by Dana Delamar
Delfina pulled back and looked at him. “That won’t be necessary.”
He picked up the ring and gave her that devilish Lucchesi grin, the one she couldn’t resist. “Will the third time be the charm, I wonder?”
She held out her hand, returning his grin with one of her own. “No need to ask again. I accept.”
He started to put the ring on her finger, then stopped. “Just to be clear, you do love me, yes?”
She laughed. “Of course I do. I already told you so. A long time ago.”
He cupped a hand to his ear as if he were hard of hearing. “Sorry, you’ll have to speak up.”
“I love you, Nick Clarkston.”
“Lucchesi. Nick Lucchesi.”
She smiled. “I love you, Niccolò Lucchesi.”
He slipped the ring on her finger. Its weight surprised her. “Heavy little thing, no?” she said.
“I can get you something else if you want.”
“No.” She leaned forward and kissed him. “It’s perfect.”
He blew out. “Glad that’s out of the way. I was starting to think you’d never say yes.”
“I had to be sure. And I am.” She stroked his cheek. “There is one thing we should settle though.”
Nick’s heartbeat ratcheted up. “What’s bothering you?”
“What you said to Benedetto about him setting up the company for me.”
“What about it?”
“If I’m going to be a designer, I have to do it on my own terms.”
“I understand how you feel, but have you any idea how much Mafia money is in the fashion industry? You have an advantage—one you’ve already used once to get the interview with Morelli. Why not enjoy the benefits of what you have?”
“Do you plan to use your father’s connections and influence to further your career?”
He sighed. “No. Though it may be beyond my control.”
“Not if we leave here. You stay Nick Clarkston and we go to London. You go back to Interpol, and I start over with another designer. As Delfina Clarkston.”
“You’re sure?” He took her hand in his.
She nodded. “A fresh start is exactly what we need.”
“Won’t you miss everyone? Your family? Gio?”
“Of course. But it’s only three hours by plane. We can come back on weekends.”
“I hate to break this to you, but Interpol agents don’t make much money.”
“Neither do ex-Mafia princesses.”
He chuckled. “You, love, will be a Mafia princess until the day you die.”
“And you will always be Enrico Lucchesi’s son.”
“We all have our crosses to bear.”
She leaned forward and kissed him. “Well, you’re mine.”
He burst into laughter, his chest full of bubbles. Leaning forward, he captured her lips in a kiss, and she let out a little moan and opened her mouth beneath his. What a delightful invitation.
Wrapping his arms around her, he slid his tongue into her mouth. Her tongue teased his, and his heart leapt. She loved him, he loved her, and he’d finally done something right. Right and true and wonderful.
She pulled back. “Lock the door,” she whispered.
He swiftly took care of their privacy. When he turned back to her, she’d risen off the bed and held out a hand to him. He took it and followed her into the en suite bathroom.
She walked over to the glass-walled shower in the corner and turned on the taps to let it warm up. When she raised her hands to unhook the back of her dress, he hurried forward. “Allow me.”
He unhooked the top and then slid the zipper down, baring her back to his gaze. Kissing the nape of her neck, he let the dress glide off her shoulders and pool at their feet. Then he unclasped the bra she was wearing. “Red again,” he murmured.
She turned her head to look at him. “I can’t seem to pick anything else.”
He smiled. “I love you in any color, you know.”
“I know.” His chest felt full when he heard those words, the confidence behind them. She believed in him, trusted him. And he’d never break that trust again.
She let the bra join the dress on the marble floor, then bent over to unstrap one of her heels.
The sight of that tiny strip of red covering the place he most wanted to touch compelled him to pull her hips into the erection that strained at his zipper.
She pressed back against him, but kept at her task, stepping out of one shoe, then the other. With her out of the heels, his erection pressed into the small of her back instead of between the cheeks of her bum, and he felt the loss keenly.
Hooking her thumbs in the top of her tiny lacy knickers, she skinned them off and dropped them on top of the dress.
Good God, she was gorgeous, the perfect globes of her bum calling to his hands. He slid them over the cheeks, his thumbs stroking the dimples at the top.
Without looking at him, she stepped away from his touch and under the spray that had steamed up the glass walls of the shower. She turned to face him, then arched her back and closed her eyes, letting the water cascade through her hair and sluice down her back. He took in her high small breasts, the chocolatey nipples that turned up at the tips, the dark triangle between her legs.
She stepped out of the spray and stared right at him, pressing her hands against the glass, her dark eyes molten. “Are you going to stand there all day, or are you going to join me?”
His cock answered that question for him. He tore off his clothes, leaving them in a messy heap on the tiles.
Then he was in her arms, kissing down her neck to her breasts, taking the pebbles of her nipples in his mouth, one after the other, unsure which one he liked more. Her gasps and whimpers over the rush of the shower spray spurred him on, as did her fingers threading through his wet hair.
He cupped her bum again, pulling her hips to his, his cock pressing into her belly. She reached down and slid a hand around it, cupping the head, then with flicks of her wrist, wound a twisting path down to the root. He let out a moan, wanting her to do that again. After she obliged, he asked her where she learned that.
“Gio. Who else?”
“I owe her.”
“We all do.” She was referring to Gio letting the dogs loose.
“No argument here.” He drew her into a kiss, his throat tight with emotion. “I almost lost you.”
She brushed his wet hair off his face. “When Ilya ordered you to kneel down—” She stopped herself and pressed a trembling hand to her lips.
“I know, love, I know.” He took that hand in his and kissed the tips of her fingers, then kissed her lips, pouring all his love into that soft yet hungry touch.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him back, her mouth moving urgently against his. He met her fire with his own. He’d never wanted a woman this much, this fiercely.
Grabbing her under the buttocks, he parted her thighs and pressed her up against the marble wall. His cock nudged her tight entrance, and he was about to plunge in, when she placed a hand against his belly. “Don’t you want a condom?”
“Do you? I mean, if you want to wait to have kids, that’s fine by me.” He grinned. “I guess I’ve turned right around on that issue. You do want to have them?”
“Of course.” She smiled, tears glistening in her eyes. “I’m so happy you changed your mind.”
He rubbed his cock against her clit, making her gasp. “You’re happy I stopped being an arse, you mean.”
She laughed and kissed him. When he started to push inside her, she reached down and took him by the root. “Can you pull out in time? I do want children, but not just yet. I want to work, get established first. You don’t mind?”
His heart ached that she felt she had to ask. “Of course I don’t.” His cock throbbed in her hand. “I’ll try to pull out in time, but you know it’s a risk—”
“—that I’ll gladly take. This time.”
She let go, and he slid home with a groan. She felt so
damn amazing—hot, wet, tight. It was going to be bloody difficult stopping in time.
The sensation of being inside her, of being gripped by a velvet fist, nearly overwhelmed him. He wasn’t sure he could last long enough to please her. He wanted to touch her clit, but didn’t think he could support her well enough with one arm in the slippery shower. Then he had an idea. A bloody brilliant one. He pulled out halfway. “Touch yourself,” he said.
She hesitated, then reached a slender hand between them. His gaze followed her hand, watching her fingers parting the lips of her pussy, her middle finger making circles around her clit. She closed her eyes and moaned, and he almost came right then from watching her. He hitched her hips up higher and thrust into her, short rough strokes, careful to keep enough space for her hand to move.
His eyes were glued to what she was doing, his hips pumping against her, the muscles of his bum clenching and releasing, clenching and releasing, his cock sliding in and out, in and out as she started to keen, her fingers moving faster, her breath coming in high shallow gasps. Then her inner muscles clamped down on him hard and she cried his name. “Nico.” He’d never heard anything so sexy.
Shuddering in his arms, she ground her hips against his, and it took everything he had to pull out when all he wanted to do was pound into her hard and fast. He came in a rush, his seed splashing over her stomach.
Letting go of her hips, he eased her to her feet, then braced his hands against the wet marble, blowing out and gulping down air while she did the same within the shelter of his arms.
She put her hands on his biceps and rose up on her toes to press a kiss against his mouth. He loved her, he loved her so damn much it hurt. And it drove him crazy.
And it made him so damn happy too.
“We’re going to need more condoms,” he said.
“Lots more,” she said with a grin. “Until we don’t.”
He wrapped his arms around her. “You’d better become a famous designer right quick.”
“That’ll be my first order of business. Jacopo offered to write me a letter of recommendation to use in England, provided I promise to work with him again when I’m established in London.”
He smiled. London. He’d finally be going home. And with a bride in tow.
Wouldn’t his grandparents be pleased?
CHAPTER 27
Now that the polizia and carabinieri were finally gone—thanks to Fuente, something else he owed him for—Dario could finally relax.
Except that he couldn’t. What had Benedetto meant when he’d said his plans hadn’t changed?
Dario sat back in his desk chair, a glass of amaretto in his hand. He’d considered whiskey, but needed a clear head. The amaretto would take the edge off, but wouldn’t blunt his thinking. He had to talk to Lucchesi. And Lorenzo. Though it would be hard—perhaps impossible—to get the truth out of either of them.
He picked up the phone to call Flavio, then remembered he was dead and set it down with a hard thunk on his desk. How could he have been duped by Flavio? The guard had never shown the slightest sign of ambition. Hell, he’d hardly shown a sign of independent thought. Clearly he’d underestimated the man.
So what else was he wrong about? And who could he trust?
He took a gulp of the liqueur and made a face. He really wanted the smoky bite of whiskey rolling over his tongue and down his throat instead of the slow sweet fire of the amaretto.
Damn it all.
He picked up the phone again and called Cris, asking him to find Lucchesi and Lorenzo. Lucchesi had wanted to let Kate rest for a bit, and Lorenzo had lain down somewhere, claiming he needed a rest too.
Unlikely. His grandfather had played confused and exhausted with the authorities, saying he was ignorant of what had happened between Benedetto and Ilya.
That was unlikely too.
Getting the truth out of him was just as unlikely. But he had to try.
A few minutes later, Lorenzo and Cris entered the study. As Dario had expected, Lorenzo seemed his usual self. He was getting old, but he was far from dead. Or from needing a nap.
Dario motioned them into the chairs in front of the desk. “Where’s Lucchesi?” he asked Cris.
“He’ll be along in a minute. He wanted to wash up.”
“Fine.” He turned to Lorenzo. “Benedetto had something in mind for the aftermath of all this. When Ilya decided to kill us all, Benedetto told Ilya his plans hadn’t changed. What did Benedetto mean by that?”
Lorenzo shrugged. “I can’t read minds.”
“I think it had something to do with Lucchesi.”
Lorenzo leaned forward, tenting his gnarled fingers together. “If you hadn’t been such a fool with the Lucchesi boy, none of this would have happened.”
“Benedetto didn’t like me having a pet in Interpol.”
Lorenzo tapped his joined index fingers against his lips. “I thought he and I made that quite clear.” His eyes bored into Dario’s. “You may have Andretti blood in your veins, but that doesn’t mean we”—he corrected himself—“I have to put up with your insolence. Someone else, another Andretti, can lead the northern branch of this family.” Lorenzo looked at Cris. “For example, your son seems to have the loyalty you lack.”
How he’d love to see the old man in his coffin. “So when Benedetto told me I’d be heading up Lombardy on the new council, that was a lie.”
Lucchesi stepped inside the study. “It definitely was,” Enrico said. “Benedetto offered it to me. And I accepted today.” When Dario started to respond, Lucchesi held up a hand. “In exchange for Benedetto agreeing to leave Nico and Cris alone. Obviously, he lied about that as well.”
Hmm… Benedetto hadn’t been wearing the Patek Philippe today. There was no way to double-check Lucchesi’s version of events. He studied his grandfather. “Is that true? Benedetto asked Lucchesi to head Lombardy?”
Lorenzo smiled with his mouth only. “I’ll put you at ease on that point. Yes.”
Dario felt as if he’d swallowed a box of razor blades. They had wanted him dead and out of the way. What a nest of vipers his family was. “So now what?”
Lorenzo sat back. “Now, you do what I say, Lucchesi runs Lombardy, and I let you live.”
How nice for me. “And who succeeds Benedetto?”
“I haven’t decided.” Lorenzo’s gaze slid to Cris for a second, then back to Dario.
Oh yes, you have. No doubt the old man thought Cris was malleable. And loyal to a fault.
Which he was. But Dario was certain he exerted far more influence over his son than Lorenzo ever would.
He took a deep breath. This could be to his advantage. If he could get Cris on the inside of Lorenzo’s operation… Yes, that could be good for him and Cris both.
But if he truly was going to beat Lorenzo and save his own hide, he was going to need a strong ally. Gianluca d’Imperio was probably dead to him—unless Cris’s idea of proposing to Giovanna worked. But that was a long shot at best. And more time needed to pass before they could even think of trying that tack. No, he needed someone else.
His eyes came to rest on Lucchesi. His stomach roiled. Lucchesi. Always, always, Lucchesi. Every time he thought the man was beaten, he landed on his feet like a goddamn cat.
He addressed Lorenzo. “Let me know when you’ve decided on a successor. I should like to meet the poor unfortunate bastard.”
A slight smile tilted the corners of Lorenzo’s lips. “I’ll keep you informed, of course.”
“Cris, would you show your grandfather to his room?” Before I strangle him.
Lucchesi rose to leave as well, but Dario stopped him. “I’d like a word.” His gut continued to churn. How many times had he wanted to crush Enrico Lucchesi to a bloody pulp? More than he could count. He could pinpoint the exact moment he’d started hating him: it was the day in the schoolyard when Toni—his beautiful, wonderful twin sister, his best and only friend, the center of his world—turned to him after Enrico Lucchesi had stopped anothe
r boy from harassing them and said, “Isn’t he amazing?”
Her admiration, and later her love, for Lucchesi grew to the point where Dario was quite shut out, losing his best friend, his confidante. Leaving him alone against their father and the world.
But he had one consolation. His sister had left him a legacy he could use to control Lucchesi.
Lucchesi may have given his precious family ring to Delfina—and even for a man of Lucchesi’s wealth, it was a generous gesture—but he still deserved what was coming. It was so much less than what Dario had originally planned. But for now, he’d have to content himself with the one last weapon he had.
Lucchesi took a chair in front of Dario’s desk, curiosity on his face.
He wouldn’t like what he was going to hear.
“How did you know to bring weapons today?” Dario asked Enrico.
No way was he going to betray Delfina. “Call me cautious.”
Dario chuckled. “More likely my daughter called you. But I’m not upset. Seeing how everything turned out, it was fortunate.”
Enrico sighed. The cat was out of the sack. “She mentioned something about some recordings of Benedetto?”
Dario nodded. “We haven’t gone through them all yet.”
“How did you get them?”
A smile spread across Dario’s face. “My sister had a habit of going unnoticed. She planted bugs all over Benedetto’s property.”
Madonna. “She never told me this.” What else didn’t I know about her?
“Toni was always an Andretti to the core. You think because you were married to my sister that you knew her.”
What was he driving at? “Of course I knew her.”
“What did she make you swear to on her deathbed?”
“To keep the peace with your father.”
Dario sat back in his chair, a smile once again on his lips. “In other words, not killing him. Why do you think my sister asked that of you?”
“To keep me safe.”
The smile turned to laughter. “Dio mio, you never saw it, did you?”
“Saw what.”
“She denied you your revenge for your family. Why?”
