Lino finally slid his hands down, grasping the back of my thighs and lifting until I sat on the counter in the exact same spot he'd tormented me in as we made ravioli. I willingly spread my legs, hiking the skirt up high enough to accommodate, and he slid into the space I opened. With my body flush against him, perched on the edge of the counter and trusting him, I could feel the ridge of the top of him through his slacks. Pressed up against the inside of my thigh in a torment, but I was glad because it couldn't touch me, not just yet.
Lino seemed to realize that I needed that boundary, and he didn't push it. Just ate at my mouth with all the ferocity he dismantled entire fortune-500 companies for takeovers. Like a conqueror staking his claim. His tongue tangled with mine and his hand mussed my hair.
But I couldn't be bothered to care. By the time he finally pulled back from my lips, his forehead pressed to mine, and he hovered there. "You have to know how much I want to take you upstairs and make love to you, Little Dove. But we have to go, and you aren't ready."
"I know," I whispered back, letting him help me slide down from the island.
"Shit, this seems like a horrible time to have this conversation now. I wish I hadn't put it off." He ran a hand through his hair as I shimmied the skirt down my hips.
"Is something wrong?"
"It's nothing that you need to be afraid of. I just, there's the side of the business that Matteo handles. But I'm not clean of it either, and I don't want anything to surprise you. This event at the club, a lot of the people who will be there are associates and allies of Matteo's. You'll be exposed to some things, and I just want you to be prepared." He took my hands in his, holding them and stroking his finger over the birthmark on my palm.
"Okay," I whispered.
"Matteo runs girls. Willing girls, but escorts. Some of them will probably work at the club tonight." My forehead wrinkled, trying to read between the lines of what he wasn't saying.
"Okay. They do the job willingly, though?"
His head jolted back, as if he couldn't believe that I even had to ask. "Of course."
"Then I don't see why I would have a problem with it honestly. You and Yavin aren't exactly pillars of the moral community. It would be hypocritical of me to judge them or you for this, but not the other things. Why? Because they have sex for money? It's their body. If they're comfortable with it, that's not my place to judge. It's frankly just none of my fucking business."
He smiled down at me, looking at me like I was some mythical unicorn. To be honest, with how catty women could be, I couldn't even be surprised. "You're incredible."
"Are you planning on sleeping with them? Is that why you thought I should know? Because we won't be faithful to this marriage?" I asked the question I didn't want the answer to. I knew what he'd said before, but after our little make-out session and I'd left him high and dry, who knew. Men were fickle, and it could have driven him over the edge.
"No. Fuck no. We are both going to be loyal to our marriage, Samara. No other women. No other men. Just you and I, but I'm not a saint. I've been with women, some I found at the club, others I found elsewhere, but—"
"But I might have run-ins with women who've had you before?" I teased, arching a brow up. "I'm not stupid and naïve. I know there were women before we became a thing, but as long as they're part of the past, that doesn't matter to me."
His lips touched mine briefly, and when he pulled away, he smiled down at me. "I don't deserve you."
"Probably not," I agreed. "I'm awesome. Now back off so I can fix my face and we can go."
He stepped back with a laugh. "Next time, I won't dread these conversations so much."
"Good. Because all I expect from you is honesty, Lino," I admitted, heading for the bathroom.
It was as simple as that.
My relationship with Lino revolved around the honesty between us, and so long as we had that, then I had faith that we could be happy together.
If only I could continue to be honest with him too.
✽✽✽
Rolling up to Indulgence in the back of a limo was not something I'd ever experienced before. In truth, it wasn't something I ever thought I would feel. I'd started purposefully avoiding the club years prior, because while Lino never picked up a woman in front of me, it became obvious that wasn't normal. Watching him be approached time after time by woman after woman and thinking I'd never have the opportunity to stake my claim on him was something that squandered any fun I might have had on the dance floor.
I took my dance nights with friends to rival clubs, even if it meant that I felt like a traitor to Lino. It hadn't lasted long. My relationship with Connor alienated me against all those friends to where I had none. So strolling into the club with his hand on the small of my back was surreal, in a way I'd never thought to experience.
Heads turned our way as we entered, and the crush of people seeking Lino's attention started almost immediately. I had no doubt that his presence had been missed, given he'd only left on rare occasions over the weeks he'd spent taking care of me while I recovered. With my bruises faded to something I could cover up with makeup, I knew the day I returned to work approached rapidly. Even Lino couldn't justify restricting me from going back when the remaining traces of bruises were gone.
The fact that the night was a massive charity event that Matteo had asked Lino to organize to raise awareness about date rape only served to make the event more anticipated. A date rape charity event happening at a nightclub might have seemed in poor taste to some, but Lino explained that Matteo saw it as him making a statement. That shit wouldn't be tolerated at their properties, and anyone who dared would face the wrath of the Bellandi family.
"How are we doing so far?" Lino asked when Enzo met us at the foot of the stairs, walking on Lino's other side like a silent sentry as we made our way up to the VIP level.
"Great. The crooked fucks are donating even beyond the pricey admission tonight. Their statements they'll join him in the fight against date rape and sex crimes in his city. He's drawing quite the line in the sand. I just hope that we're ready to deal with the inevitable fallout," Enzo pointed out. I was inclined to agree. The thought of Lino's life in danger wasn't something I welcomed, even though I believed wholeheartedly in the cause.
I'd never been date raped or drugged, but I had listened to Ivory talking about being drugged once when she explained Matteo's connection to the charity he started. It wasn't something I would wish on anyone.
I just couldn't face the prospect of losing Lino when I only just had him as mine.
We stepped onto the VIP level, and Matteo greeted Lino with a pat on the back and a massive smile. Ivory was noticeably absent, home with newborn Luna where I was certain it would have been impossible to pry her away from even if Matteo had wanted to. There wasn't much Ivory wouldn't forgive Matteo for or tolerate in her less than ethical husband but depriving her of time with their daughter was undoubtedly one of them.
"Mrs. Bellandi," Matteo greeted, his voice too loud. Heads snapped our way, and even though the man semi-terrified me I narrowed my eyes at him in a glare. "You look lovely. Marriage to Lino suits you."
"You're a douche," I returned, making him roar with a deep laugh that echoed through the cavernous space. Even with the music pulsing on the lower level, there was no mistaking the genuine humor on his face for those who couldn't hear him.
"Always a pleasure, Samara. I hope my cousin is proving entertaining to you during your recovery," he added in a quieter voice.
Feeling thoroughly outed, I pouted at him. "He's a little tedious. Always working. If I didn't know better, I'd think his boss was a slave driver."
Lino chuckled next to me, drawing me tighter into his side and nuzzling my cheek with his nose. "Champagne?" a waitress asked as she circulated the space. Lino took two glasses and handed me one hesitantly.
"Maybe I shouldn't let you drink," he said with a smile. "You're already feeling sassy tonight. If I add alcohol, I'm a little scared wh
at version of my Little Dove I might get." The waitress sighed at him with the way he said my nickname, and I wanted to bury my head in the sand and play ostrich.
"Are you two trying to embarrass me?" Matteo chuckled and then turned and stalked off to chat up some undoubtedly sketchy businessman without so much as a goodbye.
"Wouldn't dream of it," Lino laughed. "Just making it clear that you're off-limits to the men who are staring at your ass."
I giggled, turning to face him and reaching behind me to slide his hand down to the ass in question. His fingers only brushed the curve at the top, barely a touch at all, but the smile faded from his face. The hand that didn't hold my champagne rested on his chest, playing with the collar of his shirt cautiously. "Does that mean I get to mark you as off-limits too?" I teased, and he surprised me by leaning down to press a slow, sensual kiss to my lips while everyone watched.
"Consider me marked," he murmured as he pulled away. The way he looked down at me melted my heart, but it faded too quickly to be replaced by the harsher demeanor I hated to see on his face. "My father's here," he grunted, sipping his champagne like aggravation didn't pulse through his body. His free hand took mine, stroking his thumb over the birthmark. My skin tingled at the touch, the reminder of his tease before we left the house at the front of my mind, but I knew it wasn’t sexual in nature. He did it to reassure himself, his comforting gesture that he’d adopted since childhood.
"Is he not supposed to be?" I asked, feigning casualness. We both knew I detested his father, and the feeling was mutual, but Lino had long ago taught me not to show my intimidation in front of the man who often commented that I needed a man to 'take me in hand.'
I wondered if he ever thought that duty, as he saw it, would fall to his son.
I highly doubted it.
"Angelino," his father's deep, smarmy voice said as he stepped up. "Miss Mahoney."
"Father," Lino returned. "It's Mrs. Bellandi now. I'm sure you've heard." Lino's voice was nothing but disinterested, and his father returned the bullshit show by eyeing the scantily clad women at the club as they strutted past, swaying to the music and enjoying themselves, unaware of the predator in their midst. I knew, without a doubt, that somewhere in the room, Lino's stepmother probably made her rounds. Pretending she was younger than she was, and that she wouldn't be replaced with a new model as soon as one caught her husband's fancy. Or maybe she knew it and that was why she seemed like she was on the prowl whenever I saw her.
I wouldn't put anything past the woman. She had no love for Gabriele Bellandi and the feelings were mutual. Why they'd married, I'd never know.
"I heard rumors, but I thought they were lies. Surely my oldest son wouldn't get married and not invite me?" Gabriele liked to play the role of a doting father, when it was convenient for him. I had to wonder who lingered nearby that he might want to deceive with such behavior.
"It was a last-minute decision, and since you've always been a staunch opponent of my inevitable relationship with Samara, I didn't think it prudent to invite you. The last thing I wanted on our special day was for you to cause a scene." Lino's explanation rolled off his tongue so easily, and his father turned a surprised glare to him. It wasn't often that Lino so casually opposed his father in public. I couldn't say I was present for their interactions often, so I had to wonder if it was something that had become more common in the years since my marriage to Connor—when Gabriele had declared it inappropriate for Lino to drag me along to family dinners and gatherings when I left a husband of my own at home.
Lino hadn't fought him, but I suspected it was largely because he felt it gave him a good excuse to separate me from his family. He'd known all along how much I hated those gatherings, but I'd gone to support him, anyway.
Because I knew he hated them even more than I did.
“Hm,” Gabriele hummed. “Is your new wife aware that she won’t be permitted to walk away from this marriage when it inevitably fails like the last? Some women just aren’t suited to being wives.”
I snorted on Lino’s side, but held my tongue. Lino’s face twisted with fury. “She’s aware there is no divorce in our future. Her divorce from Connor will be irrelevant soon enough,” he snarled at his father, a warning flashing in his eyes.
“And why is that?” Gabriele asked, his tone as bored as ever. He never bothered to spare me a glance, didn’t consider me worth looking at. He never had, not from the days he’d called me a Jewish brat and deemed me unworthy of his pureblooded Italian son.
“Because he’ll be dead,” Lino stated, raising his glass of champagne to his lips and taking a sip as if he didn’t vibrate with the need to strike his father.
"Well, I'll expect you both to join us for dinner on the fifteenth then?" his father asked pointedly. The one day every month where they had dinner together, where they pretended to be a family for long enough to sit down to a meal. I knew they likely saw each other during business hours, but I also knew Lino was all about the business when that happened.
"Of course," I murmured in agreement, making Lino tighten his hand at my hip. I knew what it would mean to him to have me attend those dreaded dinners with him, and that was my job as his wife. To try to make him a little more comfortable in uncomfortable situations, even if those were situations where his family scared the shit out of me.
Such was life.
"Good. I'll let you get back to business, Angelino." With another nod, the eldest Bellandi made his way for one woman dancing toward the corner of the VIP section. Smooth blond hair hung down to her waist, and she smiled openly at the older man despite the very clear age gap.
"Escort?" I asked.
Lino looked her way, considering for a moment. "Yep," he responded finally. I appreciated the honesty, that he didn't deny that he knew her by sight. To do so would have only insulted me, given that he was likely to be acquainted with the girls that Matteo ran, since it was all part of the same business.
I didn't feel a speck of jealousy.
None.
Instead of allowing it, I turned to him and nuzzled into his chest. The smell of his soap gave me the comfort I needed to brush off the stirring of unwelcome feelings. He'd been nothing but honest with me in the past, and I trusted that if he had any intention of being unfaithful, he would at least be honest with me on that front.
The women of the past didn't matter.
They didn't have him now, and they wouldn't ever if I had anything to do with it. The thought suddenly filled me with the desire to see our marriage through, like a real marriage. To have Lino as mine and not just in name.
It made me feel more determined than ever, rather than just hopeful. If nothing else, I could take the circumstances that had led me here, the lemons of a horrible marriage, and make lemonade in the form of what I'd always wanted.
"Mr. Bellandi," an older woman whispered as she approached. "Congratulations on another successful event." She reminded me very much of Lino's stepmother, with long brown hair that seemed unusual for her age. Most women in their forties started keeping it a little shorter, but she just let hers hang in a way I might have admired if her eyes didn't narrow on me briefly before dismissing me.
"Ms. Romano. Have you met my wife, Samara?" he asked, communicating that her dismissal had been preemptive. I didn't let myself think about what or who she may have seen him embracing in the past.
"I don't think I've had the pleasure," she said, holding out a hand for me to shake. I took it politely even though I wanted to ignore it, given her early dismissal. "I wasn't aware you were married, Mr. Bellandi." The way she gave me a pointed look, I knew she meant to hint at affairs, not even remotely concerned with what that knowledge being delivered in such a public setting might have done to me.
"We're newlyweds," I announced, feeling determined to take control of the conversation since she didn't seem capable of showing respect as a natural reaction to meeting someone new.
"Ah, that explains it." The smile on her face was brittle, rea
dy to crack at any moment from how fake it was. "Where did you two meet?" she asked. "Was it here?"
"No. Lino and I have been friends since childhood," I responded. "My brother Yavin manages Tease."
Lino chuckled at my side, and eventually his hand found mine. "Come with me," he murmured, dragging me away from the woman I didn't want to be around, anyway. I gave her a dramatic wave, plastering a friendly smile on my face. I knew my bitterness clung to the edges, that it was clearly fake. I just didn’t care. Not when she could so callously dismiss me without ever speaking to me.
I didn’t understand how Lino and Matteo navigated these waters, weeding out the users and abusers. It seemed impossible, like a threat or a liar lurked on every corner. It felt like it would be impossible to trust anyone, let alone build a real, genuine family in the way they had.
“Samara, this is Emilio,” Lino said, stepping up to the middle-aged man who lingered at the edges of the VIP area. “You’ve met before, I believe?”
“Briefly, yes. It’s nice to see you again,” I agreed, holding out a hand for him to shake. His brown eyes narrowed on it briefly, but he eventually reached out his own. I wasn’t overly familiar with the salt and pepper haired man with the body of a linebacker even though he was old enough to be Lino’s father, but I had seen him a few times in passing. Enough to know that Lino trusted him enough to let him guard his sister when her permanent security was unavailable.
“You too, Mrs. Bellandi.”
“Emilio has agreed to be your full-time security,” Lino said, answering the question I hadn’t thought to ask even though there had to be a point to him introducing us.
He wiped his hand on his pants subtly when he drew his hand back, and I bit my lip, wiping the clammy sweat off my hand.
I felt sufficiently disgusting, but honestly. It was a nightclub, and hot as all Hell. “He’ll drive you to and from work. Anytime you leave the office, you’re to notify him ahead of time so that he can escort you.”
Forgivable Sins: A Dark Mafia Romance (Bellandi Crime Syndicate Book 2) Page 14
