by Jagger Cole
He mutters something I don’t really catch. But I hear “princess” and get the basic gist of it. Finally, he sighs heavily. “Fine.”
Jimmy and Teri smile. “Well, that’s good to hear, son. I truly hope I never see that eighty—”
“Stop selling it,” Dominic grunts. He stands, grabs the cash, and strolls out of the room. I stand too, smile widely at Teri, and then follow him out. I chase after him through the tiny chapel as he heads for the front door.
“So, now what?” I call after him.
Dominic stops at the door and turns. “What?”
“Now what? I mean what do we do now?”
“We don’t tell a fucking soul about this goddamn trip. We keep our heads down. And in a week, we fly back here and get this shit dealt with.”
“Well gee, Dominic. Make a girl feel special.”
He glares at me. “Is this a game to you? Is this amusement?”
“No, it’s just…” I shrug and grin. “Okay, maybe slightly?” He growls, and I wave my hands. “Okay, okay, not really. But I just mean, when does this seriously ever happen? I mean outside of a stupid RomCom movie? You don’t think this is at all funny?”
“No,” he snaps with zero hesitation. “No, I don’t. Now let’s go. We need to pack up at the hotel to get to the airport in time.” He turns for the door, but I clear my throat.
“Ahem?”
Dominic groans and turns back. “Yes?”
“Well?”
He growls under his breath. “Well, what, Lucia.”
“Aren’t you going to carry me out again?”
Dominic’s jaw ticks. I grin widely.
“Okay, okay, that was in poor—”
“I’m not going to touch you, Lucia,” he snaps. The sharpness in his voice rankles me. I glare at him and smile thinly.
“Well, it’s a little late for that now, isn’t it?”
Dominic turns and storms out of the chapel.
7
Dominic
God fucking damnit. I swirl my drink and look into it. The hotel bar hums around me. But I don’t hear a thing. Just my thoughts. Mostly, I’m trying to put the pieces together. I’m trying to replay last night and get even a glimpse of the gaps. But it’s all a hazy blur.
I take a sip of the whiskey. Packing was easy. We actually had more than two hours to kill before heading to the airport. So, here I am. Lucia is still packing upstairs. But I scrunch my eyes closed and try not to think about her at all. It doesn’t work for shit.
“Mind if I join?”
I almost choke on my drink. Lucia slips into the barstool next to me. For a girl who woke up with the biggest hangover of her life, she looks amazing.
“And if I do mind?”
She shrugs. “Yeah, but you don’t.”
I chuckle. Lucia reaches for my glass. She picks it up and takes a sip before I can say a thing.
“Help yourself,” I grunt. She turns and smiles at me.
“What’s mine is yours, and what’s yours is mine. Right, honey?”
“Stop it,” I growl.
Lucia smiles sweetly at me. “Stop what?”
“Stop it,” I hiss again. I grab her wrist and look her hard in the eye. “No fucking games. This is serious, Lucia.”
“Believe me, I get it,” she snaps.
I laugh coldly. “No, I don’t think you do. Do you have any idea what your grandfather—”
“To you!?” she hisses. “What about me?!”
“I sincerely doubt they’re the same stakes, dear.”
“You don’t know that!”
I roll my eyes. “I can put two and two together, princess.”
Lucia glares at me. I glare right back. But then I sigh. “Want a drink?”
“God, yes.”
I grin and nod at the bartender.
“Ma’am?”
“What are you drinking?”
“Whiskey, neat.”
“Me too,” she says to the bartender. When he brings it back over, she raises her glass. Cheers.”
“To marriage,” I grunt.
Lucia blushes and rolls her eyes. “Too soon.”
We say nothing. We finish our drinks pretty fast. She looks at me with her lip between her teeth.
“One more?”
No, terrible idea. The last time I drank with Lucia, I woke up naked in her bed and married to her.
“Sure.”
She grins. Two more drinks arrive, and she raises another toast. “To marriage and annulments.”
I grin and tap her glass with mine. “Cheers.”
“So…” Lucia blushes. “So, we’re married.”
“Just on paper,” I grunt. “And just for one week.”
Lucia looks into her glass. She says nothing and looks totally inside her own head. But then she looks up at me with a curious expression on her face.
“Did we…” she blushes. But I know she’s asking what happened with us being naked in bed together last night.
“I honestly don’t know.” I frown. “But I don’t think we did.”
A big part of me hopes we did. It might be bad to think that. It’s not just that she’s my job to protect and my boss’s boss’s granddaughter. She’s also twenty-fucking-one years old. I’m ten years older than this girl. It’s not like she’s in high school or anything like that. But still.
And yet, I don’t care. I look at the gorgeous girl sitting next to me at the bar. And hell, I wish to God that we had.
Suddenly though, I freeze. I need to stop drinking. It’s making me look at her. It’s giving me thoughts I shouldn’t have. I’m feeling warm and drawn to her.
“There really is someone else, you know,” Lucia suddenly blurts out. She frowns. “Well, there was.”
My brow furrows. “Sorry.”
She shrugs. “Yeah, well…”
“Same here, actually.”
She looks up at me sharply. “There’s a girl?”
I nod. “Yeah, sort of. It’s complicated.”
Lucia’s lips twist. “Sorry,” she mumbles.
“Eh, it is what it is.”
“Is she gonna be pissed you got married?”
I grin. “What do you think?”
Lucia smirks. “I’d probably be more than a little annoyed.”
The hotel bar sound system suddenly switches tracks. The Beatles song that was just on changes up to a slow, older Nora Jones tune. Lucia’s ears perk up. She frowns slightly.
“Was this playing last night somewhere?”
I think about it for a second, and then I nod. “Yeah, actually, I think I remember hearing this.”
She blushes. “I think we danced.”
I chuckle and take a sip of my drink. “Now you’re definitely remembering things wrong. I don’t dance.”
“No… no, I think you did. Which means, you do.”
“Yeah, but I don’t though.”
I don’t. I definitely do not fucking dance. Especially not to slow sappy shit like Nora Jones. Okay, there’s a chance I know how to dance. I just don’t exercise that know-how. Not ever.
Lucia puts her glass down. “Prove it.”
I smirk. “Prove I don’t dance?”
“Sure. Look, they’ve got a dance floor and everything.” She eyes me with a grin. It’s like she daring me.
“Fine,” I shrug. We both stand from our barstools and walk over to the side of the bar. They do actually have a small dance floor. But we’re the only cringe-cases currently about to dance on it. I take her hand. Suddenly, it’s like instinct kicks in.
I pull her close. It’s almost involuntary. But the way I spin her into my arms feels like second nature. My heart races, and I spin her again. Her hair whips around. I can smell her shampoo or soap, and it sets fire to something inside of me.
We swing apart and then back together. I rock her in my arms. I hold her close and tight. Her breathing is heavy. Her face is flushed, and her eyes are wide and locked with mine the whole time. As the final pia
no notes tinkle out, I dip her low. The whole damn place starts clapping around us. I’m panting heavily. So is she.
“You lied,” Lucia whispers. Her eyes are holding mine like lasers.
“Seems that way,” I growl.
She chews on her lip. “All a ploy to dance with me, huh?”
I chuckle and bring her back upright. “Maybe.”
“It worked,” she breathes.
The song is over. The dance is done. But I’m still holding her close: one hand on her hip, the other holding her hand. The music changes to some dumb upbeat pop song. The bar goes back to chatting around us. But we’re still locked in this little bubble.
My arms pull her closer. She comes willingly. Her body presses to mine, and I look down into her big blue eyes. Before I can think, my head lowers, and my lips press fiercely to hers.
I kiss Lucia hard. And goddamn, she kisses me right back.
And then, like lightning, we both spring apart. My heart is racing. Her face is white yet flushed.
“We…” she blinks quickly. She brings a hand up to touch her lips. “We need to get to the airport.”
We’re silent during the limo ride. My heart is still beating like a goddamn drum though. I turn to her. She’s looking out the window at the darkening sky. A glimmer catches my eyes. They lower to her hand, where the neon from the Strip is glinting off of her huge goddamn ring.
Yeah, what happens in Vegas doesn’t fucking stay here. It comes home on a finger. And it very well may put me in the ground.
But maybe we can be adults about this, right? We both made a mistake. We can work through this. We can be mature about—
Lucia turns to me and frowns. “Stare much?”
I groan. Yeah, I’m fucked.
8
Lucia
There are some definite downsides to being the granddaughter to one of the biggest crime kingpins in the world. But travel accommodations are not one of them.
The temporary “apartment” that my grandpa has set up for me in New York is beyond luxurious. It’s not big, which I know is on purpose as to not attract too much attention. But what it’s lacking in space, it makes up for in pure glitz and glamor.
The men who picked us up from the airport and drove us here are Micheal Genovisi’s men. When one of them opens the door to the apartment, even my jaw drops a little. Yeah, wow. The guys bring my bags in, nod at Dominic, and then take off.
Then we’re alone. I bristle. We’ve been frosty to each other the entire trip back here. And I do mean frosty. We’ve barely said a word. We’ve hardly looked at each other. We definitely haven’t mentioned the kiss in the bar. Not to mention the shit show of a trip before that moment.
But now here we are. Thankfully, it’s cold in New York. That means gloves, which will cover this big damn ring at least while I’m outside. In the doorway to my temporary apartment, I glare at him. He glares right back.
“Well, I guess this is goodbye.”
He sighs. Slowly, he smiles thinly.
“I said goodbye, Dominic,” I mutter. “You’re dismissed.”
He snorts a hard laugh. “I’m not your butler, princess.”
“Yeah, well, we’re done here. You can go.”
“Yeah, don’t I wish,” he mutters.
“Excuse me?” I glance down and realize he’s got his luggage bag with him. “What, what are you doing?”
“I’m staying here. With you. This place is for two people.”
“No,” I shake my head. I blink quickly. My heart races. “No, it’s not.”
Dominic sets his bag down inside. He picks up a brochure pamphlet from the table next to the door. It’s emblazoned with “Diamond Properties,” which I’m guessing is the rental place for vacation housing like this.
“Bonjour,” Dominic reads with a flourish from the pamphlet. “Ciao, hola, nin hao, konnichiwa, guten tag, zdravstvuyte.” He clears his throat. “Welcome to your luxury dual occupancy Diamond Properties accommodation.”
“No,” I mutter, shaking my head as he drops the pamphlet back onto the table. “No no no no no…”
“I’m not exactly thrilled about it either,” he grunts.
“Fuck this, no!” I glare at him. “No, you’re not staying in this apartment with me. Absolutely not!”
“Orders are orders, princess.”
I glare at him. “I’ll call my grandfather.”
“Please do.”
I smirk. “I think you’re forgetting how much trouble you could get into. You know, if I get to rambling about all the things I got up to on my trip to Las Vegas?”
His jaw grinds. “Are you threatening me?”
“I’m making a point.”
Dominic looks at me coolly. His lips smirk. “I could, you’re right. You tell him about what happened, I might be dead.”
I swallow uneasily.
“So, go call.”
“Are you calling my bluff?”
He smiles. “No, princess. I’m saying whatever Salvestro does to me when you tell him beats staying here with you and your attitude.”
My jaw drops. “Wow,” I choke.
Dominic just keeps smiling. He picks up his suitcase and waltzes inside. “I call top bunk, by the way.”
“What?!”
He chuckles. “I’m joking. It’s a two bedroom.”
“Wonderful,” I mutter.
“Shared bathroom though.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, very fucking funny.”
But Dominic is still smiling at me. “I’m not joking.” He walks through the big open living room and kitchen area, past a dining nook to a door. It opens to a big, white marble bathroom. Two more open doors from the bathroom lead into each of the bedrooms.
“You have got to be shitting me,” I hiss.
Dominic chuckles. He grabs his bag and heads to one of the bedrooms. “Night, princess,” he calls over his shoulder.
“Asshole.”
He shuts his door, leaving me to sulk by myself. I groan and sink onto one of the couches by the big windows. God, this is terrible. This whole trip is a freaking disaster. I pull my phone out. I feel a mix of dread and excitement when I open the Connect app.
There’s still no message from HardDaddy. I frown. My heart sinks a little. I wonder for the millionth time if I crossed a line asking if he wanted to meet in person; if we had more fun being anonymous on the internet.
I know I should just leave it. If I’ve weirded him out, messaging him again is just going to make me look pathetic. But I can’t help it.
Hey, sorry to freak you out if I did. Vacay is going well. No pressure. Talk to you soon?
I hit send and close down the app. I frown. Damnit, that was stupid. My stomach rumbles, and I realize I haven’t really eaten a thing all day. I get up and walk over to the kitchen area. But of course, it’s bare.
Instead, I open a food delivery app and scroll through the options. We’re in midtown Manhattan, so there are about ninety thousand “Italian” places. But that just makes me roll my eyes. I live in Sicily, with an Italian chef that used to cook for the former Prime Minister. I think I’ll pass on delivery eggplant parmigiana.
I spot a really well reviewed burger joint instead. I grin. A cheeseburger; that’s what I want. I’m back in America, after all. What else would I get? I add fries to the order and hit the confirmation button. Then I take my rumbling stomach back to the couch. I turn on something mindless on the TV. I shake my head. God, I forgot how many freaking commercials play in this country.
I open my Connect app again. I keep refreshing until I convince myself how pathetic it is. Yeah, I think it’s safe to say I blew it with HardDaddy. Which is fine, because now I’m freaking married anyways. I groan and close my eyes.
The front door buzzer chimes. I perk up and rush over to the video screen. There’s a delivery guy there, and I quickly buzz him in. I open the apartment door, and a minute later, the elevator opens. The deliver guy smiles and steps out.
“Wow, tha
t was fast! Thanks, I’m so hungry.”
The guy shrugs, smiles, and passes me the bag. But instantly, I frown. The bag has Chinese lettering all over it. And it definitely doesn’t smell like cheeseburger.
“Wait, what is this?”
The guy frowns. “General Tsao chicken, moo shu pork, steamed broccoli, with brown rice?”
“Huh?”
“Oh, good, it’s here.” Dominic’s voice startles me from behind. I turn to see him strolling out of his room. He’s wearing a well-fitted white t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Ugh, why is that such a winning combination on guys?
“I was starving, thanks man!” He plucks the bag from my hands. The delivery guy shrugs again and gets back on the elevator. I close the door and turn as Dominic starts walking back to his room.
“What the hell?”
He stops and turns. “Oh, were you hungry?” He smiles sweetly. He’s goading me.
“Asshole,” I mutter.
He chuckles. “I’m your bodyguard. That’s it, remember? You’re a big girl. You can fend for yourself, can’t you?”
The front door buzzer rings again. I press the button and a guy grunts “West Side Burgers. Delivery.”
“Come on up!” I say, smirking at Dominic.
He laughs. “I’m guessing there’s nothing in that order for me?”
“Nope.”
I open the door. The elevator slides open and the delivery guy walks over with my cheeseburger and fries.
“Thanks a lot!”
He says nothing steps back into the elevator. I close the door and inhale the scent of mouthwatering French fries from the bag. “Mmm… can’t wait!”
Dominic chuckles. “Very mature.”
“You did the same shit,” I mutter.
“The difference is, yours was petty. You made the conscious thought to not get me anything.”
I sigh. “And you?”
“I just didn’t think of you at all, I guess.”
He turns with a smug, triumphant smile. He starts to walk back to his room. I roll my eyes.
“I doubt that.”
Dominic pauses mid-step. “What?”
“You didn’t not think of me.”
