I hate Luca Rossini. But I love the way he touched me last night. I enjoyed it enough to let him give me four orgasms before we went to sleep and then another this morning after we woke. I was even the one who initiated sex before he got out of bed to shower.
Something is wrong with me. Terribly wrong.
Luca Rossini is a monster. A monster with hands that bring me the most intense pleasure I’ve ever experienced. I wasn’t expecting that after our dreadful first encounter.
“Make him believe that you enjoy the sex,” my mother said.
“Make the most out of his appetite for sex,” she also said.
I was supposed to be pretending, and I was in the beginning, but then something unexpected happened. Luca wanted to pleasure me. He was determined to do so. I saw it in his eyes. And then I felt it.
“Is everything okay with you today?” Peter asks.
“Yeah. Of course.”
“You seem a bit distracted.”
“Sorry. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”
I’m typically asleep by ten when I have rehearsal the next day but not last night. Luca and I had barely even gotten started at ten o’clock. The sex and the lengthy in-between conversations went on for hours. We didn’t fall asleep until after two, and then he had to get up at six for an early meeting.
We had a busy night and morning.
“I’m planning to practice my fouetté this weekend.”
“I can come over and help you.”
I could actually use Peter’s help, but I know having him over isn’t an option. I can never mix my life at the dance company with my life as a Bellini. Or Rossini. And let’s be honest. I can’t trust Luca to behave. He’s already told me that he doesn’t like my male dance partner putting his hands on me.
Luca would threaten Peter if he ever came face-to-face with him. I don’t doubt that for a second, and I can’t take that kind of risk.
“That’s so nice of you to offer, but we’re going to our house in the Hamptons after rehearsal on Friday. Just a quick little weekend getaway.”
“That sounds like fun. Maybe another time then?”
“For sure.”
Today’s rehearsal is mostly a bust because I’m unable to concentrate on what I’m supposed to be doing. I’m relieved when five o’clock comes, and then I see the black Cadillac at the curb waiting for me, its driver ready to take me back to Luca. But I’m not ready to go back to him. I need a breather. And to talk to someone. Someone who isn’t genetically tied to me.
Elena.
Sal doesn’t question me when I give him Elena’s address. He simply nods and pulls away, driving in that direction.
My life as Luca’s betrothed hasn’t turned out as I expected. I imagined myself his prisoner with little to no contact with my friends and family. But the truth is that Luca has given me the freedom to come and go as I please. He treats me as though this is a real relationship.
I can tell that he isn’t happy about my job at the dance company, but he didn’t demand that I quit. I think that’s only because he expects the problem to fix itself when—if—I become pregnant, hence the reason he hasn’t given me any ultimatums about it. It’s a smart move on his part.
He is turning out to be very different from the idea I had in my mind, but he’s still the man who killed those who meant the world to me. Nothing will never change that.
Elena opens the door and squeals when she sees me. Throwing our arms around each other, we spin in the hallway of her apartment building. “Emilia! How… how are you here?”
“I’ll explain if you let me in.”
“Oh yeah. Get your skinny little ballerina ass in here and tell me everything.”
Nic was my best friend, but Elena has always been my best girlfriend. I’ve known her my entire life because her father was Papà’s consigliere, or right-hand man. He managed to escape the wedding day massacre because he was away on business for my family. Had his flight not been delayed, he would have met the same fate as the other Bellini men on that day.
Elena goes to the cabinet and takes out two glasses. “We need wine.”
“Yes, wine, please. A lot of it.”
She pours two reds, passing one to me before she curls into the corner of her sofa. “I’ve been so worried about you.”
“I can’t believe I’ve only been with him for a week. It feels like so much longer.”
“Is he the cruel bastard that I suspect he is? Has he been horrible to you?”
Luca is like two different people inside the same body. He has a vile side with a cruel streak, and that part of him wants to hurt me. But then there’s also another half of him who wants to protect me. It’s confusing.
“The first night was awful. He told me he wouldn’t marry me unless I proved my fertility to him by getting pregnant… so that began on night one. And it wasn’t pleasant at all. It was nothing like what I had imagined it to be.” But then, of course, I had always imagined it being with Nic.
“He can’t do that. It’s not the way. You’ll be dishonored if you aren’t married.”
“Luca Rossini doesn’t care about tradition or my honor.”
“And you went along with it because you had no other choice?”
I nod. “I was angry when he told me what I had to do. And you know how I am. I couldn’t lie down and let him have me without fighting him in some kind of way. I provoked him and took jabs at his manhood. And he made me sorry for it. He was brutal, and it was awful the first time.”
“That must have been terrible. I want to go kill him for you right now.”
Funny she should mention killing. “My mother and grandmother want me to kill Luca and all of the Rossini men after I give him a son. A son who will be heir to the Rossini and Bellini empires.”
Elena grins. “And you’ll be the mother of the boy. That’s a brilliant plan.”
“Giving him an heir means getting pregnant, which obviously means having sex.”
“Which is unfortunate but necessary.”
Nothing about last night or this morning was unfortunate.
“Mamma told me to pretend that I enjoy the sex. She says I must be a dutiful fiancée until I become a dutiful wife.”
“As much as I hate it for you, I think that’s good advice.”
“Last night was our second time. And I was pretending to enjoy it. And—”
I bite my bottom lip, suppressing my smile because I don’t want Elena to think I’m some kind of sicko.
“And?”
“You can’t judge me for what I’m about to tell you.”
“I understand you’re doing this because you have no other choice. I would never judge any of your actions.”
I’m about to blow Elena’s mind. “I liked it.”
“You liked what?”
“Sex with Luca.”
“Oh… ohhh.”
“You’re judging me.”
“I’m not judging you. I’m… thinking.”
I need to explain. Defend myself.
“I thought it was going to be awful like the first time, but it wasn’t. He was gentle and took great care in ensuring that I enjoyed everything he was doing.”
“Why do you think he was so different from one time to the next?”
“He didn’t know I was a virgin. He thought I had given myself to Nic, and that really pissed him off since he sees me as his property. And then I made him even madder because I used Nic to provoke him.”
“I see.”
“Last night was good. Sooo good.” I bite my bottom lip again, but this time I’m unsuccessful at preventing a grin. “And this morning too.”
“Define sooo good.”
“He gave me four orgasms last night.”
“And this morning?”
“Only one. He was in a hurry.”
“Only one orgasm she says.” Elena laughs. “Do you know how lucky you are? No man has ever given me an orgasm.”
“Not even Roberto?”
/> “Especially not Roberto.”
“Wow. I would have expected more out of him.”
“As did I. But back to you and Luca.”
“The man who murdered my fiancé is giving me orgasms. And I like it. I want more of them. And I want more of his devil dick. I’m enchanted by it. How sick is that?”
“Is it possible that you see Luca Rossini as something more?”
“As in what?”
“He’s been your betrothed forever. Even if you didn’t know him, his name has been in your head all this time. Maybe somewhere deep inside you feel like he’s something to you instead of nothing.” Elena shrugs. “I don’t know. I was just throwing that out there as a possible explanation.”
“I don’t guess the idea is completely far-fetched. But even if there was some truth to it, he would have ended any feelings I had for him when he murdered my loved ones.”
“Orgasms don’t require affection.”
“Obviously.”
In his bed, I’m able to forget who he is. And I become his. Slowly, I feel him possessing me.
“You have to marry this asshole and give him a baby. You might as well get some perks out of it. If it’s orgasms and millions of dollars, then so be it.”
Orgasms and millions. I could do worse.
“Have you ever seen Luca?”
“Once, but it was through a crowd and at a distance in a disco.”
“He is—” I try to think of the right word, but only one comes to mind. “Beautiful.”
“At least he’s good-looking. You could have gotten stuck with somebody who looks like Joey Fiore.”
That guy gives me the creeps. “Totally.”
“How long is your leash?”
“Luca lets me do as I please.”
“Then go out with me tonight.”
I just left an eight-hour rehearsal, and my feet are killing me. “Look at me. I’m a total mess.”
“You can get ready here and wear something of mine.”
I haven’t been out in so long. I miss the party scene. “Where are you thinking of going?”
“Beat’s.”
Gosh, I love Beat’s. I haven’t been in months.
“Okay. I’m in.”
* * *
Luca is sitting in bed reading when I open the bedroom door. He looks up from his book and places it on his lap. “It’s after midnight.”
“I didn’t mean to stay out so late.” I really didn’t, but Elena and I were having so much fun. Tonight was the first time in weeks that I didn’t feel like I was drowning in sorrow.
“I’m told that you visited your friend Elena, and then the two of you went to a disco?”
How does he know that? Did Sal call him? Or is he having me followed?
“We did.”
“Did you have a good time?”
“Yes. It felt like old times.”
“But these aren’t old times. They’re new times.”
“I’ve not forgotten.”
He uses his finger to beckon me. When I reach the side of the bed, he scoots over and I sit on the edge next to him.
He tucks a wild strand of hair behind my ear and searches my face. “We’ve discussed this, Emilia. You know that there are people out there who would hurt you simply to hurt me.”
“But we aren’t married. As far as they know, I’m no one to you.”
“I went to a lot of trouble to claim you as mine, and people have taken notice. For that reason alone, they are very aware of how special you are to me. Many of them would like nothing more than to take you from me.”
He’s simultaneously scolding me while also making me feel like the most important woman in the world to him. It’s annoying and sexy, but mostly sexy.
“You have to think about these things now. You could already be carrying my son, and I need you to be safe at all times.”
I breathe in deeply and release the breath slowly. “I’m not carrying your son.”
“You got your period?”
“Yes. This afternoon.”
If he’s disappointed, it doesn’t show on his face. “Okay. That gives us a point of reference for calculating your fertile time next month.”
“I don’t know how to do that—calculate my fertile time.”
“My mother can explain it to you.”
I can’t talk to Viviana about having sex with her son.
“I’d be more comfortable asking my mother.”
“That’s understandable.”
He folds down the corner of his book and places it on the nightstand. Reaching for my hand, he tugs. “Come here.”
He guides me to sit on his lap, straddling him. His hands cradle my face, and he pulls me close for a kiss.
“It’s going to happen next month. You’ll see that I’m right.”
“And what if it doesn’t? Are you going to toss me aside and find another Mafia princess to marry?”
“You will have my son inside of you by the end of next month. I’m certain.”
He isn’t answering my question.
“Tell me, Luca. Will you cast me aside after ruining me?”
“There’s no point in having that conversation right now. No good can come from it.”
He’ll do it. I can tell by the words that he isn’t saying. And that means the pressure is on.
I have to get pregnant. There is no other option.
14
Luca Rossini
“Miracles” by Jefferson Starship. I hear it somewhere in the house, and I’m certain it must be Emilia playing it. None of my men would be listening to that kind of music.
I follow the sound and locate Emilia in the sunroom at the back of the house.
A leotard. Ballet slippers. Hair in a bun. Wearing the full ballerina getup, minus the tutu, she’s standing on the toes of one foot, rotating round and round like one of those dolls inside a child’s jewelry box.
Damn, it looks painful. I can’t imagine the strength it must take to do something like that.
My betrothed is mesmerizing to watch. And sexy as hell.
She lowers herself from her toes and stands on both feet. Panting, she rests her hands on her hips.
“That was truly amazing.”
She twists and looks at me over her shoulder. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Not long. What is that spin thing called?”
“A French fouetté. I mastered it years ago, but I have to do a series of them at the end of act 3. By that point, my legs are exhausted, so I’m having a hard time sticking it.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
Her head tilts. “You’d do that?”
“Help you? Of course.”
“You don’t think it would make you soft?”
“I wouldn’t put on tights for you, but yeah, I would help you if you needed me.”
She giggles. “That’s a kind offer, but I just have to keep doing it over and over to build endurance in my muscles.”
“I didn’t realize how much strength you had in your legs until now.”
“I’m small but mighty.”
“I see that. Do you mind if I hang around for a while and watch you practice?”
“I don’t mind.”
Strong. Graceful. Talented. Skilled. Beautiful. Emilia is all of those things and so much more.
I watch her for a while and see her becoming frustrated with herself. “I think you could benefit from a break.”
“I could benefit from more practice.”
I go to her and place my hands on her shoulders. “You can’t build endurance in one day. You have practice every weekday for the next six or seven weeks. Don’t worry. You’ll build the strength required during that time.”
She lifts her arm, using her forearm to wipe the sweat from her brow. “You’re probably right.”
I wink at her and smile. “I’m always right.”
“You’re always arrogant.”
I chuckle because Emilia’s hon
esty entertains me. I love how she’s just that way. With her, there’s none of those stroke-my-ego games like with other women. She simply tells it like it is.
“Call it a day and do something with me?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Anything you want.”
“Anything?”
“Your choice… within reason.”
“Okay. I want to go to the movies and see Pretty Baby. Is that within reason?”
“What’s it about?”
“A whorehouse in New Orleans. You should enjoy that.”
She wants to see a movie about a whorehouse? Sounds good to me. “Who am I to turn that down?”
* * *
Technically, Pretty Baby is a movie about a whorehouse in New Orleans, but it was not the kind of whorehouse movie I was expecting to see.
“What did you think of the movie?”
“I didn’t like it.” I didn’t like it at all.
“You didn’t? I thought it was really good. What did you not like about it?”
“The main character was a twelve-year-old child whose virginity was auctioned off to the highest bidder. It was disgusting. And her relationship with the photographer was repulsive.”
Emilia stops walking, and I turn back to look at her. “What?”
She looks at me, saying nothing. Looking puzzled.
“What is it?”
“Don’t you have dealings in the pornography industry?”
This girl. Did her mother not teach her that she shouldn’t poke her nose around in family business?
“Don’t ask me questions like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I will never tell you anything about family business.”
“My father often talked with my mother about family business. I’m guessing Marco does with Viviana as well.”
“They may discuss some things, but I can promise you that porn production isn’t one of them.”
Like my mother, Emilia will learn to pretend that pornography doesn’t fund her many shopping sprees or luxury vacations.
“I overheard my father talking about it one time. He said your family is heavily involved in it. I was just curious about your role where that’s concerned.”
Well, she already knows. “I don’t have a role in it. Someone else handles it.”
Waiting for my Queen: A Dark Mafia Romance Page 9
