by Faye Byrd
Pocketing my phone, I put my arm around Piper and start leading her away. “Um, Dante? I live back there.” She tries to turn around, but I keep prodding her forward.
“We’re going to my penthouse, if that’s okay?” I say and wait for her to stop walking, but she doesn’t.
She ducks her head like she’s all shy and shit. “Sure.”
I smirk to myself and keep on walking. By the time we’ve made it to my building, the silence between us is fucking with my head. Instead of feeling comfortable, it’s anticipatory. It doesn’t help that every time I remember who’s with me and where we’re going, my slacks get a little fucking tighter.
Once we enter the elevator, I scan my fingerprint and key in the code for my garage. When we start moving down, Piper eyes me speculatively. I hold my palms up. “Just need to drop something off.”
Her eyes narrow, but her lips tighten, saying nothing. By the time the doors open again, the atmosphere has shifted. The small steel box is overflowing with tension. Sexual tension. I’m relieved when I see Lorenzo waiting for me.
I step out and give him the Glock, but he leans over to look past me, at Piper, who’s still in the elevator. He returns his eyes to mine, and a spark of mirth shines in them. I brush my hand through my hair and shake my head.
“Don’t,” I say.
He tightens his lips to hold in whatever the fuck he’s thinking and takes the Glock, stepping back with the closest thing to a smirk I’ve ever seen from him. My eyes narrow before I step into the elevator and scan my print, this time going up.
All the way up.
Piper’s leaning against the back wall, her body tense, her goddamn legs stretched out long and fucking enticing. “I don’t know why you were in the alley, but thank you for being there.”
As much as I’d like to be the good guy, I’m not. In one move, I’m standing before her, my hands settled on her waist. “I was looking for you,” I say, and my voice sounds all strained and desperate. I clear my throat and try again. “I am sorry for shooting that guy in front of you, though.”
Her hands land on my forearms and slide against my skin, causing my heart to thump in my goddamn chest. “Dante,” she says all breathy and shit, and my cock throbs. “I think we both know you’re not the superhero.”
And that’s fucking it. It’s all I can take. My hands run up her sides, skimming her tits and landing on the wall to box her in as my lips descend. What’s so fucking insane, though, is she’s just as desperate. She fists my hair as we meet in a clash of lips and skin.
Shit gets out of hand real fucking quick.
Before I know it, she’s braced against the wall with her fucking glorious legs wrapped around my waist, and the buttons of her shirt are scattered across the elevator floor. I snatch my lips away, hoping to slow things down, but those goddamn tits are on full display and I can’t resist. When my lips close over her nipple and blow, her head thumps back against the wall with a whimper.
The haze of lust that’s exploded between us lifts slightly when the elevator dings, signaling we’ve arrived at the penthouse. I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not. But all too soon, it becomes glaringly clear.
The staccato of a slow clap sounds from behind me, and Piper’s eyes widen while my head falls to her shoulder. “Qualcuno sta per morire,” I grit through clenched teeth, threatening the life of whoever is stupid enough to be in my penthouse.
I lift my head and meet her eyes. “Mi dispiace, la mia Piper.” I assist her in regaining her footing.
She cups my cheek, her dark eyes soft. “I’m not sure what you’re saying, but don’t ever stop.”
I can’t help it. I lean down and press my lips to hers one more time before straightening and pulling her shirt closed. “I said I’m sorry.” I nod toward the penthouse. “This fucker obviously has no decorum.”
Her fingers walk up my chest and she leans closer, speaking quietly. “Let’s just go see what they want so they’ll hurry up and leave.”
My brows rise, her words heading straight to my still-bulging cock. “Fuck, yeah.”
I drape my jacket over her shoulders before taking her hand and turning to step out of the elevator. But we’re only a few paces into the penthouse when we both freeze. I reach for my Glock, but then I remember I gave it to Lorenzo.
Two rigid men sit on my couch.
The Boss of the Chicago Outfit has a salacious smirk on his face as his eyes pass over Piper, while Special Agent Tate levels me with a heated glare.
I tense and pull her closer into my side.
“Sit down, kids. We need to talk.”
When the Boss uses that tone of voice, I shut the fuck up and listen, but apparently, Piper has no goddamn idea the kind of danger she’s in.
She props her hand on her hip and narrows her eyes at her own father. “What the fuck is going on here?”
“Sit down, Piper, and I may be inclined to answer your questions. Otherwise, you can get the fuck out,” my father says, his voice slicing through the air with an icy chill.
Stefano Simone can have fun with the best of them, but when it comes to family business, he’s just that—all fucking business. And while I have no clue how Piper and me fucking has anything to do with the family, this goddamn impromptu meeting tells me it does.
Agent Tate starts to stand, but Stefano grabs his arm, keeping him on the sofa. “She’s a grown woman, Henry. You have to quit coddling her.” Though he’s speaking to Henry, his eyes are pinned on Piper, challenging her.
She doesn’t fucking disappoint either. “Henry?” she repeats sarcastically, her eyes scorching her father where he sits. She scoffs. “This ought to be fun.” Without further prompting, she struts forward and sits on the large square ottoman that matches my sofa.
I’m left in the doorway, fucking stunned at her balls—or maybe it’s stupidity—but either way, it affects me in ways it shouldn’t. I shake my head and chuckle under my breath as I start across the room to join the unlikely threesome.
The Boss catches my eye, and I lift a daring brow. Not only did his little meeting put a stop to a fuck-hot make-out session that was sure to lead to sex, but he’s sitting in my penthouse with a fucking Fed.
“Cosa è con il cazzo di Fed?” I ask what the fuck he’s doing here as I take a seat on the other section of the sofa, closer to where Piper is perched.
Her eyes slide surreptitiously to mine, and the small quirk at the corner of her lips as she focuses back on the two intruders reminds me how much she likes it when I speak Italian. I separate that glorious fact into its own secluded memory and file it away in a special part of my brain.
“Non si può nascondere le tue parole,” Agent Tate responds in perfect fucking Italian, punctuating it with a glare to let me know that I can’t hide my words.
Instead of letting him get to me, I smirk and swap to French to ask the asshole if he can understand me now. “Non? Qu'en est-il à présent, connard?”
I don’t miss Piper’s breathy exhale or the way her already crossed thighs clench, and I fucking smirk even more while keeping my stare on Agent Tate. His eyes narrow and flit to his daughter before coming back to me as a deep shade of red travels up his neck and covers his face.
My pop chuckles and leans forward, placing his scotch on the coffee table rather roughly in an attempt to break the current stare-down. When that obviously doesn’t work, he clears his throat. “Dante,” he says in a stern voice. “Henry is a visitor in your home.”
Cutting my eyes to him, I snort because it’s not like I let the motherfucker in. “Just get to the fucking point,” I growl, sick of whatever game my father is trying to play.
Instead of a rebuke like I expect, he just throws his head back and laughs. “I’m sorry, son. Did we interrupt something?”
I keep it cool, giving him a casual shrug. “So what if you did?”
He smirks at me before cutting his eyes to Piper and running them slowly up her body. I grip the edge of the sofa, ready
to rip out chunks and throw them at his head. By the time he focuses back on me, every muscle in my body is tensed and ready to fucking pounce. But when I see his satisfied smirk, I realize he’s intentionally goading me. My muscles relax, but only slightly.
“Look,” Piper breaks in, capturing the eyes of every male present. “I don’t know what the fuck’s going on here, but somebody needs to start explaining.” Her gaze skims over each one of us before narrowing on her father, but he looks to his lap, avoiding her stare.
“Allow me,” Stefano speaks up, leaning forward and grasping her hand. “My name is Stefano Simone, and you and my son have crossed an invisible line.” He releases her and picks up his scotch, swirling the glass in his hand as he leans back and settles into the plush leather. “You see, Henry and I have a unique relationship. So unique, in fact, that only he, Joseph, and I know about it.”
“The fuck are you talking about?” I demand, standing swiftly and motioning between the two traitorous men. “You don’t have unique relationships that I’m unaware of.”
“Sit the fuck down,” Stefano says, his voice deadly, and I comply because the alternative wouldn’t be pretty. “On the contrary, Dante. This particular relationship has been passed through three generations. You would’ve been brought into the fold”—his lip curls—“eventually.”
Piper’s eyes haven’t moved from Agent Tate, but he’s yet to meet her glare. She crosses her arms and lifts her chin, cocking her head at my father. “I’m not quite sure I understand where Dante and I fit into this equation, Mr. Simone.” She gives him a sweet smile—too goddamn sweet.
The Boss isn’t a fucking fool, though. He has her pegged and returns her fake pleasantries with his own. “Miss Tate”—he gives her a wide, toothy grin—“let me be frank. You fucking my son brings the wrong kind of attention to the relationship I mentioned, since you’re, ya know, our kids and all.” He holds his phony smile and even bats his fucking eyes all innocently and shit.
“Wait just a goddamn minute,” I say, horrified by this obscure underworld connection that’s suddenly an obstacle between me and my next chance to nail a Tate.
But I don’t even get to say more because Piper pushes my jacket from her shoulders and stands, gripping the front of her shirt closed. “Oh, well why didn’t you just say so? I have no interest in getting mixed up in any kind of business that includes the Simones and my not-so-by-the-book father,” she sneers, narrowing her eyes at Henry.
My father barks a laugh, and while she’s amusing him now, I’m not sure how long that’ll fucking last. I grab her free hand to try to draw her attention to me, and it works. For just one goddamn second as our skin meets, her whole stance softens.
It doesn’t last long, though. As soon as Pop’s laughter fades, his eyes zero in on our hands. “Don’t get attached, sweetheart. I said it’s over.”
“Or what?” I challenge without thinking the shit through very well.
In one smooth, elegant move, he’s lifted his Ruger and has it pointed at Piper’s head. “Do you really want to find out, son?”
Very carefully, so as not to startle him, I reach forward with my free hand to grab the barrel, pushing it against my own forehead instead. “This is on me, Boss.”
After several tense seconds, because goddamn, even I don’t know what to expect, he gives a satisfactory smirk and lowers the weapon.
Piper immediately snatches her hand from mine and swiftly moves past me, pausing only to glance back and shrug. “We were just having a good time, but no fuck’s worth my life”—she cuts her dark, seductive eyes to me—“no matter how good.”
She turns, and I’m mesmerized by her ass in that skin-tight skirt as it sways across the room. By the time I realize where she’s going, the elevator’s already sounding with a ding. I jump up and run like hell to catch her, not even caring that my father could shoot me in the ass, but I’m too fucking late. The doors close slowly, concealing her form, inch by inch.
“Goddammit!” My hand smacks against the reinforced steel before clenching into a fist and pounding on it several times.
FOUR
GAME ON, MOTHERFUCKER
What started as confusion has now turned into anger, but misdirecting it could cost me more than a night with Piper. I take a few deep, even breaths to beat back the monster before turning to demand my goddamn answers.
My steps are measured as I stalk into the living room, making sure to appear calm and composed, even though my blood is thundering in my ears and my right eye is fucking twitching. I walk to where Piper dropped my suit jacket and bend to lift it from my antique Persian rug. Draping it over the arm of the sofa, I ignore the eyes on me as I move toward the bar. The two men are silent, Henry with a glare and my father with a fucking amused twinkle that only serves to further incite my anger.
Instead of reaching for my usual Glenfiddich, I opt for something stronger. Spirytus Delikatesowy is a cheap Polish vodka, but it’s 180 proof, and I need to take the edge off before the monster escapes. I pour myself a generous amount and prop my hip against the bar. I swig my drink and return my glare to the two figures lounging on my sofa.
Digging my Ivan-enhanced-iPhone from my pocket, I press Angelo’s speed dial. “Boss,” he answers on the first ring. “What can I do for ya?”
“Piper just left my penthouse headed home,” I say in a low but commanding voice. “She had better arrive safely.”
“Bu—”
I swipe end and slip the phone back into my pocket, taking another sip of the harsh vodka. Once I’ve downed half the glass, my blood is warm and my anger has cooled—minutely—but it’s progress. Now I need answers, and it’s up to the two motherfuckers across the room to give them to me. I throw the glass back and pour the remaining liquid down my throat.
This time, when I take a seat, I’m careful to select just the right location. The leather groans quietly as I sink into the chair, and a sense of satisfaction moves through me as I eye the small cherry end table that’s perfectly within reach.
I pin my father, who sure has been a patient fucker by the way, with a hard stare. “I need all the details of this arrangement.” I wave my hand between the two of them. “Especially since it’s interfering with my”—I pause to consider my next words—“extracurricular activities.”
“You pathetic piece of shit,” Henry says, snapping his angry eyes to mine. “My daughter is better than that! She deserves respect. Not to be taken advantage of by some hotheaded, murderous crime lord.”
I fucking snort and look around to make sure he’s talking to me because that’s not the Piper I know. Not that I do know her, but from the sound of it, neither does he. She’s independent, feisty, sexy—way too goddamn sexy—and knows what the fuck she wants.
“I don’t think you know her at all, Agent. She’s had no problem putting me in my place, and she’s woman enough to know what she wants. It’s not like I’ve deceived her or anything.” I smirk to rub that shit in because he sure the fuck has. “We’re two single, young, sexual bein—”
Agent Tate lunges, and the only thing that stops him from reaching me is my father. The Boss grabs him by the shoulders and slams him back against the couch. “Careful, Henry,” he says, his voice a warning. “This is a discussion, remember?”
Henry snatches Stefano's hand away and scoots from his reach, which is impressive because those types of antics are usually only acceptable from me. “And he was talking about my daughter!” he growls, meeting my father’s heated stare.
Interesting.
Pop settles back against the sofa, assured the situation is under control, and does a little head tilt toward the ottoman where Piper was seated earlier. “Henry, I hate to say it, but that broad wasn’t forced to be here, and she sure as hell wasn’t a shrinking violet either. That girl has balls.”
“She has no idea what she’s getting into,” Agent Tate snaps, leveling Pop with a hard stare. “She’s lashing out because she’s angry at me.”
“
Hold the fuck up,” I say, motioning with my hands to break up their little debate because it doesn’t matter. None of it matters. These two idiots have already run her off and cockblocked the fuck out of us. “Piper’s a big girl who doesn’t need any of us trying to control her life. What I want to know is what the fuck’s going on between you two that takes precedence over our carnal needs.”
A growl rumbles in Henry’s chest, and my father hisses, “Dante.”
“What?” I shrug. “We’re fucking grown. We don’t need permission.”
“Son,” he says with a sigh. “Please, have a little respect for Henry. How would you like to hear someone saying they want to fuck your daughter?”
My body recoils on instinct and sinks deeper into the soft leather beneath me, the thought echoing through my brain. What the fuck? I’ve never even considered having children, and now he wants me to think about them fucking?
“Non me ne frega un cazzo,” I say with a casual shrug, knowing I’m lying through my goddamn teeth. I only don’t give a flying fuck because it’s someone else’s daughter, and it’s me that wants to fuck her.
“Il mio culo!” Pop says (my ass) with a snort, and he’s right.
I’d kill a motherfucker over the family I have now, and I’m sure I’d be even worse with a family of my own. But then I allow that thought to sink deeper, to imagine that I might actually have a wife and kids one day. An image of a dark-haired little girl floats through my mind, and it freaks me the fuck out.
“No need to be sarcastic, Boss. I get the point,” I concede, just to get off that fucking subject, and shift my eyes between the two men. “So let’s get this shit over with. Tell me about this unique relationship.”
“Ahh,” Stefano breathes, and he has a wistful smile as he stares off into nothing for a moment. “I fondly remember the day my father shared the story with me. Like you, Dante, I had no idea. No one but the Boss should know this tightly held secret.” He leans forward like he’s going to share something very crucial. “It’s been the secret of my success.”
