Reckless Devotion (Book One)

by Jennifer Domenico

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Other books by Jennifer Domenico

  Connect with Jennifer Domenico

  Reckless Devotion

  Copyright 2017 by Jennifer Domenico

  Formatting by Cassy Roop of Pink Ink Designs

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior permission of the above copyright owner and publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author imagination or are used fictitiously.

  License notes

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  IT BEGAN INNOCENTLY enough. My coworker slash friend told me about her brother—handsome, successful, and available after returning from an overseas stint in France. She told me about him knowing I needed a date for the company holiday event just around the corner. Her brother wanted to meet people, re-acclimate to the states, and get to know his new city. I needed to get out more, dip my toe back in the dating pool, and frankly, get laid, but I left that part out when talking to her.

  Sara’s eyes light up that day at lunch, and then the famous last words, “He’s the perfect man for you.”

  I roll my eyes but listen, my interest perking up when she produces a photo of the brother. Smiling back at me from the tiny phone screen, he looked like a nice guy, but mostly he was sexy as fuck. I wonder how my red-headed, pale-skinned, freckles everywhere friend was related to the dark haired, olive skinned, smoldering beast of a man. Sara quickly explains they have different dads: hers is Irish, his Italian, and a shared French mother. Italian and French? Yes, please. I played it cool, acting like I’m doing her a favor, but inside I’m chomping at the bit to get my hands on him.

  Still gripping her phone in my hand, I glance up briefly, blocking out the noisy restaurant activity where we sit. “How old is he?”

  “Thirty-two.”

  Two years older. That’ll work. “Okay, I’ll meet him. If he’s up for it, we can hang out or something.”

  “He’ll be up for it. He specifically asked me if I had any pretty friends.”

  “He doesn’t seem like he would have any trouble meeting women.” I hand the phone back. “So what’s the deal? What’s the fatal flaw?”

  Sara smiles, taking the phone and shoving it back in her handbag. “I don’t know honestly. From my perspective, I’d say it’s some level of commitment phobia,” she pokes me in the arm, “so at least you have something in common.”

  “Hey. I do not have a commitment problem.”

  “No?” She tilts her head. “Should we talk about Alex?”

  I twist my lips. “Er, no.”

  “What about Mike? Danny? Oh, I know, Joe. Let’s talk about Joe.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I sip my iced tea. “Okay, so I might have a teeny tiny problem with the idea of marriage and just picking one guy forever. I don’t see the point. We’re not meant to be monogamous.”

  “I know, I know.” She rolls her eyes. “Society and religion forced it upon us and like sheep, we accepted it.” She raises her eyebrow. “Heard it.”

  “It’s just not my personality. It’s not my fault that every man I date wants a white picket fence.”

  She shakes her head. “Poor Joe.”

  I push her arm until she laughs. “Yeah, poor Joe. I was upfront with him, though. If he let himself fall, that’s his bad, not mine.”

  “Maybe you should stop being so irresistible.”

  Shaking my head, I reply, “I’ll work on that.” After another sip of tea, I redirect the conversation. “So, what’s your brother’s name?”

  “Gabriel.” She smiles. “Gabriel di Capo.”

  “Wow. That’s a mouthful.” Aaannd… totally fucking hot.

  “Yeah. He got the cool name. I got O’Riley.”

  “It suits you.”

  “Thanks. So, want me to make it happen?”

  I nod slowly, trying not to appear too eager. “Sure. See what he says.” She pulls out her phone again and taps quickly on the keyboard. “You’re asking him now?”

  “Yep.” Her phone buzzes exactly thirty seconds later. “Done.”

  “Done?”

  “He’ll call and get the details.”

  “That was fast.”

  “Oh,” she points at me, “that’s the other thing about him you should know.”

  “Mm-hmm, here it is. Lay it on me.”

  She laughs. “Nothing bad. He’s just… I don’t know. Intense. Super intense. Type A. Direct. Did I mention he’s intense?”

  “You did. He’s hard to get along with?”

  “No, I love him. I think he’s sweet and funny, but when he doesn’t know you, it takes him a little while to warm up. Just keep that in mind if he’s stiff at first.”

  “Okay. It’s just a date anyway. I’m not marrying the guy.”

  “Ooh, but wouldn’t it be awesome if you did?” she giggles, slapping my arm lightly. “We’d be sisters, and you’d never get rid of me.”

  “And on that note,” I check my watch, “lunch is over.”

  “I know.”

  Standing up, I carry my tray over to the trash bin and throw the lingering bits of my salad away. “For the record, I don’t want to get rid of you.”

  “Aw, thanks, Mia.”

  That lunch will always go down as the day my life changed in a direction I could never have anticipated. That was the day everything I thought I knew about life, about sex, about myself, began to change. That was the day the obsession took root. I can never go back to how things were. Meeting him was just the beginning, and now I know one thing for sure.

  I’ll never be the same.

  TWO DAYS LATER, as I sit on my computer at home, wasting untold hours shopping for things I’ll never buy, my phone vibrates across the coffee table. It’s a number I don’t recognize, which I normally wouldn’t answer, but Sara told me to be expecting a call from Gabriel.

  Clearing my throat, I answer, mustering my usual high level of confidence. “Hello?”

  “Hello, is this Mia?”

  The sound of the man’s voice on the other line immediately warms me. Slightly accented, deep, yet soft.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Hi. I’m Gabriel, Sara’s brother. She gave me your number. I hope that was okay with you.”

  “Uh, yeah. Yes. She told me she was going to.”

  “Good. Are you busy?”

  “No.” I would cancel dinner with the pope just to listen to this voice.

  “Great. Sara mentioned that you might indulge me in a date. Have you changed your mind?”

  Jesus, his voice
, it’s like butter. It’s unnerving how smooth and sexy it is.

  “Mia?”

  Use your words, Mia. Spit it out. “No.” My voice is scratchy, so I clear my throat again.

  “Are you unwell?”

  “Oh, no, I’m fine. Just, um, uh, need some water. So anyway, the holiday party is next weekend if you’re available.”

  “I am, but I hoped we could get together before then, maybe for coffee or something.”

  “Why?” I slap my forehead. “I mean, um…”

  He laughs softly. “Well, I thought if you hated me, you should know right away instead of being forced to spend the entire evening with me at your party.”

  “Right. Okay, yeah, that’s a good idea.”

  “Would you like to meet now?”

  My eyebrows raise. “Now?”

  “Now. It’s a nice day outside. We could meet at Kierland Commons and just have a cup of coffee and talk for a little while. Sara said you live near there.”

  “I do.” I wasn’t ready for this. Jumping up from my seat on the couch, I check my reflection in the mirror, patting my pale cheeks. I’m a mess. “How long?”

  “How long what?”

  “Do I have to get ready?”

  “Ah. As much as you need. Is an hour sufficient?”

  “I can do that.”

  “Great. So I’ll meet you at Starbucks in an hour. You know what I look like?”

  God, yes. “I do.”

  “Then you’ll find me. See you soon, Mia.”

  “See you soon, Gabriel.”

  After hanging up, I rush to the bathroom in a jumbled frenzy, peel out of my t-shirt and yoga pants, and jump in the shower. My hair will be wet, but that’s better than greasy any day. A quick wash, then I brush my teeth and apply light makeup. In my closet, I grab my favorite pair of jeans, my black suede boots, and a gray sweater that I love and then dress. After that, I consider what I want to present and decide on a simple silver necklace, a few bracelets, and diamond stud earrings. Tousling my wet tresses, I run some mousse through the strands scrunching them for some slight waves and put on my favorite nude lipstick. Finally, a spritz of perfume, and I think I’m ready. Exhaling, I smile at my reflection. I’m going to meet Gabriel.

  After grabbing my keys and my handbag, I text Sara.

  Off to meet the bro.

  Eek! Really? He didn’t tell me, that brat. Let me know how it goes.

  Will do. It’s just coffee.

  Yay!

  Once in the garage, I open the door, get in my silver Honda Accord, and drive off toward Kierland Commons. On a gorgeous seventy-degree day in December, the high-end outdoor shopping mall will probably be packed, making parking a nightmare. Hopefully, I’ll get lucky. Laughing at the thought, I consider how lucky I might get.

  Ten minutes later, I feel a sudden rush of nerves hit me as I pull into the parking lot, finding a spot right in front of the intended destination; I only have to wait a moment for the previous occupant to pull out of the space. The outdoor seating area is full, which is unfortunate. Outside is better. Stepping out of the car, I run my fingers through my hair and then take a deep breath before walking toward the coffee house. Scanning the crowd, I check for Gabriel, happy to be wearing sunglasses so it’s not so obvious. I’m pretty sure he’s not here yet. He would stand out in a crowd.

  After a few minutes, a woman taps my arm. “We’re leaving if you’d like our table.”

  “Oh, awesome.” I smile. “Thanks, a lot.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Taking a seat, I continue glancing around then spot him walking across the parking lot toward me. Oh shit. Oh man. Wearing a white t-shirt, jeans, and white sneakers, he’s casual but trendy, and definitely sexy. His walk is full of confidence, and as his dark wavy hair is blown around by the light breeze, he runs his hand through it. On his left wrist, a chunky silver watch, and a leather bracelet. As he gets closer, I see the knees in his jeans are slightly torn. From a style perspective, he’s killing it right now.

  When he reaches the sidewalk, I stand, smile, and wave. He grins when he reaches me. Removing the sunglasses he wears, he reveals stunning blue eyes against all that tan skin. I should just take off my clothes and hand them to him right now.

  “You must be Mia.”

  I nod. “That’s me.” Extending my hand, I’m surprised when he uses it to pull me close, kissing me on each cheek. I take the opportunity to inhale the scent of soap and cologne. It’s amazing.

  “Pleased to meet you. I’m Gabriel.”

  “Hi.” I realize I’m staring, so I force myself to look away. “Uh, I got us a table.”

  “Fantastic. I can go in and order us a couple of drinks.”

  “That works.”

  After putting his sunglasses back on, he slides his hands in his pockets, smiling without saying a word. His looks, style, and presence leave me stunned. I am speechless, a rare occurrence, especially because of a man.

  “What would you like?” he finally asks.

  “Oh, um, I’ll take a grande cold brew with vanilla sweet cream.”

  “Hmm, that sounds refreshing and a little decadent.”

  I stop the moan from escaping my lips. His pronunciation of words is ridiculous. They just roll off his tongue like musical notes. “It’s good.”

  “I’ll get one too then. Be right back.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  “Glad I haven’t scared you off just yet.”

  “The day is young.”

  He chuckles and the sound causes another little flutter in my stomach. He walks away, holds the door for a woman with a stroller, glancing back at me as he does, and nods before going inside. I exhale, sitting back in my chair. Fuck. His command of his surroundings is amazing. Like he owns this shit. The coffee shop, the mall, hell, the entire city. All of it. I want to climb all over that man. Right the fuck now. Pushing my sunglasses to the top of my head, I remind myself he’s Sara’s brother, and I can’t just churn him and burn him like I normally do. Besides, I want to drag it out as long as possible. A man like this doesn’t come along every day. Or ever.

  After about five minutes, he comes out carrying two coffees and a small bag. He smiles as he approaches, and I swear my panties just got wet from the sight of it. That is a movie star smile, all white straight teeth, perfectly symmetrical full lips, and I love how his eyes crinkle in the corners. Yep, he’s spectacular.

  “Here we go. Sorry for the delay. It’s busy in there.”

  “I figured.”

  He sits across from me and hands me a drink. “I took the liberty of getting a few pastries to snack on in case we’re here for a while.”

  “Cool.” I put the straw in my coffee and take a long swig. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, very. I was freezing my balls off in Paris just a couple of weeks ago. Now I’m sitting here in a t-shirt drinking iced coffee on this gorgeous trellised patio.”

  I smile, nodding. “Cold in Paris in December?”

  “Yes. I enjoy this weather a lot more.”

  “What brought you back?”

  “To Arizona? The fact that my sister lives here, and I couldn’t stand the idea of going back to New York. I’m lucky my company has an office here. I’m done with East Coast winters.”

  “Totally understand. I’m from Connecticut.”

  “Ah, then you do understand.”

  “Yep.” I sip my drink. “So now I know why you’re in Arizona. Why were you in Paris?”

  After a drink from his coffee, he nods. “Business opportunity with my company. It was an assignment to train my French counterpart when we opened an office there. I had never lived outside the U.S. before, so I figured, why the hell not. It was supposed to be a year, but there were all sorts of bumps that extended my stay. I was gone for three.”

  “Wow, three years in Paris. That’s amazing.”

  “It was. I got to see a lot of Europe, learned to speak French, ate great food. It was definitely a
worthwhile experience.”

  “Did you have the accent before you went?”

  “What accent?”

  I grin, taking another drink. “It’s slight, but it’s there.”

  “Hmm. I was not aware.”

  “It’s cool. Say something to me in French.”

  He grins, fixing me with a gaze that makes my breath catch, as he studies me for a moment. “Votre visage est magnifique. Votre voix est mon son préféré, et votre sourire fait chanter mon coeur.”

  As the words tumble from his lips, I find myself transfixed. “What did you say?”

  “Simply that it’s a beautiful day and I enjoy coffee very much.”

  Smiling, I nod. “I don’t actually believe you. That was too many words, and I happen to have studied French in high school. I don’t remember much, but I do know that visage is face and coeur is heart.”

  Gabriel nods. “You busted me. What I really said” he smiles, leaning closer., “is that your face is magnificent, your voice is my favorite sound, and your smile makes my heart sing.”

  My mouth falls open. Is he for real?

  “The French have a way with words,” he continues. “And I learned well while I was there. The way to a woman’s heart, or more accurately to her bedroom, is through romantic musings.”

  My brow crinkles. “Oh. So you didn’t mean it?”

  “Oh, I meant it.” He takes a long sip of his drink, drawing my eyes straight to his lips. “You’re gorgeous.”

  “Thanks.” I play with my straw for a minute, letting that sink in. I mean, I know what I bring to the table, but it’s good to hear he does too. “What has your transition been like so far?”

  “Somewhat smooth. The biggest change was kicking cigarettes. The friends I had in France were a bunch of boozing, chain-smoking degenerates, and I fit right in.”

  I laugh, sipping my coffee. “You don’t seem like a smoker.”

  “I’m not. Cold turkey over a week ago. France has non-smoking laws too, but they are generally more tolerant. For instance, at a café like this in Paris, people could smoke, but here, everyone would lose their shit.”

  “True. I admit I like to light one up on a good night of drinking.”