by Rye Hart
I made myself another mug of coffee before I went to sit with my mother at the kitchen island.
“You know I know,” she said.
“And I’m thankful for you keeping our secret,” I said. “But Julia didn’t come over to rehash the past.”
“Then it doesn’t look good for a Bianchi to stop by the way she did. You need to be careful, son.”
“I’m aware of that, and I’m being as careful as I can.”
“So if she didn’t stop by to relive the glory days of the two of you sneaking out, then why was she here?” my mother asked.
“I still don’t know how you found out about us.”
“I’m a mother. I know everything.”
“We were pretty discreet.”
“That’s what you think,” she said.
“Yeah, this conversation goes no further,” I said.
“You know things are different now. We aren’t dealing with your respective fathers any longer. Her father’s reaction to your teenage love affair was timid. But now that Stefano sits in that chair? He won’t hesitate to kill you over it.”
“And I told you that Julia wasn’t over here for anything like that.”
“She just came to see how you were?”
“Something like that,” I said.
“Stefano’s dangerous, Romeo. You and I both know what he’s capable of. The manipulation. The psychotic tendencies. That man enjoys having blood on his hands.”
“Hence why our meeting was platonic for once,” I said.
“All I’m saying is be careful. The last person we need breathing down this family’s neck is Stefano Bianchi.”
“I promise,” I said. “I’ll be careful.”
I understood why my mother was worried, but I was tired of her grilling me. I was still pissed off with the way Julia left things. What the hell had she come over for? To apologize and then fuck my brains out? I mean, it was a mutual thing, but still. She didn’t have to rush off the way she did. We didn’t do anything wrong. We had a past. A history. Hell, we had a son. What the hell was so wrong with fucking the mother of my child?
I wasn't going to let her get away from me again. Nor was I going to let her keep me from my son any longer. I got why she was overprotective. But that was the thing. I got it. I understood it. I didn’t want to expose my child to this lifestyle, either. Hence why I was trying to change things. To shift the tides and make our business more legal and less bloody. I wanted that legacy for my family, and now?
I wanted that legacy for my son as well.
I knew Stefano was dangerous, but not even that man would keep me from Matteo. I would do whatever it took to see my son, to be a vital part of his life. I knew I could rationalize with Julia. I knew I could talk sense into her eventually.
But Stefano would be a hurdle.
Especially considering what he had done.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Hmm?” I asked.
“Whatever has got you so troubled, my son. Do you want to talk about it?”
“Julia thinks I’ve changed,” I said.
“So you two did talk.”
“What did you think we did? Stood around for an hour and stared at one another.”
She sipped her coffee and hooked her gaze with mine, and I bit back a groan.
She knew.
How the fuck did she always know?
“Yes, we talked,” I said with a sigh. “And she told me she was disappointed in me. That she never expected me to take my father’s place, and she thought that I had changed because of that decision.”
“Have you?” she asked.
“Come on, Mom. You know my plans. You’re the only one that does.”
“But have you changed?”
“No,” I said hotly.
“Then prove that to her. Carefully, but prove it. Prove you’re still a good man.”
“Wait. Was that an approval?” I asked.
My mother took another sip of her coffee as I set my mug down.
“Are you giving me permission to pursue Julia?” I asked.
“I came down on you hard when I found out. And I never told your father about it. It was the only secret I’d ever kept from him, and I’m still not sure I did the right thing. But I knew you were in love with her then, and I know she still means a lot to you. So, if my approval will make you do what you need to do as a man, then yes. You have it.”
I looked at my mother in shock as she set her coffee mug down next to mine.
“Please be careful. Stefano isn’t going to be as easy to deal with as Julia’s father. He took a more diplomatic approach. But Stefano?”
“I know,” I said as I took her hands. “I know.”
“I’m not losing someone else I love to this feud again,” she said.
“You won’t have to. When I change things the way I want to, it won’t ever happen again. The next person to die will be you, and it will be from natural causes. Nothing more.”
“I never thought my death could bring me so much happiness.”
“It’ll be a dark day for all of us, but if I have anything to do with this, then you won’t bury another person, Mom.”
“You better make sure of that,” she said.
“I will,” I said as I kissed her hands. “I promise.”
And if I had it my way, she would even add someone to her family. But I had to convince Julia of it first.
I had to convince her to let me be a part of my son’s life.
CHAPTER 6
JULIA
“Thank you so much for watching him for me, Enrico.”
I walked into my son’s bedroom and found the two of them sitting on the floor. Matteo was building with a set of wooden building blocks that had the paint chipping off the side. Enrico was sitting there, helping him to stabilize the building my son was creating. I smiled at the two of them and leaned against the doorway as Enrico’s eyes turned up to mine.
“It’s not a problem. How did things go?” he asked.
“Better than the first time, though I’m still not convinced things will go the way my uncle hopes.”
“Did something happen?”
“Calm down,” I said with a grin. “Nothing happened.”
I wasn’t about to tell Enrico that Romeo and I had sex on the man’s dining room table. I still couldn’t believe it had taken place. I pushed off the doorway and crouched down beside Matteo, effectively relieving Enrico of his babysitting duties.
“Did you have fun while I was gone?” I asked.
“My blocks are old,” my son said.
“Yeah. They’re looking a bit worn. Why don’t we go out shopping tomorrow and get you a new set?”
“Can we fix these?”
He held up a chipped block to my face. I took it between my fingers. This was a block set my father had gifted him when my son was merely two years old. My father said he’d have plenty of time to grow into them. What I didn’t plan on was them being his most favorite toy, and the wood was beginning to chip, and I was starting to fear things like splinters. Scratches. Cuts and bruises from the jagged corners of the chipping wood.
“We could sand them down,” Enrico said. “Slap some more paint on them.”
“Please?” Matteo said. “Grandpa gave me these.”
I sighed as I looked into the eyes of my sweet six-year-old little boy. He had always been sweet, but headstrong in what he wanted. If he didn’t want to give up these blocks, then there was no way I would be able to convince him. But the pain in his eyes was unmistakable. My son, whom I’d tried to shield from all the pain in the world, missed his grandfather. His “boombah.” These blocks were one of the few connections he still had to the man, and he wasn’t willing to give it up.
And I knew all too well how that felt.
“Then how about this? You take a nap, and when you get up, you and I will go to the workshop and fix these blocks up. How does that sound?”
My son flashed me a smile
before he threw himself into my arms.
I picked him up and settled him into bed before I tucked him in tightly. Then, we went through our routine. I kissed his forehead, the tip of his nose, and each of his cheeks. I ran my fingers through his hair as he smiled up at me, then I drew in a deep breath. I knew that our time with naps was coming to an end. There were hardly any six-year-olds I knew that still took naps and I considered myself lucky that Matteo still settled down for them.
“Repeat after me,” I said. “You are smart.”
“Smart.”
“You are capable.”
“Capable.
“And you are handsome.”
“Handsome,” Matteo said.
“You get some good rest, sweet pea. And when you wake up, we’ll get a snack and head to the workshop.”
“Thanks, Mommy. Love you.”
“I love you too, baby boy. So much.”
I walked out of the room and turned off his light before I shut the door. I drew in a deep breath and headed for the stairs, my mind spinning with the events of the afternoon. My encounter with Romeo served no purpose except to remind me how weak I still was to him.
And I didn’t like it.
Not one bit.
“Julia?”
“Yes, Enrico?”
“Are you sure nothing happened while you were at Romeo’s?” he asked.
“You need to stop worrying,” I said. “Nothing happened. We talked for a bit. I apologized for how things went down at the restaurant, but I made it clear he still wasn’t going to demand to see his son. There’s something about him I still don’t trust.”
“And you shouldn’t. He’s taken a very powerful seat, and power like that can easily corrupt,” he said.
“That’s my fear. Which is why, for now, I’m still planning on interacting with Romeo. If peace is what my uncle wants, then I believe I can get that for him. And I think I can get it without having to throw Matteo into the mix.”
“That’s why you’re such a phenomenal mother. You always have been.”
“Thanks, Enrico. But right now? I’m tired. I could use a nap myself.”
“Then go lay down,” he said. “I’ll be here if you need anything.”
I turned down the hallway and was elated when Enrico didn’t follow. The last thing I wanted to have to do was keep myself quiet. Every time Romeo came back to my mind, heat pooled between my legs. I slipped into my room at my uncle’s home and shut the door behind me, then kicked off my shoes and dove for the covers. I slipped underneath the silken cotton and closed my eyes, reliving the moment I’d spent with him.
The way his body commanded mine.
The way his cock felt filling my pussy.
The way his lips felt along the skin of my neck.
I couldn’t stop smiling. I wanted to believe Romeo wasn’t some dirty crime boss, that he was good, the moral man he used to be. I wanted to believe he wanted peace as much as my uncle did. I wanted to believe him when he said he wanted to make his family’s business legitimate.
The way it all needed to be.
I didn’t trust that it could happen, but I allowed my mind to believe it. I slid my fingers between my legs and parted them widely, allowing my mind to drift. To imagine what a life with him would look like. Feel like. Be like. I saw our wedding and my skin glowing in a beautiful white gown. I saw us dancing as my fingers slipped between my pussy folds. I felt his lips against my skin as he dragged me to a dark corner, his hand shoved up my innocent wedding gown with our family only a few feet away.
“I can’t wait to have you. I need you now.”
His voice was hot in my ear as my fingers dipped into my heated warmth. I slicked up my fingers and traveled up to my clit, circling it quickly as my heels dug into the mattress. Fucking him on our honeymoon would be incredible. His hands tearing at my dress, ripping the fabric and allowing it to slip to the floor. Buttons popping from his tuxedo as he dragged me out onto the balcony to lean me over the edge of it and fuck me senseless.
“Romeo,” I said breathlessly. “Yes.”
I bucked into my hands as I imagined him fucking me. Slamming against my ass while his hand fisted my hair. He pulled my gaze up to look out over the tropical waters, the moon reflected in the undulating waves as his hand migrated between my legs.
“Mine,” Romeo said. “You’re mine. Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I said in a whisper. “Always yours.”
My hand flicked my clit before pressing deeply into my pussy. Juices were slipping down onto the mattress below me as I ground against my hand. I cupped my pussy and imagined it was his face. My legs straddling his cheeks as he fucked me with his tongue. My breathing was ragged, and my chest was panting. I could feel his cock filling my body as my fingers moved faster. Harder. “Holy shit. Yes. Romeo, please.”
My back arched, and my toes curled as my jaw unhinged in silent pleasure. I choked out groans as my pussy clamped down, and I slipped my fingers inside. I squeezed my eyes shut and imagined him, hovering over me with his beautiful blue eyes. Grinning down at my body and shoved deeply between my legs as he poured himself into me.
I saw him everywhere. The balcony of our honeymoon. In my bed. On his dining room table. Against the wall.
In the back of his car where we had conceived Matteo.
I plummeted to the mattress, my fingers buried between my legs. Fluids were coating my skin and a lopsided smile spread across my cheeks. I allowed my eyes to flutter closed as sleep threatened to take me over, and soon the thoughts of Romeo changed. I was no longer thinking of his body or the rings of his chiseled abs. I was no longer envisioning the pads of his Adonis muscles or his strong palms cupping my breasts.
There was a nagging sensation.
Like I had gotten something wrong.
I slipped my hand from between my thighs. My body was shivering with the aftershocks of my orgasm, and I needed to take a nap. I did my best to push the feeling of dread away. I chalked it up to the fact that I was simply nervous. Worried about interacting with Romeo again and what that might entail for us. I’d set a precedence that I would sleep with him, and he would probably expect that every time now.
For all I knew, his status as a crime boss would make him feel entitled to my body every time I saw him.
I wanted to believe he was a good man. That we could be the family I’d always dreamt of us being. That he could be a part of Matteo’s life and be the strong, seductive, protective man I knew he was when I was younger. It was why my pregnancy was a wonderful time for me, even if it pissed off my father. Because out of all the men on the planet, it was an honor to carry his child.
But now, I wasn’t so sure it had been an honor.
I rolled over onto my stomach and buried my face into the pillow below me. I could still smell my scent wafting around the room, and it somehow didn’t seem like enough any longer. Romeo’s scent was missing, not mingling like it had earlier that afternoon. It was lonely. Single. Alone.
Like me.
I drew in a deep breath and let sleep drag me under. I didn’t want to cry myself to sleep again. I’d done enough of that. I wanted to ride the high of my orgasmic state into wonderful dreams that swept me away until Matteo came and knocked on my door.
As I slept, I dreamt of the perfect future. Of peace between our families. Of marriage and more babies than I could count. I dreamt of the future I had always wanted for myself and Matteo.
But the dreams were shallow and didn’t leave me fulfilled or hopeful when I woke. They left me sad and anxious that dreams were all I would ever have.
CHAPTER 7
ROMEO
“Who the hell do you think you are?”
I sighed and shook my head as the two men beside me drew their guns.
“This was a deal my father had on the table before he died,” I said. “And now that I’ve taken over, we are no longer in need of your shipment.”
“I don’t give a damn if your daddy’s dead,�
� the man said. “He made a deal, and we shook on it. You owe us the money, or you owe us your life.”
“I owe you nothing. You made that deal with my father. It isn’t my fault there wasn’t a physical contract in place. When my father died, the deal he made with you died with him. That’s the price of doing business by trust.”
“Then maybe we’ll take your money and shoot you anyway,” another man said. “That would most definitely not be in your best interest,” I said evenly.
Of course, my father would’ve engaged in some backwoods shady shit during his reign. Shaking hands? No physical contracts? Word of mouth? Had the man been nuts? I was standing with two of my bodyguards staring down the barrel of three separate guns held by desperate men, and the only thing I wanted was for them to find some other fucking buyer for their weapons. That was it. There were plenty of traffickers in New York City that would kill for the shipment that had just arrived.
I didn’t need them, and all they had to do was acknowledge the deal gone bad and walk away from it.
No one had to get hurt.
“You’ll pay the two hundred and fifty thousand dollars you owe us, or you’ll die,” the man said.
I heard my bodyguards cock their guns as I held up my hand. They whipped their eyes toward me, looking at me as if I’d lost my mind. I was serious when I told my mother I wanted this operation to be legitimate again. That meant we would obtain any guns we needed for any reason legally, not shipped in from overseas with the fucking serial numbers scratched off from the metal. That was my father’s business. Not mine.
And I wasn’t going to be strong-armed into his dirty deals.
Which meant I had to keep a cool head.
“Gentleman. I’ve got a check in my back pocket for twenty thousand dollars to pay you for your troubles and to get you by until you find another buyer for the guns. I know you can find them in the city. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of clients,” I said.
“You’ll take the guns, and you’ll be thankful,” the man said.
“I don’t want to buy the guns. My father did, but he’s dead. And I have no use for them. You don’t have a paper contract so I can’t confirm the amount you’re asking for or even the fact that the deal took place.”
