by Bethany-Kris
“Remove your dress, and whatever is on underneath. Don’t fucking dally around like a foolish girl about it, either.”
She let out a silent, but shaky, breath. Still, she did as he asked and stripped down from her dress and black lace underwear set. Naked in front of the camera, she came closer when Raffe crooked his finger at her, and then turned like a pretty little doll on a spinning pedestal when he made a circle.
“Move that bit of hair around your face and let me see your neck, so I don’t have to break it when I get home,” Raffe ordered.
Aria did what he demanded again. She knew what he was looking for. He’d done this time and time again.
Marks from someone else.
Proof of her infidelity.
A reason to hurt her.
She had been faithful to this man despite his treatment and abuse of her, and regardless of the fact his mistress had birthed him a baby boy just two months ago. He was a cute baby, and Aria was simply glad the baby wasn’t hers.
But she had—been faithful, that was, right up until the moment she couldn’t be anymore—Caesar. Until the moment her plan had called for something drastic, she had done what Raffe demanded of her.
But he didn’t know about Caesar.
Those marks were gone.
The bruises on her ass faded.
His kisses didn’t brand.
At least … not skin deep.
“Still untouched,” Raffe murmured. “Good girl.”
She suppressed the shiver.
Her attention was on her husband.
Her mind was on her goals—on power and control.
One. Step. Closer.
Rome wasn’t built in a day.
FIVE
CAESAR HAD A million and one other things he could be doing; a lot of things he would rather be doing, but here he was watching Angelo pace in his office. The only remotely good thing about the whole shit-show was the fact Daniele had not yet arrived.
But he would.
Soon.
Angelo had been quiet for hours. Never speaking from the moment he left the meeting at the restaurant, and silently stewing in his thoughts. That didn’t particularly bode well when it came to his father’s moods, but Caesar was unwilling to step in quite yet.
Besides, he had his own shit to work out about all of this. He had been fucking blindsided, too. Like a goddamn deer staring at bright headlights.
Carina was not Carina.
He’d spent a week following the woman before he’d killed the man guarding her, and then another week gathering as much information on her as he could before the meeting between their respective organizations. And not once in that time had he seen her face, or even managed to get a picture of her. He’d thought it was nothing more than circumstance why he hadn’t been able to see her face, but now he knew that wasn’t the case.
Aria had tricked him.
No, manipulated him.
A part of him respected it and even took a thrill in her effort—the fucked up part of him that found it a habitual need to do the same thing to others. No one ever said he was a saint, after all, and a woman like that with the guts to do what she had deserved some kind of praise. Even if it was the fucked up kind that Caesar tended to use.
The other part of him was pissed. Christ. She hadn’t needed to lie to him at all. He would have bent her over and gotten a taste of what was between her thighs regardless of who she was, and probably simply because of who she was. That just tended to be his style. He wasn’t going to apologize for it.
No, it was her lies.
That pissed him off.
That made him feel dirty.
And he didn’t like dirty.
Not that kind.
Her blackmail still weighed heavily on the back of his mind, and it wasn’t letting go. According to her, she wanted territory, and he needed to help his father be amicable to handing it over. That was never going to happen—Angelo didn’t hand anything over unless it was pried out of his cold, dead hands.
It went beyond that, though.
Beyond the blackmail.
Why blackmail him at all?
The De Rose Camorra clan had been doing fine all on their own taking over street by street, and block by block. The clashes and run-ins with the Accardo organization seemed like barely a blip on their radar.
They kept on coming.
It was only Angelo finally exploding—at the sight of Daniele strolling through the opened office doors—that drew Caesar from his thoughts. “Where were you?”
Daniele’s gaze slanted in his father’s direction. “Therapy with Alice.”
Caesar made a noise under his breath—an oh, Jesus Christ, kind of noise—and ignored the glower his half-brother shot him. “Bet that’s going fucking swell, huh?”
His brother opened his mouth to respond, but Angelo beat him to the punch when he snapped at Caesar, “Chiudi la bocca!”
Shut your mouth.
Caesar mustered up something that might pass for an apologetic look, and shrugged his shoulders. “Apologies.”
Not his apologies, though.
Alice had been willing. She barely took anytime to convince at all, and had a great time bent over her husband’s side of the bed while Caesar fucked her from behind. She wasn’t even his type, really—too thin, and too … whiney, really.
Didn’t matter.
It was over, now.
It was done.
“I take it the De Rose meeting didn’t go as planned?” Daniele asked, giving Caesar a glare that warned him to shut up.
If the fucker kept that shit up, Caesar was going to figure out another way to knock his arrogant ass down a peg or two. Maybe fucking his wife hadn’t been enough.
“You think?” Angelo asked with his blazing eyes attempting to burn a hole into the clock on the far wall. “No, it didn’t go fucking well! It’s a woman running it. A woman. Could you imagine a Cosa Nostra boss sitting down to do business with a woman? It’s abhorrent.”
“Why?” Caesar asked. “Because it’s that woman putting a major dent into your organization right now, too. I would think that gives her a right to have a seat at the table, and figure out what in the hell you can do to make her knock it off.”
Angelo’s anger directed its way to Caesar in a flash. “I didn’t realize I asked for your goddamn opinion.”
Yeah, all right.
Caesar chose to stay quiet while his father went about explaining to Daniele the details of their meeting—none that particularly mattered, really, except the fact their father had gotten flustered and tricked by a woman.
It looked good on no man, and that’s what the problem really was where Angelo was concerned. He felt Aria De Rose’s little stunt had pushed him down in the eyes of his men, and he had needed to reclaim that lost bit of respect by shunning her and their meeting.
Caesar figured that wasn’t going to go well for his father.
“What info do you have on her?” Angelo snapped.
“Me?” Caesar asked.
“Who else?”
“You could tone it down a touch,” Caesar told his father. “She’s not here, and nobody else is here that gives a fuck about the fact you entirely missed it was a woman coming at you from behind.”
Daniele blinked.
Angelo’s face reddened in his rage.
Caesar shrugged, adding, “She’s just a woman. Like every other fucking woman we know except maybe she actually buys her own fur and diamonds. Who gives a fuck about a woman? Why do you even care? Had it been a man at that meeting, you would have made nice and fixed the problems, but because she’s got a cunt between her legs, you can’t do that? Sounds like another one of those you problems, you know?”
Angelo spluttered before finally spitting out, “You are ridiculous. Unbelievable!”
“All of that and more, yeah.”
Daniele sighed, and scrubbed a hand down his face. “I fuc
king hate saying this—Caesar’s got a point. Camorra deals in a different culture and rules from us. You can’t expect them to follow Cosa Nostra expectations just because you’re coming to the table.”
“I did not ask for opinions,” Angelo barked, “I asked what Caesar knew about that goddamn woman or her clan!”
“I know very little about Camorra,” Caesar said. “A lot like you, clearly.”
“Caesar.”
That was likely his one warning to tone down the attitude, but shit, it was hard.
“As far as her,” Caesar continued like his father hadn’t even spoken at all, “she’s been married to Raffaele Ferri—goes by Raffe, I heard—for a year and a half. Married shortly before her father went to prison.”
“And where does this Raffe come from?” Angelo asked.
“A rival clan that Jac De Rose absorbed into his own after he dismantled them a while back. I don’t have all those details.”
Angelo went back to scowling at the wall. “Well, where is the husband?”
“I was told he’s out of the country on business, but it looks like some of this shit started when he was in Philly. I don’t think she went ahead on this by herself, if you get my drift. It’s not very clear what she wants.”
His father’s gaze darted back to him in a blink. “Isn’t it? She wants territory—the city. Power, Caesar. You are not this slow. Catch up to speed.”
He didn’t think that was entirely the case, all—
“Anyone want a drink?”
Caesar stiffened at his step-mother’s voice. He didn’t even bother to turn and look at Martina in the doorway. He didn’t fucking want to.
“Hey, Ma,” Daniele greeted.
He heard the pat of a hand against a cheek before Martina said, “Missed you.”
“Darling,” Angelo greeted. “And yes, I’ll take a drink.”
“Caesar, no hello for me today?”
Caesar wouldn’t have been able to hide the hatred in his gaze when he glanced at his step-mother even if he tried. “No, not particularly.”
“Caesar!”
Angelo’s shout fell on deaf ears.
Martina had the gall to look sad.
The fucking lying—
“Caesar, greet your mother.”
Step-mother, he wanted to correct.
He didn’t correct his father.
“Martina,” he greeted through a stiff jaw and clenched teeth before he looked back to his father. “Better?”
“What is your problem?”
He could feel Martina’s gaze burning into his back, and it almost felt as though she was daring him to speak. He hadn’t liked this woman when she came into his life over two decades ago, and he didn’t fucking like her now, either. His hatred of her had only grown over time with the help of her, and everyone else around them.
She earned it.
She was too close.
Sharing his space.
It drove him crazy.
“I will call you when I have something useful on the clan, or the woman,” Caesar said.
“Wait just a damn—”
He didn’t wait.
He was already gone.
Caesar had been gone for years.
It was a shame his father never noticed.
Caesar kept the phone at his ear even as he saw a car he’d been waiting for pull up to a specialty clothing boutique across the road. “The main attraction has arrived.”
“Be careful, man.”
“Those words don’t make any sense.”
Cain grumbled under his breath. “Not for you, no.”
“Then, I don’t know why you bother.”
“Because for some reason, my wife likes you. And I tend to be favorable to you—friends since kids, and all. Point being, if you make me tell my wife you got your dumbass killed over this stupid shit, then I won’t even come to piss on your grave, Caesar.”
“I’m not sure if that’s supposed to be a bad thing or a—”
“Don’t be stupid!”
“This isn’t me being stupid,” Caesar countered, “this is the least stupid thing I have done.”
“Jesus Christ.” Cain sighed harshly, and added, “I will meet you after, then?”
“Regular spot, yeah.”
“All right. Seriously, be smart.”
Right.
Caesar hung up on his friend without a goodbye, and watched as the back passenger door on the black sedan was opened. Aria stepped out of the car in a wine-red dress that looked as though it had been fucking painted on to her body. It made her heart-shaped ass an even better sight. Not to mention the way her golden, smooth legs looked walking in five-inch heels. He found that he liked the fact she had left her hair down in loose, wild curls because it was easier for him to imagine fisting her hair while he pounded into her.
Yeah.
He went there quick, fast, and in a real damn hurry.
Fuck.
He kind of hated this woman. She also turned him on like nothing else. That was probably going to be a problem. Self-control was not a word Caesar was well acquainted with, frankly, and in fact, he made a game out of giving himself whatever he wanted. Damn the consequences it might bring him, too.
Aria flicked her sunglasses to the side as a man—one Caesar didn’t recognize from following her, or from the meeting—spoke to her. She barely acknowledged him at all, and placed her sunglasses on her face as she peered around the street.
Caesar was safely hidden in an alleyway across the street. The shadows kept him hidden from view, but still allowed him free range to watch this woman coming and going from a shop she seemed to visit at least once a week.
Or, that’s what he noticed from following her.
Aria shook her head at something the man said, and when he tried to urge her toward the shop, she held up a hand. Damn. Caesar wished he had found a closer spot to hide so that he could have heard their conversation.
It didn’t seem to matter.
Aria headed into the shop without another word to her companion who was left looking as though his head was going to explode on the sidewalk. The guy glanced down the street at the sidewalk cop who was checking meters, and zones. The sign in front of the shop showcased a bright, big NO PARKING in red, block letters. Right where the fucker was parked.
Caesar wondered …
He didn’t have to think for long—the second the guy got into the black sedan and pulled out onto the street to go look for another place to park, Caesar darted out of the alleyway and headed across the street. He ignored the screech of brakes, and the horn that honked at him.
Who knew how long he had?
He didn’t think Angelo would appreciate him killing someone in broad daylight, and in the middle of a clothing store. Considering the way Aria’s men seemed to act whenever they were guarding her, it was a very real possibility that Caesar might have to do just that if one of them caught him anywhere near her.
Caesar slipped inside the boutique, and glanced up when the door jingled overtop his head at his entrance. The very second he looked straight ahead again, he found Aria staring at him with wide eyes from the other side of the boutique.
Her mouth popped open.
Caesar grinned.
Shock looked good on her.
Beside Aria, a woman stood holding a lace and satin bralette set for her to look over, but she wasn’t paying her any mind, now. In fact, she waved a hand at her as if to shoo her away. That shock was quickly replaced by narrowed eyes, and her lips pressed into a hard, grim line.
Caesar came closer, and Aria moved away from the woman. The two met in the middle of the boutique, although she was careful to keep a good two feet of space between them.
Her gaze darted over his shoulder as though she were looking for someone to come inside. The man who’d driven her, maybe?
All he saw were her nerves.
She was nervous.
“What in the hell are you doing here?” she hissed.
“You can look at me when you talk to me,” he countered.
Green eyes met his with a blazing fire that threatened to burn him to the ground right where he fucking stood. Damn—this woman was something else.
“You need to leave,” Aria said firmly, “now.”
“No can do.” Caesar waved a finger in the general direction from which she had come. “I liked that set you were looking at, by the way. Don’t get the pink, though. Only innocent girls wear pink, and it might make me feel like you’re something else the first time I get to fuck you while you wear them.”
Aria’s mouth fell open briefly before she closed it fast with an audible snap. Her jaw stiffened before she squared her shoulders, and said, “That won’t be happening again.”
Caesar didn’t know …
“You sure about that?”
The two stared one another down.
Neither moved an inch.
“You have to go,” she finally said, her voice quieting. “Please.”
Caesar tipped his head to the side. “It’s not a good feeling to have someone blindside you, is it? I quite enjoyed this. I might keep showing up like this if you’re going to look like that every time I do it.”
“Caesar.”
“You sound the same, by the way. When you talk to me, and when I fuck you, I mean. It makes me hard as hell.”
Her gaze drifted lower.
Caesar smirked when she could in fact see the length of his erection pressing against his black slacks. Yeah, he wasn’t even ashamed.
“What is wrong with you?” Aria asked.
“A lot of things. Right now—you.”
“Me?”
“That’s what I said, donna.”
Aria wet her lips, and did that searching thing again. Like she was waiting for someone to come in and bust up their moment.
“Looking for your guard?”
Her gaze came back to him instantly. “It should be Nico, but he had other things to do.”
“Not what I asked.”
“Yes, I am waiting for him. No, you can’t be here when he comes in.”
“Why not?” he asked, honestly curious. “You can start a war with our family, but you can’t have a chat with one of us without a guard to watch you?”
