by Bella J.
Layla squared her shoulders. “As Matteo said, I’m here with him.”
“The hell you are. What the fuck is going on?”
“Nothing.”
Matteo cleared his throat. “I think what Layla is trying to say is that we’re here to have some fun, you know, as a couple.”
This time I turned my attention to him, every muscle in my body taut as I tried to restrain myself from pulling out a knife and cutting his throat. “I suggest if you would like to keep that ugly motherfucking head of yours that you back the fuck off.”
Matteo stepped forward, pushing his jacket back, showcasing the gun at his side. A piss poor display of warning. “Is that a threat, Valenti?”
I moved closer. “You can bet your ass it is.”
“I get that you and Layla share this whole history together, but it’s exactly that…history. She’s with me now, so move the fuck along.”
I glanced from Matteo to Layla, who seemed uncomfortable as she shifted from one leg to other, the slit in her red dress draping perfectly along her thigh. She met my stare for a second before looking away.
I noticed her flicking her fingernails. It was a nervous habit of hers. It used to drive me up the fucking walls whenever she did it. But right now it was a clue—a clue that things weren’t as they seemed. Something wasn’t right, and I was going to figure out what it was.
I lifted my hands in a display of mock surrender. “Fine. Whatever. You two have a good time.” I took a step back and pinned my stare on her, silently conveying the message that we weren’t done. Not by a long shot. You didn’t disappear for five fucking years, then just reappear out of thin air and expect all questions to remain unanswered.
I turned my back on her and Matteo and headed up the stairs.
“Dante, I think it’s best we leave.” I heard Antonio’s footsteps behind me.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“I don’t want trouble, Dante.”
I stomped up the final step. “Too fucking late.”
The little nipple patch waitress came skipping by with a tray of shooters. I grabbed two, tossed them back one after the other, and didn’t even feel the sting of the alcohol since all I could focus on was the burn of jealousy and a shitload of fucks I gave at that point. Less than five minutes ago, I was the kind of man who had the natural talent to easily not give a fuck. But now? It seemed like I gave a fuck about a lot of things.
Her.
Why she suddenly decided to come back.
Did she know who and what Matteo was?
And if she didn’t, exactly how much trouble was she about to get into?
Was she safe?
Fuck me. That was just too much shit to care about for a heartless bastard like me. But because of her…I goddamn cared.
I took a seat on a leather couch and ordered a drink. Antonio sat next to me. “What the fuck is going on?”
I shrugged, then spotted Matteo and Layla walking up the stairs. “I have no idea. But I’m going to find out.”
“I don’t want trouble.”
“Yeah, you said that already.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know you are.” I took my drink from the waitress and leaned back, my eyes glued to Layla, who stood next to Matteo at the bar. I caught her glance my way a few times, but her expression remained completely unreadable. It was fucking amazing how she managed to act as if there was absolutely no history between us, no unanswered questions. It pissed me off to see how easy it was for her.
Lorik sat across from us with another round of tequila. “Well, I figured since Armageddon is just around the corner with Layla dating Matteo and all, we might as well get trashed on hard liquor.”
Antonio glared at him. “You’re not helping.”
Lorik picked up a shooter glass. “It’s not my intention to. But I will say,” he leaned back in his seat and gestured my way, “I’m going to love watching Dante kick Matteo’s ass.”
Antonio sighed. “Unbelievable. No one is kicking anyone’s ass.”
“Uh, yeah. Of course Dante will be shoving his foot up Matteo’s butt. The SOB is walking around with the woman who turned Dante into a walking dildo for the last five years. It would be all kinds of wrong if he just let Matteo get away with it.”
“Lorik,” Antonio started, “sometimes I have to wonder what it is my sister sees in you.”
Lorik grinned. “Oh, that’s easy. Apparently, Albanians have bigger cocks than Italians.”
“Jesus Christ.” Antonio pulled his palm down his face, and I snorted. Lorik was one of a kind for sure.
I turned my attention back to the lady in red. She was thinner than I remembered, the open back of her dress showcasing her small frame. Her legs were skinnier too, but still sexy as hell. It made me think of all the times I had those legs wrapped around my neck while I buried myself inside her.
I was her first. The first man to claim what lay hidden between her legs. I remember it like it was yesterday. She was shy at first. Innocent. Reserved. But just like any forbidden fruit, once you had a taste, experienced the thrill of ecstasy, it had the tendency to make you forget all your inhibitions. The temptation was too strong. Seduction too sinfully delicious. Once Layla allowed it to take control of her—allowed me to take control—she turned into an insatiable woman with a lust, a desire for more than just lovemaking.
Fuck. Sitting here, thinking about how rough and hard she liked it, made my cock press painfully against the zipper of my pants. Night after night she would spread those beautiful legs just for me. It had always been me. The thought of her ever being with another man set my insides on goddamn fire.
I could still remember how it felt as if I couldn’t get enough of her. If I could have locked her in my bedroom twenty-four-seven, I would have, because fucking her was my favorite pastime.
They said a person’s body was the temple of God, but not hers. Her body was my temple, my altar, my fucking religion, and I worshiped it every chance I got.
The more I sat there thinking about the past, the angrier I became. Especially since I was a glutton for punishment, choosing to just sit there and watch as Mancuso had his filthy motherfucking hands all over her.
I grabbed another tequila from the table, throwing it back down my throat. I noticed Antonio scowling at me.
“What?”
“Take it easy on the alcohol. You’re reckless enough sober.”
“It’s a fucking bachelor party, Antonio. Lighten up.”
He eased back in his seat. “The bachelor party ended when Layla walked in.”
“Nah. I’d say the party just started.”
I watched as Matteo leaned closer, whispering something in Layla’s ear. She smiled and laughed, making me wonder what the fuck he said to her. My spine tingled with the need to kill the bastard. Did he not know that every smile, every expression on her beautiful face belonged to me?
I tossed back another tequila and saw Matteo walk off, joining a group of men on the other side of the floor. Rookie mistake. He left Layla alone at the bar. Was he that clueless? You never left a woman like Layla alone anywhere. It was reckless, irresponsible, and the perfect opportunity…for me.
I jumped to my feet and ignored Antonio’s plea for me to sit the fuck down. There was only one goal I had in mind, and that was having a very important conversation with the lady in red.
As I stepped in next to her, I placed my fingertips against the small of her back. Even with the music playing, I could hear her suck in a breath.
“What are you doing with him, Layla?” I kept my gaze straight in front of me, and so did she.
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
I removed my hand from her back and turned to face her. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Does it look like I’m laughing?”
“It looks like you managed to get yourself into a shitload of trouble.”
She took a sip from her white wine, and my gaze settled o
n her lips, the way they kissed the rim of the glass. It was one simple act, yet it had the effect of a thousand aphrodisiacs, making my cock harden. Amazing how she disappeared from my life for years, then walked right back and turned me the fuck on within five goddamn minutes.
Finally, she turned toward me, her amber eyes settling on mine. “I don’t know why you would assume I was in trouble simply because I’m dating Matteo. But I can assure you, I’m in no trouble at all.”
From the corner of my eye, I noticed her flick her nails as her palm lay on the bar. Dead giveaway.
“You really expect me to believe that?”
She flicked a strand of her hair back. “I don’t expect anything from you.” Her gaze moved to where Matteo was standing with a crowd of men. More flicking of her nails.
I cocked a brow. “You’re afraid of him.”
She looked back at me. “What? No. Of course not.”
“Then why do you look nervous?”
She swallowed, and my eyes caught the movement of her throat. An image of us, of me lapping my tongue down the skin of her neck, tasting her, coaxing her body to ready itself for me. A memory of my lips kissing their way over her naked shoulder and down to the swell of her breast. Oh, I remembered her soft moans, the subtle noises that rolled over her heart-shaped lips, causing me to want to claim her in every way humanly possible.
Fuck. I wasn’t even having a conversation with her for ten goddamn seconds, and already she was seducing me back to the past without even trying.
I stepped closer, my hand touching her elbow. She sucked in a breath at my touch, and I was sure she shuddered before me. “What are you doing, Layla? You disappeared for years, and now you walk in here like nothing has happened.”
Inconspicuously, she removed her elbow from my grasp. “I’m not doing anything, Dante. It didn’t work between us, so I left. Now I’m back, and I’m with Matteo. There’s really no mystery to solve.”
I inched even closer. “I’m not buying it.”
“You don’t have to.”
My gaze flitted from her eyes to her mouth, red lips tempting me to succumb to their invitation, right here, right now, in turn causing mayhem and guaranteed carnage.
Layla leaned closer, the scent of her perfume bombarding all my senses. “Walk away, Dante. Do not pursue this.” Then she walked away.
I stood there as if I had been bolted to the fucking floor. It felt like I had been sucked through a giant black hole, then spat out in the goddamn Twilight Zone. Nothing about the last hour of my life made any sense. Within the blink of an eye, my life went from uncomplicated to super fucking complicated. My past had just stepped right into my present, and somehow I was sure it was about to fuck up my future.
I gestured for the waitress to bring me another drink, then glanced over my shoulder just as Layla whispered something in Matteo’s ear then headed in the direction of the ladies’ room, clutching her purse in her palm.
“This has trouble written all over it,” Antonio said when he joined me at the bar. “I don’t know what he’s playing, but I have a bad feeling about this. We need to figure out what the fuck is going on.”
I tossed back my drink and walked after her.
“Dante, where are you going?”
“Finding out what the fuck is going on.”
I heard Antonio curse behind me, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was the woman in front of me. I needed to find out what the fuck was going on, and I was going to find out right now.
Chapter 7
Layla
He was following me. I could feel it. I felt his eyes on my back, his presence coating my skin like it was the goddamn air I breathed. How was it possible for me to be able to feel him as if he were still a part of me after we’d been apart for so long?
My pulse raced, my heart beating rapidly with every step I took. It was working just as he said it would.
I pushed open the door to the ladies’ room, and as the door swung back, he knocked it open behind me, the door slamming into the wall.
The women in front of me gasped, and I closed my eyes without looking back.
“Get out!” His voice boomed through the room, his anger echoing off the walls. All the women scampered around as they rushed out. I still didn’t turn around. I was struggling to breathe as fear gripped my lungs.
I heard the door swing closed, and then the click of the lock. I sucked in a breath, knowing I was alone with him, locked in with nowhere to go. I could feel his resentment from all the way across the room. It burned right through me, causing an ache to crash against my chest.
My thoughts were scrambling, my emotions scattering all over the place. It was almost time. I just needed to get through this. He promised.
I glanced over my shoulder. “Don’t do this, Dante.”
Silence. Cold, hard, deafening silence.
I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders, grabbing hold of every ounce of courage I had left in me.
As I exhaled, I turned to face him. The second our eyes met, my heart shattered into a million pieces. Memories of our time together came rushing back, blasting through my mind and causing me to become unsteady on my feet.
Dark eyes, strong jaw, broad shoulders, and a presence which held the power to seduce and intimidate at the same damn time. Dante was a force to be reckoned with. A man who had the ability to speak a thousand words without saying anything at all. He was also the man whose touch set my body on fire, whose lips kissed me into submission.
More memories, images of sunsets and silk sheets possessed my mind the longer I stared at him. I could see every trace of anger and pain swirl around in his beautiful dark irises, and it killed me. It killed me to know I was the cause of it, and that I’d be the cause of so much more.
Tears stung the backs of my eyes. “Dante, I’m—”
Without warning, he rushed forward, grabbed my shoulders, and crashed his lips against mine the same time my back hit the wall.
A whimper rolled over my lips as tears moved down my cheeks.
His tongue didn’t beckon. It didn’t tease. It possessed while it moved with vigor against mine. Nothing about his lips was soft or subtle. It was hard and heady. Desperate and angry.
My body had no choice but to melt into his, my legs weakening by the second. The familiar scent of vanilla and musk carried me back to the past. Memories of what my sheets used to smell like whenever he left flooded through my mind. I remembered how his scent clung to his shirts—shirts I would wear whenever we slept apart so I could feel like I was close to him.
More tears slipped down my cheeks, the saltiness of my regret mixing with the eagerness of his kiss.
I should have stopped him. I should have pushed him away, but by God, I was powerless against him. Against the way my body, my soul…my heart reacted to him. Every ounce of longing I had felt ever since I left came back with a force so strong, it was impossible to fight it.
His greedy hands slipped down to mine, fingers wrapping tightly around my wrists. Abruptly, he jerked my arms up and pinned my hands above my head, causing me to gasp as he pressed his body harder against me. I could feel it in the way he touched me, kissed me, in the way he forced his hard thigh between my legs that he was pouring everything he felt into this exact moment.
Anger. Jealousy. Possessiveness. Lust. It was all there crashing between us with reckless waves of desire.
He moved his thigh, pushing it harder against me, lifting my feet off the ground and leaving me no choice but to rock my hips back and forth, desperate for release from the bounds of his seduction. I was losing the fight. I was losing my will to do what needed to be done.
One touch, one kiss, and every ounce of resistance crumbled to nothing but dust.
“Layla,” he breathed against my lips. “Why? Why the fuck did you leave me?”
But his lips didn’t give me a chance to answer as they reclaimed mine, his tongue sweeping through every inch of my mouth.
It was only w
hen his lips moved down my neck that I finally had a chance to reply. “I’m sorry, Dante,” was the only thing I could say. Nothing else mattered but the remorse, and the guilt I felt for leaving him. For breaking his heart.
More tears, more heartache, more regrets. Every second I spent with him so close to me, consuming my body and igniting my desire for him, caused me so much pain, it felt like it had the power to break me in two.
His tongue lapped against the hollow of my neck as one hand moved down my arm, his touch burning me from the inside out. My skin came alive as it yearned for his familiar caress, my body demanding to be sated. The second he cupped my breast, pushing it up so his lips could claim the soft flesh through the fabric of my dress, I moaned out loud.
“Dante, I’m so sorry.”
His kissing seized, his grip on my breast loosening. The warmth of his breath coated the skin of my neck, and I felt the rapid beating of his heart against my chest. He removed his thigh from between my legs, bringing my feet back to the ground. And I whimpered, knowing that it was over. The moment. It shattered along with the desire that almost consumed us both a second ago.
He didn’t look up, one hand still gripping my wrists above my head. “Why now?”
Of all the questions he had, that was the one he demanded an answer for. Why now? Why did I decide to return now?
Because I need to ruin you.
Another tear moved from my cheek, lapping over my top lip. “We do not decide our own fate, Dante.”
“Bullshit!” He slammed his fist into the wall right next to my face, and I yelped, my entire body numb with fright. “Why the fuck are you back, Layla?”
I closed my eyes, turning my face away from his. Slowly, painfully, reality started to seep back into the moment. My desire for this man still pulsed through my veins, but the mind-numbing craving crept in as well, reminding me of what was at stake.
I bit my lower lip, my determination the only thing that would save me from this moment.
I turned back to face him, my gaze etched on his. “I’m here with him.”
