by Cora Reilly
Why? I cleared my throat. “I told you—”
“You won’t sleep with me, I know.”
I raised the wrist with the bracelet. “Is that why you bought this?”
His eyes narrowed. “So you would sleep with me?” He let out a dark laugh. “To be honest, I’d hoped you would want to do it without the help of fancy jewelry.”
I flushed. “I do.”
His eyes became eager, his body alert. “You do?” he asked in a low voice.
“But not today, and not tomorrow. I need to get to know you better.”
His face was very close and he shook his head. “You know everything there is to know. And everything you don’t know yet, is for your own good.”
“I want to know everything, not just the good things.”
“There are no good things, Leona. You know the bad things, and there are only worse things lurking behind them.”
“I don’t believe that,” I whispered, leaning close and kissing him lightly.
“You should. I’m everything people warn you about. I’m every despicable thing they tell you and worse.”
“Then why do I feel safe when I’m with you?”
He shook his head, face almost angry. “Because you don’t know what’s good for you, and because you only see what you want to see.”
“You are kind to me.”
That seemed to be the last straw. He stood, his hands clutching my upper arms. “I’m not kind, Leona. Have never been. To no one.”
“To me you are,” I said stubbornly. Why couldn’t he see it?
He glared down at me, then raised his eyes to the city behind my back. His grip on my arms loosened. What was he thinking?
He sank back down on the hood, before he turned me around and pulled me against him, so my back was pressed up against his chest. “Tell me something about your family,” I whispered. “Anything.”
For a long time he didn’t react. “My sisters raised me more than my mother or father did.”
I held my breath, hoping he’d say more. Eventually, I risked another question. “How were they?”
Fabiano rested his head lightly on the top of my head. “Aria was protective and caring. Gianna loyal and fierce. Lily hopeful and lighthearted.” I tried to picture them together, trying to bring together Fabiano’s description with the press photo I’d found and their fake smiles in it.
“And you? How were you as a boy?”
His grip on my hips became painful, and I knew he was slipping away. “I was weak.”
“You were a child.” I felt him shake his head, then he pulled back. I didn’t want him to and put my hands over his to keep them in place. “What happened?”
“They left. Because they did, my father wanted me dead. And the boy he wanted dead, he died.”
What? His father had wanted him dead?
His breath was hot against my throat when he murmured. “I want to see you naked.”
I tensed, then tried to turn around to him to look at him but he wouldn’t let me see his face. His hands on my waist kept me in place. His sudden change of topic and mood disturbed me. “You said you felt safe with me. Then prove it. I want to see every inch of you.”
“It’s not fair that you’re using it against me,” I said quietly. My mind was whirring with what he’d told me.
“If you feel safe, then you trust me?”
Did I trust him? I wasn’t sure. I hadn’t trusted anyone in a very long time, if ever. I didn’t even trust myself half the time.
“Or perhaps deep down you know that you can’t trust a man like me. Perhaps deep down you know I’m not safe.” He sounded triumphant.
I reached for the zipper on the side of my dress and slowly began moving it down. Fabiano released me so I could stand and lower the zipper completely. I reached for the hem of the dress but Fabiano’s hands were there, stopping me. “Let me.”
I raised my arms despite my nerves and he pulled the garment over my head. I shivered against the cold. He had seen me in my underwear before and yet this felt different, more exposing. I met his gaze. He sat on the edge of the hood, body taut with anticipation, like a jaguar on the verge of jumping. “Come,” he said quietly, and I stepped between his legs. He unhooked my bra and let it drop to the ground between us. Then his fingers hooked in the hem of my panties. Slowly he raked them down my hips until they fell to my feet. His eyes took in my body unabashedly. His gaze lingered on my most private part and I had to fight the urge to cover myself. The way he regarded me as if I was special made my breath catch in my throat. “See,” I said eventually. “I do feel safe with you.”
He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. My nipples rubbed against his dress shirt and a sweet tingle built in my belly. “You shouldn’t.” His voice was rough and deep. His hands came down on my hips, then one of them began its slow ascend until he cupped my breast. The cold of my surroundings became a distant memory as he tugged at my nipple, rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. I could feel myself growing wet from his touch within seconds. Slowly his other hand slid down from my waist to my butt. He cupped my cheek and squeezed, then moved lower, to the back of my upper thigh before he slid his fingers between my legs. His fingertips brushed over me and I released a long shuddering breath. In the dim light I caught sight of his erection straining against his pants.
What was I doing?
Whenever I’d lied awake at night, listening to my mother with her customers, I’d imagined my future with a straight-laced husband. A man who worked nine-to-five, a man who was safe and boring, and here I was with Fabiano, a man who was anything but. He didn’t fit with the future I imagined, didn’t fit into the life I’d so carefully planned out for myself.
But who ever said he’d be a part of my future? He definitely had never given any indication that he wanted a forever, that he even wanted a relationship. And what was it I wanted? I wasn’t sure anymore. And as his fingers worked my heated flesh and I clung to him, I decided to let go of my worries for now. My body surrendered to the feelings coiling in the pit of my stomach and I gasped as his fingers stroked me. It was exhilarating. Alive. I felt alive. He moved faster, and I cried out, my head falling back as currents of pleasure shot through me.
The sky above us was infinite, filled with possibilities and hope. Foolish hope.
Oh God. I was falling for him.
I pressed my forehead against Fabiano’s shoulder, trying to catch my breath. He took my hand and rested it against the bulge in his pants. “That’s what you do to me, Leona,” he growled.
Was that all I did to him?
A mix of triumph and need filled me. Need for more than what his body could give, but I reached for his zipper and pulled it down. Settle for what you can get, Leona.
My fingers halted before their next move. I raised my eyes to his, and there was a flicker of the same need. Did he feel it too? Fabiano rose from the hood, breaking the moment, and freed his erection from his pants. His eyes made me shiver, cold and hungry. “I want you on your knees, Leona. I want my cock in your mouth.”
I froze, my defenses shooting up. Another moment ruined. He was so damn good at it.
Me on my knees? That was something I’d sworn I’d never do. Not with anyone. My mother’s johns had always wanted her mouth on them, had felt powerful when she’d knelt before them, had enjoyed degrading her like that. Sometimes when she was high, she’d told me about it, about her revulsion, about the disgusting taste, about choking because they fucked her mouth without mercy. I’d never allow that to happen to me. Least of all like this. I wasn’t sure what Fabiano saw in me, if he cared for me, or if him wanting to be in my mouth was his way of possessing me a bit more.
I took a step back, shaking my head. “No,” I said. Fabiano’s eyes flashed, but I had no chance reading the emotion.
“I’m not your whore, Fabiano. I don’t like you ordering me around.”
He smiled darkly. “That wasn’t an order, Leona. Believe me, it sounds very
different when I give an order.”
Dangerous. That was what he was. Sometimes I caught glimpses of it beneath his mask, and I always tried to forget.
“And I don’t like you teasing me. You keep flirting with me, letting me touch you, and you think I won’t want more? Even a normal guy would want to get in your pants, and I’m a fucking killer. And you expect me to sit back and wait patiently for you to make your head up.”
A killer. He’d never admitted to it. I’d never asked him, because deep down I’d preferred not to know, and even still the concept of him ending someone’s life was too abstract to grasp. It seemed like something distant, something not out of this world.
A sharp comment died on my lips when I caught the hint of wariness in Fabiano’s eyes. He was wary of me, thought I was playing with him, perhaps using him like the other women who’d always only seen his power and the possibilities it meant for them. Fabiano and I had a hard time trusting others.
“I’m not teasing you,” I said quietly. I touched his chest, feeling his heat even through the shirt. His muscles flexed under my touch, but he didn’t soften, not body or expression. He regarded me like a snake a mouse. I sighed, not wanting to explain my reaction to him because I couldn’t tell him about my mother, not without him looking at me differently. “I want to touch you,” I said, and it was true. “But I won’t put my mouth on you. I think it’s degrading. My mother always had bad taste in men and they all liked to put her down like that.”
His eyes were too assertive, like he knew more than I was willing to share. I looked away, worried he knew exactly what I was hiding, not only about my mother.
“I have no intention of degrading you,” he said. I tentatively reached for him, my fingers brushing over his silkiness. He hardened immediately all the way, but no sound left his lips as he watched me. For once I didn’t want to know what was going on in his head, too frightened that it would tell me more about myself than about him. His hand closed around my fingers, showing me exactly how he liked to be touched.
My own breathing quickened as I stroked him harder and faster. He never took his eyes off me, and there it was again that flicker of emotion. I tightened my grip even more, made him growl low in his throat, and replaced the tender emotion in his eyes with lust. Better. Safer. I could break the moment too. Had to break it, if I wanted to come out of this unscathed.
Fabiano tensed, control finally slipping, and he came with a shudder. The revulsion I expected never came. I’d wanted to touch him, and it felt amazing to watch him like that. I wanted more of it, and more than that.
When our breathing finally calmed, Fabiano took the wool blanket from the ground and wrapped it around us, his body warm against mine. I leaned back, closing my eyes. Despite the beauty of the city below, nothing could compare to the feel of our bodies pressed against each other. I’d been alone for so long. Perhaps all my life. And now there was someone whose closeness gave me a sense of belonging I hadn’t thought possible. Fabiano was a danger to anyone around, but to my heart he posed the greatest danger of all.
Chapter Fourteen
Christmas morning. My father wolfed down the French toast I’d prepared, then got up. “On Christmas one of the biggest races of the year goes down. I need to place my bet.”
Of course he had to. It was always about betting and gambling. About races and fights. How could I expect my father to want to spend Christmas with me? I nodded, swallowing the bitter words that wanted to rise up. He left the kitchen, leaving me alone with the dirty dishes. I waited for him to leave the apartment before I took the folded piece of paper with the number of the rehab center from my backpack and dialed it with my new phone. After two rings, a clip female voice answered. “I’m calling for Melissa Hall, I’m her daughter.” Guilt filled me. This was only the second time I’d tried to call since I was in Las Vegas, but the doctors had told me that it was better to give my mother time to settle in before she was confronted with influences from the outside again. And secretly I’d been relieved to be away from her troubles for a while.
There was silence on the other end except for the click click of someone tipping something into a keyboard. “She left two days ago.”
“Left?” I repeated, my stomach clenching tightly.
“Relapse.” The woman was silent on the other end, waiting for me to say something. When I didn’t, she added, “Do you want me to get one of her attending doctors so he can explain the details to you?”
“No,” I said angrily, then hung up. I knew everything. My mother had relapsed again. I wasn’t sure why I had expected anything else from her. And now she was out there alone, without me. Fear jabbed at my insides. This had been her last chance. She’d overdosed twice in the past, and I had been the one to save her, but now I was far away. She couldn’t be on her own. She forgot to eat, and she got sad, too sad, especially after a john treated her like shit. She needed me.
I stared bleakly at the plates in front of me, listened to the deafening silence of the apartment. Tears blurred my vision. I needed to find her before it was too late. I had always been the caretaker in our relationship. My mother was like a child in so many regards. I should have never listened to the doctors. I’d known from the start that my mother was a lost cause. There was only one person I could turn to.
I typed ‘I need your help, Fabiano. Please.’ into my mobile and pressed ‘send’.
“Today is going to bring us millions,” Nino said.
I tore my gaze away from the TV screen showing the warm-up race. Nino was staring down at the iPad in his lap.
Remo shook his head at his brother, annoyed. “Watch the race for fuck’s sake. We have a bookie for the numbers. Enjoy yourself for once. Stop acting like a fucking math nerd.”
Nino shrugged. “I don’t trust our bookies to do a better job than I. Why settle for a lesser option?”
Savio snorted. “You are so fucking full of yourself.”
If Nino wasn’t Remo’s brother, he would have studied math or some shit like that. He was a genius, which made him twice as lethal.
Remo slid his knife out of the holder across his chest, then threw it with a flick of his wrist. The sharp blade pierced the soft brown leather beside Nino’s left thigh. Nino glanced up from the iPad, then down at the knife protruding from the sofa. “Good thing the races bring us so much money if you keep destroying our furniture,” he drawled.
Remo waved him off.
Nino put the iPad down on the table beside him, then pulled out the knife. He began twisting it between his fingers.
“So how’s it going with your waitress?” Remo asked. “Not bored of her yet?”
I shrugged. “She’s entertaining enough.”
Nino’s assertive eyes regarded me above his play with the knife. I wasn’t sure what exactly his twisted brain had gathered from the one time he’d seen me with Leona. He didn’t understand emotions. That was my salvation.
“Good fuck?” Savio asked, grinning.
I wasn’t happy about the turn our conversation had taken.
“What the fuck,” Savio exclaimed, pointing at the TV. “Adamo is driving one of the race cars.”
We all turned to the screen. Adamo was overtaking two cars at once; their drivers hadn’t seen him shooting up behind them. “Good driving skills for a thirteen-year old,” I said.
Remo scowled. “One of these days I’m going to kill him, brother or not.”
My mobile vibrated in my jeans pocket. I took it out, then glanced at the screen. Leona.
I need your help, Fabiano. Please.
Feeling Remo’s eyes on me, I slid the mobile back into my pocket.
“Your waitress,” he said.
I crossed my arms behind my head. “She can wait.”
“Why would you waste your day with us if you can have a nice fuck?” Savio asked, then stood. “Actually, why didn’t you organize some kind of entertainment, Remo?”
Remo reached for his mobile. “Obviously the family time is
over.” Then he laughed at his own joke before his eyes slid over to me. “Go to her. Then we won’t have to share the girls with you.”
I got up with a shrug, as if I couldn’t care less if I left or stayed, but my mind was reeling. What was going on? Leona sounded desperate.
“Don’t overexert yourself with that girl of yours,” Remo said with a shark-smile. “It wouldn’t look good if my Enforcer lost a fight.”
I rolled my eyes. My next fight was in six days on New Year’s Eve. “Don’t worry.”
The streets were deserted as I drove to Leona. People were celebrating Christmas with their families. I caught the occasional glimpse through windows where people exchanged presents or shared a family meal. I knew most of it was a façade. My family had always made a big show out of celebrating Christmas together as well, but behind closed doors we had been as far from the happy family as you could get. Our father had always made sure that we were miserable.
Last night was the first Christmas Eve I’d enjoyed in a long time. Because of Leona. My hands clenched. I shouldn’t have given her the bracelet. I wasn’t sure what had gotten into me.
Nothing. I wanted to get rid of the fucking thing. That was all. And why not give it to Leona?
I parked in Leona’s street and got out of the car. I hadn’t bothered texting her.
I rang the bell, and moments later Leona opened the door, looking surprised and relieved. Her eyes were red from crying. I chose not to comment. Consoling others wasn’t my forte and I had a feeling she preferred me ignoring her emotionality.
Behind her I saw the small apartment she and her father shared, with the worn-off carpet and the smoke-yellowed wallpaper. She followed my gaze and flushed. “I didn’t think you’d come,” she said quietly.
“I am here.”
She nodded slowly, then opened the door wide. “Do you want to come in?”
The apartment was a far cry from being inviting but I stepped inside. Leona closed the door and then her arms were around my waist in a tight grip and she shuddered. I hesitated, then raised my hand to her head and touched her lightly. “Leona, what’s going on?” Had someone hurt her? When could that have happened? I’d brought her home around four in the morning. It was only twelve now.
