Dangerous Love: Bertoli Crime Family Box Set

by Landish, Lauren

  “Here?” I asked, surprised. “It's the middle of the dining room.”

  He went over to the recessed nook where a stereo system had been installed. It was a bit older. It used CDs for the most part, but it had good quality, and when I heard the beautiful strains of Puccini, my heart melted.

  “How'd you know?” I asked as he crossed the floor to me. “I've always loved Puccini at the balls.”

  “We were meant to be together. All those little things you mentioned, I never forgot them, even when I pretended to everyone that I had,” Daniel said, taking me in his arms. “Sometimes, I even believed that lie. But the little things, like Puccini, or that you prefer to sleep on your left side, I never really forgot. Now I don't need to tell myself to forget anymore. I can just love you.”

  We started moving slowly in a dance that wasn't classical in the strict sense. Of course, I'd had lessons. I knew how to waltz and tango and foxtrot and all that other stuff. But Daniel hadn't, and instead he moved with a natural, flowing grace, the two of us making it up as we went along. My feet felt light on the floor, and I glided across the polished wood, and when I saw Mom stick her head in about halfway through some music from La Boehme, she smiled and closed the door behind her, turning the lock and making sure we were undisturbed. I leaned in closer to Daniel, letting my head rest on his chest. “Daniel?”

  “Yes, Ade?”

  “Take me . . .”

  Daniel surprised and thrilled me by spinning me around and picking me up, carrying me over to the table before setting me down. “Daniel!”

  “We had dinner here. I think this is a great place for a real dessert too,” he growled, his hands running over the satin of my dress and cupping my ass. “You don't know how sexy you look in this damn thing.”

  His hands were insistent, caressing my body even as he started to peel my dress off, his mouth claiming mine in a fierce, possessive kiss that left me breathless. “Whew, am I going to get this every time we have to take a few days off from sex?” I teased when I could breathe again. I slid my hands inside his suit jacket and slid it off his broad shoulders, starting to undress him as he was undressing me. “If so, I'm going to have to call a one-week pause right before our honeymoon.”

  “Why?”

  “So you can rock my world.” I laughed, grabbing hold of the two halves of his shirt and yanking. Buttons flew off, clattering across the table to drop to the floor, and I darted my head forward, kissing and licking the skin of his chest. It'd been over a week since we had a chance to make love, first with recovery from his injuries, then dealing with the cops, before finally just getting caught up in everything, including my cousins coming back from college to visit. I was hungry, and not for gelato.

  Daniel ripped his tie off, leaving him in just his suit pants as he hiked my dress up, lifting it above my waist as our fiery passion overcame our hesitancy and desire to hold back and make it last. There would be time for that later.

  Pushing away from Daniel, I gave him my sexiest look and slid off the table, turning around and bending over. “Take me.”

  I trembled as he lifted my dress all the way up again, exposing my ass to the night air. The weather was starting to cool off some, fall was coming, and I felt goosebumps break out on my skin, delicious and sensitive. “Sexy.”

  I felt heat rising to my face, and I looked back at Daniel's appreciative gaze. “I was kinda hoping I'd get lucky tonight.”

  “Grab the table and don't turn around,” he replied, his blue eyes blazing with desire, “and you'll get lucky for sure.”

  I did as he said, trying to grip what I could on the table as I felt him run his hands over the exposed curves of my hips and ass, shifting around until I felt his warm breath on my skin.

  He lifted my panties out of the way, and before I could take a breath, his tongue darted in between my pussy lips, quick and rapier-like, stabbing me open and thrilling me. His nimble tongue snaked deep inside, licking my inner folds and setting my nerves on fire with pleasure. I was vulnerable, with his hands pressing my thighs into the table and his weight behind me, but I didn't want to move. I was secure and safe with him, protected.

  The aroma of my arousal came to my nose, and I trembled, feeling my orgasm building inside me. I pushed back, burying my ass into his face as he licked and tasted me, desperate for more. “Dan . . . oh Dan . . . fuck me baby. Make me come.”

  I couldn't make out his mumbled reply, but he brought his right hand between my legs, gathering some of my moisture before finding the hard nub of my clit and rubbing it in a feather-light stroke. My eyes flew open, and it felt so good I felt like my heart would explode. My fingers clawed at the table as I trembled on the edge of coming, but he kept me frozen there, caught in agonizing ecstasy, until I couldn't take it any longer. “Please . . ."

  “As you wish,” I think he said, his tongue leaving my pussy to quickly stroke against my clit, the sensation pushing me over the edge. My feet curled up off the ground and my body convulsed, thick, guttural moans ripping from my chest as I came. I can't say it was the biggest orgasm I'd ever had, because each time Daniel and I made love, each orgasm felt like the biggest, and each one was completely different. This was almost relaxing, forcing me to let go and give in to him and to our love.

  I was just starting to come down to earth again when I felt him behind me, and the sound of him opening his zipper came through over the sound of Puccini that was still playing on the stereo. It had nearly filtered out of my consciousness when he was feasting on me, but now, with the head of his cock pressing against me, I was aware of everything, from the sound of the violins and horns to the weave of the tablecloth underneath me, but most of all, the blunt tip of his massive cock at my entrance. “Give yourself to me, Adriana. Show me what you want.”

  I lowered my feet back down, happy for the high heels, which let my legs stretch up enough that I could push back, impaling myself on him and filling my heart with happiness. I kept pushing, not caring if I was being stretched or about the slight edge of pain that came from having him so deep inside me again after such a long time without him, just knowing that I needed that connection, that completion.

  I whimpered when I felt my ass tickled by the soft tuft of trimmed hair at the base of his cock, and I wept softly in joy. “That . . . that's what I want.”

  He took my waist in his hands and pulled back, pausing for a moment, only the head of his cock inside me before thrusting back in, driving me against the table with his force and passion. He had gone without sex for that time too, and he was on the edge of losing control. I had never felt sexier, knowing that it was me who was making this wonderful man overcome with lust.

  Daniel pounded into me, my hips pressed into the hundred-year-old oak of the table as Puccini's music sang about love and romance and the mysteries of the world. The impact of each thrust shook the table, and I was swept away on the wave of his desire. Throwing my head back, I cried out, tears of happiness trickling down my face as he grabbed a handful of my hair and kept going, his breath huffing in and out of his chest.

  He let go of my waist, and suddenly, a small crack filled the air as he smacked my ass, the heat and sting mixing with the heady explosions of pleasure inside me, driving me insensate and wild. I was overloaded, my body clenching and pulsing with wave after wave of pleasure as Daniel's cock filled me over and over.

  Another orgasm built within me, and I threw my all back into him, trying to match him thrust for thrust until we were overwhelmed. I was coming, so hard I couldn't even make a noise, and my breath was locked in my chest as my entire body rushed higher and higher, until I was almost certain that I would die due to being unable to breathe. I didn't care—it felt so great, and I was almost disappointed when air flooded back into my lungs and time returned to the world.

  I was drained, my legs shaky and my throat raw from crying out, even though I didn't know I had been doing it. I sagged against the table, sweat making my dress stick to me and my chest heaving in lon
g, shuddering gasps. “Tell me it feels better the more we do this.”

  “I don't know,” Daniel asked, “but we have the rest of our lives to find out. Shall we?”

  “Let's.”

  Adriana - One Year Later

  “You're working for whom?”

  Daniel checked his Beretta and shrugged, making sure his suit was ready for work. “Come on, honey. Just because we don't like his music, it's not his fault. That would be like blaming Gaga for Tommy's drunken dancing at our reception. You didn't seem to get mad at her though. In fact, if I remember right, you were pretty buzzed when she went to Carlo's house for dinner with the family.”

  I had to admit, going to the family manor to have dinner with a Grammy award winner was a pretty cool experience, especially coupled with the fact that she had raved about my artwork. Now, I was only six months from graduation and I already had five orders for pieces. “Still . . . Phil Collins?”

  Daniel laughed and pulled his jacket on. “Sweetheart, it's for one night only. He's flying in town for the environmental awards dinner the governor is holding and flying out immediately afterward. It's an easy five grand. He's just making a speech and then glad-handing.”

  I grumbled, but nodded. “Okay, okay. At least he's not singing, and you did get me a seat at the table.”

  “Exactly,” Daniel said with a smile. “Just think—how many millions of dollars will be surrounding you, all, I'm sure, eager to meet the artist who is catching the attention of the entertainment set? Why, if you play this right, you might end up meeting Banksy.”

  “Ha ha ha,” I replied, wincing afterward. “Ouch, kiddo, hold on there.”

  Daniel came over and ran his hand over my now noticeable baby bump, his face in a sort of soft awe. “He's getting big.”

  “He's going to be like his daddy, I'm sure of it,” I said, feeling the baby inside my womb shift again before settling down in a comfortable position. “Mom says she hopes he has my hair though. I think she just wants the redhead gene to get passed down another generation.”

  “I was thinking maybe this one could be blond, and then our second can be a redhead. A girl, with beautiful green eyes like her mother,” Daniel said softly, wrapping his arms around me and hugging me carefully. We still made love often. The doctor had very clearly said it wouldn't hurt the baby. We just had to be more creative with how we did it.

  “You are the most romantic man in the world, you know that?” I replied, kissing his nose, then his lips. Our kiss deepened, until we let go, both of us sighing, and Daniel discreetly reached down to readjust himself in his pants. It was those little things—I don't even know if he did them consciously—that helped me still feel beautiful even as my body changed.

  “It's easy when I'm married to the world's most beautiful woman,” he said, his eyes open and honest. That, more than anything else, helped me. In the nearly eight months since opening Neiman Security Consultants, he'd been able to be bodyguard or consultant to some of the world's most famous. He'd guarded pop stars, media personalities, models, politicians and businessmen all over the Pacific Northwest, and still, I could see in his eyes that none of the women he met measured up to me. The one-time player and enforcer for the Bertoli Crime Family had become the most dedicated husband in the world, and I couldn't be happier. “So what are you going to do in between now and when Carlo comes around to take you to the benefit?”

  I chuckled and stepped back, straightening his tie. He was in his blue suit, with a black tie and white shirt—very conservative, but very imposing. He knew with that look, his Terminator act was easy to do, and that was half the job. “Carmen's going to come over about three o'clock and help me with a bath and massage. She says she's got a new oil that's guaranteed to not give me stretch marks when our little one gets bigger. I don't know if I believe it, but it can't hurt.”

  “How is school going for her, anyway?” Daniel asked, sitting down and putting on his shoes. She'd recently gone back to dance school, and was working part-time as a massage therapist in a rehabilitation clinic Uncle Carlo was invested in. “Well, I hope?”

  “She's doing great, she says. And she's happy that Carlo is sponsoring her while she works part-time at the clinic. She didn't think he was being serious.”

  “You know him. If he says something, he usually means it,” Daniel said, finishing his left shoe and going to his right. “Especially since the clinic lets his men do rehabilitation and other things for free. No hanky-panky though.”

  “Still, I bet the boys love getting a back rub from her,” I said with a laugh. “She's got good hands. Among other things men like.”

  Daniel finished his shoes and got up, coming over and kissing me again. “Well, tell her that I think she's doing an amazing job so far and wish her the best.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too. Unfortunately, gotta go.”

  I nodded and kissed his nose again. “Say hello to Phil for me, and that I'm looking forward to tonight. If anything, you've got some interesting stories you can tell him about us and his music.”

  Daniel laughed and walked to the door of our house. It wasn't anywhere near the size of the Bertoli estate, but it was our own. He walked out, closing the door behind him. The early fall day was brisk, but he showed no signs as he got into his brand new work Mercedes sedan and started it up. He waved, and I waved back. “I love you. Both of us," I whispered to myself.

  Daniel drove off, and I watched him go before walking back to my studio in the back of the house. Carmen was due in an hour or so, and in the meantime, there was painting I wanted to do. A painting full of light. And joy. And most of all, love.

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  Keep reading for for the next book in this series, Reckless.

  Reckless

  By Lauren Landish

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  * * *

  I’d do anything for her . . . even give up my crown.

  As the son of mob boss Don Carlo Bertoli, I’m considered the crown prince of the Bertoli Family, but it’s a title I’d rather earn than have it handed to me.

  When Luisa Mendosa, the beautiful daughter of a rival mob boss shows up on my father’s doorstep, I know I shouldn’t be getting involved with her. But with long, honey blonde hair, a voluptuous body, and an ass that would make Sir Mix-A-Lot jealous, I can’t help myself.

  Her father doesn’t approve of us, and when he learns she’s carrying my baby, all hell’s going to break loose — maybe even a war. But she’s worth it, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Luisa and my baby safe.

  Chapter 1: Tomasso

  From ten thousand feet, circling SeaTac in our landing pattern, I was disappointed in seeing Seattle again. I should have driven. Up there, it was too pristine, too clean, too . . . quiet. I'd spent the past four years, more or less, being quiet. I was ready to get back into the pulse of life.

  Not that the quiet hadn't helped. Four years prior, when I was eighteen, the last thing I wanted to be was Tomasso Bertoli, heir-apparent of Carlo Bertoli, Godfather of all of Seattle and Tacoma. I wanted to be a normal guy, with normal dreams and the expectation that I wouldn't have to risk my life either by getting shot like my uncle, Johnny, or going to jail like my cousin, Vince. Spending ten years in jail worried about dropping the soap? No thanks. Not for me, even if I was protected.

  So I took the opportunity to get the hell out of Seattle. In fact, I went country, although my family never really knew to what extent. Going by the name of Tom Bertoli, I couldn't hide my heritage, but I hid just about everything else. Gone were the suits, the designer clothes, and the slick looks that had gotten me plenty of attention and plenty of ass in high school. Instead, I'd worn off-the-shelf jeans and t-shirts. My Alfa Romeo was replaced with a Chevy, and I tried to act like a normal colle
ge student.

  Well, a normal college student in most ways. I was about fifty miles from the Gulf Coast in Alabama, in a little town that was just outside Mobile, and I grew to appreciate a few things. Fried catfish, for one, dusted in corn flour and then deep fried. I had to work hard to keep the weight off during my first year in college. I'm not one of those skinny poof types—I took after my uncle Johnny and have loved the weights and the powerful look since about the first time I picked up a weight in the house gym. So as good as it was, I had to watch the Southern food.

  But the second and best part about being in the South? Southern girls. Say what you want—there are lots of dirt poor areas—but the women are something else. Southern girls know how to treat their men right. They know how to talk, how to move, and how to be feminine in ways that the girls I knew in Seattle didn't. Some of them liked to put on a front about being good girls, but once you got past it, they were down to fuck like it was nobody's business. The hardest part was getting the snaps on their shorts undone.

  But starting in my junior year, things just went weird for me. Maybe it was that I got bored. Classes were easy, and finding new challenges in the women department was getting harder and harder. I mean, I'd picked up a pretty good list of accomplishments, but it was just too easy, and I stopped wanting to be in the South any longer.

  Whatever the reason, during my last semester in college, I felt an itch inside me, a desire to go back to Seattle. I'd left because I didn't want to be Tomasso Bertoli, crown prince of the Bertoli family, and I knew I still didn't . . . at least to a degree. I didn't want to be handed a position merely due to my last name. What I wanted was to earn my place, to work my way up. If I were to take over when my father was ready to retire, then I'd do it because I was ready to handle the position. If I couldn't, then I'd happily pass it on to Adriana or Daniel if they wanted it, or to my little brother, Angelo.