Her Mafioso King (The Vitucci Mafiosos Book 4)

by Terri Anne Browning

  The big-bellied man followed my gaze, his eyes landing on my woman and son. “Is that Anya?” The surprise in his voice was unmistakable. “I didn’t know she was back in town.” I made a noise in my throat. “She looks good. Didn’t think I would ever see her with the likes of you again, though.”

  I shrugged, not about to get into the topic with him. He didn’t need to know why Anya was with me, or what had happened in the time we were apart. “I have a hungry woman and kid to feed, man. You got a table for me?”

  “Always, my friend. Always.” With a lift of his chin, he dismissed the waitress and headed for the back of the dining room.

  Anya stood, keeping Ryan close to her as I put a hand to the small of her back and guided her after Fredo. People were too busy eating to notice us as we passed. Dressed in jeans and a sweater instead of my usual suit, I looked like a man out having a meal with his family, and that was exactly what I was.

  There was a single table in the back corner, reserved for any of the Cosa Nostra who wanted a meal. It was secluded, offering privacy, and big enough to seat six.

  Ryan released Anya long enough to pick a seat. “Sit beside me, Anya.”

  Before she could take it, I pulled the chair back for her. She rolled her eyes as she sat beside my son. “Thank you,” she muttered ungraciously as she took her seat.

  I leaned down, lightly touching my lips to the shell of her ear. “You’re welcome,” I breathed and was rewarded with the feel of a shiver she couldn’t control. Grinning, I straightened and faced Fredo. “We’ll take a cheese pie and a basket of fries.”

  “I’ll get it in the oven and send someone to get your drink order.” He smiled down at Anya and Ryan. “You’ve got a beautiful son, Anya.”

  All the blood drained from her face, and she swallowed roughly before forcing a smile and nodding. “Thanks, Fredo,” she choked out.

  As the man walked away, I sat, taking the seat directly across from her. Her reaction, the way she refused to meet my gaze now, was sending up red flags, but I didn’t understand why. Fredo assumed Ryan was hers—ours. That shouldn’t have had the blood draining from her face and her hands trembling.

  Noticing I was watching her fingers shake, she balled them into fists and clenched her jaw. “Wh-What do you want to drink, l’venok?”

  “Chocolate milk?” he asked hesitantly, his eyes shooting to me imploringly.

  I grinned. “Good choice, figlio.”

  A waiter appeared at the table, and I gave him Ryan’s and my drink order after Anya asked for water. Ryan was playing with her phone again, and she pretended to watch him, but I could tell she was zoning out. Her eyes were vacant, as if she were lost in a memory.

  I didn’t know what was going on with her, but I would find out.

  Chapter 12

  Anya

  By the time I was lying on Ryan’s bed that night, my heart was still pounding from lunch. The little guy was already asleep, not even lasting ten minutes into our story before he was out for the count. Leaving me all alone with only the thoughts in my head for company.

  One innocent comment from an old friend of Cristiano’s who remembered me from years before and I was a mess. I knew once his gaze landed on Ryan that Fredo thought he was my son. I wished that were true, but it wasn’t what sent me careening off a cliff into a ravine full of memories I would have given anything to forget.

  All I could think about was the past. Those months following Cristiano walking away, leaving me broken on my bed while he started a new life in another city, with another woman—they were a nightmare for me. Leaving New York, my home, my sanctuary, for a place I never thought I would want to see again in my lifetime, was my only salvation. The only way I could continue to breathe and still hold on to my sanity.

  “You’ve got a beautiful son, Anya.”

  I clenched my eyes closed and breathed in deeply, trying to control my heart rate, focusing on making it slow down rather than the memories that were swimming around in my head. Deep breath in, long breath out. Nice and easy. Calm and steady.

  Ryan moaned in his sleep, twisting around restlessly underneath his covers. I touched his hair, and he stilled. Rolling over, he snuggled against my side, his hand wrapping around my arm and holding me in place. I leaned in, touching my lips to the crown of his head and inhaling him.

  My throat clogged with a lump of emotion, and I had to swallow half a dozen times before it disappeared. Closing the book, I tossed it toward the foot of the bed and burrowed back into the pillows. Having him close eased my racing heart somewhat, and I began to relax for the first time since lunch.

  I was going to close my eyes for a few minutes, just enough to unwind a little. The lack of sleep from the night before and the stress of the day began to take hold of me, dragging my body and mind down into a dark, deep sleep…

  I jerked awake, unsure of where I was as I stared at the unfamiliar room. Remembering Ryan, I glanced around, but he wasn’t in bed beside me, and then I realized I wasn’t even in his bed. Sitting up, I pushed my hair back from my face.

  Then it hit me. His scent. It was unmistakable, and I didn’t know how I hadn’t smelled it first. The sheets and covers all carried his aroma. It surrounded me, seeping into my pores, and tried to climb the walls erected around my heart. That scent haunted me. Made me ache for him, for more, for a lifetime of us. I lifted the covers, filling my lungs and ignoring the need that throbbed in my heart for something I knew better than to covet.

  From the bathroom, I could hear the sounds of him moving around, and I was ready to jump out of bed when he appeared in the doorway. Hair damp from his shower, he stood before me in nothing more than a pair of black pajama bottoms. I swallowed hard, unable to tear my eyes away from his chest. Five years before, Cristiano had been leaner, had more of a swimmer’s body. Now, he was wider in the shoulders, his muscles thicker than I could have ever imagined beneath the suit he typically wore. His abs were more pronounced than ever, his waist tapered and calling my attention to the way his pajama pants sat so low on hips.

  “I was hoping not to wake you,” he admitted as he crossed to the bed and sat on the end, turning to face me. “You looked peaceful sleeping beside Ryan, but he’s all over the place all night long. I figured you would be more comfortable here.”

  I pushed the covers back and stood. “I need to go. I should have been back at work hours ago.”

  His hand shot out, grasping my wrist as I passed him. It wasn’t a hard hold, but the moment his fingers touched my skin, I felt like he had locked me in place. I didn’t feel threatened, but I found myself unable to move, too stunned by the pleasure of having him touch me to be able to make my brain realize I needed to pull away. That being this close to him, alone in his room, a bed right there calling my name, was more dangerous than anything I’d ever faced in my life.

  His thumb rubbed over my pulse. There was no way he could miss the way my heart was racing, nor could I hide how my entire body trembled at his nearness. His gaze sought and captured mine as he lifted my hand, kissed each fingertip. The heat of his breath, the dampness of his lips, they both acted like an electric shock straight to my clit. It pulsed and throbbed to the pounding of my heart, and I knew I was in deep, deep trouble.

  I shouldn’t have stayed so long. I should have run out the door the instant Ryan was asleep. Instead, I lingered, cuddled the little boy I wanted to be able to call my own. Now, I was trapped in a room with a man I once would have given my life for—still would, if I was being truly honest with myself. Trapped by nothing more than my need that consumed me more and more with each ticking second as the flames in his eyes rose higher and higher.

  He couldn’t lie to me about that much. Couldn’t hide the fact that he was just as lost as I was when it came to the physical side of our relationship. In this, there were no secrets, no deceptions, no leaving me behind. He was mine, and I was his when it came to our bodies.

  It was his heart that I didn’t have.

 
And stupidly, I craved it.

  With a single tug from him, I stumbled forward and onto his lap. My free hand went to his shoulder, steadying myself. His bare skin seared my palm, burning through my flesh and branding me. Fascinated with the new thickness of his muscles, I squeezed. His groan shot another electric zap straight to my center, and my fingers moved down his torso of their own accord.

  Pressing my palm to the center of his chest, I discovered his heart was racing even faster than my own. Each thump pounding against my hand was like a silent plea for me to touch more of him.

  Cristiano cupped my ass with his free hand, squeezing the flesh and releasing. Squeezing and releasing. Over and over again until my thighs spread enough for his fingers to dip lower. He stroked his fingers over my core from behind, and my head fell forward as I swallowed the moan that felt like it was being torn from me.

  I pressed my forehead into his shoulder, hiding my face from him as he continued to tease me with those talented fingers of his. But soon it wasn’t enough for either of us. With a feral growl, he began pushing my leggings down my legs along with my panties. The cool air of the room skimmed over my burning skin, making goose bumps pop up along my entire body.

  His thick fingers touched my bare core, two thrusting into me, stretching soaked flesh that hadn’t been touched by anyone’s hands but my own in years. As he fingered me, his thrusts were rough, demanding. My breaths came in short pants, and my nails bit into his muscles, anchoring me to him so I wouldn’t float away.

  “You’re so fucking wet,” he groaned, adding a third finger. “So damn tight. Fuck, Annie.”

  I didn’t get a warning before he was flipping me around and dropping me in the middle of the bed. He followed after me, one-handedly pushing down his pajama pants as he settled between my thighs. My leggings and panties completely disappeared, tossed somewhere over his shoulder seconds before he was pushing my shirt up and my bra down. I couldn’t focus on where my clothes went, too enraptured by his mouth covering my nipple, sucking it hungrily against the roof of his mouth.

  His hands were everywhere—my breasts, the inside of my thigh, my pussy. Teasing me, stroking me until I was mindless with need for more. For him.

  Then he was thrusting into me, his bare cock stretching me three times as much as his fingers had, pushing so deep I could feel him touch my cervix. His entire body began to shake, and he lifted his head from my nipple to kiss me for the first time.

  When his tongue dived into my mouth, we both moaned. He tasted just as I remembered, and it was intoxicating. I loved how hot his mouth felt, how talented his tongue was as it wrapped around mine, tangling, playing, just as desperate to taste and be tasted as he was to possess the rest of my body.

  All too soon, I was reaching that precipice of pleasure, and I was helpless to stop the fall into pure bliss. Cristiano followed me shortly after, shouting my name as he emptied inside me, before collapsing onto me with a groan that was satisfied and pained. With one arm, he anchored me to him, and he rolled us both onto our sides, still a part of me.

  With fingers that shook, he stroked down my spine, leaving fresh goose bumps in his wake as our skin began to cool.

  The smart thing to do was to leave, but my eyes were too heavy, my body too content. His heat was soaking into me, enticing me to close my eyes, to let him protect me so I could sleep.

  I would deal with the consequences tomorrow, I promised myself as I drifted off into a peaceful sleep. Tomorrow.

  --

  A scream made me jerk upright in bed. It took all of five seconds to realize where I was—Cristiano’s bed—but he wasn’t beside me. The covers on his side were tossed back, and he was already pulling on his pajama pants as he rushed from the room.

  The scream came again, high-pitched and terrified.

  Ryan!

  I jumped out of bed, hastily found my panties and leggings and fixed my shirt and bra as I rushed to comfort Ryan.

  By the time I got to Ryan’s room, Cristiano had him in his arms, rocking him and murmuring to the little boy that he was safe. That he wouldn’t let anything hurt him. With the light now on, I saw Ryan clinging to his father’s neck, sweat soaking his clothes as his little body shook with fear.

  I crossed to them, knelt behind Ryan, touching my hand to his damp back. He jerked at my soft touch, clinging tighter to his father, and he glanced at me over his shoulder. His face was pale, the terror in his eyes spiking for a moment before he recognized me. Then he was throwing his arms around me, his little legs going around my waist as his arms held on to me for dear life.

  “I th-thought you were d-dead,” he sobbed, his face pressed into my shirt. “I thought sh-she k-killed you!”

  My arms tightened around his back, my lips touching the top of his head. “Who, l’venok? Who?”

  “M-M-Mommy.”

  I closed my eyes, kissed him again. “Why would she kill me?”

  “Because I love you,” he whispered brokenly. “Because I love you more than her.”

  Tears burned my eyes, and I was thankful they were still closed. I didn’t want Cristiano to see how much his son’s words meant to me. I couldn’t let him see how much I needed those words.

  Because if he did, he would know that I loved him just as much as I loved his son.

  Chapter 13

  Cristiano

  The old man before me sat with a smirk on his face that I was tempted to punch. Franco Sorrentino was a sly old bastard; it was why he was the second-most powerful Don in New York. But he wasn’t powerful enough to expand his business outside the city. None of the other elders were. Pop’s family—now mine—was the only one that still had power in Chicago and Sicily. The others, including Sorrentino, had slowly lost their other territories to my family.

  But the old fuck thought he had the upper hand in this. I would allow him to continue thinking that way. For now.

  “What exactly do you think I should do to Gianni for trashing your old mistress’s club? I don’t see why you’re even involving yourself in their little dispute.”

  I shrugged casually, keeping my face neutral as I stretched out my legs in front of me and crossed my ankles. “She’s not my old anything,” I informed him. “Anya Volkov is going to be my wife.”

  He narrowed his eyes at that announcement. “Does she know that?”

  “She’s planning our wedding as we speak,” I lied effortlessly, knowing after the night before that it wouldn’t be a lie for long. Anya was mine, and I was going to make sure the entire world knew it by putting my ring on her finger. “So you can imagine how frustrated I am that she can’t focus on that because some whipped little puppy is fucking up her club with his psycho bitch of a stepsister.”

  His lips twisted. “She is definitely a bitch. Just like her piece of filth mother. The girl has been nothing but trouble since my son married that whore.”

  “And yet you allow her to run around unchecked, while your heir follows after her like a love-sick dog.” Fire filled Franco’s eyes, and I swallowed my laugh. It was fun pushing his buttons, getting the exact reactions I wanted from him. “People are laughing about Gianni’s obsession with Martina. No one will respect him when he takes over for you. Your entire line, your power, will be nothing more than a laughingstock when he takes your seat.”

  “What do you suggest I do?” the old man demanded, his face turning red with anger.

  “Turn Martina over to me. I will make her disappear. She will no longer be a thorn in your side, and I can appease my bride. Gianni can move on, get back the respect he’s lost, and find a wife who won’t lead him around like the spineless weasel he really is.” I straightened, leaning forward. I trapped his gaze, letting him know that I meant every word I was about to say. “And you won’t start a war over it. Because if you do, I will personally put a bullet in your head and then wipe out your entire line. There won’t be a single relation of the Sorrentino family, no matter how close or distant, that I won’t dispose of.”

&nbs
p; “All over a stupid club?” He waved his hand dismissively. “Pfft, boy. You have lost your mind.”

  I stood slowly, buttoned my suit jacket, and smiled down at the elder Don. The smile said it all. It was coldly menacing, and I saw a spark of fear enter Franco’s eyes. “I expect an answer by the end of the day. Don’t disappoint me, Sorrentino.”

  With a nod, I left him sitting behind his desk. Outside the home office, Vince and Dante stood with two of Sorrentino’s men. If Ciro hadn’t taken Scarlett to her doctor’s appointment that morning, he would have been there as well. But having my brother-in-law wasn’t necessary. If anything, it would have been overkill. I didn’t need Franco pissing his pants if Ciro took it upon himself to growl in the elder Don’s direction.

  But it wasn’t Ciro Franco needed to worry about. It was me. I would have so much more fun offing the bastard than my friend would. To him, it was a job. To me, it became a game. One I hadn’t played in a while but would if it was necessary.

  We returned to the compound so I could check in on Anya and Ryan. Both had been sound asleep in Ryan’s bed when I’d left earlier. I’d walked into my son’s room to find him cuddled up against her, his head on her chest and her arms wrapped tightly around his little body. I wanted to stand there and watch them sleep for the rest of the day, both snoozing peacefully as Ryan’s words from the night before filled my mind.

  He loved her. So much so that his nightmare had been about losing her. For once, the bad dream wasn’t about his mother hurting him, but instead, taking away someone he loved. I wasn’t sure what to make of that. Didn’t understand if that meant he was getting better or if it was worse. The terror I felt in him as I rocked him hadn’t been any less or any more than what I had come to expect when he woke up like that.

  Once he was calmed down enough, Anya had climbed into bed with him, and it wasn’t long before they were both sound asleep. My first instinct was to crawl under the covers with them, but the three of us wouldn’t have slept comfortably in Ryan’s full-sized bed.