Killer Romances

by Dana Delamar, Talullah Grace, Sandy Loyd, Kristine Mason, Dale Mayer, Nina Pierce Chantel Rhondeau, K. T. Roberts, H. D. Thomson, Susan Vaughan

  But the solution didn’t make her happy. Enrico shouldn’t marry someone he didn’t love. Especially not to save her. She heard Dom speak again, but his voice was low, and she strained to hear it.

  “There is no other way, Rico.” Dom’s tone was gentle.

  There had to be another way. There had to. “I’ll try talking to Carlo first. To see if there is a solution I can arrange with my personal assets. Agreed?”

  Dom didn’t immediately answer. He looked away from Enrico for a few moments. When he finally spoke again, his voice was hard. “Agreed. But do not endanger the family again over her.”

  “I won’t. You have my word.”

  Enrico walked over to the liquor cabinet and picked up the bottle of sambuca. “Shall we drink to it?”

  Dom nodded and held up his glass. As their tumblers met with a clink, he said, “You know I hate fighting with you.”

  Enrico grinned. “Especially since you never win.”

  “I beg to differ.” But Dom was smiling.

  Enrico hoped things were all right with them. And he hoped he could keep them that way.

  “I hope she’s worth it,” Dom said.

  The softness of his tone made Enrico look closely at him. “She is.”

  Kate pressed her ear harder to the door, but she couldn’t hear what they were saying. Their voices had dropped, and all she heard was murmuring. Was Enrico getting married or not? It was tough to say. She wished her Italian were better, and she wished she knew their dialect. So many of the words were strange to her.

  And there had been enough talk of “family” and enough mentions of capo earlier to make her wonder. She knew that Italian CEOs were also called capo. But so were Mafia dons. Had Enrico lied to her? Just what the hell had she gotten herself into?

  She listened for more, but she heard only murmurs, then laughter. Then the sound of footsteps headed for the door. Her heart skittered in her chest. She sprinted down the hall, trying to land on the balls of her feet instead of the heels, hoping they couldn’t hear her mad dash for the dining room. Enrico couldn’t know she’d been spying.

  CHAPTER 7

  Damn him. Damn Enrico Lucchesi to hell.

  Dom slammed his fist against the steering wheel, then turned the key and listened to the Lamborghini’s engine roar to life. He slammed the wheel again. Why did Rico have to be so damn stubborn? Shaking his head, Dom settled back into the leather seat. Putting the car in drive, he tromped on the gas, spraying gravel behind him.

  He drove the car through the hills, still burning from their discussion. It had taken everything he had to leave the house with a smile on his face.

  So Rico thought he could get away with taking Andretti’s wife, thought he could have his cake and eat it too, and not get killed for it. Why was he at all surprised? Rico was being his usual unrealistic self. And it would be up to Dom to get them out of this mess, since Rico didn’t seem that interested in handling it.

  Just like he no longer took any interest in the day-to-day operations. Dom had given Rico a break when Antonella fell ill, but that break had never ended. It had been over two years since Rico had given a damn about anything—other than his love life. First, there was the grieving over Antonella. Then the disaster with Fiammetta and her father.

  Despite everything Franco Trucco knew, Rico had refused to get rid of him. Instead he’d tried to paper over the mess with money. If it had been up to Dom, Trucco would be buried alongside his daughter. Fortunately, Trucco had worked for the Lucchesis for too long to have lost his loyalty to the cosca. However, that didn’t mean he wasn’t still dangerous to Rico.

  But this—this madness with the American, this threatened them all. Carlo would not stop until he’d crushed the Lucchesi cosca to dust.

  Carlo was no Franco Trucco. Dom had his own future and that of his children to look out for. If Rico wouldn’t fix things with Carlo, then Dom would. No matter what the cost.

  He loved Rico, loved him like a brother. But he hated him too, as only a brother could. Rico had been made capo when he obviously hadn’t wanted it, even though Dom had been ready and more than able. But Rinaldo had of course favored his own blood over his brother’s.

  In some ways, being number two was better—he had so much of the power and the rewards, without the scrutiny and the enmity that came with being the don. And when Antonella had proved barren and Rico had stubbornly refused to annul the marriage? So much the better. Dom and his sons would inherit the cosca, they would run it, after Rico died.

  But not if Rico fathered an heir. Not if Carlo succeeded in destroying the Lucchesi cosca.

  What would happen if Rico didn’t see reason? What would happen if he raised a son—especially one with the same ridiculous principles—who would take over some day? What would happen to the cosca, to everything Dom had worked so diligently to build, to secure? Rico and his principles, Rico and his soft heart, would piss all that away, would get them all killed.

  Dom had done his job as capo di società, and had done it well. No one could claim otherwise. He’d given Rico good counsel, had warned him of the consequences of his actions, had tried to make him see reason. He’d done what he could for Rico—he’d even offered up his own daughter to solve this madness. But it was time to cut Rico loose.

  Tears threatened to unman him. Dom gulped down air and widened his eyes, blinking rapidly, swallowing down the rock in his throat. He loved Rico, he did. But he had no choice.

  It was up to Dom to stop him, up to Dom to save the family and their future.

  Up to Dom to make the tough choices, as usual.

  CHAPTER 8

  Kate had barely sat down again at the dining room table and caught her breath, when she heard the front door close and Enrico come into the room. He took his seat and glanced at her plate. It remained almost untouched.

  “Are you not hungry?”

  “I am.” She took a hasty forkful of the now-cold risotto. “I was just waiting for you.” She paused, then asked, “Is everything all right with your cousin? I heard raised voices.”

  “From here?”

  She flushed. Stupid! She shouldn’t have mentioned it. There was no way she could ask questions about what she’d heard.

  “We must have been louder than I thought,” he said. “It is nothing. Just a disagreement on a business matter.” He studied her carefully. “Are you unwell? You look feverish.”

  Kate cursed her red cheeks. “I’m okay, really.” Though she really wasn’t. Could she trust this man? Had he lied about everything?

  He rose from his seat and walked over to her. Placing one of his hands on his own forehead, he extended his other hand toward hers to check her temperature. “May I?”

  She nodded, feeling foolish. Really, would a Mafia don give a crap if she had a fever? She felt his cool palm press against her forehead. He frowned. “You seem a little warm.”

  “I’m fine. No shivers, no stomachache. Just a little headache.”

  His hand dropped from her forehead to caress her cheek, his fingers skimming over the bruises Vince had left. Then his thumb traced over her swollen lip, his face darkening. “I could kill him for this.”

  Kate felt a jolt. Did he mean that? He looked so grave. She didn’t want him to do something foolish; he’d already taken enough risks for her. “I’m okay. Just a little beat up. I’ll be fine in a few days.”

  He crouched down beside her and took her hands in his, resting them in her lap. “I am sorry I was not there earlier, to spare you this pain.” His hands squeezed hers. “I will protect you from now on. I swear it. You will never be unsafe again.”

  Kate’s throat constricted painfully and tears threatened to spill down her cheeks again. Jesus, how did he know just what to say? This man who looked at her with such tender eyes couldn’t possibly be a mobster. Certainly her faulty Italian was to blame for what she thought she’d overheard.

  Enrico leaned forward, one of his hands going to the back of her chair, the other releasing
her hand and cupping her knee. He was now just inches from her, his eyes darkening with care, with… desire. Kate inhaled in surprise, her body suddenly on alert. He smelled sharply masculine, like citrus and pine trees mixed together, a hint of something that was all him underneath. He was too close, much too deliciously close. Her heart hammered out of control. She should stop this. She was still married, even if her husband had tried to kill her.

  Enrico let go of her knee and placed his fingers under her chin, tilting her mouth to meet his. Kate stiffened, but after his lips touched hers, she relaxed. She did want this. After all that had happened today, she needed a distraction. And Enrico qualified as a big distraction. As well as a big “fuck you” to Vince. After all, why should she feel any loyalty to a man who wanted her dead? A man who’d called her a whore?

  And so what if Enrico was thinking about marrying someone else? All the better. She had no intention of staying here, with him. She wanted out of Dodge, as soon as possible.

  And, since Vince already thought she was fucking Enrico, why not do it for real? Enrico was certainly handsome enough. Drop dead, as her cousin Terri would say. But she wasn’t planning to marry Enrico or have a future with him, or—

  Enrico pulled back from the kiss. “Was it that bad?”

  “No, no.” She blushed.

  “But you did not enjoy it.” He sat back on his heels. “I promised I would not push you, and yet I have done so. I apologize.”

  She put a finger on his lips. “Stop.” Placing her hands on his cheeks, she urged him toward her. “Let’s try that again, shall we?”

  This time she forced herself to stop thinking, forced herself only to feel, only to hear. The satiny brush of his lips across hers, the touch of his hands on her face, his fingers tracing her cheekbones. The groan low in his throat when she opened her mouth to his, when she let their tongues touch. He groaned again, the sound more urgent when she opened her mouth wider, her tongue swirling around his.

  He pulled her up from the chair, his large hands gliding down to her ass, cupping the cheeks and crushing her to him greedily. When she felt the bulge of his erection against her belly, a warm tingle ran through her, zinging down between her legs. She rubbed against him.

  My God, he was an amazing kisser. And if she wasn’t mistaken, his body was going to be amazing too. He was all hard slabs of muscle and sinew, granite next to her softness. She ran her hands across his wide shoulders and down his back, unable to resist squeezing his ass. It was hard enough to bounce a quarter off. Jesus. This was going to be out of this world—

  He broke the kiss, both of them breathing fast. She looked up at him, confused. Why was he stopping?

  “Are you certain you want this?” he asked. “A lot has happened—”

  “I’m sure. Very sure.”

  His lips curved into a slow smile. “Then we need some place more private, yes?”

  She grinned up at him in answer, letting him lead her down the hall. When they reached the staircase, he swung her up in his arms, making her laugh. “Put me down! You’ll kill yourself carrying me up there.”

  “I do not think so.” He mounted the steps with ease. “I take good care of myself.”

  “So you do,” she said when he put her down at the top. He was barely breathing harder. Good God, what a man. If only Vince could see her now. She wished she were taping this. Then he would see her with Enrico, then he would know how much she was enjoying herself. Then he would know she didn’t love him anymore. Not one bit.

  Enrico shut the door to his room behind them, a hush falling over the enclosed space. He hadn’t bothered with the lights; enough moonlight came in through the open curtains to bathe the room in a silvery glow. Dio, she was beautiful. And she was his. Finally his.

  He could scarcely believe she’d agreed to this, that she was letting him have her. But she’d said she was sure. Very sure. And the way her mouth moved under his, the way she’d pulled him to her, the way she’d ground her hips against his, they all said she was sure too. He hoped she wouldn’t regret this later. He knew he wouldn’t.

  He placed his hands on her shoulders, kissing her again. Madonna, he could kiss her all day. She had a wonderful mouth, her lips plump and inviting. He could feel the swelling in her lower lip from Andretti’s slap. Andretti would pay for that. He slid his tongue over the lump, tasting her, soothing the hurt. She whimpered. Was she in pain? He hesitated, then she melted against him. No, not in pain, not at all.

  He kissed down her neck, gratified by her soft exhales, her little moans, her sharp intake of breath when his lips touched the base of her throat next to her collarbone. She clutched him to her, her hips grinding against his, her high round breasts pressing into his chest. He had to touch her, had to get her out of these damn clothes. He started to unbutton her blouse, but she brushed his clumsy hands away and worked on the tiny little buttons herself. “Take your shirt off.” Her voice was a husky whisper.

  “Brilliant idea.” He watched her face as he took off his shirt and gathered from her widened eyes that she liked what she saw.

  Enrico was as magnificent as she’d guessed. Flat, firm pecs lightly dusted with dark hair, a tight six pack of abs that bunched as he moved, his obliques making a perfect V of his narrow waist. Damn. He definitely worked out. A lot.

  Kate pulled her shirt off. He closed the distance between them, his big hands cupping her breasts, pressing against the peaks of her nipples through the lace of the black bra. He palmed her breasts for a while, then his fingers circled in until he was tweaking and pinching her stiff little nubs, sending shivers down her body. He undid the front clasp of her bra and hungrily mouthed her nipples, sucking on them, softly at first, then tugging on them with his teeth.

  The combination of pleasure and pain turned her legs to rubber and made her moan. She sagged against him, but he didn’t stop the torture until she pushed him away. She was so wet her panties must be soaked through. My God, Vince had never evoked such a reaction in her. He’d always been so rushed, so rough. How could she feel so damn good, just from a man’s mouth on her breasts? A thrill ran through her as she thought about what Enrico’s mouth could do lower on her body. That was something else Vince hurried through.

  As if he read her mind, Enrico dropped to his knees in front of her and unzipped her skirt, letting it fall around her ankles. She stepped out of it, kicking off her pumps, and he ran his hands up her legs, his fingers skimming along the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, his touch teasing. He grabbed her buttocks, supporting her as his tongue and lips traced circles across her belly, his tongue darting occasionally under the top edge of her panties. Lower, lower, she thought, opening her legs a little. He laughed against her skin, and spread his large hands across her bottom, squeezing lightly, his fingers toying with the crack of her ass through the thin satiny cloth of her black panties.

  “Oh for God’s sake,” she finally hissed. “Will you just—”

  “Do this?” he asked, slipping a finger under the edge of her panties and stroking it up along her cleft, making her knees buckle at the touch.

  “Yes.” She breathed the word, spreading her legs wider.

  He laughed again and pushed her toward the bed. When she reached it, she fell back, opening wide for him. He mouthed her pussy through the fabric for a few moments, then peeled her panties down, slipping them off her legs and kissing along her inner thighs as he did so.

  He breathed in the scent of her arousal, his cock twitching. He loved the spicy musk of her. Blowing on the short curling hairs of her pussy, he enjoyed how she squirmed and panted, how she spread her legs wider for him, soundlessly begging for his mouth. He lowered his lips to her right leg, licking a path along her inner thigh that made her moan. When he came to her pussy, he parted the lips so he could reach her clit, sliding his tongue across the little nub, back and forth, delicately at first, then rougher when she pressed up to meet him. “Don’t stop,” she moaned. He loved her little pants, her helplessness, her gr
eediness for the pleasure he wanted to give her.

  He reached down between his legs and palmed himself, feeling how stiff he was through his trousers, trying to give himself a little relief. If only he had known he was going to end up with her tonight, he’d have taken the edge off that morning in the shower. It was taking all his control to go slow. He didn’t want to rush this. Not at all.

  He lazily ran his tongue up and down the length of her, dipping it inside her pussy, and when she moaned even louder at that, he slipped first one, then two fingers in her. “Yes, yes, fuck me with your fingers,” she gasped, raising her hips, her hands clenching the sheets. There it was again, that wicked, sexy word he’d never heard her say before today. Fuck. The rawness of her language heightened his own need. He flicked his tongue across her clit, then settled in with firmer strokes as her breathing sped up. He slid his fingers in and out of her, faster now, deeper, harder, until her moans were practically sobs. He listened to her sounds, concentrating. He wanted her to come. Hard.

  Kate bucked with her climax, feeling as if her whole body had seized with pleasure. She had never felt such delicious, prolonged, unmitigated bliss, had never had a release that shuddered through the whole core of her body. She caught her breath and collapsed back against the bed, breathing as if she’d been running. She heard a rustling of cloth, then Enrico climbed up onto the bed beside her. He was totally naked, pressed up against her side, the hard length of his cock making her curious. She sat up on her elbows and looked down. Oh. My. His cock matched the rest of him. Magnificent.

  Biting her lower lip, she touched him. He moaned when her hand closed around him, and he thrust into the circle of her fingers. “I cannot take much of this,” he panted. “It has been a long time.”

  She gave him a naughty smile. “Just a taste then,” she said, and scooted down the bed so she could take him in her mouth. She loved the velvety skin covering his cock, the way it slid up and down over the steel beneath. She wanted to feel him inside her mouth, wanted to please him the way he’d pleased her. Wanted him at her mercy, as she’d just been at his.