by Dana Delamar
He glanced at her, then quickly away. She waited, shivering, then he turned back, his eyes traveling over her breasts and hips, then up to her face. “You’re… beautiful,” he murmured, his voice reverent.
She sank to her knees beside him, the tarp icy beneath her bare skin. She leaned toward the heat radiating off him. “Kiss me.”
Pulling her onto his lap again, he crushed her to his chest, his lips finding hers with a suddenness that alarmed her. Heart pounding, she responded to his kiss, opening her mouth beneath his, unable to stop a moan from escaping when one of his hands tweaked her hard left nipple. Dio mio, this was what Gio was always going on about.
After a while, Nick pulled back, trying to struggle out of his suit jacket. She helped him shed it, then she spread it beside them. With a nervous flip in her belly, she lay down on the warm silky inner lining of his coat and propped herself up on an elbow, her legs tightly closed as she lay on one hip. She had to convince him, but she didn’t want to go too far.
He followed her, rolling onto his knees, his head swaying as he crawled up next to her. “We shouldn’t… do this,” he mumbled. His words were becoming more indistinct. He’d have to pass out any minute, yes?
“I want to. Who’s going to know?”
“Good point,” Nick slurred. He dropped down beside her, and for a second she thought he was out. But then he raised his arm and placed a hand on her hip, his thumb resting on the front crest of the bone.
She didn’t feel cold anymore. In fact, her whole body felt superheated, nowhere more so than between her legs. She was too aware of his hand, of how close it was to her sex. Of how much she wanted him to touch her there.
Placing her fingers over his on her hip, Delfina warred with herself. She had to stay in control of the situation. Even though all she wanted to do was the exact opposite and surrender.
He leaned in to kiss her again. She met his lips eagerly and let go of his hand, which immediately traveled exactly where she wanted it to go. He cupped his fingers over her sex, tickling the hair there with exquisitely soft strokes. She moaned into his mouth and relaxed her legs the slightest bit, which he took as a signal to go further. He rolled her onto her back and his fingers slipped down between the lips of her sex, finding that spot she’d stroked in secret.
“No!” she gasped, grabbing his wrist.
“Now you want to stop?” he asked, but he didn’t obey, as if daring her to say no again. As if he knew she didn’t want to.
She blushed fiercely as his fingers continued to move on her, evoking the most amazing sensations. His fingers felt different than hers. Stronger. Thicker. Insistent. Madonna, what was she doing? She’d thought him too drunk to go so far, but apparently he was not drunk enough. She was going to have to go through with it. Here, in a garden shed. On a tarp.
She let go of his wrist. He held her gaze with difficulty, blinking slowly. “You’re sure?”
She nodded and lay back. His fingers moved lower, dipping inside her, pulling more moisture up between the lips to her clit, where he made lazy circles around and around, driving her mad whenever his fingers grazed across it. His head dipped down, and he took one of her nipples in his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive tip. She bucked up against his hand, the excess of sensation startling her. “Cristo,” she moaned. This felt better than she’d ever imagined.
After a few minutes, just as she was close to her peak, he stopped. “What’s wrong?” she asked, surprised at how irritated she sounded.
He rolled off her and onto his back. “We need… to stop.”
She couldn’t let his conscience take over. “Why? No one will ever know.”
“Not… good idea,” he mumbled.
What would Gio do in a situation like this? Trembling inside, Delfina unzipped his trousers, then placed her hand on the swelling at his crotch. She moved her fingers lightly over the cloth of his underwear. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist as if to restrain her, but he didn’t pull her hand away, only trapped it. She held her breath and waited, afraid that if she said anything he’d stop her. Finally he closed his eyes and pressed her hand more tightly against himself.
She found the opening in his underwear and slipped her fingers inside. He felt so warm, the skin silky beneath her fingertips, his flesh thrillingly hard.
Her stomach flipped over, and she inhaled deeply in response. What would he feel like inside her? He guided her fingers upward, toward the head, which filled her palm. When she cupped her hand around it, he let out a soft, low moan that sent shivers through her. Moving her hand up and down, she squeezed him lightly. No response. His lids were still closed, his mouth slightly open. “Nick?”
Nothing. She shook him. A soft snore came out of his mouth, and a wave of disappointment rolled through her. But this was what she’d wanted. For him to think they’d had sex, without her actually losing her virginity.
So why did she feel let down?
Gravel crunched outside. Someone was coming. She rolled over and grabbed her dress, pulling it up in front of her body.
Gio burst through the half-closed door, her shoes snapping shards of glass in the doorway. “Delfi! Dio mio! Put your clothes on. Everyone’s hunting for you.” Delfina scrambled up, turning her back to Gio as she dressed. Nick didn’t stir. He must have been out cold. Gio didn’t seem to notice. “I can’t believe you did it before me. What was it like?”
“Can you keep a secret? I mean it, Gio.”
“Of course. I won’t tell anyone.” Delfina waited until Gio added, “I swear it. On my nonnina’s grave.”
“He fell asleep.”
“After? They all do, from what I’ve heard.”
“No. Before.”
Gio let out a peal of laughter. “Davvero?”
“Help me with this,” Delfina said, gesturing to the zipper on the back of the dress. Gio crunched through the glass and zipped her up. “What do we do with him?” Delfina asked. “We can’t carry him.”
“Throw his coat over him. I’ll send Cris back for him.”
“You will?”
Gio shrugged and smiled coyly. “I think your brother likes me.”
Uh-oh. Gio had always ignored Cris before. “How long were you two in the boathouse?”
“Long enough for him to kiss me. Then Antonio barged in. Too bad they didn’t want to share.”
Delfina rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.” She pulled her panties up under her dress, doing her best to appear stern while doing something so undignified. “You do not get to break my little brother’s heart, Gio. You hear me?”
Gio flashed her a naughty grin. “Come on, we’d better get going. Where are your shoes?”
“Somewhere in the garden. I broke a heel. Can you drag a tarp over to the door so I don’t cut my feet?”
They left the shed, Delfina wincing across the gravel back to the main path. Where was Antonio when she needed him?
“Gio, you have to promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“You have to promise to tell your brother what you saw.”
“What I think I saw, or what I actually saw?”
“He has to think I’ve been unfaithful.”
“Well, sweetie, you have.”
“Okay. He has to think I’m no longer a virgin. And you know, possibly pregnant.”
“You’re going with my plan?” Gio’s voice rose excitedly.
“More or less. Papà can’t kill Nick if he’s got to marry me.”
“Are you so sure?”
“I’ll make him see the wisdom in keeping Nick around. It’d be better to have my uncle Enrico as an ally instead of an enemy.”
“What if you’re wrong?”
“I’m not. He’ll go for it. I know Papà.”
“I’ll do whatever you ask. If you’re sure.”
“I am.”
Gio twisted a hank of hair around her fingers. “When do I tell Leandro?”
“I’ve got that job interview t
omorrow, and I don’t want this to erupt before then. Give me a week. Then tell.”
“But why would I wait?”
“Pretend you’ve been struggling with your conscience, that it’s been waging a war of loyalty between him and me. And he won.”
Gio coughed. “You must think I’m a hell of an actress.”
“You could charm the paint off a Botticelli. How hard can it be to snow your junkie brother?”
“Point taken.” Gio took Delfina’s arm, her tone filling with excitement when she spoke. “Tell me, how was it, whatever you did do.”
Delfina couldn’t help smiling wide. “Amazing.”
“Details!”
Delfina opened her mouth, then clamped it shut. She didn’t want to spoil the moment, didn’t want to share it with anyone else, not even Gio. “It’s private.”
Gio’s shoulders slumped. “Delfi!”
“No.”
They were silent for a minute, then Gio said, “You care about him.”
“I do.”
Gio put a hand on her arm and stopped them both. “You can’t have him, you know that. Even if your father doesn’t kill him, he works for Interpol.”
A gasp flew out of her mouth. “How do you know that?”
“Leandro overheard.”
The blood drained to her feet. “Porca miseria! He’s probably told everyone.”
Gio nodded. “He went right to Papà and your father, who explained.”
“What did he say?”
“I don’t know all the details. Leandro was vague about that. Said it wasn’t my business. But he said something about Nick being useful—for now.”
Delfina felt sick. Could her plan tip the balance against Nick?
“You still want to go through with it?”
Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest. What should she do? She took a deep breath. She knew Papà, she did. He hadn’t been the one to hurt Teo. She had to gamble that he wouldn’t hurt Nick either. “Yes.”
CHAPTER 7
Delfina had managed to elude him last night, and he’d had enough drama at the party already. But Dario wasn’t going to wait a minute longer for answers.
“How did Enrico Lucchesi end up at your birthday party?” He frowned at his daughter across the expanse of his desk, drumming his fingers on the dark wood.
“I invited him, Papà. He is my uncle, after all.” Delfina flipped her hair back over her shoulder and met his gaze straight on. But she was chewing at her lower lip.
“You do realize you landed me in a lot of trouble.”
Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
“That wretch Leandro heard our guest arguing with his father. Were you there?” When she nodded, he continued. “So then you know what Signor Clarkston does for a living.”
“Did you think you’d keep that secret forever?”
“I’d rather control that kind of information and release it in my own time, if I choose.”
“You can’t control the world.”
How obtuse was she? He leaned forward. “I can’t even control my own daughter!”
“What made you think you could?”
He wanted to strangle her. And yet, her fire was so much like Toni’s…. An arrow of grief pierced him. Would he never get over the loss? He cleared his throat. “Delfi, you ought to know by now that we can’t always do what we want.” He gestured around them. “Everything we have comes with a price—obedience, and secrecy.”
She looked away from him. “I didn’t choose this life, and I don’t want any part of it.”
Must she always resist? “Are you still planning to interview with Morelli?”
Her eyes turned back to his, wariness in them. “Yes. I’ve set it up for this afternoon.”
He hated to threaten her, but she’d forced his hand. “I promised I’d stay out of that, Delfi. But if you persist in dragging Lucchesi into my affairs, I will do what I must.” Her mouth dropped open, but she said nothing. He pressed forward. She needed another reminder that she wasn’t in control. “Did you discuss the job with Leandro?”
Her face hardened, and she pushed back her left sleeve and extended her wrist. Light bruises circled it. “This is how he discusses things.”
Heat flashed through him and his fingers tightened on the edge of the desk, though for once she wasn’t the cause. But given all that Gianluca had learned last night, the engagement had to stand. If Benedetto and Lorenzo were turning on him, he’d need d’Imperio’s backing to survive the coming battle. He couldn’t fight both Lucchesi and his own family alone. “I will speak to Leandro.”
She pushed the sleeve back down. “A lot of good that will do.” She wiped at her glistening eyes.
Her tears made his chest go tight. “Delfi, I’m sorry. But what’s done is done.”
“You didn’t have the guts to tell me yourself. You let Leandro do it. Do you know how humiliating that was?”
About as humiliating as finding out that his uncle and his grandfather thought he was expendable. “Gianluca d’Imperio is key to my future plans. I need him unequivocally on my side.”
“You have only one daughter. Are you sure you’re ‘spending’ her wisely?” she asked, her voice sharp enough to cut stone.
Dario rose, coming around to her side. He sat on the edge of the desk, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Cara, if there was another way, I would take it.”
“You’re just like Nonno Carlo. Selling the daughter you claim to love.”
Her words were a slap in the face. He was nothing like his father. Besides, his father hadn’t done anything Toni hadn’t begged him to do. Sorrow lanced through him again. Toni had given herself to the Lucchesis, to free him, her twin, from their clutches. And he’d never thanked her. Not once, his bitterness over her choice rendering him mute.
Delfina was too old to easily placate anymore. He reached down and picked up her bruised wrist. “Leandro won’t hurt you again.”
“Are you giving me a bodyguard?”
“I promise you. He won’t ever again lay a hand on you in anger.”
She yanked her arm from his hold and jumped up from her chair. “I see where I rank in this family. Right below the dogs.” She marched out of his study and down the hall, her heels echoing on the marble.
Porco Dio! He slammed a fist on his desk. Why could she never see his side? Why could she never trust him? Why must she continually defy him?
Inhaling deeply, he flattened both hands on the polished cherry. Would she prefer it if he acted like his father and tried to grind her to dust? Is that what she wanted? He shook his head. He was losing control, losing sight of who he was as a man. His father was the last role model he wanted to follow.
And yet, his father had had one thing right. Enemies had to be crushed. God help them both if she became one of them.
“I must get my son away from Dario.” Enrico slapped the desk in his study, startling both Antonio and Ruggero, making them shift in their chairs. Taking a deep breath, Enrico searched for calm. Damn it. He mustn’t let his emotions get away from him. He hadn’t slept since his disastrous meeting with Nico the night before.
“I’m quite sure he doesn’t want our help,” Antonio said, rubbing his left shoulder. “I’ve got the bruises to prove it.”
“Even drunk, your son has your aim,” Ruggero joked, but Enrico couldn’t laugh. After a brief silence, Ruggero added, “I could make him leave—if I can get to him.”
Enrico shook his head. “You aren’t supposed to even be here. I want you to take that vacation we talked about. I’ve let you delay it for too long. Your family needs you.”
The skin around Ruggero’s dark eyes tightened. “No. Andretti is up to something. I told you they would come at you through your children.”
Antonio’s mouth opened and his eyebrows popped to his hairline. “You knew? Am I the only one who didn’t?”
Ruggero ignored the question, his gaze sliding to Enrico. Yes, it was his problem to deal with. Not Rugg
ero’s. Enrico cleared his throat, a sudden constriction nearly clamping it shut. He’d never thought he’d speak to Nico again. In fact, he’d been thinking of formally adopting Antonio, of making him his heir, of taking the vow of comparaggio toward him, no matter the sex of the child Kate was carrying. Tonio deserved to be recognized for who he was to Enrico, for who he’d always been, and who he’d always be. A son. But now…
Now Enrico was lost again. Dom’s sons were baying for both his blood and Antonio’s, and Nico was in danger. Again Enrico took a deep breath. One thing at a time. Nico first.
“Ruggero, you are going to Calabria. No arguments. Antonio, you will be in charge of retrieving Nico.”
“I’m a horrible choice.” Antonio’s cheeks reddened. “For obvious reasons.”
“And I’m not going anywhere,” Ruggero said.
Enrico met the challenge in Ruggero’s stare. “You’re defying a direct order?”
Ruggero bowed his head and spoke to the carpet. “With respect, capo. You are in severe danger.”
“Perhaps.”
The guard’s eyes snapped back to Enrico’s. “There is no ‘perhaps.’ You can never trust an Andretti.” Ruggero let out a soft growl of frustration. “I should have shot the bastard when I had the chance.”
“Dario surrendered. He agreed to a truce,” Enrico said.
“A truce he does not intend to honor.” Ruggero raked a hand through his dark hair. “The Andrettis are snakes, the whole lot of them.”
“Cris and Delfina are all right,” Antonio said.
“The females perhaps. The males—never,” Ruggero said, slamming a closed fist into an open palm.
Enrico sat forward. He had to get Ruggero to see reason. “Dario is playing a game, yes. But if he intended to mortally wound me, my boy would be dead already.”
Ruggero’s brow wrinkled. “You truly believe so? You told me once that Carlo liked to play with his food before he ate it. What makes you think his son is any different?”
Nothing. Not now. Dario had played him, in the worst possible way. And he’d fallen for it. And now Dario held Enrico’s heart in his hands. All he had to do was make a fist and he’d crush it. Who would have thought Dario would prove more devious than Carlo?
