She shivered at the endearment, longing for when Patrick would utter the words themselves. She didn’t doubt he loved her, especially since he was planning to marry her, but he hadn’t yet said he loved her. It weighed heavier on her than she had expected, but was in no way going to deter her from marrying him.
Her attention wandered from the thought when their jewelry returned with a different case of rings. He set it on the table in front of where they had seated themselves, opening the metal box with a flourish. She gasped at the beauty before her, finding each ring so gorgeous she couldn’t pick one easily. “These are so much better than the others.”
Patrick smiled slightly. “These are antiques that have been restored, some having belonged to very famous people.”
“Mr. Murphy is correct,” said Stefan. He picked up a square amethyst ring surrounded by brilliant diamonds. “For example, this was once Marilyn Monroe’s.”
Remembering the other woman’s disastrous love life, she shook her head. She didn’t mind owning someone else’s ring, especially if they were in the past and long gone. She adored the idea of inheriting a ring with history, but she couldn’t help the superstition attached to the idea and didn’t want a ring that had belonged to someone who’d been unlucky in love.
They sorted through ten of the rings before she found the one she wanted. It was a pear-shaped diamond, just a simple solitaire arranged on a platinum band. The ring had once belonged to a minor noble in Russia, in the days before Czar Nicholas was deposed. As she went to remove it from the box after Patrick had paid for it, he snatched it away from her.
She glared at him. “What are you doing?”
“Not yet.” He grinned at her. “You’ll get it later in far more romantic circumstances.”
She rolled her eyes, though she was secretly pleased. “And how much later will that be?”
He glanced at his watch. “We have dinner reservations at Silk in roughly four hours. Is that fast enough for you?”
“Four hours?” She wanted to screech at him in her panic. “How am I ever going to get ready in time? I don’t have a dress for that.”
Patrick winked at her. “There should be something waiting for you on your bed at home.”
Stomach fizzing with excitement, she could barely sit still until Stefan returned his credit card. She took his hand as they left the store. “You’re so good to me,” she whispered, her cheek pressed against his shoulder.
His eyes flashed for a moment, and he seemed to be on the verge of arguing with her. Finally, he sighed before saying, “You deserve everything I can give you and more.”
Curiosity prickled her, but she shoved it aside. Today was a beautiful day, the first of many, and she didn’t want to disturb it by asking questions he clearly wasn’t ready to answer.
***
The silver and black gown fitted like a dream, as though made just for her. Knowing Patrick, and his connections, it probably had been. He wouldn’t have been above calling some exclusive boutique with her measurements, probably gathered from sneaking a garment from her closet, to demand a perfect dress be created for her and ready by that evening. She couldn’t mind too much if that had been what happened, even though it was arrogant, because the dress was amazing.
It bared her shoulders in a strapless style, hugging her torso before flaring out to a black skirt with what she suspected was real silver thread embroidered in a lacy pattern over it. Silver and black shoes accompanied the dress, and she left her long hair flowing free to cover her back. The bodice dipped low, curving near the bottom of her spine, and she felt a little less naked with her curls falling past her shoulder blades.
She had rushed to be ready, but apparently it didn’t show, judging from the gleam in Patrick’s eyes as she came down the staircase. He held out a hand to her before leaning down to kiss her lightly on the cheek. She registered her protest at the anemic kiss with a small sound and dug her hands into the lapels of his coat to drag him closer for a long kiss.
“I don’t want to smudge your lipstick,” he said before their lips touched.
“I can always apply more later.” That settled the matter for her, and clearly for him too, because he bridged the gap between them and devoured her mouth in a hungry kiss that lasted several minutes. When they finally broke apart, her heart was racing, and she felt flushed. Patrick appeared to be in a similar state, and she didn’t miss the gleam of amusement in Jake’s eyes as they escorted the two of them from his home to the waiting limousine.
The bodyguards followed along behind in the SUV, as usual, and the privacy window was up, blocking them from the driver and vice versa. It was the perfect opportunity, and the kiss had stirred her libido and stoked her desire for him. With little regard for the state of her dress, she unlatched her seatbelt and turned to face him, sliding onto his lap before he could protest.
Not that he appeared to want to. His hands fastened on her hips to hold her steady against him, and they kissed again. She took care not to rumple his tuxedo, and he was equally careful with the taffeta underskirt of her dress as he pulled it up, bunching it at her waist and arranging it to trail behind her to the floorboard. “As much as I like you in that dress, I think I’d rather see you out of it.”
She giggled again. “Not just yet. You owe me dinner first.” She dropped her gaze to his lap, her hands working unerringly to unbuckle his belt and unfasten his dress pants. She gave a small sound of pleasure when his cock sprang free from the fabric a few moments later. Lauren wrapped her hand around it, savoring the warmth and the trickle of pre-cum leaking from the head. She knew she was in a similar state, as he discovered for himself a moment later when two of his fingers surged inside her.
She bit her lip, determined not to cry out too loudly and alert the driver to what they were doing. It could be their section of the limousine was soundproof, but if it wasn’t, she didn’t want the driver to know for certain what they were doing.
She forgot her resolve within a minute or two, as his fingers curled inside her to seek out her g-spot and press firmly against it. Patrick allowed no room between them. Nor did he give her a chance to process the sensations his fingers evoked. She was soon whimpering and thrusting against his hand as an orgasm approached.
She cried out with protest when he removed his hand, but quickly fell silent again when she realized he was simply lifting her hips to bring her closer to his raging erection, still cradled in her hand. It twitched in her palm, and she smoothed her thumb down the V on the underside as she guided the cockhead to her waiting pussy.
She had barely aligned them when he thrust upward sharply, while pulling her down with his hands on her hips. It was hard and fast, and it should have been painful, since she was still sensitive from their first night together, but it just felt amazing. She couldn’t stifle a low groan of pleasure that soon escalated to whimpers as Patrick thrust forcefully in and out of her. He was controlling everything, and all she could do was cling to his shoulders and enjoy the ride.
She should have been the one in control, since she was technically in the dominant position, but Patrick worked her body like an instrument, and she surrendered without hesitation. She wanted everything he gave her and more, and she couldn’t hold back a small scream as her folds tightened around his cock when she came undone.
He lifted her off him abruptly, his cock still shiny with her juices and hard with his lack of release. She frowned at it. “Aren’t you…?”
He nodded, bringing his thumb to her mouth and pressing it gently between her lips. “In here. At least until you get on the pill.”
She bit her lip, hesitating for just a second. It was time to make a confession, but she was reluctant. Besides, her mouth watered at the sight before her, and she bent her head to take his shaft between her lips. Their mingled juices tasted strange, but not unpleasant, and she was soon sucking him to completion. As Patrick grunted, surging deeply into the back of her throat, she was proud she didn’t even gag as he unleash
ed a torrent of seed down her throat.
With a grunt, looking replete, he gently eased her away and sat her on the seat beside him before he returned his clothes to proper order. In seconds, he looked as sleek as he had before.
She adjusted her underwear, her slit aching from the hard fuck, even as she longed for more. As the car stopped before the valet station, she decided it would be a good time to tell him the truth. He wasn’t too likely to yell at her in public.
Licking her lips, she leaned closer as the car drew to a halt. “I have to confess something.”
He arched a brow. “Yeah, what’s that?”
She gave him a small grin, hoping he would see the humor in the situation. “I’m already on the pill, Patrick.” Before he could say anything, she slid from the car, not allowing him to play the gentleman and go first to offer her a hand out. When he stood up to join her, his mouth was hard, and his hand was tight around her wrist, making her fearful of his reaction. They swept up the walkway together, the mirrored windows of the restaurant giving them a perfect reflection of her and Patrick. He looked tense, his lips compressed to a thin line.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I was desperate for you not to send me away.”
He nodded once abruptly. “I understand your reasons, but you still have to pay for that little stunt.”
Her eyes widened with surprise. “Pay? Pay how?”
His smile was slightly unsettling when he fixed his gaze upon her before opening the door to allow her to enter first. “You’ll see, honey.” As she slid by him, he pinched her buttocks hard enough to hurt, and she yelped in surprise and with a hint of pain. She couldn’t deny the pain also sent a throb of pleasure through her core, making her already-sodden panties feel even wetter. She was in a state of anticipation as they began their meal. First, she didn’t know when or how he was going to present the ring, and she briefly wondered if he would withhold it now.
No, she determined he wouldn’t. Patrick had clearly decided on the course of action before him. He planned to keep her, of that much she was certain. He would find some sort of delicious way to torture her for her fib, and that was the other part of her mingled anxiety and excitement. She couldn’t deny being curious, if a bit fearful, of whatever his punishment entailed.
The ring came with dessert, a luscious poached pear with a vanilla caramel drizzle. As soon as the pear appeared before her, he took the box from his pocket and also removed the ring.
“Will you be my wife?”
It wasn’t the most romantic proposal, but she wouldn’t have expected flowery words from him anyway. He was a man who showed rather than spoke how he felt. Bringing her here for this fancy dinner, knowing her tastes well enough to send the jeweler looking for the antique rings, and the way he had given her body so much pleasure already showed her that. She didn’t need a long speech. All she needed was him.
Unexpected tears welled in her eyes as she held out her left hand, allowing him to slip on the ring. It was a perfect fit, as she had known it would be, since she had just tried it on earlier in the day. It had been a surprise to find it required no modification, but she didn’t doubt Patrick would have insisted on the jeweler having it ready by tonight, even if it had required adjustment.
It nestled perfectly on her finger, as though it had been designed for her rather than some long-dead Russian noblewoman. She blinked back the moisture in her eyes and used her other hand to hold Patrick’s, squeezing tightly. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the ring, so it took her a moment to realize they had company. She didn’t recognize the presence of others until Patrick suddenly stiffened.
Looking up and away from her ring, she was surprised to find cold eyes staring down at her. The dark eyes were set in a wrinkled face, topped by a shock of white hair. The man was clearly older, but there was still something imposing and intimidating about him. It wasn’t the two men discreetly flanking him that gave the impression he could handle himself. His eyes were cold, almost avian-like, as they regarded her before returning to Patrick.
She was relieved to find his expression was equally cold and predatory for Patrick, so it wasn’t something about her that personally upset or annoyed the other man.
“It appears congratulations are in order, Murphy.”
Patrick nodded stiffly. “Yes.” His body language practically screamed, at least to her, that he didn’t want the person standing beside their table to know about this momentous occasion. She made a mental note to ask him about why later.
“I’ve arranged for a bottle of the best champagne for you and your future bride.”
Patrick’s shoulders stiffened, but he nodded again. “Thank you. That’s a nice gesture, Peretti.”
A younger man came to stand beside them, and it was clear he was related to the older man somehow. They shared too many features and a similar build not to be related.
“You about ready, Uncle Sal?” The man’s eyes darted to Patrick, before touching on Lauren. They briefly moved away before settling on her again, and a slow smile tilted his lips. He was handsome enough, but a chill of fear went down her spine when he gave her what was clearly his seductive smile.
“Who’s your lovely lady friend?” he asked Patrick, his gaze never leaving hers.
She barely held in a shudder of repulsion when he licked his lips.
“My fiancée,” said Patrick in a possessive growl with a strong note of warning underneath it.
“Well, congratulations.” The younger man’s eyes widened with the news, and he now wore a frown tinged with petulance. Clearly, he didn’t like knowing she belonged to Patrick. Not that he would have stood a chance of even getting a date with her if she had been single. Something about both the Peretti men caused alarm bells to clang in the back of her mind.
“Come along, Gio. I’m sure the lovebirds wish to be alone.” The man took a step aside for the younger man before pausing again near Patrick. “I look forward to receiving an invitation.”
“Of course,” said Patrick, and she didn’t think the other two realized just how reluctant Patrick was to give the confirmation.
Once they had moved away, their bodyguards gathering around them in a protective half-circle as two more men in suits joined the small group at the exit, she watched them leave. It was only after the door closed behind them that she released a shuddering breath and allowed herself to relax. “Who were they?”
Patrick hesitated for a moment, seeming to be debating something. “Those are associates of mine, I guess you could say. That was Sal Peretti, and his nephew, Gio. When Sal kicks off or finally retires, Gio will be the one taking over.”
“Do you have to work with them very often?” The thought made her anxious.
“More than I’d like,” he said softly, his gaze moving around the tables near them to ensure no one was listening. He leaned closer, even though everyone near them seemed engrossed in each other and not them. “They’re the Italian head.” He must’ve seen her look of incomprehension, because he expounded coyly. “Like I’m the Irish head. Get it?”
She nodded as it clicked in place. “And you all work together?”
He laughed, but didn’t sound completely amused. “We do a damn good impression of doing so, but I don’t know how much togetherness there really is in our little truce. Still, it minimizes the bloodshed of the Irish, Italian, and Russians by all cooperating with each other. Things have been tense with the Perettis for the past eighteen months.”
Reluctantly fascinated, though part of her urged not to learn anything more about Patrick’s criminal activities than she had to, she leaned closer to him too. “What happened?”
“We haven’t had the best relationship for the past five years as it was, but things escalated when one of my men went up against his grandson for a woman. It ended up with violence and bloodshed, and Aldo Peretti was dead. No big loss.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I might not have been as neutral about my position as I should have been, but I couldn’t help
rooting for Shane. I gave Mia the knife she used to kill Aldo.”
They were so close now that anyone looking at them would have assumed they were sharing the whispers of lovers, speaking of naughty acts they wanted to do to each other in the dark. She made a note to ask for more details later, but decided now wasn’t the time in the present circumstances. “So what happens if your truce falls apart?”
He let out a sound somewhere between a snort and a grunt. “Total fucking chaos, Lauren. War on a massive scale, the kind that money can’t cover up, the kind that draws the feds. We have incentives to keep the peace.”
She leaned back, nodding. “We should do whatever we have to then to make sure that happens.”
He seemed slightly amused by her use of we, but he nodded. “Are you ready to get out of here?”
She nodded, but another chill went down her spine a moment later when he reminded her of something she had forgotten.
“After all, there’s still a punishment ahead of you.”
She shivered, torn between excitement and a touch of fear. Just what did he have in mind?
***
Back at his home, Patrick took her to his room instead of hers. She stepped through to find the lavatory, but the open closet door caught her attention. She walked by and looked in, drawing in a deep breath when she saw her clothes hanging on one side of the closet. Someone on the staff had moved her things from the room she’d always used to his while they were gone. Her heart pounded with excitement to know she was going to be sharing his bed now, instead of being forced to wait until they were married.
The feel of his hands on her upper arms took some of her excitement when she once again remembered something unknown faced her. “I’m not sure I like this punishment idea.”
“Too bad.” He said it sternly, but his lips were tender as they brushed the strong column of her throat after he shoved her hair aside. “I won’t have you lying to me.”
“But I’m not some child who needs to be disciplined or punished.”
He turned her in his arms suddenly, and she collided with him. His strong chest cushioned the blow, and she was plastered against him as she stared up at him. “No, you aren’t a child, but you’re my wife. Or you will be, and you won’t ever lie to me.” To emphasize his words, he tangled his hands in her hair and tugged sharply, forcing her neck backward and exposing every square inch of the vulnerable skin to the sharp nibble of his teeth, interspersed with forceful section from his mouth.
Patrick: A Mafia Love Story Page 6
