"You could have texted me," Danny said, the words almost petulant. He winced even as they came out, but he couldn't stop himself. "I put my number in your phone."
"Don't you get it?" Lucia demanded. "You're not giving me a chance to choose anything, so this is my choice. I'm not moving into your bedroom. If I have to stay here, I'm staying upstairs in my own room. If you want something from me, you can fucking ask."
Danny frowned at her. "You can have whatever you want," he returned automatically. "But you're sleeping my bed, where you belong."
She stomped one of her booted heels onto the floor. Her breasts bare, her face flushed with indignation, standing there in her outrageous boots and stockings, Lucia was something beyond a fantasy. She was the embodiment of life.
He was beyond arguing with this archangel drawn from fantasy. Danny did what he always had done to solve disagreements. He acted. He bent forward, hoisted her up over his shoulder, locked an arm around her thighs, and turned to leave the room. She beat at his back, but he didn't even flinch.
He waited until he'd descended the stairs, walked through his bedroom door, turned and closed it firmly, and flipped the lock. "Here's a choice," he said, walking toward the bed.
"Now?" she sneered. "It's too late for that, you caveman imbe –"
"I can spank you first or fuck you first," Danny said, clapping his hand free hand against her ass. He smacked a second time just because he liked the way she stilled and shivered after every whack of his palm against her bottom. He moved his hand slightly, sliding his fingertips into the cleft between her legs and finding her dripping wet, as he'd suspected. "I hadn't pegged you for liking angry sex," he continued. "At least not this early in our relationship. It takes quite a bit of trust for angry sex. That's why I thought you'd like the spanking first, so all of that anger could melt away. But I'm happy to fuck you first, if that's how you want to play it."
"Damn it, put me down," Lucia insisted, but her voice was no longer tinged with fury. Danny obeyed, sliding her down so she was trapped between him and the end of the bed.
"You chose that. You told me what you wanted and I followed directions," he pointed out. "Now it's my turn." He bent his head and kissed her, taking in her shocked gasp and whetting his appetite for more of her. Her mouth was warm and welcoming. He stroked her, rubbing his palms down her back and over her hips, up her torso to her breasts, her skin still warm from the bed upstairs. He cupped them and squeezed. His erection now exceeded any of the trope women used to describe an erection. He was beyond hard, beyond rigid, beyond purpled and stiff, beyond ready for sex. He was leaking pre-cum against the zipper of his jeans, making them as uncomfortable as fuck, but Lucia wasn't arguing and she was in his bedroom. He didn't want to risk re-igniting her ire by separating from her long enough to remove his pants. Instead he twisted, sitting on the end of the bed and bringing her down to sit on one of his thighs, continuing to stroke and caress her, rubbing up and down her body in a pattern he hoped both soothed her and turned her on.
When their mouths separated for a few brief seconds, she moaned. Danny couldn't help his reaction. His cock went off in his damned pants. He stiffened, but there was no help for it. Not that he wouldn’t have more of it for her – in her – shortly. But she'd delayed and argued long enough, and dressed as a fucking beacon for sex. He couldn't help it. Growling in his throat, he flipped her over his thigh and used his left hand to hold her there, smacking his right hand down on her bottom again. "Time's up, florhinza. I choose spanking," he told her, smacking again. "It took ten minutes."
"God, Danny," she moaned, twisting.
"By my count, nine more," he added, then repeated the motion, drawing a small cry from her. He gave her three more smacks, all concentrated on the tender junction of her thighs, bottom and beautiful pink lower lips. She seemed to shake more after each one, the liquid now spreading over her thighs in her arousal. "Think you can come from being spanked?" he asked.
Her only answer was a moan. He smacked again and again, until he'd given her all ten. She twisted on his thigh when he stopped, uttering the most alluring noise from her throat that he'd ever heard in his life. Inside his sticky jeans, Danny was already hard again, only having released half the spunk inside his balls. He unbuttoned and unzipped the denim torture device, though he didn't move her off his thigh.
"What do you need, Lucy girl?" he asked, cupping her rear. "Tell me what you need and I'll give it to you."
A shaky sob came from her. He squeezed the plump flesh of her bottom, and she stiffened, uttering a blasphemous curse he didn't think a girl like her would ever say. Automatically, his hand came down hard on her bottom again, and she cried out, a desperate, "Please" falling from her lips.
Danny realized, stopped. "Please, what?" he asked with a false patience. Angry sex had permuted into desperate kinky spanking sex. He couldn't wait for the rest of his fucking life.
"Spank me, damn it!" she shot back, stealing a hand beneath her to fondle herself.
He didn't object to the sassy demand. He liked it, first of all. Spanking her for it would wait for another night, when he could pin her wrist in the small of her back and spank her until she begged him for release. Instead, Danny landed a hand heavily on her ass, this time angling it so that his middle finger slipped between those luscious lower lips. He hardened again as he spanked, two more times, until she arched and tensed and nearly twisted. He held her tightly. "Tell me what you want, Lucy girl," he coaxed again.
"I want to come," she begged.
Danny spanked her one last time, hitting low so that the smack landed on her quivering labia. She hit the crest of pleasure, stiffening and shuddering so that the liquid between her legs spilled out onto his hand.
Before she could recover, he slid her off his thigh, keeping her chest down on the bed. With her ass up in the air, he stood behind her and shoved his pants down in one motion, finally releasing his anxious dick. Without pausing to think, he pushed into her roughly, then flexed his hips and slammed hard a second time.
Without any more work than that, she screamed. Pleasure concussed through her. He fucked her as he watched the jerking of her spine as she shuddered, until the waves of released clenched around his cock deep inside her. She was tight and hot, but more importantly she was so uninhibited and responsive to his touch. Even angry with him, she couldn't fight the attraction between them.
The thought of that – of her inability to resist him – was enough for his balls to retract and his spine flatten. He thrust into her two more times and roared as he spilled into her.
Danny held her close to him in the quiet aftermath. Lucia wondered what it was that had wiped out her entire life, leaving her in a life that was a blank slate. Right at this moment, it could go any direction. So did she want Danny in it, or not? And if she did, what else did she want? He'd said she could have anything, except to leave him, so what did Lucia actually want?
She supposed she needed to step back and decide, first, if she wanted to walk away from upper New York and go back to NYU. She'd have to leave behind her parents and the closer relationship she'd formed with them since the harassment had begun. She'd have to leave behind Signora Savaggio, and Danny, and the life Danny kept insisting was hers. Instead, she'd return to a tiny apartment shared with two friends who, by now, had a new roommate. She'd be a year behind the other students she'd started her program with, and without the scholarship that had helped fund her first year. It had been fun, that year in New York, but it had ended with her fleeing the stalkers that had followed her the last month of her freshman year. No one had been able to help her, not even the campus police, and she'd felt so completely alone and unsafe.
Then there was Danny. If she went back to NYU, she knew instinctively that he wouldn't consider that the end of their relationship. He'd continue to pursue her, whether it was visiting on the weekends or outright trying to convince her to leave and return to Oswego with him.
But if she didn't go back to NYU
, what did she want?
Did she want Danny? School? Marriage? Babies? To live with her parents and be Mrs. Savaggio's daytime companion while she painted through the lonely hours? What about the responsibility and care of the beautiful home that Danny's father had created and made into an artistic temple of carpentry and home fashions? Could she live with the violence of Danny's life? Even though she hadn't seen any evidence of it yet, she knew it was there.
Danny shifted, flexing his fingers against the back of her scalp as he reached to pull a sheet up over her. Her thigh was draped over his, her ankle trapped between his legs. She laid half on top of him, her head on his shoulder. He turned his head and kissed her forehead, not saying a word.
After he'd fucked her six ways to Sunday, he'd picked her up and laid her in the bed, then carefully unzipped her boots and removed both boots and stockings. He'd then carried her into the bathroom and run a bath, letting her soak in it while he showered. Afterward, he'd patted her dry and carried her, half-asleep, back to bed.
It wasn't just the sex with Danny that was spectacular, she thought. It was the care he provided, as if all his attention was on her. She knew that couldn't be true, but he was just so damn thorough that she couldn't help but feel as if she was his entire world.
Did she want that?
What woman wouldn't? She'd be a fool to walk away from it, from Danny.
The thought brought a small smile to her lips. Glad he couldn't see it, she debated on what else she actually wanted, beyond the safety of herself and her parents.
A low buzz interrupted the quiet peace. She froze, but Danny groaned and reached out to grab his phone from the bedside table. "Better be fucking important," he muttered against her hair.
Lucia stifled a giggle.
"Danny here," he growled into the device. A few seconds later, he was sitting up and flipping on the lamp beside the bed. He glanced at her as she sat up too, but then rose fluidly from the bed and grabbed his t-shirt from where he'd left it on a nearby chair. "Fuck, no. I'm on my way," he finally said, tapping to disconnect.
"What is it?" she asked.
Danny's gaze swung to her. "Get dressed," he said shortly. "Comfortable clothes. Your parents are fine, but the Albanians not so much."
Lucia sucked in a sharp breath. Danny didn't relax, though. He turned around and kept walking as he dragged on his shirt. She hurried after him. "Danny –"
"The car will be here in five minutes, Lucia. We don't have time."
"But what's wrong? I know we don't know each other that well, but –"
Danny finally swung to face her, his expression closed off to her. Distant. He didn't even drag his eyes down her naked body. "You want to know what's wrong?" he asked. "Your father shot one of them and your mother called the fucking cops, Lucia. The cops."
"Shit," she said, swallowing hard. Lucia grabbed the bathroom countertop and drew a deep breath. "What-what's going to happen?" she whispered.
"Fuck if I know," Danny replied.
FIVE
"I can't believe she called the fucking cops," Jimmy muttered, pouring himself a drink and downing it in one gulp.
Danny paced the length of Jimmy's big office, trying not to look nervous. He noted that Jimmy didn't offer him a glass of the whiskey. It would probably dull the ache when Jimmy hit him, and Jimmy wouldn't want that. He'd want Danny to feel every iota of his punishment. There were few rules to running a mafia, but they were close to immutable: Work hard. No leaving. No infighting. No poaching the wives and future wives. But most of all, keep quiet. The family business belonged in the family, not with the local, state or federal branches of law enforcement.
So what had Lucia's mother done? When the damned Albanians had finally gotten up the balls to come after them for their revenge, Lucia's father had pulled out his handgun and shot them – poorly, as two had lived and only one went through the fucker's heart. Lucia's mother, instead of calling Danny, had picked up her cell phone, called 9-1-1 and babbled about being attacked by a gang.
Frankie had almost gotten arrested until the coppers were made to understand that it wasn't the local gang who had done the home invasion robbery at Danny's downtown condo.
As it was, Lucia's father had been questioned by the police extensively before they'd agreed to present it as self-defense to the city attorney. The corporation's own lawyers showing up had finally hurried that part of the ordeal along.
"You're going to have to sell that place," Jimmy groused. "You'll never get the blood out of the damned carpet. Buy a different unit in the building if you want, though I can't see you using it much now."
Danny paused. "You firing me, boss?" he finally asked.
Jimmy turned away from window. Dawn was several hours old already, and Danny had reluctantly left Lucia with her parents at their home. Despite her obvious inability to keep her hands off her cell phone, Lucia's mother had been shaking and close to a nervous breakdown when she realized that her ingrained response to call the police for help had almost gotten her husband arrested for murder. She didn't know it might also have ended one of the most important relationships in Danny's life, nor did she care. The woman was in for another shock when she found out that Lucia no longer lived with her parents.
If he survived this interview, Lucia wasn't getting a choice. Danny would tell them himself. Lucia was his now.
"I considered it," Jimmy replied. "But who the hell would I replace you with?"
Danny blinked.
"Are they going back to New Jersey?" Jimmy asked abruptly.
"I don't know yet," Danny admitted.
Jimmy's brows rose. "Mama told Max to buy the house they are renting. Said you wouldn't want anyone else living there. I assumed it was where you deflowered their daughter and it had sentimental value. If they go back to New Jersey, you can damn well stay there when you stay in town."
"She painted –" Danny began, then stopped abruptly and stared at Jimmy. "So I'm not fired?"
Jimmy frowned at him. "As my wife would say, you've been my best friend since we were seven years old. If I broke up with you, Mama would stab me with a fork and choke me to death by stuffing me with uncooked ricotta. You didn't dial the damned phone." He paused and glared at Danny. "However –"
"I'll ask Max to see about hacking her phone and re-directing any future 9-1-1 dials to the corporation's twenty-four-seven answering service," Danny suggested. "At least when they are in Oswego."
"No, to your own goddamned phone," Jimmy ordered. "When's the wedding?"
It was, Danny reflected, painful to say. "That's her decision."
"You may come around yet," Jimmy grinned. "I felt sure you'd say Christmas Day."
"I had it all planned," Danny grumbled. "But she threw such a fit about wanting to make decisions last night, that I texted Margot and told her to hold off on the catering and the honeymoon, at least."
"You're using my assistant as your wedding planner?" Jimmy demanded.
"She's the best." Danny defended himself shamelessly. Margot was the best. He needed an assistant as efficient as Margot. He had two girls, but he'd need three more and together they still wouldn't be as efficient, or as knowledgeable, as Margot.
"Fine, then no honeymoon. Margot gets your time off."
"As long as I get Lucia, anything else can be negotiated." Danny leaned against the wall and stared at Jimmy.
Jimmy smiled at him. "That's why I didn't hit you or fire you," he said.
When Danny got to the Venezia house, Lucia's father met him at the door and took his coat. "Come into the living room," he invited. "We were just having a glass of wine."
Danny studied the man carefully. "You seem to be holding up well," he murmured.
"I was in the Italian military before I was an older, balding immigrant teaching teenage college kids the romance language of Italy," Mr. Venezia told him drily. "I bought the gun in New Jersey, of course. I didn't want Lucia or my Camila to know, but I've been carrying it off-campus since we got here. Cami
la would have insisted I rid myself of it, but she's never been the most practical. She's the one who insisted on calling the FBI in the first place, though I was reluctant."
Lucia wasn't in the room with her mother.
Camila Venezia set aside a glass of dark red wine and rose gracefully from the sofa and came to take Danny's hands. "Grazie," she told him sincerely, rising up to kiss each of his cheeks. "You have been too kind, opening your home to us and your employees and even your lawyers. We did not expect this. And we cannot repay you."
Danny frowned. "Did I say anything about expense?" he asked bluntly.
"Of course not," she returned, patting his arm.
"If you decide to return to New Jersey, I will arrange that as well."
Camila's lips twitched. "I believe that my husband will probably want to stay here," she said, raising a brow in her husband's direction. "At least until the end of the school year."
He sniffed. "A glass of wine for you, Danny Cuba?" He'd already retrieved his glass, which was significantly fuller than his wife's.
Danny shook his head. "I'm driving," he explained. He'd sent the Venezias and Lucia with his driver in the SUV and had the coupe.
"Then have a seat."
He did. Danny leaned back in the armchair and watched as the other two sank back into their places as well.
"So," Luca Venezia asked him. "What are your intentions toward my daughter?"
Danny blinked. He didn't know what Lucia had told them, but he didn't want to lie. Neither did he have any intention of keeping his attachment to her a secret. He swallowed, wondering where she was. "I'll look after her every day for the rest of her life or mine," he replied after a moment. "And our children, as long as they'll allow me to do so."
Luca snorted. "Honorably? Are you going to marry the girl?" he asked directly.
Danny looked around, but Lucia didn't seem to be lurking in any corners to see the outcome of this test. Camila watched him, but neither held a phone in their hand or had other obvious means of recording him. "If she'd have me, I'd marry her today," he finally admitted. "But she hasn't agreed yet."
The Don's Enforcer Page 5
