Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 59304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
I bite down on his sweaty neck, and he makes a growling noise of approval. “Leave a mark, beautiful. Show the whole damn island who I belong to.”
I don’t have time to think about how insane those words are. Belong to…
This just feels too good.
He presses another finger against my clit, rubbing fiercer, urging me into overdrive. I bite down so that I can taste him, his sweat, his skin, just him. In the moments before my release, it all makes sense. Nothing is complicated.
I melt for him. The pleasure pulsing through me.
Afterward, I collapse against the wall, breathing hard, feeling lightheaded.
“You’re an animal,” I say.
He chuckles, gesturing to the bite mark on his neck. “What does that make you?”
“I’m so—”
“Don’t even think about apologizing,” he growls. “That was damn hot.”
“We shouldn’t have done that.”
“Yeah, but we did, and we should do it again.”
“I need to go,” I tell him, turning.
When he spanks my ass, I laugh, spinning on him. “Are you serious?”
“Don’t show me that plump, sexy, juicy ass and expect to get away scot-free.”
“You’re insatiable.”
“Only for you.” He grabs my chin, kisses me, then keeps his face close so that his warm breath shivers over me. “Next time, I’m going to be ready. I’ve found some protection.”
“No one said there’s going to be a next time…”
He winks. “Keep telling yourself that.”
I leave before we get carried away again. That did not go as planned.
Maybe that’s my fault though, somehow expecting to resist him when so far, I’ve failed every time.
My nasty little secret is that I want to fail again, and again, and again.
CHAPTER 22
DARIO
That evening, we sit around tables in the open air, palm trees all around us, tea lanterns casting a soft yellow glow that mixes with the setting sunlight. Waitstaff carry around glasses of wine. Mother nudges me and nods across the clearing when Siena walks in.
A volcanic rumble moves through me when I see her.
She’s wearing a dress the same honey shade as her eyes, her hair down to her shoulders, flowy and attractive. The dress sparkles, like the way the water sparkles when the sun bounces across it.
Mother waves.
Across the table, Eddy frowns. “She’s going to sit with us?”
Mother glares at her brother-in-law. “Why not?”
Father looks between them, with a familiar expression on his face. He’s often had to come between Eddy and my mother to avoid an argument. Sitting beside my uncle, my godfather, Rocco, gives me a look. He doesn’t have to say anything for me to get his meaning.
This could go bad fast.
“She’s not one of us,” Eddy says.
“Maybe lay off the booze, brother,” father mutters. “You’re talking too loosely.”
“She’s almost here,” my mother snaps. “None of this talk, please.”
By ‘this talk’, she means anything that could hint we’re in the mob. When Siena arrives, I stand up and pull a chair out for her. Her eyes flit to the spot on my neck; when Mother saw the hickey, she insisted I cover it with foundation. We share a secret smile.
“Thank you,” Siena says, then looks around the table. “And thank you all for letting me join you.”
“It’s our pleasure,” Father says magnanimously. “Nothing is too much for the woman who saved my wife.”
“That was nothing, really.”
“No, it was everything–really.”
When the waiter arrives, Eddy necks three glasses of wine, ignoring my father’s glare. My hand opens and closes under the table. He is doing a piss poor job of trying to reassure me I can trust him.
I take two glasses from the tray, handing one to Siena. “Thank you,” she says softly.
I clink my glass with hers. “Cheers.”
She smiles a little shyly, overwhelmed by being at our table. I want to take her hand so badly, show her that this is where she belongs, by my side. She sees me watching, then quickly hides her shy expression.
“Cheers.”
“Cheers,” Eddy echoes loudly.
“Edoardo,” my father snaps.
“I know, I know, I promised I wouldn’t drink. Blah blah blah. But sometimes, a man needs a drink. And sometimes, a man needs to know who he’s letting into his Family.”
The way he says Family causes several of us to flinch. It’s capital-F Family, with emphasis. It’s the mafia Family.
He glares at Siena. “What’s your experience? What makes you qualified to run this event alone?”
“Uncle,” I growl, gripping the edge of the table.
I’m about to stand when Siena gently places her hand on my arm. “I’ll admit, Mr. Bianchi, that this is my first solo gig. But I’d also like to ask you, do you think I’m doing a bad job? Can you sit there and say that, sir, realistically? I’ve had several challenges thrown at me, and I believe I’ve handled them well.”
The dignity with which she speaks fills me with pride.
Eddy glares at my father. “The fact you’re allowing her to sit here, to dine with you and your wife, to slither into your inner circle, is absurd, brother.”