Shielded Wrongs: A Dark Mafia Romance (Bellandi Crime Syndicate Book 4)

by Adelaide Forrest

  With no sight of her in the space, I closed the door behind me and stepped in. The lights were dimmed, waiting for a wealthy client to step into the space and book a private show. "Sadie?" I asked, staring around in confusion as the lights on stage came on. Clad in nothing but a lime green lace teddy that hugged her tits and cut high on her hips, Sadie was illuminated in the dimmed neon colored lights as tendrils of smoke surrounded her from the machines at the base of the stage.

  Even unable to see her face as it was hidden behind the curtain of her dark hair with her head cast to the floor, I'd recognize my wife anywhere with only a glimpse of the body I still lived to worship, six months after I'd met her. A smooth rock song filled the air as she brushed her hair back to reveal her stunning face in the dim lights. Slowly walking to the pole in the center of the stage, she worked the five-inch heels like she'd been born to them.

  This was what I got when I let my wife befriend a stripper with as few boundaries as she herself had, a woman who encouraged Sadie's comfort with her body. Natalie quickly became a staple in Sadie's life, along with another form of activity that Sadie thrived on. She claimed the sensuality of it made her feel feminine after a day of knocking fists at the gym.

  I couldn't argue with her on that front.

  Ever since coming clean to her family regarding her OCD, Sadie had been filled with a new level of feeling free. She was who she was, and she finally accepted that all the people who couldn’t handle her? They weren’t worth her time in the first place.

  She stretched her right arm up and grasped the pole above her head. The words “Ride or Die” stood out in stark contrast to her skin in white ink, surrounded by Sampaguita flowers as she moved, shifting her weight from leg to leg slowly as the other followed suit and she spun to face me. Her hips swayed side to side to the beat of the music, one of her hands trailing up her body from her thigh to her shoulder.

  Touching everything that was mine, when we'd long since established who owned her: body and soul.

  With a seductive smile, she reached her free hand around her back, grabbing the pole at waist height and shifted the hand above her head, using the strength in her arms to encourage her body as she lifted her leg and swung it backwards to push her into movement. Her body spun parallel to the pole for a full rotation and as she came around again, she let go with that bottom hand and shifted it to the front of her body so she spun to face it. Lifting her legs up and out, she curved around the pole at the waist, moving from one transition to the next as she showed off her skills with the pole.

  Skills I knew from the continual toning of her body worked entirely different muscles than she exercised in her gym.

  When she came down off the pole, she dropped to the floor, throwing her weight back so she arched over the floor. Her breasts thrust up to the ceiling with her hair hanging behind her and the pole between her legs, she presented the perfect picture of sex appeal. Unable to resist the temptation she presented, I stepped closer to the stage. I took a seat in the lounge with a moment of hesitance for what might have been on it.

  I'd risk a few germs for Sadie and the gift she gave me in the form of viewing her body in all its perfection, working herself for my benefit alone. Her leg stretched up to her head, putting everything on display, and then she grabbed the pole and pulled herself back up. Moving into more pole work, while I watched the rest of the show with bated breath and twitchy hands, until the lights and music faded out with her clinging to the pole and sliding down.

  Eventually stepping out of the smoke, she came down the stairs and approached me on the lounge. Her hips continued to sway, even as she smiled with that secretive look I knew was for me alone.

  She stood in front of me, leaning forward to drape herself over my torso. Her hair fell around us, secluding us in our own little world where nothing else existed. "Hello, Lorenzo," she purred, running a hand over my chest and reaching for my fly.

  "Hi, Baby Girl," I murmured, lifting a hand to touch her cheek and tug her down to kiss me. Her soft, pliant lips parted for me, letting me in and kissing me to the beat of the song that started over in the background on repeat. "I missed you," I said.

  "I missed you too," she sighed, smiling happily. With my fly undone, she straightened.

  "Is this what you've been so busy doing in here?" I asked, raising a brow. She'd been locking her personal security outside the club twice a week, emerging sweaty and exhausted with Natalie an hour later. If I'd had less faith in my wife's fondness for my cock, I might have wondered if she'd discovered she was bisexual.

  "I thought I should have the chance to dance for you before I swelled up," she said, guiding my hands to her stomach. My body stilled, studying the strategic placement of the hands in time with her words.

  "What do you mean swell up?" I asked, needing the confirmation. We'd decided to wait until after the war to start our family. Chosen to put a pause on new life until we knew we'd have one of our own.

  "I'm pregnant," she whispered with that secretive smile. "Barely, but I took a test a week ago."

  "And you didn't tell me?" I asked, glaring at her as I stroked my fingers over her stomach. "You shouldn't have been working yourself to the brink of exhaustion to put on a strip show, Baby Girl. You should be resting."

  "I'm pregnant. Not on my deathbed," she laughed, reaching for my hand and guiding it down over her pussy to reach between her thighs. My fingers found the snaps there, flipping them open as she shoved my hands out of the way and climbed into my lap. Reaching between our bodies to pull me free through my open fly, she notched me against her and slid down to take me to the hilt on a slow glide.

  She tightened around me, tossing her head back and placing her hands at my shoulders. "I can do more than just lie in bed and wait nine months to pop out a baby, Enzo." She lifted herself off my length, dropping back down and setting a slow, torturous rhythm that drew a groan from my throat.

  No longer interested in debating her health during her pregnancy, I brought my hands down to her hips and urged her to move faster. "Uh uh," she teased, leaning forward to bite my lip and roll her hips over me at a new angle. "I'm in charge tonight." Her hands took mine off her hips, pinning them against the lounge next to my head and rolling her body over me so I slid in and out of her tight heat with each pulse of her body. Her breasts hung in my face, tempting and teasing me to touch and take.

  With no ability to touch her, my patience wore thin more quickly than normal.

  "No fair," she laughed as I rolled her to the side. Laying her out on her back in the lounge, I grabbed her behind the knee and shoved it high. Leaving her pussy on display for me as I filled her with my cock, she threw her head back on a moan.

  "You're probably touching bodily fluids," I pointed out with a chuckle.

  "Please," she scoffed. "I disinfected the entire room before I called you in."

  Laughter broke free from my chest as I buried my face in her neck and pounded myself inside her so hard that she forgot her sass for a few minutes.

  That she forgot everything but me long enough to chase her own orgasm. Her left hand stretched up to grab mine, our matching wedding band tattoos stark against our skin in black ink. Her unique onyx wedding rings hung from a chain at her neck, always with her, even during the times when she couldn't wear them on her fingers.

  Sliding my other hand underneath her left shoulder to hold her steady as I increased the force of my thrusts, my fingers brushed over the small round scar.

  The sign of her bravery. Of her selflessness for those she loved.

  I flooded her with my heat, sending her tumbling into her own orgasm in turn. She cried out my name as I groaned, stilling my body above hers as we caught our breath.

  "Love you, Lorenzo," she murmured.

  Six months later, and it still filled me with complete fullness to hear her form the words that had been hard fought to earn. We weren’t perfect. We had jagged little edges that cut each other sometimes. Her insecurities. My sleeping habits.


  But they were getting better slowly. I went to bed with her in my arms every night. I woke up with her in my arms every morning. Sometimes, I woke up on the floor, after she handed my monster his ass.

  She was mine. I was hers.

  Ride or die.

  And nobody would ever change that.

  I hope you loved Enzo & Sadie’s story! Please consider taking the time to drop me a review. Hearing from my readers means the world to me.

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  Can't get enough of Enzo & Sadie? Download the Exclusive Extended Epilogue and get a glimpse into their future.

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  If you've enjoyed Shielded Wrongs and want to know more about some of the characters mentioned here, start the series from the beginning with Bloodied Hands!

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  Continue reading for a sneak peek into Scarred Regrets. Please note: This is unedited and subject to change.

  Scarred Regrets Sneak Peek

  Scar

  Six Months Earlier

  I'd lived through hell. I thought I'd seen the worst life offered in my years on the streets, but watching her twine her hips against another man's was a new brand of torture. The sparkling violet fabric of her mini dress shimmered in the neon lights as her eyes landed on mine.

  Watching me. Testing me.

  Everything she did was a show and a push, but Irina didn't understand that I'd never be able to give her what she wanted.

  Hands trailed over her hips, clutching her tightly in a grasp that hinted at all the desperation she brought out in men. A tantalizing taste of the kinds of pleasures we didn't deserve. Of her flawless light brown skin that she inherited from her Greek mother. Of the vibrant light green eyes that contrasted her dark hair and medium skin in an almost feline fashion.

  My jaw clenched as my finger itched for my gun. He may not have deserved her.

  But neither did I.

  She spun to face her dance partner, a lean and well-dressed businessman who wanted to stain her with his filth. His hands slid around the back of her hips, fingers precariously close to her ass as Irina did a body roll and touched her body to his. Tossing her hair back and glancing over my way, I watched a teasing smirk cross her face as she shook it out and turned her attention back to him.

  She stumbled in her heels, far too drunk to be dancing like she didn't give a shit about the consequences. The guy steadied her against his body as her face transformed with a giggle I couldn't hear.

  I knew the sound by heart. Had it branded on my very being. It should have been for me.

  His hands slipped down further, caressing her ass through the fabric of her dress. I watched his eyes light with something greedy when she didn't adjust them and saw the exact moment he realized she was drunk enough to make a mistake and go home with him for the night.

  He leaned down to say something in her ear, and her body stilled for just a moment. Her eyes glanced over my way briefly, shaking it off a few seconds later. She nodded her head hesitantly, her teeth sinking into her plump bottom lip she'd painted the color of blood. He stepped back from her, holding out a hand for her to take so he could take her home.

  Make love to her.

  Fuck her.

  All the things I'd never be able to do.

  She paused, staring at that outstretched hand and understanding as well as I did that it would be new territory. Irina danced. She teased.

  She never went home with any of them when she realized I wouldn't intercede. But something about that night was different. Something about it made her body sag with the weight of our reality.

  Her eyes were wet when she looked my way one last time, the smile she gave me brittle as she placed her hand in his. Everything inside me tightened, agony and rage filling the void in my body a heart was meant to occupy.

  She took that first step, teetering in her heels as they shook, and her free hand trembled as she lifted it to wipe away the lone tear that slid over her rosy cheeks. I wasn't aware I'd taken a step until she paused, hope filling her striking face as she stared at my shoe. My gaze slid down to it as my jaw clenched, incapable of controlling my body as her pain drew me closer.

  She stared up at me with wide eyes, shock making her red lips part. One step after another until she was right in front of me. Closer than she'd been since the day I sat at the bar with her six months ago. With no clue who she was, no concept of just what kind she was and the fact that I'd never let myself touch her.

  If there'd been a muscle in my chest, it would have beat for the first time that night.

  For her.

  "Let go, Cuore Mio," I ordered. She dropped his hand instantly as if his touch scalded her, straightening her body as she stared up at me. Her slender body went solid as she waited, her intense green gaze never leaving mine as she undoubtedly waited for the push that would come. For the moment, I would remind her she wasn't mine and never would be.

  Irina had feelings for somebody else. For the man she wanted me to be, the hope she saw inside me without accepting the damage.

  The filth that stained my soul could never be allowed to touch her.

  I held out a hand, watching as she stared at it. Without glancing back for the man she'd been prepared to welcome into her body to sever the toxic obsession that strummed between us like a soul bond, she placed her perfectly manicured palm in mine. Electric sparks shot through me at the touch, reminding me for just a moment what it would be like to feel.

  But with feeling came pain.

  I'd suffered enough pain in my life, I wouldn't welcome the total shattering of my soul that Irina would give if she saw the damage of my life.

  She followed me as I guided her for the exit without a word. The walk took everything she had; her steps coming more unsteady as she swayed. The cool September air kissed her skin when we emerged out the front doors of the club, and she wrapped her arms around herself. With a sigh of frustration, I turned and scooped her into my arms. She wrapped hers around my neck as she squeaked in surprise, settling in with her head on my shoulder as exhaustion weighed her down.

  She'd drank far too many gins and tonics to be aware of her surroundings, and I tried to stop the condemnation that bubbled up. Irina wasn't unaware of the dangers in the city, but she still took risks.

  One night every month, she shed her professional surface to go to Indulgence and torture me. Her green eyes were hazy as she studied me, her head lolling against me with more weight with every step I took. The bare skin of her legs draped over my suit-covered arm was the epitome of temptation.

  I wanted to run my hands over her. Wanted to see my skin against hers. But the raised flesh on the backs of my hands reminded me of who I was. Of where I belonged.

  She was mostly asleep by the time I set her in the passenger seat of my SUV, smiling up at me through the drowsy look on her face. My heart clenched, knowing she thought the day had come where I finally gave in to the pulsating thread that connected us. I couldn't put into words, but something about Irina just felt like mine. Even though I knew she wouldn't be.

  Eventually, she'd tire of waiting for me to make a move. Eventually, she'd move on with a man and he'd give her the white picket fence and two point five kids she needed. Her soft snores filled the SUV as I climbed in the driver's side. If she'd been any of the Bellandi girls, I might have chuckled. With Irina, all I wanted was to fall asleep to that sound.

  I drove her to the nearest Bellandi owned hotel, checking in and carrying her up to the room I booked. It wasn't the Penthouse, but Irina would sleep through the night and race out first thing the next morning.

  Horrified. Embarrassed.

  Pissed.

  As I'd requested when checking in, the concierge dropped off a bottle of water and aspirin quickly, ducking out of sight when he caught the thunderous look on my face. I placed them on the nightstand where she'd
be able to reach them when she woke up with the hangover from hell.

  I supported her weight against my body, tugging the covers down so I could lay her in them. When her body laid out on her back finally, the purple dress that covered her fit like a second skin. The temptation to touch my fingers to the place where her heart beat in a steady thrum consumed me, but my hand hovered just an inch from her skin. The burn scars on the back taunted me, reminding me why it had to be this way.

  Her red lips glistened, a beckoning temptation I wasn't strong enough to resist. I leaned in, my lips touching hers in the faintest hint of a kiss as I pulled away. I grabbed the notepad off the nightstand, scribbling a quick note on it. My throat was tight as I scribbled the words she'd see when she first woke up.

  Stay home.

  I imagined her reading it the next morning, drinking the water and taking the pills as she forced her eyes to work. The rejected look on her face wasn't hard to imagine.

  I'd pushed her away countless times since we met.

  She deserved a man who could give her the world. Not one who could barely tolerate being touched.

  I made my way to the door, glancing back at her and knowing one truth.

  It would be the last time I watched her dance at Indulgence. Walking away would mean the end of whatever it was that threatened to pull me under.

  I turned and closed the door behind me with a final click that echoed through me.

  Also by Adelaide Forrest

  Bellandi Crime Syndicate

  Bloodied Hands

  Forgivable Sins

  Grieved Loss

  Shielded Wrongs

  Insta-Love Novellas

  The Men of Mount Awe

  Deliver Me from Evil

  Kings of Conquest - Cowritten with Lyric Cox

  Claiming His Princess