"Almost a year?"
"Since she told me she was getting divorced. I knew that she would be mine. I wasn't about to fuck around while I waited, not when I knew our future was coming."
"Lino, I think that might be the sweetest thing I've ever heard," Matteo's gruff voice interrupted, a mocking chuckle to his lilt. But the look on his face bore nothing but open approval.
"Shoo you," Ivory laughed. "This is an important conversation. I'll send him in when we're finished."
"Fine," Matteo groaned, but he grinned as he walked past to snatch Luna out of Don's arms. "I'll spend time with the most beautiful baby in the world. She's much prettier than you anyway, Lino."
He walked down the hallway to his office, and I laughed at the way Don watched him go with his arms still out like he held the baby. He glared after Matteo, before huffing and getting back to his other duties around the house.
"If you want to know a secret, I think the best way for you to make Samara trust you sexually will be for you to put her pleasure before yours. Remind her that sex, or oral or whatever it is, can feel good. She's probably forgotten that after everything. If her last experience was unpleasant, it can fog everything up and make us need a reminder that sex was good before and it can be good again."
Ivory went on with more advice, giving me a treasure trove of things I would use to bring Samara around quicker.
By the time I went into Matteo's office, I felt much better about all the things with Samara.
Except for what I'd come to talk to Matteo about.
✽✽✽
I plopped into my usual seat in Matteo's office, grinning as the man passed me his daughter. He was so hesitant to give her up, like nothing mattered more than having her in his arms as much as he could. I cooed down at the little girl, Matteo's Little Moon, swaying her back and forth while she stared up at me like she couldn't quite decide what to think of me.
"I know you didn't leave Samara's side to come visit Ivory and the baby, you'd have brought her along for that," Matteo grunted, sitting behind his desk and donning the persona he wore so well, that of a dictator on his throne.
"I would have," I agreed. “Has Ryker found anything?”
Matteo sighed. “You know how he is. He’ll check in as soon as he has something to report, but in the meantime it’s best if we don’t distract him. Connor hasn’t gone back to work, his cell phone was a dead end, and he hasn’t gone back to his shithole apartment. Ryker tried the casinos and the illegal games, but since his well dried up with Murphy, he has no money to gamble in the first place.”
I grunted, and only the precious bundle in my arms stopped me from losing my shit. Connor was far from a criminal mastermind. Some days it surprised me that the man managed to tie his shoes by himself, so how he managed to hide from Ryker of all people was beyond me. "Let’s talk about Murphy then. I don't want to cause any problems for you, but if he comes after Samara, I want him to know exactly what he's risking before he does it." Matteo leaned back in his chair, thinking as he watched me. "Who's the prettiest baby ever?" I asked Luna, finally earning what seemed like a happy gurgle. I didn't speak baby, but I'd take it.
"She likes you," Matteo grunted.
"Of course, she does. I'm her fun Uncle."
Matteo huffed a laugh. "You're her cousin. Second cousin. Some shit like that."
"Shhh," I scolded. "You shouldn't swear in front of Luna." He gave me an unamused look, like the concept of not swearing in front of his daughter was ridiculous. It was. With the crimes all the men Luna would grow up around committed daily, a curse word would be the least of her problems.
"I think you should go to Murphy. Confront him, be upfront. There's no need for it to be ugly in the slightest. His issue is with Connor, not Samara. She is no longer his wife, but yours. He's a businessman, no matter how slimy he is. He'll see that going after Samara is not worth risking the wrath of the Bellandi's. The war that would ensue would cost him more than he could ever dream to weasel out of Connor or Samara if he sold her." I nodded, standing and handing Luna back to Matteo. She grabbed his finger immediately in her little fist, a daddy's girl to the core. Considering he would move the Earth itself for her, I could understand the appeal.
Even as a baby, she seemed to sense it. I wondered if she sensed the same thing in her mother. Since the sweet and innocent Ivory had killed the one and only man who dared to threaten her child.
The mama bear was strong in her.
"You're going straight there?"
"Yeah," I grunted. "Is he still holding court at that Irish pub on Clark?"
Matteo laughed, because the thought would never occur to him to hold fucking visiting hours in a restaurant. He had employees to do that for him, and Tiernan's recent attempts to take over Adrian's operation were mostly laughable. The man wasn't made to be a Boss. "He is. We'll see if he keeps up with that if he assimilates the human trafficking operation to his bookie shit. I swear he's a stain on all of us."
"Most mobsters aren't exactly known for being good people, Matteo," I laughed. "We certainly stretch the limits of the word."
He winced visibly and nodded in thought. "Do yourself a favor and make sure Samara is aware of the girls," he warned. "I never got the impression she concerned herself with the matters of our business, and I know Ivory said Samara seemed pretty in the dark when she pried the last time they had lunch. Ignorance was always bliss; I take it?"
"Yeah. The less she knew, the better. She wasn't my wife, so in the worst case she could be compelled to testify. It was just safer."
"Right, well, she's your wife now," Matteo laughed. "She'll want to know we run girls, though I would probably leave out your preference for them in the past. No woman wants to think of her husband—"
"I got it, thanks," I snarled. "I'll make sure she knows just enough that she isn't blindsided at, say the party coming up at Indulgence. Who knows what she could find out there, really?"
Matteo smirked, all arrogance and amusement as he stood and walked to the door. "Your first event with your wife. How adorable is that?" Matteo asked as I followed him out of the office. The sound of his ribbing continued when he found Donatello loitering in the kitchen with Ivory, but I couldn't care.
Samara would be on my arm as my wife. I never brought women as my dates to events in the past, never cared enough about any of them to make that kind of statement. But given my feelings for Samara, there was nothing but pride because the beautiful woman would be at my side.
Nothing would make me happier than knowing that men would look at her and want to be me, but none would dare to take what was mine.
I'd kill anyone who tried.
I just hoped that Samara knew that, because there was no line that I wouldn't cross when it came to her. She consumed my every thought. Drove me crazy with the fact that I had to wait, even though I understood fully.
Soon enough, we'd move past the wounds Connor had given to my woman.
And then nothing would ever come between us.
✽✽✽
I didn't waver as I strolled into Murphy’s. Men like me couldn't show weakness, not even when we stormed into enemy territory. Tiernan wasn't an enemy yet, but if he won the war happening over Adrian's trafficking ring, he would be. Matteo didn't tolerate that shit in his city, and it would put them on opposite ends automatically.
Which meant making it clear to him that Samara was off limits, had a time stamp on it. He needed to understand before we came to blows, or his word would mean nothing. Even as it stood, it would probably be temporary. Nothing was safe in times of war. Even if Matteo never went after a woman for the crimes her man committed, the others didn't show the same respect.
I imagined it would make Matteo slightly more hesitant to go to war, whereas before he'd had nothing to lose, now he had a pretty wife and daughter.
But Matteo didn't lose the wars he started, and Tiernan Murphy was nothing but a shit stain compared to the men Matteo had seen dead and buried for defying hi
s will.
"Angelino!" Tiernan said jovially, standing and smiling at me as I strolled up to the booth at the back of the pub where he conducted his business and made his deals. His copper hair almost reminded me of Samara’s but had a lightness to it that hers lacked because of her Hebrew mother.
I had to wonder if her shithead father looked anything like Tiernan, given that he'd been Irish. I was grateful that he'd left, because if it hadn't been for that then Samara and her family never would have moved to Chicago, but I saw the wounds it left Samara with. Yavin said that she and her father had been practically inseparable before he left and never came home, taking the family's savings with him.
"Murphy," I greeted, standing before his table. He motioned to the chair on the other side of the table, and I slid into it and made myself comfortable.
"What brings you to my neck of the woods?"
"Connor Walsh," I said abruptly.
"Ah, he owes me a great deal of money. I know his wife is a friend of yours, which is why I thought he may be trustworthy to lend to given he had a trust fund on top of it. I've delayed hurting him out of respect, but—"
"Samara is no longer his wife, and I do not give the first shit what you do with Connor if you find him first, though I would love to participate," Murphy's brows raised, his slightly wrinkled face twisting as he worried his lip.
"I didn't realize the divorce went through. I knew Walsh fought her on it, and who can blame him, am I right? A piece like that—"
"Samara is my wife." I cut him off with a glare. "As such, I take it you understand that means she is under Bellandi protection, as she herself is a Bellandi now. If you go anywhere near her, we will consider it a declaration of war."
He held up his hands as if he was innocent, looking at his buddies who surrounded him in amusement. "I wouldn't dream of touching the wife of a Bellandi. Congratulations on your marriage then. I'll handle my problems with Walsh personally, I assure you. Now that I understand the situation clearly."
"Good," I said, sighing in relief. While I hadn't expected him to argue the point, one never knew what a power-hungry man like Murphy would do in his pursuit of more power. "How's Aoife?"
"Her father is as strict as ever. Won't let me marry her until she's 21." He rolled his eyes in reference to his future father-in-law. Aoife's father ran the Irish syndicate on the opposite side of the city, and despite Matteo having overall power in the city, he tolerated Liam O'Connell's presence out of respect for the other man. They conducted their business very similarly, transitioning to more legal pursuits slowly and only partaking in the criminal aspects when they could endeavor to ensure that innocents were not hurt unnecessarily. Aoife had no love for Murphy but had been betrothed to him at a young age as he was the son of her father's top enforcer.
She was young, raised in the life and knew her place. With no sons of his own, Liam had no choice but to pass everything down to his daughter's husband, and I often felt that his delaying on the marriage between Murphy and Aoife was because he knew he wasn't the right match for her and needed an excuse to find a way out of it.
We'd see if he found one, and what happened when he split his organization in half to benefit his daughter. I didn't think Liam realized how many of his men flocked to Murphy's way of doing things. At any rate, the Irish were none of my business.
"You are over twice her age. Perhaps he thinks she should be able to live a little before settling into the life you'll no doubt expect. Could you imagine being married at her age?"
"So long as she's virginal when we marry, it matters little to me," he shrugged, ever the misogynist. He was far from virginal, having gotten around in his forty years of life. Aoife seemed like a sweet girl, and I hoped Liam found a way out of the betrothal for her sake.
"Well, I'll let you get back to business," I said, standing when someone strolled into the pub and looked straight at Murphy.
"I appreciate you coming to clear things up, Angelino. Take care of your beautiful wife. I hope she gives you all the beautiful children men like us require." I grimaced as I smiled but nodded and turned on my heel.
Being around Tiernan Murphy always made me feel like I needed a shower. Samara's name on his lips only made me want to shower her off too, even if she hadn't been near him.
Ugh.
Twenty-One
Samara
I didn't know who Lino arranged to shop for me, but I had the distinct impression that he didn't peek at the outfit they'd chosen before handing it over to me. Even before we'd delved into foreign territory, he had hated when I dressed up for work or to go out. I always thought it was because he didn't like to be reminded that I was a woman, given the platonic nature of our friendship.
I questioned that in hindsight.
But I knew he wouldn't want me to go to Indulgence dressed in this. It made me love the outfit even more.
Whoever she was, she’d decided to put me all in white, and I had to wonder if it was Lino's request to make me feel bridal. I hadn't had the opportunity with our wedding, despite his adorable attempt to give me a moment of it with the dress. He had no way of knowing that the big wedding Connor and I had the first time around had been at his insistence. I had zero interest in a big bridal affair.
So the thoughtful nod to our new marriage with the white, I wanted to believe it had been at Lino's insistence. So I let myself think it, even if he refused to let me out of the house once he saw me.
The strappy heels on my feet were nude, blending in with my fair skin perfectly and had just enough substance to cover the edges of the scars where they curled up from the bottoms of my feet. A double banded gold cuff on my bicep and a matching bracelet on the opposite arm were the only jewelry I wore.
No color, and it made the dark copper of my hair seem to shine brighter for it. A high-waisted, skintight white pencil skirt encased my hips and down to below my knees, and I was grateful it was an amazing quality and thick enough fabric to not be transparent as it stretched taut over my ass and thighs.
The top was strapless with a sweetheart neckline, baring a sliver of my midriff above the skirt, and an intricate balance of nude fabric and white lace that stunned.
"Samara!" Lino yelled from downstairs. "We need to talk before we go. I don't want to be late."
"Coming!" I called back, grabbing the clutch off the bed that held my phone and lipstick. With a deep sigh, I opened the door and went downstairs to greet my husband. Something about the moment, him waiting for me to get ready for his work event, felt domestic. It made the fact that we were married, regardless of the fact we hadn't consummated it, that much more real.
He stood by the island in the kitchen, sipping whiskey from a tumbler and looking delectable in his blue suit. Only a confident man could pull off a suit that was just slightly brighter than the navy I typically saw in blue suits, but Lino managed. His olive skin offset the color perfectly.
"Hi," I whispered, stepping into the kitchen. His head snapped up, drawing up my legs and to my face slowly in a slow burn that I felt spread from my toes to the top of my head.
He swallowed, tossing back the rest of his drink so quickly that I chuckled. "You can't wear that," he growled.
"Sure, I can. It's a nightclub, this is more covering than most of the dresses that will be there," I argued, planting a hand on my hip. "Besides, you bought it."
"Yes, but—"
"Angelino Bellandi," I warned him. "I can promise you I am not going to change. This is what I'm wearing. If you don't want to be late, then I suggest you get your balls in hand and say whatever it is you're putting off."
He snorted, but his eyes darkened as he set the tumbler down on the counter and stalked toward me. "If we don't want to be late, then I highly suggest you not talk about anything to do with my dick, Little Dove." I swallowed when he stopped to stand directly in front of me, his fingers touching the side of my neck and trailing down to tease the bare skin of my shoulder and over my arm.
"You're stalling," I
breathed, resisting the urge to arch my neck into the touch. His hands on me, such a simple touch, shouldn't be enough to make my brain scatter. I attributed it to the fact that it had been far too long since I'd had an orgasm, even by my own hand.
It might have been time to remedy that.
"Am I?" he asked. "I don't think so. All I can think of with all this bare skin in front of me is getting my hands on you, laying you out beneath me and exploring every inch of this golden skin with my hands—" he whispered, pressing a hand to the small of my back and pulling until our bodies pressed flush together. The feel of his arousal at my belly brought a gasp from my lips, the way his breath teased my ear as he bent his neck to continue his torment. "—my tongue and my teeth," he continued. "I'd watch you writhe underneath me; make you beg me to give you what you need. What only I can give you. Don't you want that, vita mia?" I bit my lip, curling my hands around the back of his neck and toying with the ends of the hair at the nape of his neck.
"Such a tease," I whispered. His hand twitched against the bare skin of my back, sending a pulse of heat straight to my core. I'd never felt attraction like this. Never felt like a single touch would light me on fire. Even with the lingering traces of my anger with him for taking my choice away, for his threats to lock me up, nothing could stop the heat pooling in my core.
What would happen when he finally got me naked? When all his bare skin touched mine and he moved inside me?
I might go up in flames. I just had to hope he didn’t let me burn.
His head pulled out to look down at me, and I'd never tire of the look in those eyes. The way he smoldered as he stared down at me, especially when I tugged his head down to mine and took his lips in a desperate kiss. He groaned into my mouth, devouring me, and I wanted to be consumed.
I wanted everything he offered, but fear still tickled the back of my mind. What if I'd been damaged beyond repair?
What if everything Connor said about me being a lousy lay was true, and I'd just condemned a second husband to a lifetime of bad sex?
Forgivable Sins: A Dark Mafia Romance (Bellandi Crime Syndicate Book 2) Page 13
