Lavish: A Reverse Harem Miniseries (Mafia Queen Book 2)

by Stunich, C. M.

  Standing up with a rustle of leather and denim, Caj pressed his hips against my ass and put his mouth to my ear.

  “What do you think, sua Maestà?” he asked me—your majesty—and I was surprised to hear him give me a pet name … that I actually liked. Oddly enough, there wasn't even a hint of mockery in those words.

  “I suppose we should find out,” I said, my words dark with lustful breaths. I turned around and used my right foot to push the jeans over the boot of my left, freeing my legs. “Fuck me then and we'll see.”

  Caj smirked and reached down, nice and slow, unbuttoning his jeans with deliberately exaggerated movements, much like he'd done at the winery.

  He seemed to like theatrics, Caj did.

  I felt my tongue trace my lower lip as he freed his shaft and pulled a condom from one of his jeans pockets.

  “These are for you,” he told me, lifting two rust red brows and tearing the package open like there was gold inside. If we were going to be lovers—a fact I was quickly coming to … want? look forward to?—then I was going to make him get tested so we could have sex without any barriers between us.

  “These? Just how many did you bring?” I asked, but trying to be flirty and trying to be snarky, neither of those things were working for me right now.

  “Probably not enough,” Caj said, stepping forward. He lifted me up with his ringed hands under my ass. I wasn't a small or slight woman, but he was strong and we made it work. My legs wrapped around the hardness of his midsection, arms around his neck. The smell of jasmine and leather and tobacco took over everything, like a dark magic potion swirling around inside my head.

  “You're a wicked man,” I told him, but just like on that first night, twisting our bodies together with nothing but heat and instinct to guide us, I didn't care.

  “You're a wicked woman, your majesty,” Caj said, using English this time. “You just haven't realized it yet.”

  He punctuated his words with a thrust of his hips, using the tree as leverage to slide himself into my aching heat. I was still a tad sore from sharing myself with both Lucky and Caj, but it felt good anyway. It was like sucking on a piece of sour candy—it hurt a little but damn it was fun.

  Fervid heat spread through me, rising up from between my thighs and weaving its way down my limbs in flame and fire, a blaze that couldn't be stopped until it was finished burning.

  My lips found Caj's ear and I teased the diamond studs in his flesh with quick flicks of my tongue, loving the feel of his mouth at my throat, his cock buried to the hilt inside of me. He slammed our pelvises together unceremoniously. He wasn't trying to make love to me, just trying to fuck.

  Fortunately, I had the same thought in mind.

  The arcs of pleasure taking over my body obliterated everything else, tore it all away and left me in a state of heated bliss. Nothing else mattered. It was just my body then, taking over, giving my heart and soul and brain a moment to think.

  Caj was as lost as I was, an animal with thrusting hips and a hard cock. He drove it into me until we were both slick with sweat, until his body was wet with my desire, and he kept at it, grinding his pelvis against my clit, until I came and locked down on him so hard that he bit me.

  Teeth sunk into the skin of my throat and completed the circuitry of pleasure we'd built. My orgasm was long and messy and drawn-out, and Caj finished it up with a short, hard note, coming inside the condom and then pulling away fast, like he couldn't breathe until he'd gotten some space from me.

  Caj slipped the condom off, tied the top, and then stuffed it into his jeans pocket. Surprising move—I'd thought he'd toss it onto the forest floor. Somehow I liked him more for not littering in this sacred space. He could kill people, but damn it, he wasn't going to trash the forest.

  Interesting, very interesting.

  I slid down to the ground, my back still pressed against the tree, and then I sat with my naked ass in orange and yellow leaves for a moment before reaching for my pants.

  “We should speak with Lucky and Marcell,” I said, thinking through the implications of the last twenty-four hours. “If we're going to survive this, we really will have to do it together.”

  “And why is that?” Caj asked, still panting, looking down at me with wide black pupils and slightly parted lips. He was watching me with a possessive hunger that I found both charming and frustrating at the same time.

  I wasn't his.

  If anything, he would become mine.

  “Because,” I began as I stood up and slid my jeans back over my hips. Glancing up, I caught Caj's eyes and held them. “My father … he's the rat.”

  There were a million reasons why Carlo Costello would work with a rival gang: to eliminate his competition, because he was being threatened, because they could supply cheap product. I had no idea why, but I knew. I just fucking knew.

  “Sembri delizioso, bellezza,” Marcell told me when he strode into Caj's study—the first in a series of rooms inside a sprawling guesthouse on the Bellincioni property. So I guess I'd been wrong before; Caj didn't live in the family home exactly. No, he had his own place just beyond the shadow of the mansion, partially buried in the trees. You look delightful, beautiful, he'd said.

  Marcell paused in front of me, looking sharp and sleek and deadly in a jet-black suit, tie, and button-up. With that dark hair and those dark eyes, he looked like a demon, touching his tattooed fingers to the side of my face before I carefully but firmly pushed his hand away.

  He snapped his fingers and grinned.

  “It's that freshly fucked look, I'm sensing.”

  Lucky paused in the doorway, slipping out of a raincoat and shaking the droplets off before hanging it up on the rack next to the door. It'd started raining just after I'd crawled back through Millie's bedroom window earlier.

  I'd stayed for a while, had breakfast, and tried to pretend that she wasn't giving me weird looks for my mussy hair and swollen lips. We didn't talk about what I'd been doing sneaking out or why there was an SUV with a driver and a bodyguard on her driveway.

  At least when I told Millie she didn't want to know, she took me at face value.

  When I'd finally decided it was time to head out, we'd hugged, I'd promised to call, and then I'd waltzed out the front door to find Juliano asleep in the backseat of the SUV and the driver reading a paperback book in the front.

  I had no idea if either of them knew I'd left. If they did, they'd probably reported straight back to Vinny. Guess I'd figure that out eventually.

  For now, though, I was here, a sentiment Vinny had seemed to support when I'd stopped at home briefly, exchanged my phone, and then headed out again. He hadn't said a damn thing about the night or about Renata. Not one damn thing. But the way he looked at me … I wouldn't have been surprised if he did know what I was up to.

  “That freshly fucked look?” I asked, putting my hands on my hips and staring Marcell down. He was an intimidating man, but I was an intimidating woman. “That's not a very polite way to speak to your fiancée, now is it, Mr. Moran?”

  “My fiancée?” he asked as his lips curved up at the edges in a sharp smile. “But I haven't even proposed yet.”

  “It's not you that's doing the proposing,” I told him, moving over to the fireplace. It was as tall as I was, flames dancing in a sooty brick interior. Caj moved up next to me, plying me with a healthy glass of wine. The orange light of the fire turned the merlot a brilliant purple color. It was mesmerizing, like a piece of stained glass art clutched in my fingers. “It's me.”

  I raised a brow and threw a glance over my shoulder.

  “You're proposing?” Lucky asked, moving into the room with his blonde hair clean and fresh, wet with rainwater and unburdened with product. I liked it better that way. In a different life, Lucky would've been the carefree sort of partner that I'd tried (and failed) to find after leaving the clutches of the family. He was handsome, good humored, intelligent. In another world, I imagined Caj would still be Caj—he was born with his
darkness and nurtured by it. Marcell was a predator cloaked in sharp suits, but someone who'd always have teeth.

  Lucky … he was different.

  “Where are the rings?” he asked as I blinked away the thoughts. God, but my brain was fucking full of them today. I wanted them all out, wiped away, obliterated. That's why I'd fucked Caj—as an escape, for freedom. “Hopefully you bought me a diamond.” He glanced over at Marcell. “Something a little classier than this asshole sent on your first date.”

  “Se tu non mi fossi più utile, ti taglierei la gola e berrei il tuo sangue,” Marcell said with a smile on his face. I'd slit your throat and drink your blood if I didn't find you necessary. He knew Lucky's Italian wasn't the best, and he was teasing him.

  Thankfully Fortunato had the good grace to ignore him.

  “I'm proposing with these,” I said, turning around and moving over to a large silver striped sofa, covered in sinfully soft linen and decorated with pillows bearing skulls. No subtlety for Caj Bellincioni. Reaching out, I took hold of an envelope and carefully withdrew several documents.

  These were pages I'd been holding onto for some time, as leverage in case I ever needed it. Within this stack of paper, I'd listed everything I knew about the Costello family crime syndicate. Warehouse locations, pass codes, the names of all known soldiers and associates, where our money was held, where it was laundered, how to get in or out of the Costello manor property without being seen. It was information I hadn't even considered using against my father before. To wield this was to knock on death's door, to ring the bell and say trick or treat.

  “This is my family's legacy,” I said, slapping the wad of papers against the opposite palm. “Certainly some of it will be outdated—it has been eight years after all—but not all of it. There are things in here you could use against Carlo that he'd never see coming. These are my rings.”

  With a deep inhale, I sat back and watched Lucky in his gray wingtips and slacks as he pushed up the sleeves of his white button-up and picked up the top stack, thumbing through it with his bottom lip tucked under his teeth.

  I saw his brows go up and felt my stomach clench with nerves.

  I was taking a huge risk here, but as Carlo liked to say 'No risk, no reward'.

  “Why the fuck would you give this stuff to us, Lazy?” Lucky asked and I could tell that in that moment, if I changed my mind and asked him to toss it all in the fire, he would. That is, if Marcell or Caj didn't shoot him first.

  Which they might.

  “Carlo …” I started, but then paused. There'd been no word from Caj's men about Renata … or at least, that's what he was telling me. But I figured as soon as we got more information from her, I'd know for sure. “I don't trust him.”

  “Because of your mother?” Lucky asked, and I knew without even looking at his face that he was guessing rather than having been told by Caj. It was all in his voice, this almost tentative reach. Now, Lucky's kindness and intuitiveness aside, I knew he was as dangerous as the other two. I'd have to remind myself of that every single fucking day that I saw him.

  “Among other things,” I said, closing my eyes and sipping my wine.

  God. I don't just feel like I'm walking on eggshells; I feel like I'm walking on knives.

  “Renata Coppolina,” I said as Caj made his way to the seating area and draped himself over a chair, “is not the type of person who would risk herself to help a gang from Mexico.” As soon as I said it, it felt like a stupid joke. Renata, the woman who made me wine cookies, working for a large, violent gang based out of Mexico? Why? She had a good, easy life. My father paid her far more than your average housekeeper would earn.

  Even for extra money, she wouldn't risk that helping a group like the Villarreal Cartel. She wasn't savvy enough to do it without getting caught; she'd know the risks.

  “The only thing I can think is that my father—or one of his underlings—asked her to do it.” I tapped my fingertips on the side of the wineglass and looked from Marcell's dark gaze to Lucky's hazel irises to Caj's half-lidded bedroom eyes.

  “You think the don of the Costello family would work with this cartel?” Marcell said, grabbing a stack of papers and paging through them. The sneer on his beautiful said he didn't for one second want to believe that. I was almost certain he hated my father and yet, the idea of a New York mafia man bringing in traitors from the outside? It was unthinkable.

  “That's exactly what I think,” I said, although I didn't know the reason why. Like I said, there were many of them. Did it matter?

  “So why set this thing up between us?” Lucky asked, coming over to sit next to me, smelling like soap and rain. He put his hand on my knee and I didn't bother to move it away. I liked it there.

  “I have no idea,” I said, trying to put together the pieces of the puzzle. There were so many of them, and they were so little, the picture not so much complex as it was dark. It was a puzzle of shadows and black. Each piece looked much like the others.

  Betrayal. Corruption. Danger.

  “That doesn't matter,” I continued, my mind wandering randomly to Edlyn. Maybe it was the wine? Merlot was her favorite. I think I was actually considering going over to see her. What the hell was wrong with me? “But this is my proposal. The three of you … and me. We work together and then we rule together.”

  I glanced up and caught Marcell watching me with curiosity bright in his dark gaze.

  “I will be the godmother of the Costello family,” I said, daring any of the three men standing around to challenge me. Once upon a time, what I was suggesting would've been completely unheard of. But in recent years, with so many cities and countries cracking down on mafia activity, men were being arrested and women were stepping up to take their places. There were plenty of female mafiosi in the world now.

  Just not in this world, in the land my father ruled.

  I'd need the backing of all three underbosses to pull this off.

  “Niccolò Lansky,” I said after another moment, because to get the power of the family, I'd have to go through my father's underboss and all the men that were loyal to him. Surprisingly enough, I wasn't at all worried about Vinny … although if my father were corrupt, then so was he.

  Now that was a hell of a lot harder to imagine.

  “We'll have to kill him,” Caj said, nodding his head like he'd just announced someone needed to go to the store and pick up a gallon of fat-free milk. “Frankly, it'd be a favor. Niccolò would rather see you dead than as Donna Lazy.”

  He grinned like he thought that was a particularly funny sort of joke; I ignored him.

  “I haven't even seen him this week,” I said, feeling my throat get tight with memories. “Not even in passing.”

  That son of a bitch had murdered three of my girlfriends.

  Three of them.

  As a punishment.

  I'd been young and determined and Niccolò hadn't liked how quickly I was garnering favor in the family. One little mistake on a shipping invoice and he'd rounded up my friends and slit their throats.

  My father hadn't done a damn thing about it.

  “You want to see him bleed, your majesty?” Caj purred, knocking back a tumbler of whiskey or bourbon or some other hard and fast alcohol that made me reconsider my wine. “Because I can make that happen.”

  “You think you get Niccolò that easily?” I asked with a laugh, finishing my wine and standing up from the couch. The sudden absence of Lucky's hand made me feel colder than I would've liked. “Then you're an idiot.”

  “Yes,” Caj said, almost like a hiss. He was looking at me with a certain sense of carnal knowledge that my brain despised and my body loved. I ignored him and waltzed across the expensive wool rugs beneath my feet, over to the wet bar and poured myself some Jägermeister. “And yes, again. I accept your proposal.”

  “I require loyalty,” I told Caj, lifting my drink up and moving over to stand next to him. His jade eyes flicked up to mine. “In and out of the bedroom, do you understan
d?”

  “You want me to stop fucking other women?” he guessed and I heard Lucky laugh from his place on the couch. I didn't look at him, holding Caj's gaze until his mouth broke into a grin, diamond lip studs winking in the light from the fireplace. “For how long?”

  Now it was my turn to laugh.

  I moved away from the couch and heard Caj rise from the chair behind me.

  “I'll do it,” he told me as I glanced back at him. “Sex doesn't motivate me much; I far prefer violence and power.”

  “You're a sick man, Mr. Bellincioni,” I said again and he flashed a foxy grin.

  “Well, it's a yes from this sick man then,” he said, putting his hands on my shoulders and kneading the tense flesh with strong fingers. Shivers raced through me, little flickers of flame that made my entire body roar to life again. Damn it, this man's going to end up getting me killed via my fucking libido.

  My mouth twisted up in a smile and I pulled away from Caj before he could get us into anymore trouble. If I were planning on having three mafiosi as my lovers, I'd have to make sure I played the field evenly. Jealousy amongst these men could—and most likely would—get somebody killed.

  “Lucky,” I said, because Marcell was very thoroughly engrossed in a particular page—it looked like it had something to do with my father's suppliers. “What do you think?”

  “Lazy,” he said on the end of a long sigh, sipping his vodka on the rocks like it was water. His hazel eyes were locked on the table, the papers, and all the things they represented. “Are you sure you want to do this? Once you're in … there's no going back.”

  He looked up at me, but as soon as our eyes met I could tell he knew what my answer would be. Hell, he was the one who'd confronted me at the coffee shop and asked me how I could stand living such a boring life when I had shadows instead of blood in my veins.

  “Yes or no, Lucky,” I told him, because I wasn't going to his answer his question until he answered mine.

  “It's an obvious yes for me, isn't it?” he asked, standing up and giving me that playful look of his that I recognized so well from childhood. The only difference between then and now was that there was a hint of sex in his gaze that definitely wasn't there before. “Did you even really need to ask?”