My fingers run over the back of his hand and I smile at him gently. He was the reason I was able to pull myself out of my self-pitying slump. I knew he didn’t save me because he wanted me to be lost in grief. I lost my dad and him in the span of a week, and it broke my heart in pieces. But neither of them would have wanted me to throw away my future.
“And my mom finally got out of the house and went back to work. I use the word ‘work’ loosely because, truth be told, she didn’t really know what she was doing. Bathing Beauty was more like a hobby for her back in the day. We employed real workers to keep the place running, and my mom would occasionally drop in to micromanage or just check to make sure things were still going okay. After Dad died, we didn’t have the money to pay them anymore, so we had to let them go. That was hard. Hell, one of the ladies who worked there was an old babysitter of mine from when I was little. But they all understood the situation, you know. So my mom took over all the business of running Bathing Beauty. My mom, who was a mafia princess, who had never had to hold down a real job in her life.”
“Sounds like a recipe for disaster,” Bruno comments.
“Oh, it was,” I agree. “She really struggled to even manage the store front properly, much less balance the accounts or deal with shipments. Back then, the shop was just stocking artisanal soaps and stuff from other people who actually made them. The kitchen was just kind of sitting there, unused. My mom didn’t know how to cook a meal at home, much less cook up all-natural bath oils and stuff. It was definitely disastrous, because we didn’t have the funds to keep stocking other people’s work, but we didn’t know how to make that stuff on our own. The summer after junior year, I started working at Bathing Beauty with my mom to help out, because things were getting pretty desperate between trying to keep the business afloat and keep paying for the house.”
“What a nightmare,” he says, squeezing my hand. I love how he looks at me. How he listens to me. I feel like I’m talking so much, but he’s just engrossed, fascinated by what he missed, all those years ago. All the things we never got to talk about when we got our second chance together.
“It felt like one, for sure. Trying to work with my mother, who was both an uptight micromanager and totally incompetent at the same time. It drove a wedge between us for a bit, because tensions were just so high at the shop and at home. We spent way too much time together, especially considering the fact that before all that, we were never super close. I was always more of a daddy’s girl. Finally, though, she started letting me take more control over the shop. As it turned out, I kind of had a knack for business. I was a good salesperson, more approachable than my ice-queen mother. When she no longer had to focus on the storefront, she was actually fairly good at the bookkeeping aspect of the job. When I asked her about it, guess what she said?”
“What?”
“That she was actually a mathlete in high school,” I answer, laughing. “Which was so weird to picture. My mom as a student in the eighties, rich and popular but secretly on the mathletes team. I never would’ve guessed.”
“Well, the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree. Seems like every woman in your family probably has some secret strengths nobody knows about,” Bruno says pointedly, smiling.
“I discovered one of my own when I started working at the shop. One day, my mom got in a really nasty phone argument with one of our suppliers and he pulled out, refusing to work with her again. On a whim, and a little bit out of desperation, I decided to try my hand at making soaps and oils myself. We tricked out the kitchen with some extra tools and appliances and I got to work, reading dumb how-to articles on the internet to teach myself as I went. The first batch wasn’t pretty, but it did smell nice. The second batch, though... it was pretty much perfect. So we started selling our own stuff that I made myself in the kitchen. That was a great feeling,” I reminisce.
“And you were so young then, too,” Bruno remarks.
“Yeah, I was seventeen at that point. And I fell in love with the business. My mom and I, we were still hurting from what happened, both of us trying to recover. And Bathing Beauty was there for us, something we had to pour our hearts and souls into. Something to distract us from how scary the world had gotten. For a while we were a pretty good business partnership, and there were even times when we got along, laughing and joking around in the shop in between sales. I remember one weekend, I decided to take on making a huge batch of products, so my mom brought an old TV we had in my dad’s study into the shop kitchen. We put on a classic movie marathon; you know, Arsenic and Old Lace, Bringing Up Baby, all that stuff. We worked side by side to get it all done.”
“Never underestimate the power of two women in a desperate situation,” Bruno says, his words filled with pride. The car turns a corner and we start our way down my street.
“It was great. I mean, we were still struggling to get by, but we were finally treading water instead of just drowning. Things were really turning around,” I explain. “Senior year started back up and I had to go to class during the day, but I worked at the shop after school and on weekends. My mom was starting to get a better handle on running the shop while I wasn’t there, so after graduation I started college, thankfully on several scholarships.”
“Smart cookie,” Bruno comments, grinning.
“College was awesome. I finally had a little more freedom, and for a while I even moved out of the house and got a roommate in the city.”
“Rafaela.”
“Yep,” I answer. “Rafaela. Finally, I had a friend who was in the same boat as me. She wasn’t a rich kid or even a former rich kid; she was working her ass off to get by the same as I was. It was refreshing to not have to hide how hard my life was. She was so understanding. She still is. I’m really glad I met her.”
“She and Nico are good people. Certainly the kind of people you want on your side,” Bruno agrees. He pulls the car into the long driveway of my house, headed toward the garage.
“When my mom got hurt on the job — she burned her arm pretty badly mixing chemicals in the kitchen — I moved home to help look after her and the shop. I have no idea how I managed to run the shop and still graduate from college with my degree. Rafaela wanted me to stay, but I just knew in my heart I had to go home. It was probably an overreaction on my part, but I had already lost one parent, and I was terrified of losing my mom, too. I kept imagining her falling down in the shop one evening after closing and nobody being there to help her. I know it sounds crazy, but her little injury scared me to hell,” I admit.
“It doesn’t sound crazy at all,” Bruno says. “She’s family.”
“Wow, I’m sorry for talking your ear off,” I laugh, a little embarrassed.
Bruno parks the car and turns to look at me, an earnest look on his handsome face as his hand cups my jaw, staring into my eyes.
“Don’t ever apologize for talking about yourself. For sharing your excitement with me. I love hearing about your history. Just proves to me again how tough and determined and capable you are.”
He leans in, his mouth gently pressing into mine, and I feel my shoulders soften into the tender kiss. I’ve never met someone like him before. When we were young, he was so hot and cold. Of course, now I know what he was involved in to make him so distant.
I’m determined to make sure we never have that distance between us again. My dad and Bruno protecting me from the Mafia has never saved me from heartache for long.
“I know it seems ridiculous to keep paying for this house even when my dad died. It would have been easier to try and sell it, just keep living in that apartment in Manhattan. But I just couldn’t do it. This house, huge and unnecessary though it is, meant so much to Dad. He poured his heart and soul into this place, and I just can’t bear to part with it. Not yet anyway.”
“I understand,” Bruno says, getting out of the driver’s seat and coming around to open the passenger side door for me. He gives me a hand, helping me out of the car. “People do crazy things for family.
For the ones they love.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” I agree, smiling at him. “Wow, it’s crazy to be back here. With you.”
Bruno nods, looking around with a look of mild surprise on his face.
“Yeah, I never expected that I would get a chance to see the house in its finished state. It was still kind of a mess when I was last here.”
“Can I ask you something?” I start suddenly, biting my lip.
“Of course. Anything.”
“Why didn’t you come back? I mean, after the first day we met when you were working on the construction crew, I never saw you here again. We had to sneak around to other places, remember?” I ask, cocking my head to one side.
Bruno smirks.
“Well, the contractor gave me some other assignments, other houses to work on at the time instead of your house. He claimed that my particular carpentry skill set would be better suited for other projects. But the short answer he never outright admitted to was that he saw you and me together and didn’t want to run the risk of getting in trouble with your father.”
My face flushes hot.
“Oh no. I’m so sorry. You mean I cost you a job?”
“No, no, it was fine. I had plenty of assignments on hand to keep me busy,” Bruno assures me, taking me by the hand as we walk up to the garage entrance to the house. “That was one thing my uncle was always adamant about: keeping me busy. I think he was worried that if I had too much free time, I’d end up going down the wrong path like so many other guys my age in the same position. He wanted to protect me, I guess.”
“Okay. Good. I’ll take your word for it. I could never forgive myself if that was all my fault,” I tell him honestly.
He waves his hand dismissively as I fish out my keys and open the door to let us into the house.
“It’s not like you forced yourself on me. I was pretty assertive with you, if I recall correctly.”
I can’t help but grin, remembering how suave and flirtatious Bruno was then as a cocky teenager who knew exactly how good-looking he was, how impossible it would be for even a straight-laced good girl like me to resist his charms.
“You certainly weren’t lacking in confidence, that’s for sure,” I laugh.
“I was a little arrogant back then,” he agrees, smiling.
“You had every reason to be. You still do,” I tease, strolling into the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink? My mom thinks beer is gross so we don’t have any of that but we do have wine.”
“Sounds just like the Luisa Gaspari I remember hearing about from the guys back in the day. Classy woman.”
“It’s okay. You can say ‘uptight.’ I live with her, I know what she’s like,” I joke, taking out a pair of wine glasses and a bottle of Shiraz. I pour us each a glass as Bruno chuckles.
“Your words, not mine. So, where is Mama De Laurentis today?” he asks. “I hope she wasn’t too worried about your sudden disappearance.”
I shrug, turning to hand him his wine. “She was definitely concerned. I had a bunch of missed calls and voicemails, of course, but she believed my story about going into the shop to do late-night paperwork. At least, I think she did. I mean, I’m an adult, so she can’t exactly call the police just because I’m gone a little longer than expected. Either way, she’s out of town today, visiting one of her cousins down in Newport.”
“So we’ve got this giant house all to ourselves, then?” Bruno inquires, raising an eyebrow. I nod, taking a sip of my wine to hide my smile.
“Yep. I don’t think she’s coming back until tomorrow.”
“Well, I’m sorry to miss out on meeting your mother but… I’m not that sorry,” he says.
“I guess now we just have to figure out what to do with all this free time and space we have to fill today,” I tell him innocently, sipping my wine as I bat my eyelashes at him. He grins.
“Yes, whatever will we do to pass the time? I can’t think of a single thing I want to do with you right now,” he says, his voice low and deep. “Any ideas?”
“We could… play chess. Or watch daytime soap operas. Oh! I know: we could dig that Monopoly box out of the attic. So many fun options,” I remark. Bruno downs his wine in one long draught and sets the glass down behind him on the counter, sauntering over to me. I can feel my heartbeat quickening instantly, my body warming in anticipation of his touch.
He backs me against the kitchen island, putting both hands on the counter on either side of me. He takes the wine glass out of my hands and places it on the counter behind me, leaning in close to my face. I can see the deep ivy green of his eyes, the tiny flecks of gold scattered around his irises. I can see now that there are a few tiny freckles across the bridge of his nose, and that his lips are so full and soft-looking. I can’t help but lick my own lips.
“Huh. I just thought of something we could do together today,” Bruno growls softly.
“Oh?” I murmur, my breath catching in my throat. “And what is that?”
“What are your feelings on getting bound, blindfolded, bent over, and fucked from behind?” Bruno suggests, his lips mere centimeters from mine.
I can scarcely remember to breathe. “Positive. I-I have positive feelings about that.”
“Good,” he murmurs, and captures my mouth in a deep kiss. His hands come up to cup my face, sliding back through my hair as he presses into me. I can feel his cock hard against my hip and it’s all I can do to keep from reaching down to touch it. The space between my thighs feels so warm, tingling with desire already.
His tongue pushes into my mouth and I let out a groan, feeling my body go limp in his arms. He has the magic touch— the ability to make all my tension melt away, turn me into a lovesick ragdoll. He can do whatever he wants to me. Anything.
I instinctively reach up to touch his face, but he quickly moves my hands behind my back, holding my wrists there with one huge hand. For a split second a thrill of true fear shocks through me, as though my body is remembering the times I’ve had my hands behind my back before... the bad times.
But I quickly remember that this isn’t a bad time. I’m safe. I’m with Bruno. And even if things get a little rough — and god, I hope they do — he will never actually hurt me or push too far. The trust between us, the knowledge that he will always listen to and respect my wants instantly calms us.
And I know that if I ever say our safe word — Crimson — that he would instantly stop. Knowing that allows me to relax and feel the thrill of arousal run through me.
He wedges his leg between my thighs, rubbing against the tingling heat of my crotch. I shiver at the rolling wave of pleasure even this small movement gives me. Bruno chuckles, a low, guttural sound. Almost sinister, but not.
“You’re so hot for me, dolcezza,” he murmurs, gently biting my bottom lip. “Maybe I should help you cool down.”
With that, he spins me around, pinning my arms behind my back again as he deftly slips off his leather belt. I hold my breath, glancing over my shoulder to watch as he binds the belt around my wrists. The sight of my hands tied with his own belt, still warm from his body heat, turns me on more than I could have ever predicted.
He spanks my ass with a resounding slap, then moves my hair over one shoulder and bends to kiss my neck. The combination of delicious stinging and ticklish kisses makes me tremble, and I back into him slightly, rubbing my ass against the hard cock straining in his pants.
“What a dirty girl,” he hisses in my ear.
It occurs to me suddenly that I might actually be literally dirty at the moment. After all, I did go straight from jogging in my neighborhood to being rowed across a body of water, through the woods, and down into a dusty basement. And we fucked there. It’s been a very hectic 24 hours.
“Well, maybe I should clean up a little bit, then,” I remark suggestively, trying to make my plea for a shower sound somewhat sexy. Bruno chuckles, kissing the side of my face as he frees my wrists from his leather belt. I’m a little disappointed at this, bu
t I hope to god it’s just a rain check and not a cancellation.
“That’s not a bad idea, as long as I can come, too,” he replies. My heart flutters.
“Oh, I hope you will,” I answer mischievously. My plan is working!
He breaks away for a second and goes over to the refrigerator. He opens up the freezer drawer for some reason, looking for something.
“What are you looking for?” I ask.
He takes out an ice tray. “A-ha. You know, I’m a little surprised. I thought a fancy kitchen like this would certainly have an icemaker built into the fridge.”
“Yeah, after Dad died and I took over the finishing touches on construction I decided to cut corners with some cheaper appliances. But why do we need ice?” I press on, totally lost.
Bruno grins as he walks over and sets down the ice tray for a moment, then scoops me up in his arms easily, holding me with my legs around his waist while he picks the ice tray back up. I’m amazed again at his strength and control, although by this point I shouldn’t be shocked by anything he does anymore. And besides, I’m sure two years with nothing better to do than lift weights and work out has definitely increased his physical abilities.
“Just wait and see,” he answers simply. And with that, he carries me out of the kitchen and, more impressively, all the way up the staircase, and down the hallway. He carries me to my room, crossing my bedroom and setting me down in the bathroom.
“You know I can walk, right?” I joke.
“You work too hard already,” he replies, shrugging. “The least I can do is get you off your feet every now and then.” He turns on the shower, eyeing the detachable shower head as he adjusts the heat and closes the bathroom door. I start peeling off my clothes, thankful to be out of them since I’ve been wearing them for way longer than I would like to. Bruno follows suit, revealing his powerful chest and arms, the rippling muscles of his stomach, his strong legs. Even though we’ve already fucked twice in the past 24 hours, I can’t help but feel that same overwhelming wave of desire for him again. I wonder if it will ever wear off. I hope not. I doubt it.
Bound to the Mafia (Bound to the Bad Boy Book 2) Page 14
