well.

  Eventually, her lips pursed with determination, and she spun around to face the wall. “What exactly are we doing here?”

  “You’re doing as I say and not asking questions.” It was the only response I could give her because I had no other answer. I had no fucking idea what we were doing or where it would lead.

  She peeked over her shoulder. “What does that mean? I don’t want you to hurt me.”

  “Shouldn’t you have considered that before you stole from me?”

  Giada started to turn back around.

  “Stop,” I barked, freezing her in place. “The only thing that may hurt when we’re through is your pride. I’m not in the habit of brutalizing women. If you want to leave, then leave, but if you have the strength to accept the consequences of your actions, then turn around and put your hands on the wall.”

  Her eyes slid briefly to mine before she complied. Watching her bend to my will, obeying my commands, raised a mighty storm of masculine pride in my chest. I felt invigorated, as if I’d scaled a mountain and stood on its highest peak, towering above the rest of the world.

  This lioness of a woman was giving herself to me, and I would take all I could get.

  “That’s a good girl,” I murmured, closing in behind her. My hands drifted to her waist, and my mouth lowered to the smooth skin of her exposed shoulder, but I didn’t kiss her. I simply inhaled her tangy, sweet scent and trailed my lips to her neck and up close to her ear. “I told myself to ignore you after our conversation in the casino. To forget every dirty thing I wanted to do to you and stay focused on my job, but when I realized what you’d done, it was too much. I had to find you.”

  Giada arched with my words, her head angling to give me more access to her neck.

  I lowered my hands, winding them around to the front of her jeans and deliberately popped open the top button. “Are you already wet for me? Shall we find out?” I lowered the zipper, then eased my hand inside her pants but left her silk panties between us.

  My touch drew a breathy moan from her lips. Her panties were drenched.

  “Someone likes a little kink in their play. Does a taste of fear turn you on, Giada? Do you get off on not knowing what I might do next?” I retracted my hand and clasped her pants, yanking them down over her hips, along with her underwear.

  She gasped at the sudden movement but never shifted her hands from their place on the wall. “You rejected me that night. I came onto you, but you rejected me.”

  “Like I told you then, I didn’t want to want you.” I leaned back to admire her rounded backside, stroking my palm over the supple curve of her ass. “But that didn’t stop you, did it? You had to go and fuck with my head, rearranging my priorities.” In one swift motion, I pulled back and brought my hand down hard against her firm flesh, the sound reverberating in the confined space. My hand immediately returned to the site of the offense, caressing over her heated skin.

  I was curious how Giada would respond to being struck. It was entirely possible someone as strong-willed as she was would be outraged, incensed over being degraded. I should have known better. Giada wasn’t like any other woman I’d known.

  Her responses were unpredictable.

  She didn’t cry out or curse me. Struggle or lunge to escape. No. The little temptress released a guttural moan that had my cock swelling painfully against my zipper. She didn’t hide her emotions or give a man what she thought he wanted to hear. She was untamed and raw, and I wanted to conquer and claim every bit of that purity.

  It made me furious.

  A woman was not on my agenda, and a relationship did not fit in my life. I wasn’t the type of man to have a girlfriend, let alone settle down and raise a family. My anger bled with my desire, stirring up a tornadic burst of emotion.

  I pulled back and unleashed a second strike on her opposite cheek, my breathing becoming rushed and heavy. I was losing control. This woman made me feel unstoppable and utterly powerless at the same damn time.

  When my hand dropped down between her thighs, seeking her warm center, what I found leached all sanity from my reeling mind. Giada wasn’t just wet; she was dripping arousal. The thick, sticky evidence of her lust coated the inside of her thighs.

  It was too much.

  Unable to withstand the temptation any longer, I reached my hand around to cup her from the front, finding her opening and surging inside. “Fuck, Giada. You’re every fucking fantasy come true.” I wrapped my free hand around her chest, drawing her close as I fucked her with my fingers. My palm rubbed against her stiff bundle of nerves while my fingers found the sensitive spot inside her, massaging and coaxing every ounce of pleasure from her.

  Giada writhed at my touch. Her head rolled back on my shoulder, and she ground her ass against my raging erection. She was more than responsive. She was a sexual goddess, unbridled and free. As much as I wanted to sink my cock inside her, it would be a grave mistake.

  Fingering her was one thing, but coming inside her would seal my fate. I would have become hopelessly addicted, and I couldn’t allow that to happen. At least that one tiny shred of my control still held.

  Instead, I used the friction between us to ease the ache in my balls, pulled tight against me and begging for release, and focused my attention on seeing Giada come apart.

  I didn’t have to wait long.

  Within minutes, her breaths became shallow pants, and her legs quivered beneath her.

  “That’s it, little monster. Get my hands filthy with your cum.”

  She exploded at my words, crying out and arching so sharply, I had to step back to keep us upright. Her body slowly softened as I teased out every tiny contraction until she returned to reality and stiffened with the realization of what she’d done and who she was with.

  When she leaned away and supported her own weight, I reached for her panties and jeans and pulled them back up over her hips. Her body was still facing away from me, but she turned to glance at me over her shoulder.

  I stepped forward, bumping her gently and forcing her to press her front against the wall. “You can keep the lighter,” I whispered into her hair. “I’ve found something infinitely more appealing. I’ll be in touch.”

  Before she could say a word, I slipped from the room and disappeared into the club.

  Chapter 5

  Giada

  The
storage room door slammed shut behind him, leaving me standing dazed and alone. Only then did the sharp scent of chemicals register. I glanced around at the cleaning supplies stacked on metal shelves and wondered what the fuck had just happened.

  Did I really just get finger fucked by a strange stalker guy in a club? Holy shit!

  If my cheeks weren’t flushed already, they became engulfed in flames—no doubt, I was red as a tomato. Why? Was I embarrassed? Not exactly. I saw no reason a woman couldn’t have just as much casual sex as a man. One-night stands weren’t my habit, but they’d been known to happen.

  What had just transpired was different. This guy wasn’t someone I’d met on Bumble. I’d stolen from him, and he’d tracked me down across the country to confront me. To punish me.

  And I’d let him.

  I’d had guys spank me or try to act all dominant before, but I rarely bought into it because that play couldn’t be faked. Men often liked to think of themselves as assertive, but I’d yet to come across one who wielded the requisite authority and self-assurance to pull it off.

  Until now.

  Every single aspect of that man’s being radiated power. Control.

  For once in my life, I wanted to obey. All thoughts of challenge drowned in a vast sea of anticipation. My bare skin pricked with awareness, and when his palm collided with my ass, a stampede of sensation careened through my body.

  I think you take things hoping one day, someone just like me will track you down and make you answer for your crimes.

  The truth in his assertion rang loudly. Why else did I take things? Yes, the thrill of getting away with my crimes was a part of my enjoyment, but I also possessed a sick curiosity about getting caught. The theft of worthless items wasn’t nearly as exciting if the person never knew the object was taken. And with him especially, I had wanted him to know what I’d done. I hadn’t expected him to track me down, but I’d wanted him to know it was me. Wanted him to remember me.

  What was the point of denying his claims and fighting him when I didn’t want to be free of him? I had wanted to know exactly what it felt like to have his full attention.

  The thrill was off the charts.

  But so was the fear. I hadn’t planned to broadcast my father’s mafia activities to a stranger, but he literally had me backed into a corner. It was the only weapon at my disposal, but he didn’t even flinch at my threat. It was terrifying, but somehow that fear was also exhilarating. I’d been interested in sleeping with him back in Vegas had our initial conversation gone differently. Having him chase me down only made our encounter that much more erotic.

  How could lust survive alongside fear? Was I demented? Did other women get turned on when they were scared? Maybe my mother was right, and I did need help.

  When our faces were inches apart in that closet, and I could see the intensity in his gaze, it felt transformative to be the focus of that electric energy. The high was greater than I ever could have imagined, and now I wanted more.

  He said he’d be in touch, but what did that mean? Was he staying in New York? Was he even from Vegas, or did he live somewhere else? Where would he find me next? Shouldn’t I be afraid?

  As I buttoned my jeans, questions and emotions assaulted me from all directions. I did my best to set them aside and collect myself. I hadn’t been lying when I said my cousin would be looking for me. If I knew Alessia at all, she was close to calling the cops.

  When I stepped from the storage room, the world around me shifted and rearranged to form a far less familiar picture. The club was physically just the same, but everything took on a new and exciting sheen. Scrutinizing the faces around me, I searched dark corners for watchful eyes and jumped each time someone bumped against me.

  Ten minutes with him and my life was unrecognizable.

  My face split in a wide grin.

  “Where were you? I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Alessia chided when she spotted me near the bar.

  I briefly debated telling her about my closet romp, but the words wouldn’t come out. “I just stepped outside for a minute. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you first.”

  “Are you okay?” she asked, her brow suddenly furrowed with concern.

  “Yeah, just a little headache. I think I may head home.”

  “Well, I don’t need to stick around without you. I’m just here to be with you and the girls. Let’s find them and get out of here.”

  I wrapped my arms around her in a warm hug. “Thanks, Al. Sorry again to drag you out and then bail.”

  “You know I’m not big on clubbing anyway. Now, come on.” She grabbed my hand and led me to where Sofia and Camilla huddled together at a table.

  I scoured the bar for the man as I walked, wondering if he was still there. Was he watching me? The thought had my head reeling. I barely acknowledged the other girls and followed absently as Alessia dragged me to the front entrance and into a waiting car. Her father insisted his daughters use the drivers he provided. It was one of the few ways Uncle Enzo was stricter than my father, who had never gone to that length.

  I continued to contemplate a barrage of questions on the way home. How had he found me? Why did he come after me? Was it just because I’d stolen his lighter, or had he wanted me from the beginning?

  The escapade in the club had been the most erotic moment of my life, and I didn’t even know the man’s name. In fact, it was not knowing him that made it so exciting.

  No way was that normal.

  It was one thing to fantasize about being with a stranger after he’d stalked and nabbed you, but it was different to actually be in that situation. To get wet for that man and crave his touch. I would never call myself broken, but I was clearly abnormal. I should have been terrified, and while I was scared to a degree, I was also insanely turned on.

  Our interaction wasn’t tender or sweet. It was primal and raw, and I loved every second of it.

  Alessia’s driver dropped me off at my apartment building. I walked unseeing to the elevator, riding up to my floor in a muddled haze. I only snapped to attention when I neared my door and realized the man probably knew where I lived.

  A heated shiver trickled down my spine, and I didn’t know if it owed to fear or excitement. Possibly a healthy dose of both.

  Opening the door, I glanced around, but the place looked empty. For now, I was alone.

  After spending almost a full year renovating my apartment, I loved it. It was a sacrifice to live in a dingy rental during those long months, but it had been worth it. Everything about my place was exactly to my specifications from the layout to the paint colors to the fixtures, and the place was perfect.

  After tossing my keys and purse onto the counter, I headed straight to my closet. Up on a top shelf behind a stack of blankets and squirreled away where no one would look was my treasure chest. An ornate wooden box where I kept each trinket I’d ever stolen. I could remember how I’d obtained every one of them, like some kind of fucked-up scrapbook.

  I’d seen documentaries about serial killers who kept mementos of their victims and wondered if that was the path I was headed down. I didn’t feel like I was insane. I didn’t have any particular need to kill anyone, but maybe that was how they started out too. Every time I pondered the issue, I eventually decided to shelf the debate until my proclivities became a real problem.

  Until casino man, it had been almost a year since I’d stolen anything. That could have been because the last theft was a particularly unethical incident. My mother often guilted me into volunteering at the church, and one day, she offered my services when the paper-folding machine broke, and they needed someone to help fold the weekly service leaflet. I was put to work with the crotchety old woman who worked in the church office. She’d had the job as long as I could remember, and I couldn’t ever recall seeing the woman smile.

  I tried to make small talk with her while we worked and was met with cynicism and negativity. She even had the audacity to insinuate I was a harlot because my skirt did
n’t touch my knees. She riled me up so badly that by the time we finished, I couldn’t help but lift the small black wiener dog paperweight from her desk. There was no excuse for what I’d done, and I did feel bad about it afterward, but at the time, it had felt imperative to teach that cow a lesson.

  When I opened the treasure box, my eyes skated over the objects, falling on the paperweight, then drifting to the silver lighter. Seeing it brought back the memory of standing next to him at the craps table. I could recall the rush, then feel a secondary wave of euphoria seep into my veins, heightened even further after the scene in the storage closet.

  I picked out the lighter, then put the box back on its shelf and placed the lighter in my jewelry box on the dresser. I wanted it to be accessible. Close to me. Having it nearby felt like having a piece of him near me, and that was oddly comforting.

  As I closed the lid on the jewelry box, I looked up at my reflection in the mirror above the dresser. Who the hell had I become? I should have been scared out of my mind or upset for bringing this stranger into my life. The last thing I should have been doing was fondling the lighter as though it was some kind of beloved keepsake.

  I could have been in serious danger. Just because he hadn’t hurt me yet didn’t mean he wouldn’t. After all, what kind of man hunted down a woman like that? Then again, I kept mementos of my crimes like a deranged serial killer in the making, so who was I to judge?

  I didn’t know what the hell I’d done, but one thing was for certain.

  My life was now far from boring.

  Chapter 6

  Giada

  “Why do we promise God we’ll try to be good every week, then go out and do whatever we want until next Sunday’s Mass?” I breathed the question to Camilla, who sat next to me on our family pew. For as long as I could remember, we had occupied the same pew at the front of the church every Sunday without fail. My sisters and I sat in order of age with Mom the farthest in by Val and Dad on the outside next to me.