by Bethany-Kris
He didn’t regret it at all.
Not when he had her tight body under him, moving in the very best way. He hadn’t bothered to pull his clothes back on after their shower. Besides, she took his shirt anyway, and he didn’t see the point in getting dressed. Not when he was liable to spend the rest of his night trying to keep Lucia out of her clothes.
His head tipped down, and he caught her mouth in a bruising kiss. Those hands of hers slipped down his chest as her thighs wrapped tightly around his waist, dragging him even closer. The sensations of her nails dragging lines down his skin while her naked sex ground against his hardening cock made him crazy.
So fucking insane.
It never failed to amaze him how every touch from this woman felt like the first time. Each kiss, every stroke of her hands across his body, and the way she felt under him. Her sounds were music. Beautiful, and addicting. If there was a silk he wouldn’t mind paying for, it was the softness of her body under his hands.
He’d die to feel that all the time.
“Please, please.”
Her words whispered along his skin as his mouth found her throat. She tasted like candy and salt and sex. Him, too. She tasted like he’d been all fucking over her. Because he had.
Those fucking hands of hers slipped under his boxer-briefs, and found his length. His teeth found her pulse point at the same time she squeezed his cock, and stroked him from base to tip. All the while, she kept rolling her hips, and making those noises he just couldn’t get enough of.
So responsive.
So beautiful.
Perfect.
Every inch of her was absolutely perfect for him.
He was two seconds away from burying himself exactly where he wanted to be the most—between her damn thighs again—when a noise in the background drew him back to reality with a harsh yank. Like a damn hand around his throat that practically ripped him away from Lucia.
“Fuck,” he groaned, pressing his forehead against her chest.
Her hands let him go, but skimmed up his bare back at the same time. “It’s fine,” she said, laughing. “Go answer the phone.”
He could have ignored it, except that ringtone meant it was his sister. And the only reason why Rose would be calling was for Diego. No way could Renzo ignore that.
“Yeah, shit, I better.”
Thankfully, Lucia didn’t make any effort to pull him back to her as he pushed away, and clamored off the bed to find his phone. That didn’t mean it was easy, though. All he had to do was peek over his shoulder and see her spread out on the bed with her pussy on display, glistening wet, and ready for him, and he wanted to crawl right back there.
Fuck the call.
But no.
He couldn’t do that.
It took him entirely too long to find the goddamn phone shoved under his forgotten jeans on the floor. How the phone had even made it to there when he’d put it on the bed earlier, he didn’t know. He supposed that was a testament to the mess he and Lucia had made in their popcorn battle.
By the time he did find the phone, it had stopped ringing. Renzo was quick to call his sister back, and Rose picked up before the second ring.
“Sorry,” Rose said in a heavy breath, “I didn’t want to call.”
“I told you to, though.”
His sister’s laugh sounded bleak, but in the background, he could hear Diego wailing, “You said, Rose, you said so!”
“He was fine,” his sister muttered, “and then I mentioned—just to make him feel okay—that if we needed to, we could take him back to you. He took that to mean he was going back home tonight, or you were coming here. When I tried to explain that, no, you were not coming unless he needed you to—”
“He had a meltdown,” Renzo filled in.
“Yeah. Shit, I’m sorry, Ren.”
He didn’t blame his sister.
Diego could be fickle like that. He wanted what he wanted, and nine times out of ten, what the kid wanted was his big brother.
Pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingertips, he turned to glance at Lucia. Instead of laying back spread-eagle on the bed, she had sat up and crossed her legs one over the other. It was a shame, really. He couldn’t see the heaven between her thighs anymore, and she was frowning.
Shit.
He did not want to ruin their day and night, but—
“Diego?” Lucia mouthed.
Renzo nodded.
She shrugged, and offered him a small smile. “You should go get him.”
He gave her a look.
She just laughed.
“Go get him. It’s okay. We can put a movie on, order food up, and he’ll have a great time.”
He would.
The kid loved Lucia.
Renzo was just now understanding—because he’d known for a while—how much Lucia cared about Diego, too. She didn’t look like she felt that her time with him was ruined. She didn’t care at all that the rest of their day and night would be spent keeping Diego entertained.
And hell …
Maybe he loved her for that even more.
“Ren?” his sister asked, bringing him back to the call.
He checked the clock on the bedside table. Already, it was well into the afternoon. By the time he made it to Brooklyn, and got back with Diego, it would probably be supper time or a little later.
“Tell him I’ll be there in an hour, maybe a little more,” Renzo said.
“Did you hear that, Diego?”
Apparently, she’d had him on speakerphone because Diego’s wailing stopped, the kid sniffled, and said, “Okay, Ren.”
That was that.
He said goodbye, and hung up the phone. He made quick work of shrugging on his jeans, and by the time he got to Lucia, she was already pulling off his shirt, and handing it over to him.
Damn.
He tried not to ogle her tits.
And failed like a fucker.
“I will be dressed by the time you get back,” she warned as he slipped on his shirt.
“Do you want to come with me?”
She eyed the mess on the floor. “I should clean this up, shouldn’t I?”
“I’ll help, if you—”
“I can do it.”
“Should have gotten a two-bedroom suite, I think.”
Just in case.
He’d remember that next time.
Lucia reached out, fisted his shirt and yanked him in for a burning kiss. Then, she murmured against his lips, “Go get your brother. And don’t worry about me. I’m not going anywhere.”
Good to know.
Not that he ever doubted her.
• • •
Diego skipped ahead of Renzo with his blue backpack jumping on his shoulders with every step. It was very possible that the kid was more excited about seeing Lucia than he was about the fact his brother had come to get him. Renzo wasn’t willing to admit that, though.
“Can I get pizza, too?” Diego asked over his shoulder.
Renzo chuckled, and nodded. “You sure can.”
Whatever this kid wanted, Renzo would give him. Or at the very least, try. It was the least he could do for Diego, considering everything else the kid had to deal with.
“Be careful with my bag, Ren,” Diego said as seriously as he could manage in his four-year-old squeaky voice. “I got the best car.”
Yeah, Renzo saw it.
In the box.
In a million little pieces.
That he would have to put together.
He didn’t mind, though. That model car would keep Diego occupied for days. And it gave Renzo the chance to spend quality time with his little brother, too.
Definitely worth it.
Renzo smiled. “I won’t break your new toys.”
“Good.”
“The door with the seven on it,” Renzo told Diego as he was coming up to the room in question. “Just go right in—Lucia’s in there waiting for you.”
Diego pumped a tiny fist in the ai
r, let out a holler, and picked up his pace. Renzo would have jogged to catch up with his brother, but he figured the kid was fine. As he told Diego, the room was unlocked. Diego slipped inside, but left the door open.
“Lucia!”
“You don’t need to yell for her, it’s one damn room, Diego.”
“Lucia!”
Why was he yelling?
Kids were strange creatures.
Renzo figured out exactly why Diego had been yelling for Lucia when he entered the hotel room, and found it empty. Clean, with no popcorn on the floor like he’d left it. The bed made, not messed from the two of them rolling around in the sheets. He blinked, and took in the space again.
Her things were gone.
She was gone.
The bathroom door was left wide open.
Diego turned around to face Renzo with a frown. “Where’s Lucia?”
He would have answered his brother, but something on the bedside table caught his eye. He dropped the bags he was carrying, and crossed the room. Plucking the handwritten note up that looked like it had been scrawled on a writing pad, and ripped out, his rage blew out of control.
Eleven words.
Two sentences.
One signature.
That’s all the note was.
Yet, it still killed him inside. Killed him, and made him so fucking angry, too.
I warned you, didn’t I, Renzo?
Stay away from my daughter.
—LM
SEVENTEEN
“Lucia, I hope you understand why your father is doing this,” the enforcer droned on in the driver’s seat like he might think Lucia was listening to him. She wasn’t. “Do you know how it would look for your family if you were found in a hotel room with a guy? There’s no reason for you to be getting involved with a young man who—”
“I’m sorry,” Lucia murmured, continuing her staring contest with the window even as she spoke, “what are you paid to do again?”
“Excuse—”
“Because I don’t think you’re paid to talk to me at all.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Lucia saw the man’s shoulders tense from her comment. Yeah, she bet that one sucked. She wasn’t some stupid little girl with her head stuck in the sand like a lot of people thought when they looked at her. She knew a hell of a lot more about her family and their business as a mafia than anyone really knew. Besides, no one ever hid the details when she thought to ask, too.
Enforcers weren’t very high up on the food chain. And like fuck was Lucia going to allow an errand boy or muscle to lecture her on what she should or should not be doing. She doubted this man was a virgin, and she hadn’t seen a ring on his finger, either. No way was he going to chide her on behavior when she seriously doubted he was innocent.
He couldn’t be.
Look what he did for a living.
“Your father was right,” the man muttered, “you’re not like yourself lately, Lucia.”
She laughed, and went back to staring out the window. The passing buildings leading into upper Manhattan were a far nicer sight than the enforcer glaring at her in the rearview mirror. “Is that all he says about me? Shame.”
The enforcer grunted, but otherwise, kept quiet.
She was grateful.
Lucia was not in the mood to get in a sparring match with anyone, let alone the man who practically threatened to break down her hotel room door if she didn’t come out willingly. By order of your father, Lucia. Well, it was him and another man, but she didn’t know where that guy went. She was taken with this man while the other one headed inside the hotel to grab her things. Or, that’s what she was told.
She scoffed inwardly, and glowered at her reflection in the window. This was getting ridiculous, wasn’t it?
Now, Lucian was just going to pull her out of every situation he didn’t like? Forcibly remove her from places?
Okay.
If taking away her car didn’t stop her from leaving whenever the hell she wanted, and doing whatever she wanted, then nothing would. Besides, her father forgot that Lucia had access to an entire trust fund that Lucian couldn’t touch, too. Compliments of her biological grandfather before his murder. Once she had turned eighteen, all that money became hers to do with what she wanted, whenever she wanted.
What was it, twenty million, now?
Something like that.
If she wanted another vehicle that he didn’t buy …. if she wanted anything at all, she could go get it herself. Lucian was living in the clouds if he thought stepping in and making things difficult for Lucia was going to stop her from seeing Renzo if she wanted to do just that. It wouldn’t do anything but annoy her until she figured something else out.
“Almost at the restaurant,” the enforcer muttered from the front.
Lucia had a good mind to tell him she didn’t give a damn how close they were, but she opted to keep quiet. She probably pissed him off enough already without adding to it. Plus, it wasn’t really his fault, and she knew that. He was just doing what he had been told where she was concerned. He was given an order, and he followed it through.
Resting back in the seat, Lucia’s fingers itched to have her phone. At least then, she could call or text Renzo and let him know what happened. She bet Renzo was back at the hotel by now … probably wondering where in the hell she was, or why she took off.
Not that it mattered.
She didn’t even have her phone.
They took it away.
And her, too.
They took her from Renzo, too.
That pissed her off far more.
“You know,” the man droned on from the front again.
Why was he still talking?
“No, I don’t know, and I don’t care to know,” Lucia grumbled.
Jesus, just let me stew in peace.
It wasn’t hard.
The enforcer just chuckled. “Well, I’m going to tell you anyway, principessa.”
She used to love when people in her family called her a princess. It never held bad connotations, and instead, offered her a great deal of respect from everyone. She was a Marcello princess. One of a few—the youngest, and the most spoiled. Maybe that was because she was her parents’ baby, or even for the simple fact she was the last principessa della mafia of her generation.
Who knew what it was, but it extended her great privilege.
Funny.
Now that privilege just felt like it was weighing her down.
“I will tell you,” the enforcer continued on, “that in this life, it is far easier and you will get a great deal more by falling in line like the rest of us. Stepping out of line does nothing good for you, and gets you nowhere.”
Lucia said nothing.
She’d stayed in line her whole life.
No more.
• • •
Lucia had to give the enforcer credit. He kept a mostly respectable distance behind her as he directed her into a familiar business. He still loomed there, sure, but at least he wasn’t invading her personal space or talking again. All points in his favor for the moment.
Usually, Lucia loved this restaurant. Her father had owned it for longer than she had been alive, honestly. A lot of memories had been made at this place. Typically, she would be comforted by the dark stained, shiny wood and the chrome lighting overhead. Nostalgia would fill her to the brim each and every time she stepped foot in the place, reminding her of chasing after her father as a little girl, and playing with her older siblings during family dinners.
Not today, though.
Today, she felt none of that.
Peering back at the man behind her, Lucia asked, “Can I have my phone back now? We’re here.”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
Fuck.
What was she—thirteen?
More frustrated than ever, Lucia tried to tamper her desire to blow up on anyone and anything close to her as she neared the private dining area. The same space her family dined in for year
s. More meetings happened here than anyone cared to admit. As her father rid himself of businesses over the years—liquidating assets he no longer had any interest in maintaining—this restaurant never changed hands. It was always his.
Coming up to the doorway, Lucia could already hear a group of familiar voices inside. Her uncles laughing about something, followed by the feminine tones of their wives agreeing. And her mother and father.
Lucia dragged in a hard breath, and willed her anger to at least lighten up a bit. If she went in there angry, who knew what might happen? Nothing good, she suspected.
It didn’t matter, it seemed.
That anger and her contempt for the things her father kept doing to her and Renzo were now bred deep into her bones. The more she tried to ignore it, the worse it festered. Growing, and infecting.
“Go in,” the enforcer murmured behind her, “they’re expecting you.”
Lucia scoffed. “I’m sure.”
But she didn’t have any desire to stand out there with the enforcer any longer, so she headed inside the private dining room. She was entirely unsurprised to find all her aunts, uncles, and her mother and father sitting at their usual table. Or rather, two tables pushed together and set up close to the window where they could watch the people outside, but the people couldn’t see them because of the mirrored glass. She swore it was the only time these people put their backs to a window, really.
Instantly, her father’s gaze landed on her in the doorway. Lucia didn’t move even when her father fixed two buttons on his suit jacket, and nodded as if to silently welcome her to the table with the rest of them.
Nope.
She wasn’t going over there at all.
“Lucia,” her father said quietly.
Calmly, too.
Too calm, maybe.
Maybe it was his calm state that really pushed her over the edge. The kindness that stared back from her father like he didn’t think he had done anything at all. Like he wasn’t hurting her. All that anger she’d been trying to hold in felt like it was bubbling to her surface all over again. Violent, and raging. Like a soda bottle that had been shaken and shaken before the top just blew. No one would be safe when she finally let go.
It surprised her as much as it scared her. Lucia was not angry. Not like this. She wasn’t this person, and yet, the man across the room made her exactly that. Whether he wanted to or not, this was what he had made her into, and he probably didn’t even realize it. That, or he just didn’t care because he was getting what he wanted.
