A tall boy with a devilishly cute face was holding up a little girl as high into the air as his arms could reach. The boy grinned up at the little girl whose eyes were squinted close as she seemed to be giggling madly, clearly enjoying the lift.
There it was. There they were.
A tiny piece of her had been in constant denial since meeting Antonio. It just all seemed so outlandish, so crazy. Even after seeing her mother’s photo, she still clung to her denial. But now, seeing the photo of the four of them…as a family…Emma realized it was true.
Charisse Grant had loved Gabe Del Marco. And he had clearly loved her. She could see it written all over his face. And together, they had created a family for Emma and Antonio.
Her stepbrother. The Del Marco Clan. It was all real. This was all real.
And without any warning, she immediately fell onto the couch, crying in huge ugly sobs. She panted as wracking sob after sob stole over her body. Although she tried to mentally reason with herself, she could hardly find a coherent word to calm herself down.
It was everything. It was the revealing of her true identity. It was her unexpected and unwanted marriage arrangement. It was learning of her mobster stepbrother. It was the sudden role of mobster sister and daughter being thrust upon her. It was her mother. It was the Grants. It was being alone.
Emma coughed and choked on her tears as the stress of the last several days finally reached its breaking point. After seeing her mother’s photos, Emma suddenly felt a sweeping wave of loneliness that made her tears fall heavy and fast.
“Emma.”
Emma stiffened. She couldn’t muffle her tears but she tried her best not to openly sob loudly as she looked up.
Antonio stood in the doorway, his tall frame blocking out the light of the hall. He looked worn. His gray eyes glowed mutely like a distant storm as his jaw tightened in raw emotion. His whole body seemed coiled for some kind of blow. She remembered seeing this kind of raw, naked face. She had seen it at the Gala.
Chapter Eighteen
“Emma, what’s wrong?” he asked, standing stock still in the doorway.
Emma rubbed the heels of her hands against her eyes. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice thick and shaky with tears, sounding completely un-fine.
“Emma—”
“No, really,” she said. “I’m just…it’s just….I-I’m fine.” She could hardly understand why she was crying; there was no way she’d be able to explain to someone else. Especially if that someone else was Antonio.
Antonio stood at the doorway, seeming to consider different options. Finally, as if unable to help himself, he stepped into the library, closing the door behind him.
Emma sat further back into the couch, not wanting to be a crying mess in front of him.
Antonio took a seat, sucking down most of the cushions towards him. Putting a long arm around the back of the couch, he said in a low voice, “Tell me why you’re crying.”
Emma bit her lip, feeling tears still threatening to fall. She shook her head.
“Was it because of the fight last night?” Antonio asked quietly, referring to the alley brawl.
Her head shot up. She could see a tiredness in his silvery gaze. There were faint smudges underneath his eyes that made her wonder if he had slept at all last night.
“No, not that,” she said.
“Then what, Emma?” Antonio pressed.
Emma sniffled, praying she could hold back the rest of her tears. She reached back towards the small side table and pulled forward the photos. Antonio looked down at them. She caught the small look of surprise cross his face before it was quickly replaced with harsh, apologetic pain.
Holding on to the photo of the foursome with both hands, Emma sniffed. “When I was eight, I was in a foster home with a lady named Ms. Hurst. If you consider most foster mothers, Ms. Hurst wasn’t a bad one. But she was a very remote lady. She treated most of her foster children like tenants in her house.” Emma quickly brushed away a stray tear that had fallen.
“One day walking home from school, I tripped and fell on the sidewalk. I had completely scraped open my knee. By the time I had gotten home, it had bled all the way down my legs and into my socks. Ms. Hurst saw me as I stepped inside.” Emma shook her head. “She told me to watch where I dripped and that bandages and ointments were in the bathroom medicine cabinet. Then she went out back to garden.”
Emma held the thick frame tighter. She looked down at her mother’s smile, her outreached hand looking like it was reaching for her right now on the couch. “So I went to the bathroom and I cleaned myself up and bandaged the scrape.” She drew in a shuddering breath. “All I had wanted was someone to hold me then. To ask me if I was o-okay.” Whatever scraps of control she had left over her emotions completely disintegrated. Emma felt her tears rushing down again.
“I just wanted someone to touch me. I remembering crying till I threw up because of how much I had wanted a mother, a f-family,” she shuddered, her emotions crashing over her in overwhelming waves. “And now…now here’s proof that I once had it. I once had a mother. And even though I don't remember her or h-have any memories of her, I m-miss her so m-much!”
Emma completely broke down but before she could let loose another sob, she felt herself jerked forward. Emma nearly choked in surprise as she found herself in a tight embrace, arms strong as oak wrapped around her. A warm, large hand pressed her head against a broad shoulder.
“No one forgot you in this house,” Antonio whispered fiercely, holding her close. “No one forgot you for a second.”
Emma clutched at his shirt, letting the shuddering waves of tears flow through her.
“You were always with me, Emma,” he said, his voice growing rougher by the word. “I’ve always kept you with me.”
His words echoed through her, stunning her silent. She rested her forehead against his hard chest. “Why,” she asked in a shuddering voice, “didn’t you call me back sooner? Why did you wait?”
Antonio’s grip around her tightened. Emma could feel his heart beat beneath her cheek. “You were special,” he said gruffly, his voice thick with ragged emotion. “I wanted to keep you safe as long as possible. You were better than a mobster’s brat. You were more.”
Emma realized his words were not only talking about her. Reading between the lines, she heard his thoughts. If she was more than a mobster’s brat, what about him? What did he think he was?
Emma looked up, tears still clinging to the fringes of her eyelashes. “But you’re sending me away,” she whispered. “You want me to marry David.”
Antonio’s features were harsh with tortured emotions. “I had no choice there. The Cavallis only proposed marriage as an option because they knew there was a Del Marco daughter. If I had said no, they would still know of your existence and could harm you in ways that I might not be able to protect you from.” Antonio brushed away a tear, his finger tracing her cheekbone.
“But you’ll have a good life, a better life,” Antonio said tightly, clearly forcing himself to say what he thought was right. “The Del Marco and Cavalli alliance will open up a whole new world for you and make it a safe and comfortable place for you to live.”
“But I don’t want that! I don’t want that life!” she cried. I want you. Emma’s pulse skipped as she heard her truest desires spoken aloud by her heart.
Antonio closed his eyes briefly as if it pained him to hear her words. Opening his silvery eyes, he gave her a ghost of a smile. “David is good. He had a different life than I did. Than most did in this business. He’s kind. He’s gentle.”
But he’s not you.
“I don’t want any of that,” Emma whispered. “I want to be home.” I want to be here. With every breath, it seemed her heart began to understand and express its true desire.
Antonio’s face darkened with pain at her words. He brushed her hair back from her brow, running his hand down her cheek. “I haven’t had a home for twenty years,” he said lowly. “Then you arriv
ed. And now, I’m home again.” His eyes carried his own pain that he had endured for the last twenty years.
“Antonio, I want to stay,” she whispered. “Let me stay.”
He broke their gaze, looking down at himself as if judging his worth. “You haven’t seen me in a long time, Emma. You were kept clean from a very dirty, dirty world. But I’m not clean. I’m dirty. I’m wicked. I’m cruel. I’m stained.”
Emma shook her head, burrowing her forehead into his chest. “No, no you’re not!” she cried out, her voice muffled against his shirt. She imagined him in the dark underbelly of the high ranking world of crime, fighting and bleeding to keep her safe and untouched. “You’re not any of that!”
When she looked up, she saw him smile faintly down at her, his eyes completely unconvinced by her cries.
Desperate to show how she saw him, Emma tentatively raised her hand against his stubbled cheek. “You’re not dirty,” she whispered. Raising herself, she lightly kissed his lips. She felt his grip around her back tighten at her touch.
“You’re not wicked,” she said before kissing him again, thinking of the donations to her school.
“You’re not cruel.” She kissed him again, thinking of the magical job offering she had received out of nowhere.
“You’re not sta—”
Before she could touch his lips again, Antonio surged forward, crushing her to him with a strength that took her breath away.
Holding her close, Antonio’s tongue plunged deep into her mouth. He explored her, tasted her, owned her. Emma wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself even tighter to him. Only moments before she had felt as if all the loneliness in the world had entered her heart. And now, she was locked in an embrace of her heart’s true desire, sharing a passion that made her blood burn and her body sing.
Pushing forward, Antonio laid Emma onto the couch. Tasting her lips, he reached down and pulled her sweater up. His large hand closed over one of her full and creamy breasts. Emma immediately moaned at his touch.
He squeezed then pinched the erect nipple, hard. Emma cried out as the pain shot right down her spine to her pussy. Antonio made sure to give her other breast equal attention, squeezing and pinching till Emma was writhing in pain and ecstasy.
Breaking apart from their kiss, Antonio unbuttoned his shirt. Emma stared at him, her cheeks burning with a shy passion. He looked as if he had been carved from marble. Every muscle, every line, every indentation was perfect. His defined arms and powerful shoulders stretched as they pulled Emma’s hands up, pinning her wrists above her head.
Undoing both of their pants, Antonio’s hand plunged into her wetness below.
“Oh god!” Emma cried out.
His thick fingers seemed to know exactly how hard and how fast to stroke her aching pussy. Swirls of growing pleasure blossomed within her body. His large hand above held her wrists captive while his other hand held her pussy captive. She was his. Completely his.
Emma looked up in her haze and caught Antonio’s sharp and gleaming silver gaze. His eyes burned with a passion that was deep and fervent. She could see the desire glowing within.
Replacing his hand with his thick cock, he positioned himself right at her entrance. Sliding the tip over her wetness, he whispered harshly, “Beg for it.”
Emma looked up, heart pounding and body crying out for more.
“Beg for it,” he said again, holding her wrists tight.
“Please,” she whispered, licking her lips. “Please, Antonio.”
Antonio pressed the tip of his cock hard against her swelling clit. “Oh god, please! Please fuck me!” Emma whispered, unable to take the torture any longer.
With a satisfying grunt, Antonio sheathed himself to the hilt in one smooth thrust.
Emma’s back arched as she screamed her release, pleasure snapping across every nerve ending in her body. The room sheeted white. Her muscles tightened to the point of cramping before her body shuddered in release, ecstasy seeping into her every fiber.
Then Antonio pulled out and plunged back in again.
“Oh, I can’t,” Emma whispered hoarsely. “I can’t again.” It had been so intense. She didn’t think she could stand up for all the money in the world. Feeling Antonio’s thick cock stretch and slide against her shot off another spark of intense pleasure making her pussy clench and twitch. “Oh god!”
Antonio took her lips, biting down quickly on her bottom lip. “Oh you can, sweetheart,” he said, thrusting in so deeply she could feel him brush against her womb. “You’ll come for me again. I want you to come hard for me.”
Emma shook her head, unable to form her protest verbally. Every thrust of his cock stretched her pussy till it bordered on pain. But the pain only heightened her pleasure. And unbelievably, she could feel her body rising to his rhythm. Coils of anxious pleasure tightened and twirled within her.
Antonio took her lips again. His eyes mirroring exactly how she felt, I’m home. I’m home with you.
He plunged again and again. Deeper and deeper. Emma didn’t think she could take it. Her body would surely explode and disintegrate if she had another orgasm. But Antonio was ruthless. He plunged faster and faster until something within her snapped.
She threw her head back and screamed as her body came crashing down around her. Explosion after explosion of pleasure shook her. She tried to pull at her wrists, unable to handle the intensity. But Antonio’s grip was firm. She was going nowhere. And she would feel everything.
Above her, Antonio roared as he plunged one final time into her, finding his own explosive pleasure within her.
He slumped forward, his forehead resting on hers, still intimately connected. Their breaths mingled as they felt their heartbeats slowly return to a human’s pace.
Antonio then slowly rolled onto the inner edge of the couch. An arm kept her firmly against his chest. Emma could feel his heart beating against her back. And as she closed her eyes, she was sure she could hear their hearts beating as one.
Chapter Nineteen
Frank Cavalli watched as he blew out a long stream of smoke. He licked his lips as he puffed again on his cigar. “These taste better than the last batch,” he said, his voice the sound of fabric tearing.
Ignacio Cavalli nodded, puffing on his own cigar. He leaned back in his seat, blowing out his own stream of smoke. “Yeah, I made sure I told our guy to double check the quality before shipping,” he said, twirling the cigar between forefinger and thumb. “I think he got the message.” Ignacio grinned, showing one gold incisor.
Frank leaned back in his leather chair, well oiled and smooth from years of use. He was in what he liked to call his “smoking room.” It was a small den off the end of the house. It was richly decorated even for its modest space in dark woods and carpets. This was where real business was done with the Cavalli Family. His office out in the front of the house were for guests.
The smoking room was for business.
“So when’s David seeing the girl again?” Frank asked, leaning back and enjoying his next puff.
“We’re arranging something through some DM Holdings charity shtick,” Ignacio said, smoke curling out around his lips, clearly unimpressed with the event. “Shows goodwill or whatnot between the two companies—a Cavalli supporting a DM Holdings charity.”
Frank snorted. “Those journalist are like fucking pigs, just eat any old shit right up.” He squinted at his Cuban cigar, looking over the burning leaves. “And David? He’s been doing his part, right?”
“Yeah. He bought that house I told him about in the Valley. He’s been spending more time in LA so it looks like he’s smitten with that Del Marco tail.” Ignacio grinned, his gold tooth making him look like a sinister jack-o lantern.
Frank nodded approvingly as he took another deep puff. The room was filled with a cloudy haze of cigar smoke. “Good. I’ve contacted the papers and Del Marco. We’re all set with the other dates. Make sure you contact the lawyers and have them draw up the right contracts f
or Del Marco. We need his signatures before the wedding.”
“God, them Del Marcos sure have a short fucking memory, don’t they, Pops?” Ignacio said.
Frank glared at his cigar. “They sure do. As if I don’t remember all those times Gabe Del Marco tried to poach from me. That piece of shit cost me millions of dollars in lost deals and territory wars. And his son thinks I’ll forget all that because I add a ‘corporation’ to the end of my name?” He snorted. “Fucking dimwitted cunt.”
After a moment of silent smoking, Ignacio grimaced. “Pops,” he said, his shoulders tense with his resentment, “I really think you should reconsider Davey. You know he’s not cut out to do what he needs to do. I’ve been running this business with you for years now! It should be me that’s marrying that Del Marco bitch and being your next in line. You know that, Pops.”
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