“Good.” I touched his shoulder to thank him for watching over my girl, and then walked into Gia’s office.
Gia’s face was covered by the giant iMac taking up most of her desk. She tilted her head to the side to look at me when she heard me enter.
I closed the door behind me and locked it. She came out from behind the desk and ran into my arms. “You’re early,” she lilted. “I wasn’t expecting you for another half hour.”
I picked Gia up and hugged her so fucking tight she gasped. “I missed you, G.”
“I missed you, too.” She stared up at me. “What happened?”
I set her on the floor, threaded my fingers between hers, and considered how I should answer her question. “Shit you don’t want to know about.”
She brushed my cheek with the back of her hand and shook her head, annoyed. “I want to know about your day, no matter how fucked up.”
“You would look at me differently if you knew all the things I have to do.”
“Have to do or want to do?”
“Aren’t they the same thing?” I countered with a cocky smirk.
“I watched you kill a man,” she said under breath. “How much worse can it get?”
She had no idea. I could do this dance all day long. Gia was safer not knowing the truth of my business.
She dropped her hand from my face and to her side. “I love you, Angelo, but some days, you test my patience. I want to be part of your life again. Like the old days.”
I gripped her by the hip, pulled her into my chest, and lowered my voice. “You’ve been talking like this for years. Either you come to accept the fact I can’t include you in every aspect of my life, or this will never work long-term. It will eat you alive.”
“Don’t talk like this, Angelo.” Her eyes filled with tears which never spilled. “When you say things like that, it makes me feel like you’re going to leave me.”
“Why would you ever think that?”
“I don’t know.” She blew out a puff of air. “You spend so much time with your brothers and Sonny over at the strip club and who knows where else.”
I laughed. “And you think I would leave you for a whore? You must be out of your damn mind, woman.” I pressed my hand to her forehead to check her temperature. “You getting sick or something?”
I never cheated on Gia. The thought never even popped into my mind. Not even once. She was it for me. There was no reason to seek out pussy when I had the best right in front of me.
“No, of course not, Lo. I know you better than that.”
“Then why would you say something like that to me?”
She shrugged. “I hate how much time you spend at the club with your brothers. I guess it makes me feel… I don’t know.”
I kissed her on the lips and slid my hand beneath her shirt, working my way up to her perky tits. She stilled when I cupped her breast over her lacy bra. “You have me for the rest of the night. What do you want to do with that time?”
She moaned when I twisted her nipple between my fingers through the fabric. “What do you want to do?”
“It’s your special day, babe. Your choice.”
Gia always let me make the decisions. Even though she was stubborn and bossy, she let me handle everything. I even ordered for her when I took her to dinner. She loved when I was in control.
“We can do anything I want?” She beamed with delight. “Are you serious?”
I nodded. “Within reason, of course.”
“A few of my friends from school are meeting up at a bar off-campus. Can we go?”
“What’s the name of it?”
“O’Shea’s.”
“You know that’s where the Irish Mob hangs out, right? It’s not the kind of place you go to dance.”
“I know, silly.” She tapped me on my arm. “Do you take me for an idiot? My friend is dating Connor O’Shea, and she wants me to meet him. So, can we go or what?”
“Yeah, I guess so. If it’ll make you happy.”
Her choice in bar was the last place I would have picked, but there were worse spots to drink than O’Shea’s. My family was friendly with the Irish. They helped us out when we needed assistance pushing drugs or guns.
“It will,” she squealed and kissed me on the cheek. “Let me grab my things.”
“I’m taking you to dinner first.”
“Dolce?”
“Yeah. Ma’s working there tonight. I haven’t seen her in a while. She’s mad I missed dinner on Sunday.”
She smiled. “You’re a good son.”
“Not a good man.”
She rolled her eyes and turned around, bending over the front of her desk to grab her purse from the bottom drawer. My dick sprung to life the second her dress rode up her long, lean thighs.
I moved behind her. With my hand on my zipper and the other on her hip, I leaned forward. “Stay right here, baby. I want you just like this.”
“Angelo.” She giggled, while I pushed her panties to the side. “Be quiet, okay? Someone might hear us.”
“Let them fucking listen,” I growled, fisting my cock in my hand. “I want everyone to know who owns this pussy.” I dragged my finger along her slick folds and shoved it into her, withdrawing it long enough to replace my finger with my cock.
Gia was always wet for me. All I had to do was enter the room, and she was soaked.
“You want to know what I did today, G?” I pulled out and slammed back into her, each time harder than the last.
“Yes,” she moaned. “Tell me. Give me all of your pain, all of your anger. I want it. All of it.”
Gia liked sex more when it hurt. So did I. She loved it, even more, when I confessed my sins while I fucked her until she couldn’t walk anymore.
“I ripped out a man’s teeth. Only a few of them but enough to make him bleed.”
“More,” she whispered. “Give me more. Why did you do it?”
“Because he owes my family a lot of money.”
She wanted more of me, more secrets. Anything I would give she would take. Sex with Gia was therapeutic. I could make my confession, unburden my blackened soul, and cleanse my guilt with each orgasm I stole from her.
I spread her open, shoving my cock deeper and deeper, burying myself inside her. She took every inch of me. With each thrust, I tore another scream from her throat until she was speechless. I crashed on top of her, my forehead damp with sweat.
“I think there’s something wrong with me,” she whispered, out of breath.
“Why is that?” I pulled out of her and watched as our juices ran down her inner thigh.
“Because I like it when you fuck me and tell me all the bad shit you did today. It’s such a turn on.” She pushed her dress over her ass and spun around to face me. “Normal girls don’t get wet when their man tells them they tortured someone.”
I tucked myself back into my pants, zipped up, and then kissed her forehead. “That’s why you’re perfect for me.”
“And you me,” she countered.
I stroked her jaw with my thumb. “Ready for dinner, beautiful?”
She smiled up at me.
We left for the restaurant with another man’s blood on my hands and my dried cum on her inner thighs. Our relationship was beyond fucked up. But it was our fucked-up mess.
Chapter Eleven
Gia
Before I left the office, I slipped into a tight black dress that hugged my curves and stopped a few inches above the knees. Decked out in my finest jewels and a splash of makeup—which was rare for me—I felt like a different person. For a second, I reminded myself of my mother, except she had hair like silk, and I had my father’s curls.
Angelo drove us to the restaurant with his hand on my thigh, flashing a smile causing my heart to skip a few beats. He wore a charcoal-gray suit and white shirt with no tie. Like every man in his family, he wore custom suits, tailored to fit him perfectly.
He whipped through the city, determined to get us to Dolce before th
e peak of rush hour. Angelo held the wheel with one hand and tapped his fingers on my inner thigh—a single act that had me dripping wet for him. We spoke a few words in the fifteen minutes it took for him to navigate the city, the silence welcome after the day I’d had. I was tired from the mind-blowing sex on my desk. I was exhausted from thinking about the event we had to attend together that weekend.
He drove like an animal. My body tensed, mostly because I wanted him to handle me the way he took each curve.
“You’re quiet,” Angelo said, parking at the valet stand in front of a crowded restaurant. “What’s going on inside that pretty little head of yours? Did I fuck you so hard you forgot how to speak?”
I rolled my eyes at him and laughed. “I’m just taking it all in.” I shrugged against the leather seat, my eyes trained on the brightly lit restaurant. “I have a lot to deal with… you know, with my dad, the new acquisition with your family, and of course, the dinner this weekend. I’m just glad school is almost over.”
A short man wearing a red-and-black valet jacket opened my door before Angelo could respond. “Miss Carlini, welcome to Dolce.”
Surprised he knew my name, I raised my eyebrow at Angelo. He winked, a wide grin stretching across his lips. Then, he slid out of the driver’s seat.
“Thank you,” I said as the man helped me out of the sports car.
Angelo patted him on the shoulder and dropped the keys along with a hundred-dollar bill into his palm. “Thanks, Jimmy.” Then he guided me toward the restaurant.
Another man, middle-aged with short, dark hair, held open a massive oak door for us, greeting Angelo and me by name. We stepped inside, and the scents of garlic and herbs assaulted my senses. It smelled so amazing I could practically taste it on my tongue.
The space was deceptively large with a second floor that overlooked an open kitchen you could see into from every angle. The walls were brick, and the floor was a dark shade of bamboo. In the far corner, I noticed a wine bar made of casks, set up for tastings. The place was simple yet elegant.
Behind the host desk, a young woman with long dark hair waved at Angelo. “Mr. Morelli, your table is ready. Please follow me.”
We never waited anywhere we went. Red carpets were rolled out when you were with a Morelli. Either out of fear or loyalty, it didn’t matter. It was nice to be on top. I loved the special treatment I received when I was with Angelo. I felt like a queen, and he always made sure of it.
She escorted us through the dining area to a private room in the back, checking out Angelo over her shoulder as she made polite conversation. I snorted at her eye-fucking of my man. Angelo would never leave me for another woman. He never even looked at other women. But her not-so-casual perusal of my man didn’t make me want to punch her in the face any less.
French doors opened to an impressive space with leather couches built into the walls. On our right was a bar and entrance to the kitchen. We slid into an oversize semicircular booth lit by candlelight and centered beneath a massive crystal chandelier.
The hostess unfolded a cloth napkin on my lap and poured us each a glass of wine before exiting.
I touched his thigh, taking a sip of what tasted like pinot grigio. “Let’s get drunk and have sex for the rest of the night. I’ve changed my mind about the bar.”
He laughed. “As you wish.”
I tapped his wine glass with mine and took another sip. “Did your dad tell you about the dinner we have to attend this weekend? My dad was super pissed.”
Angelo gently stroked my shoulder with his fingers. “Yep. I was told to buy a tux for me and a dress for you.”
I cocked an eyebrow at him. “You were told?”
“By my dad.”
“Did you buy me a dress?”
“Nope.” He kissed me on the cheek. “I thought you’d want to come with me. I know how picky you are when it comes to clothes.”
I glanced over at him and smiled. “You’re taking me shopping? That alone makes me want to go to this stuffy fundraiser.”
“At least that makes one of us who wants to go. My dad told my brothers and me we were going. There was no discussion.”
“Do you know why we have to go? Something weird happened at the office the other day.”
Before Angelo had time to respond, his mother stepped through the double doors, a wide grin on her face.
“Cucciolo,” she said. I loved Mrs. Morelli’s nickname for Angelo. He had sad puppy dog eyes, which made it the perfect name to call him. Glowing with genuine excitement, she leaned over and kissed him on his left and then right cheek.
“Hey, Ma.” He released her from his grip and slid his hand across the back of my neck.
I greeted his mother the same way as Angelo had, with a kiss on each cheek.
“You eating with us, Ma?” Angelo patted the open space next to him.
She shook her head. “No, I have to get back to the kitchen.”
“Nothing doing,” Angelo said to her. “You work too hard. Sit and eat with us.”
“I wish I could, baby. We’re shorthanded tonight. Two of our line chefs are out with the flu. One of the vendors ran out of tomatoes, so I had to send someone to the market to buy more.”
“We can help you.” Angelo attempted to slide off the bench, and Ma pushed her hand out to stop him.
“It’s all taken care of. You two sit and eat. Enjoy your dinner. You don’t get to spend enough time together.”
“I don’t get to spend enough time with you either, Ma.” He touched my forearm and then his mother’s. “I have the two most important women in my life right here. It’s not often I get to see you together. Come. Sit. Have some wine with us.”
Ma tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear and straightened a red blouse that hung loosely from her petite frame. “I ate an hour ago. How about I have dessert with you?”
Angelo clutched my hand tighter, holding it under the table on his thigh. The warmth from his body rushed through mine. “Sounds good, Ma. Don’t work too hard.”
His mother opened the door, and then, she disappeared into the crowded restaurant.
“I wish she would knock this off,” Angelo growled. “I hate that she chooses to spend all her time slaving over a stove.”
“Maybe she likes to cook.”
“Ma loves to cook. But she could cook at home, where she’s not killing herself to serve a bunch of strangers.”
“Have you ever thought maybe she does it to get out of the house?”
“You mean to get away from my dad?” I nodded, and he continued, “I guess I never thought of it that way. I’d want to get the fuck away from him too if I were her. He doesn’t deserve my mother.”
“She’s incredible.”
“You know he sees this whore on the side. He doesn’t even try to hide it either. It makes me fucking sick. You don’t have a woman like Ma at home and go off and fuck young girls. I’d never do that to you, G. I want you to know that. I’d never embarrass you like my old man does to Ma.”
Unlike most of the men he knew, Angelo was the faithful kind. “I know you wouldn’t. Because I’d cut your fucking dick off so you could never do it again.”
He shook his head, laughing. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that?”
“I’d have to be to date you,” I countered.
“Don’t be a smart ass, woman.” He hooked his arm around me and pulled me into his chest, cradling me. Angelo smelled of his aftershave, my favorite scent in the entire world.
“I’m joking.” I brushed my lips against his and tasted wine. He smelled so good I stuck my tongue out to taste him, and he parted his lips for me.
We kissed for a few seconds, soft and sensual for once. Angelo made love to my mouth. He was never this gentle with me but always kind. When we were younger, he took everything slowly. But as we grew older, his touch turned rough and passionate, his kisses forceful and full of pure hunger. He kissed me as if I was his last breath, and he wanted to steal it back.
> Our lips separated when a man cleared his throat at the edge of our table. We hadn’t even heard him approach. The head chef, a man who spoke mostly Italian, delivered our meals. We started with focaccia topped with pomodoro sauce, followed by pasta e fagioli soup, Caesar salad, and gnocchi in a creamy Gorgonzola sauce.
“I need to ask you something about this charity dinner.”
Angelo wiped his mouth with the napkin on his lap. “What do you want to know?”
“Why did Paulie threaten my dad over it?”
He narrowed his eyes at me, his jaw clenched in anger. “Paulie threatened him?”
“Well, not exactly. He implied that your dad would not be happy unless my dad made room for all of you at his table. My mom is pissed off. She wanted to invite the women she plays tennis with and their husbands.”
“Your mom has never liked me,” he shot back.
“That’s because of your dad. She hates him for roping my dad into his business.”
“I hate to break it to you, babe, but your father was all-in when it came to helping out mine. How do you think your dad got the money to start Carlini Construction? The fundraiser is a business transaction, nothing more. Don’t read into it too much. Your dad is just as dirty as we are, only he looks clean on the outside.”
I grabbed his collar and pulled him to me. “So do you in your thousand dollar suits.”
“There’s not a clean thing about me, G. Everything I do is dirty.”
“This conversation about getting dirty and clean is turning me on,” I admitted.
“What doesn’t turn you on?” Angelo moved his hand up the inseam of my thigh and pushed my panties to the side. “I could kill someone while I fuck you, and you would scream like a fucking porn star for me.” He slammed two fingers into me with so much force he tore a moan right from my lips. “You’re always so fucking wet for me.” Angelo withdrew his fingers long enough to add a third and thrust them into me, filling me completely.
“Angelo,” I moaned, gripping the edge of the table. “What if someone walks in here?”
The First Sin (Sins of the Past Book 1) Page 8
