“Of course,” he continued, “I still plan to have sex with you as often as possible, so I fully expect we’ll beat the odds.”
The smile she gave him was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“We’ve beaten the odds more than once.”
He knew she wasn’t just talking about this pregnancy. He kissed her. His wife, his forever, his everything. “And we always will.”
THE END
If you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving a review.
Keep reading for bonus content.
Sign up for Josephine’s newsletter to receive information about new releases and more
26
Bonus Excerpt: ROMAN
Have you read Roman and Sarah’s story? It’s available now! Keep reading for an excerpt.
About this book:
Her brother stole from my family. For members of La Cosa Nostra, the Sicilian Mob here in The Big Easy, that’s a death sentence.
It’s not just about the money. It’s about the respect.
The deal is practically done, when his sister stumbles into my office, pleading for her brother's life. Sarah. Sweet, trembling, innocent Sarah. A damned kindergarten teacher.
She promises to pay her brother's debt. How? With her savings and her teacher's pension. I find her loyalty touching. But her meager savings aren't nearly enough. And now, there's something I want more than money, more than revenge.
I want Sarah. She'll be my plaything for one month, catering to my whims. When I make the offer –with very clear detail of how she will pay the debt– she's frightened, but heat sparks in her beautiful eyes.
She wants it too.
I will debase her. And she will beg me for it.
Chapter 1
This was not going to end well.
Sarah struggled to hide the creeping anxiety as she stared up at the human wall in front of her. She’d made it past the gate of Roman Rinaldi’s house, and thought this was going to be easier than she thought. But evidently that had just been the first step.
The security guard at the front door had biceps bigger than Sarah’s thigh. He stared at her through reflective sunglasses. Or at least she assumed he was looking at her. She really couldn’t tell.
“I need to see Roman Rinaldi.”
The guy didn’t move except to cross those massive arms over his chest. “Nobody sees Mr. Rinaldi without an appointment.”
She took a deep breath, reminding herself what was at stake, and smoothed a hand down her stomach in an attempt to calm the five billion butterflies in residence there. “I’m aware I don’t have an appointment, but I have an invitation of sorts.”
He smirked at her. “Yeah? Let’s see it then.”
She licked her lips. “It’s more of a referral, I guess you could say.”
He cocked his head slightly, looking her over. Sarah imagined she did not look at all like the women who normally came to Roman Rinaldi’s door. “Yeah, really? Who referred you?”
“Robbie Hastings. My name is Sarah. I’m his sister.”
His expression lost some of its sneer, and he reached for his cell phone, blindly stabbing a number. “Boss, I’ve got Robbie Hastings’ sister at the front door. She’s requesting a meeting with you.”
After a moment’s conversation, the guard moved to the side to allow her access to the door. “Go on in and straight to the sitting room on the left. Mr. Rinaldi will find you.”
Sitting room. Sounded innocent enough. She inclined her head. “Thank you.”
He laughed harshly. “I doubt you’ll be thanking me for long.” He moved behind her so she had no choice but to walk through the door.
Even if he hadn’t blocked her way, leaving wasn’t really an option. Licking her dry lips, she walked inside the large house. As her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, she found it wasn’t what she’d expected from the house of a Cosa Nostra mobster.
Of course, she wasn’t exactly sure what she was expecting in a mobster’s house. Black walls and scarlet carpets? Artwork of people on their knees begging for their life? Sculptures of people getting their kneecaps knocked out with a baseball bat?
Instead she found it tastefully furnished with discreet illumination from an occasional overhead light. The artwork in the hallway seemed to consist mostly of local landscapes and the occasional oil representation of Bourbon Street.
People were walking around, going in and out of rooms. Some armed men, but others had papers in their hands or were talking on the phone. It looked just like many of the old houses on the outskirts of New Orleans that had been transformed to accommodate offices on the main floor. Perfectly reasonable. Safe.
Sarah began studying the pictures again to forget about why she was really here.
“You were supposed to go straight to the sitting room,” a rich and smoky voice said behind her, sending chills down her spine.
“I’m sorry. I stopped to admire the place for a moment.”
She knew the man behind her was Roman Rinaldi. She didn’t want to turn and face him. Knew that nothing would ever be the same once she did.
But she didn’t have any choice. So she turned, praying he’d be old, ugly, or at least manageable.
He was none of those things. The man in front of her was young, handsome, vibrant. He was probably around thirty, with thick black hair, whiskey-colored eyes, and scratchy stubble on his cheeks her fingers somehow itched to touch.
Sexy. Dangerous. It couldn’t be any more obvious if he dragged around a neon sign announcing it. He was very definitely not manageable.
Rinaldi was clearly appraising her with equal interest, taking in her light-brown hair and blue eyes, her skin quite fair compared to his olive complexion. Maybe she should have changed out of her work slacks and button-down shirt. She was painfully and self-consciously aware of the splotch of yellow paint at the hem from little Mark Gardner’s wild brush this afternoon.
She licked her lips again, but abruptly stopped when she saw his gaze following the path of her tongue. Licking her lips was a nervous habit, and certainly nothing she’d ever cultivated to drive men wild. Not that she was the drive-men-wild type. Especially not this man, not with such a harmless gesture. Sarah had always been more girl-next-door, less sexpot.
Her proposition she was about to make to this man was ridiculous, futile, but what choice did she have? She couldn’t sit back and do nothing.
“And does my home meet your approval?” That voice again. Those eyes. Her nipples actually beaded in reaction. What in the world was happening to her?
“It wasn’t what I expected. It’s very tasteful.”
His brow arched and Sarah realized what she’d said. Oh God.
“I mean… I didn’t mean, I mean—”
He didn’t let her finish. “Can I get you a drink?”
She nodded, not caring that it wasn’t even five o’clock yet. She could use some liquid courage and anything to ease her dry throat. He put a hand on the small of her back and led her into the sitting room she was supposed to have gone to in the first place. He poured himself some sort of amber liquid out of a decanter then slipped a bottle of white wine out of a small fridge and poured her a glass.
“Let’s go into my conference room where we won’t be disturbed,” he said as he handed her the wine, his gaze falling once again to her lips.
Her stomach clenched with a mix of apprehension and the slightest tinge of excitement. At least he found her attractive. The thought both terrified and encouraged her.
Hand at her back again, he led her out into the entryway. He turned into a doorway on the left, escorting her inside before closing the door. The ominous click of the lock echoed through the room making her flinch. A large table took up most of the space, but there was also a smaller side sitting area made up of a love seat and wing chairs.
He took her glass and placed both of them on the conference table, then stepped right up against her where
she stood just inside the door.
“Mr. Rinaldi—” Sarah barely squeaked out his name before he put his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs resting on either side of her neck. One trailed across her chest as he walked behind her, keeping himself pressed very close against her.
“Shhh,” he whispered in her ear, voice husky.
She swallowed, nearly gulped, as his hands ran all the way down her arms to her wrists, holding them out beside her, then all the way back up underneath. Almost like he was trying to tickle her, but the deadly air surrounding them said otherwise.
“Keep your arms out,” he said. She did and felt him slide his hands down the side of her ribs before edging over her waist and hips.
He was frisking her.
“Mr. Rinaldi, I can assure you I do not—”
His hands dropped from her side and he came to stand in front of her, whiskey eyes narrowed. He put a finger against her lips and pressed just hard enough to let her know that he meant business. “No talking.”
She nodded.
He took several steps forward, forcing her back until she rested against the wall. His hands moved over her chest, his eyes not leaving hers as his fingers closed over her breasts and his thumbs ran down the valley in between them. Her breath hitched.
She felt herself jerk when his fingers moved down her stomach to skim under her button-down shirt and began to work their way back up against her skin. When she felt his fingers move the lace of her bra to the side, exposing her nipples to his fingers she let out a squeak.
“Mr. Rinaldi, I—”
She felt a sharp sting against one of her nipples from the pinch of his fingers, before she found herself turned and pressed face-first against the wall.
“If you say one more word before I give you permission, I will have one of my men strip you naked and thoroughly search every inch of your body for any possible device, while I watch and enjoy my drink. Do you understand?”
Sarah nodded her cheek against the wall.
“Your other option is to leave, right now. Would you rather do that?”
She shook her head. No, she didn’t want to leave. If she left now she would’ve defeated her entire purpose for coming here.
“Then I’ll assume I don’t have to ask you again to be quiet.”
Heat flooded her—part embarrassment, part excitement—as his fingers returned to her breasts. He searched them more efficiently this time, his palms replacing the lace of bra he’d pushed aside. Her nipples were hard nubs by the time his hands left them.
She felt him crouch down at her feet and work both hands up one leg from ankle to thigh, his hands easily encircling her leg, then the other. She gasped as she felt both his hands slide up the inside of the backs of her thighs before his fingers grasped her buttocks and slid his thumbs along the crevice between them.
Her nipples tightened even further and she couldn’t stop her breathing from accelerating, her cheek still pressed against the wall. Her only saving grace was the knowledge that he wasn’t unaffected either. His breathing had become harsher. She felt his hands search her backside again, sliding roughly from her lower back all the way back down through the crack of her ass, his fingers pressing hard against her.
Then hands slid to her hips and he pulled the area he’d just searched so thoroughly up against him to grind against his front.
He definitely wasn’t unaffected.
Keeping one hand on her hip, she felt the other slide to the button of her khaki pants, undoing the button then the zipper. She gasped as his fingers slid over her lower belly, then felt them move to the skin of one inner thigh, then the other. She thought he was done when his hand left her thighs—obviously having proven that she had nothing hidden down there—and let out the smallest sigh of release.
Then felt his hand slide inside her panties.
“No stranger gets near me or my brothers without being searched,” he whispered in her ear. “Thoroughly.” She gasped out loud as his fingers cupped her sex once, before sliding all the way to her back hole. Heat pooled even as she stiffened.
She felt him grind into her again from behind as his fingers cupping her sex kept her in place, his thumb running over her clit. Felt his harsh breath in her ear.
God, whatever he wanted, right now she would give it to him. Her mind was totally devoid of reason. All she could do was feel.
And then a moment later he was gone. His fingers gone from inside her pussy, his body gone from behind her.
Without his hands holding her she collapsed against the wall. She sucked in deep breaths, trying to get her raging body under control. She glanced over her shoulder to find him calmly walking to his drink and taking a sip.
He held it up in a mocking salute when he saw her looking at him. Bastard.
She zipped and buttoned her pants and turned around to face him.
“Now you can talk,” he said. “I just had to make sure you didn’t have a weapon or weren’t wearing a wire.”
Sarah wished to God she could walk over and slap him and walk out of this place and never see his smug face again. But she couldn’t.
She was about to offer to trade her body for her brother’s life.
Chapter 2
Roman stared at little Sarah Hastings, trying to get himself under control. Or at least his cock. Jesus.
He’d just searched her like he’d actually thought he would find something on her delectable body.
First of all, his home had the most high-end counter-surveillance mechanisms available. There was no way in hell anyone would be able to wear a wire or use a parabolic mic to listen in on any conversations. Second, the Rinaldi family had a security team who could’ve done a much more quick—not to mention professional—job of patting her down.
Definitely wouldn’t have involved them sticking their fingers into her tight pussy. Roman turned away from her so she wouldn’t see how the thought affected him.
How she affected him.
The second Saul at the front door had notified Roman of Sarah’s arrival, and that she was somehow connected with that fucker Robbie Hastings, Roman had quickly gotten basic info about her.
Roman Rinaldi, hell, none of the three of Rinaldi triplets, ever went into a situation blind.
Roman didn’t know why Sarah, Robbie’s big sister by three years, was here. But at least he knew it wasn’t to kill him on her brother’s behalf.
He was quite certain she didn’t have a weapon on her.
“Have a seat, Ms. Hastings, and then you can tell me why you’re here on behalf of your piece of shit brother.”
She was clutching her wine as she looked over at the armchair before choosing to sit on the couch. She looked surprised when he sat down on the leather beside her, close enough that the heat of his body seeped into hers, but not quite touching. Surprised but not displeased. Her nervousness seemed to war with arousal.
Roman understood both although he was only experiencing one.
She frowned at him. “Robbie’s not like that. He’s a young boy.”
Roman laughed, but it wasn’t a sound of amusement. “He’s over eighteen, right?”
She nodded. “He’s twenty.”
“He’s an adult and responsible for his actions. Your little brother stole from me.”
“That’s not what he told me.” She blinked, licking at her lip the way she had in the hallway. The way that made him want to pull her down on her knees in front of him and give her lips something to play with. “He told me he lost a shipment. I’m not entirely sure what that means, but he told me he was in serious trouble.”
Roman forced his eyes away from Sarah’s lips. “He lost the shipment by diverting it to the Lithuanians with the help of his idiot girlfriend, Audra Vydūnas. He was entrusted with my guns and decided to sell them, but didn’t even have the common sense to get out of the city after ripping me off. I’ve dealt with the girlfriend, but your brother has gone to ground.”
She’d grown paler with every sentence.
“And now Robbie’s sent you here to what? Beg for him? Plead for mercy? Face the firing squad on his behalf? I’d say he’s definitely a piece of shit, Sarah.”
She wrung her hands trying to pull further away from him. He just moved closer. “Actually, Robbie didn’t send me. I pieced together what he told me and figured out you must be here. I came on my own initiative, hoping to work out a payment arrangement or something with you.”
He leaned back against the sofa, one eyebrow raised. “You expect me to let your brother pay me back a hundred thousand dollars?”
“But…”
“A hundred thousand isn’t a huge amount of money in my line of work, but the lack of respect is what he has to pay for. This was his audition, and he blew it in a big way. I can’t let that go unaddressed. You might not understand our ways, but I can’t appear weak to anyone. Your brother has undermined me.”
She pulled what he thought was supposed to be a tough-girl look over her features. “I do understand. I’ve watched mob movies.”
Roman laughed out loud. If The Godfather and Goodfellas were her guide, no wonder she thought she was safe to just wander in here and talk to him on her brother’s behalf.
He picked up a lock of her brown hair and rubbed it with his fingers. “Sweet Sarah, those were movies, and my life is vastly different. I guess they did get the respect thing right though. Your brother fucked up, and he’s going to pay with his life. That’s the only way to address the situation.”
“If you take something of equal value, won’t that settle the debt?” She stared down at her hands in her lap, not pulling away from his touch of her hair.
He snorted. “It would have to be exceptionally valuable for me to risk appearing to be negotiating with a little shit who stole from me. I highly doubt Robbie Hastings has anything that valuable.”
“He has me.” Her voice was soft. She didn’t look up.
His brief online search of her hadn’t allowed him to look up her financials. “Unless you’re an heiress, Sarah, I don’t think you’ll be able to cover his debt.”
Dominic: A Triple Threat Novel Page 13
