by Sunniva Dee
“She’s a handful.”
“Shut up, Bully.”
My father’s Malibu safe house is a condo in a wooden apartment complex on the mountainside of PCH. It’s inconspicuous in that it’s not overtly secretive. Wildfires love the area, but Il Lince makes sure the complex always boasts full-grown vegetation that keeps it hidden from the highway.
The condo is simple but holds luxurious details my father enjoys, like a small, always-stocked fridge room and an exercise area with an adjoining Jacuzzi.
Tatiana walks in ahead of me, letting her purse dance along her thigh as she scans the place. “All white, huh?”
“It becomes you.”
She turns and lowers her lashes at me, wordlessly berating me for the easy pun. I grin.
The floor is solid rosewood, which is silly for something so rarely used. Il Lince’s main safe house is in his own backyard, a bunker built into the lawn. It’s impossible to find if you’re not led there by a Nascimbeni.
“Your father isn’t here,” Bully states the obvious.
“Correct. I don’t share living quarters with my father.”
He nods. “Yeah. I think you’d have killed each other if you did.”
“I think you’re right. Plus, Gioele’s in the bunker.” I open the wine cooler in the first-floor living room, grab a champagne, and hand it to Bully. “Automatic opener in the second drawer by the range.”
He lumbers over.
“He’s at the safe house?”
“Yup. The two of us and Il Lince in the same crammed quarters would’ve been a disaster.”
“Pardon my English, but your brother’s a little fucked up. Rock-star good looks on that kid, but whoa, he’s trouble.” He glances at me, already regretting what he said. “Sorry. I said pardon.”
“Pardon your French,” Tatiana helps.
“But it was English, though. I don’t know French.”
I meet Tatiana’s glance briefly and see humor in it. I smile, and she bites her lip. That’s a damn pretty sight.
“Anyway, I think it’s good for Gioele to be with your father a bit more. You know what I mean? He should probably be under more supervision.” Bully turns to me, eyes flickering with fear that he’s overstepped.
“You’re probably right,” I say. “Glasses are over the microwave.”
Rain reacts first. She scurries forward, eager to please. I look at her feet and find that she’s still wearing the torn sandals we saved her in. As she cautiously places four champagne flutes on the counter, I give McRoy a call. I drop to my knees and wiggle my fingers for her to lift her foot. When she obeys, I pull off her sandal and turn it upside down.
“McRoy. Send Alicia to do some shopping for me.” I wait out his affirmative. “A couple pairs of pumps, some sandals. Shiny would be good, I think.” I look up at Tatiana, because Rain stands frozen with her foot in my hand.
Tatiana says, “Yes, and dark green, possibly red, or white.”
I repeat her order. “Three to four pairs to be on the safe side, and make them a size seven and a half. If they don’t have that, probably go for an eight?” I question Rain with a stare but Tatiana is the one agreeing with me. Rain just blinks.
“Sir. If you don’t mind my asking. Felix’s men are all over Lucid Entertainment, scanning people on their way in and out and holding our newbies for extensive checkups before letting them in. How long is this going to last? I’m not sure it’s the best way to run a business. Not that I’m an expert…”
Bully fills our glasses, spilling champagne while he does. Not the nimblest man, for sure. I walk out to the front room so I can speak freely. “McRoy. My father pissed off the Santa Colombini. Mobespierre Sanguine is involved. They shot up my pad, to the point of making me have to move out and take all of my business to PCH. Okay?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The least of my problems is that my employees are being inconvenienced by too-thorough checkups.”
“Sir, right. I was just asking. And the shoes?”
“For Rain.” I wait for more questions and unbidden advice. Why am I surprised when he simply accepts?
Tatiana and Rain are crying. What the fuck is it with girls anyway? Sure, being from an Italian family, I’m used to overt displays of emotions, but—Jesus Christ.
Rain’s ride purrs in the shadows behind the condo.
“You look so beautiful!” Tatiana sobs. “Look at those shoes. They’re perfect.”
“They are.” Rain is devastated too. Champagne does crazy things to women. “I’m going to miss you,” she whimpers through her tears. “You’re an angel. If it weren’t for you and Mr. Isaias…” Her face goes a shade of red that’s visible through her deep copper tone. She’s keeping the floodgates shut, the veins on her throat bulging with the effort. I step toward her.
“Rain, you’re going to be okay. Nothing happened. No one did anything, right, not really?” I’ve waited this long to ask. Violence and invasion of personal space are one thing, forced so-called medical attention is too, but that’s not what I’m talking about, and she instantly understands.
“They didn’t.” Her answer is a whispered sigh, the tip of an iceberg, of a cry that could erupt.
“They didn’t because they wanted to get more money for you.” Tatiana smiles through her tears, and despite everything Rain has been through, despite the horror Tatiana implies, her face brightens.
They giggle. They hug. They cry even more.
I stand back, and behind me, Bully cusses quietly. I’m his brother right now, wanting to do the same.
My pickup crew buzzes their window down, sending me a pointed stare. I bob my head once.
“Rain.”
She sniffles, instantly lifting her eyes to me.
“You need to catch your flight. Mama and Papa Kapoor are waiting for you.” My smile feels crooked when she jumps me, hugging me without restriction and complete lack of fear for the first time.
Thank you. She doesn’t say it as much as she breathes it.
Night falls black outside our Malibu glass panes. Tatiana is still here, fuck-me heels on the rug beneath us and small shiny-nailed feet curling around the edge of the coffee table as she studies the flat screen.
I flip channels at the speed of light. I’m not interested in anything on there. The only thing holding my curiosity right now is why she came back. Not once did she oppose the idea of coming to Malibu with us either.
I’ve instructed Bully and the new guy, Fritz, that Tatiana ain’t going anywhere tonight. They’re well aware I’ll be holding them personally responsible if she does. They’re also well aware that it won’t be pretty if I do.
Fritz takes his job seriously. He’s German, as big as Bully, with thick, frayed hair the color of baby carrots. An oddball from my father’s new ranks, the few words he says are heavily accented but understandable. It’s hard to screw up “roger that” and “consider it done,” I guess.
The man stands on self-appointed guard by the door. Face inscrutable, without a single muscle twitching, he waits with the solemnity of a president’s bodyguard.
Bully has found a comfy seat on the L-shape. He’s on the other side of Tatiana, snapping and cracking open peanuts, then chomping them down like they’re his last meal. On request from Tatiana, he cautiously keeps the mess inside a big glass bowl she’s handed him. I like how she’s taken on the mom role.
“You’re making me dizzy.” Eyes on the screen, where the programming blurs from one channel to the other, Tatiana sinks her eyelids in a slow, sexy blink. Then, she lifts the glass of merlot to her lips.
“You sure it’s not the wine?”
She looks up only to roll her eyes. “Was that your father on the phone?”
“Yep. They raided a warehouse at the harbor.”
“Oh, did they find the rest of the girls?”
“No, he thinks they’ve moved them. This was retaliation for Romano. He got Randolfo’s right hand.”
She shakes her head. “And so it continues.”
“Yes. On and on.” The Santa Colombini have already shown how they have no scruples about going straight to the heart of the Nascimbeni family. Gabriela’s supposed to get on a plane to Italy tomorrow. She’ll be landing smack in Santa Colombini territory before she moves into Nascimbeni arms. Now that Rain is on her way, I see it with crystal clarity; Gabriela can’t go.
“Gotta make a call,” I mutter and get up.
“He always does this, huh?” Tatiana asks Bully rhetorically. She gets a mumbled affirmative from him. Salivating openly, he’s busy trying to crack two peanut shells open with his teeth at once.
“Where am I sleeping?” she calls after me.
“Third floor to the right. Master bed.”
She doesn’t reply. She won’t go for it, of course, but it’s a damn nice thought. I could spread her out on that bed. I’d start by eating out her surely sweet pussy. After everything I’d do to her, she’d be so exhausted she’d only be sneaking out in her dreams.
My cousin picks up.
“Gabriela?”
“Isaias. Are you okay? Uncle told me what happened.”
“Yeah, it was ‘a bloody mess’ as they say.” I chuckle humorlessly.
“I’m sorry. You should’ve stayed out of it.”
“I know. Got sucked in, I guess.” I shrug. “Are you at the bunker?”
“Yeah, until tomorrow morning. Your dad got Patrick sent back to San Francisco before the first whiff of blood hit us.” She growls a little. “I hate your father tonight.”
“Gabriela.” She hears my sadness for her. Once family, always family. We both know it’s impossible to escape the Nascimbeni ripples. At best, we stay out of our famiglia’s maelstrom.
“I know.” She swallows audibly. “But on a happy note, I’m off to Italy tomorrow!”
“About that…”
It’s after midnight when I close the door to my makeshift office at the safe house. Though I’ve had a few setbacks, I’m satisfied with what I’ve accomplished so far.
I still have to land on a place to meet with Clown Irruption for the final sign-off. It’s fucking happening, and no mobster dispute’s going to postpone it.
Rain’s mid-flight to India at the moment. She sounded happy but tired. Was going to rest for a few hours, she said, which I was all for. Means she’s not afraid. Tatiana’ll be relieved that I spoke with her personally.
All is quiet in the living room. I find Fritz in the same position by the front door. Makes me wonder if he’s moved at all since I left. Bully has situated himself by the windows giving to the front lawn. He’s pulled up a comfy armchair and is halfway lying in it, tinkering with his gun. The TV is off.
“Where’s Tatiana?”
Bully turns his head. “She went to bed. I helped her with her luggage.”
“She had luggage?”
“Oh yeah. Two suitcases. They were heavy too. Lots of shoes, I bet. Women and shoes, man.”
Wow.
The condo is a narrow, three-story affair with small rooms on all floors. On the top floor, I look into each bedroom but find the last room, the master bed, closed. I don’t knock before entering.
She’s splayed out on the bed, and the view is even sexier than I could’ve imagined. Despite her nun hang-up, despite the flawless business suit she wore all day, Tatiana isn’t an orderly girl; it seems she stepped right out of every item she was wearing, leaving them in crumpled heaps on her way to the bed. I picture her, doing that with the drapes wide open like this. I stride over and close them.
At the center of the room, a modern canopy bed holds court. It’s fit for royalty, with tall mattresses on top of each other and wide enough for a foursome to pass out comfortably after a good fucking.
My ice queen looks breathtaking on it. Silky hair fans out around Tatiana’s porcelain features. It’s like she was airborne before she flopped to her back. She appears even more ethereal than usual, so perfectly in need of the ultimate desecration, and I’m just the monster for the job.
I shake my head to myself; she’s damn near unreal, fully asleep, the smooth curves of a naked arm daintily spread to a side. Her lashes flutter inside her dream world. If she’s wearing anything at all, it’s hidden by the sheets.
The beautiful Tatiana of the Valley must have misunderstood me. She thought I was giving up the master bed to her, but of course I wasn’t—I’m no gentleman. I bite my lip as I sit down on the edge of the bed, reaching for her and stroking two rough fingers down her throat.
The arc of a thin, mahogany eyebrow lowers in sleepy confusion at my touch. I think I like this; she’s in for a surprise.
I lean toward the nightstand and switch the light on. Sluggishly, her eyes glide open. She can’t quite focus at first, but when she does, those crystal-grey stunners widen.
I grin. “If you’re to hang out with me, you need to sleep with an eye open. I run with wolves.”
“Thugs,” she mumbles. “You run with thugs.”
I gather a thick strand of silk between my fingers and pull on it. “Main thing, you can’t afford to sleep that soundly, especially not with the door unlocked.”
“Yeah, well. It’s been a long twenty-four hours.”
“No matter. You forgot your drapes too. Good thing you have bodyguards.”
She huff-chuckles, squirming deliciously beneath the duvet. “Those two goons downstairs?”
“Yep, and me.”
“You are the wolf. I don’t see you as much defending me as eating me.”
“Now we’re talking. On that note…” My biceps tense as I lower myself over her and find her throat. I give her two pecks before I let my tongue out to taste her. She shivers.
“What are you doing?” Tatiana’s voice isn’t hesitant. Instead, it’s dreamy and inviting, and small hands slide cautiously around my back. I feel them flutter over my shoulder blades and down to my waist. Fuck yeah.
“I’m kissing you.” I run my nose up her throat, meeting her jaw. Then I turn her face enough to lick her lower lip. It’s juicy is what it is, so I drag it in between my lips and suckle on it.
“Isaias…” For one indecisive moment, she pulls away. “You shouldn’t be here.”
I take her jaw between my thumb and forefinger and make her mouth connect with mine again. Her reaction is a quiet whimper that shoots straight to my cock. Tatiana’s lips slide apart, giving me the access I need. She tastes how she smells: warm sugar, woman, and addiction in its purest form.
Her chest is heaving under me by the time I draw away. I lower my forehead, touching hers with mine. I stare, breathing heavily as I work to control my impulses. I want to peel her free of everything in my way, rip her open, and stuff her with myself. I need it now, in this second, and I want to roar doing it.
“I absolutely should be here,” I manage instead, picking up a thread she’s already forgotten. “This is my room. But with you in it, it’s ours.”
I do it now, with less violence than my testosterone reserves dictate: I pluck the duvet off her, crumpling it at her side. She gasps but doesn’t object when I wiggle the sheet off her too, revealing so much smooth, silky, delicate flesh, I feel my throat roll in a swallow.
I sit frozen for a second, taking in the vision she is. All she’s wearing is a lingerie set that makes my mouth water. With her flawless, creamy skin, the light pink color of the ensemble has me groaning. The entire bra is made of transparent, floral lace, and it intensifies the allure of the puffy, rose-colored nipples I’m seeing for the first time.
“You’re even more beautiful than I thought,” I whisper, letting my first, full feel of her start at the top of her chest. I slide my hand downward, the sensati
on of her sigh shivering under me as I fill my palm with a breast.
I stray down the outline of her ribs to the slight valley of her stomach. My ice queen’s navel becomes an upright oval as she arches her torso for more of my touch.
“Hmm,” I murmur, sliding over the miniature ribbon decorating the top of her panties. I run my pinkie down barely there flowers covering the small dark triangle that tempts from below. “It’s my first time seeing nun underwear, and I could never have imagined this kind of perfection.”
She smiles, letting her eyes slide closed as I run my finger down her cleft. Warm slickness coats me immediately, so I add another finger, reveling in her lust. “Turned on, are we?”
I examine her reaction to my statement. I see no shame, no embarrassment. I lean down to kiss her stomach first, then I lick my way down to that little ribbon. Playful, I bite down on the lining, making sure to graze her skin with my teeth. I lift the fabric and make it snap back against her body.
“Shit,” she mumbles. “Come here?” She extends her arms, inviting me over her.
“Not yet, baby. I need you in my mouth first.”
She groans, arching her hips, helping me pull off those nonexistent little panties.
“You know what else I like about nuns?” I dip my head down, sniffing a path down from her small tuft of dark fur to her clit.
A mewl escapes her as she clutches the sheets on both sides of her body. I make out with her pussy, suckling on fragrant folds, dipping my tongue in and sampling her love channel.
God, she’s exquisite. I’m not holding back on the wet slurping sounds coming from me as I enjoy her. There’s nothing better than savoring your favorite meal without table manners.
She complains in small, unfinished sentences, and it’s hot as hell.
“I like how impatient nuns are. They need you inside of them. They can’t wait for your cock to fill them up,” I growl as I slide upward, heavy over her.
“You’re wearing too many clothes.”
“Oh, baby, I’ll take care of that.”
