Chapter 29CANDI

Chapter 29

CANDI

"I noticed some clothes in the closet and drawers," Cookie says almost diffidently to Angelo as we leave mom's room.

"They're yours," Angelo answers the question my sister does not ask.

"So, I can change into some of them for dinner? Only this place is kind of fancy for what I'm wearing." Cookie indicates her favorite pair of jeans with a chunky belt and a short sweater that shows some midriff.

Middle school fashion is very exacting. Who cares about warmth when you're on trend?

But the thing is, this is one of Cookie's nicest outfits and she must have worn it to impress Angelo when she met him.

"You can wear whatever you want, Cookie. Those clothes are yours."

"Great!" Cookie turns to head back into her room. "I'll see you downstairs."

"Okay," Angelo replies. "But Cookie?"

She stops in the doorway and faces him. "Yeah?"

"You don't need to change if you don't want to. The house is just a house. You being comfortable here is what matters."

Which is why the sociopath had a bedroom designed specifically for her.

Emotion clogs my throat and I have to clear it to say, "You look great, little sis. As always."

"You have to say that. You're my sister and you love me." Cookie looks expectantly at Angelo.

For a second, I think he's going to miss the cue and then he winks. "Well, I'm practically your brother, but for what it's worth, I think you look great too. That's exactly the kind of outfit the personal shopper I hired told me was in style for girls your age."

"Yeah?" Cookie asks. "You hired a shopper to buy that stuff for me?"

"If I'd bought your clothes, your closet would be filled with black cargo pants, turtlenecks and steel-toed boots for kicking boys in the junk who get too close."

Cookie grins. "You wear a lot of black. Maybe that's your favorite color."

"It's practical in my line of work."

Right. Black hides blood. That's why I wear black leggings a couple of days before my period's due, in case I start early.

So glad he doesn't explain that to my eleven-year-old sister.

Before dinner, Angelo takes me and Cookie to the kitchen to introduce us to the housekeeper, cook and maid. All three look at me with a strange kind of awe but are instantly charmed by my little sister's exuberance and frank admission of hunger.

"Smells yummy," Cookie says with an appreciative sniff when the cook promises dinner is ready to bring to the table. "Can't we eat in here?"

The kitchen is industrial sized with a large eating nook at one end. Three men are already sitting at the table there.

"If that's what you want," Angelo easily agrees. "You can meet some of the men who patrol the grounds."

That's how we end up eating a fancy three-course Sunday dinner with a bunch of mafia soldiers at the kitchen table.

At first, the men at the table don't do much talking, but my sister and I are curious people and we ask a lot of questions about the house and what it's like to be on a security detail.

"I am learning to make Polish food as Mr. Caruso requested, but I look forward to getting tips from your mother," the cook tells me as she puts a plate of roasted meat and vegetables in front of me.

"That will make her very happy. Neither Cookie nor I are natural cooks." We learned what we had to so we wouldn't starve, but neither of us ever found the joy in the kitchen mom does.

By the end of the third course, I'm not sure I'll ever eat again and even Cookie doesn't finish the meat on her plate.

"I'll take mom a plate and then call my friends. I want to tell them about the game system in my room. Maybe a couple of them can come home with me after school?" Cookie asks.

Angelo nods. "Fine by me."

"As long as mom plans to stay another night," I tack on.

But we've seen mom this exhausted before. Even with the therapist giving her a massage, she'll need to rest up tomorrow before a car ride back to the apartment.

"Can Mars sleep in my room?" Cookie gives Angelo her best pleading look.

It's not necessary. Of course, he says yes.

"You're going to spoil her." He's going to spoil all of us.

"She deserves to be spoiled, as do you."

"Are you reading my mind again?" I tease as we head upstairs to our bedroom.

Our bedroom . Am I admitting I live here now?

I think I am.

Taking my hair out of the messy bun I put it in earlier when I was in such a hurry to get downstairs and head off my mom calling the cops, I shake it out. I never brushed it out last night either and I don't look forward to what it's going to take to smooth the tangles now.

Angelo makes an approving sound, like the sight of my messy hair is all that. "I'll brush it out for you."

"You want to brush my hair?" Is that a thing men do?

Maybe? He sure seemed to enjoy washing it before and his insistence on doing the conditioner step is the only thing that will make the next thirty minutes even slightly bearable.

"I always want to touch you, whatever form that takes."

"Okay, then." I sit down on the bench in front of the vanity and pull open the drawer with the hair stuff. "I can't believe you thought to get a detangling brush for me."

I'm grateful though.

"You have long hair. Xabat said you'd need it." He reaches past me and pulls out one of the many product containers. "This too."

It's a detangler spray. Of course, Angelo thought of that too. Or rather, consulted the expert who did.

He reads the directions on the side before spritzing a section of my hair. Lifting it, he gently pulls the detangling brush through the strands, his expression intent.

My shoulders relax more with each swipe of the brush. When Angelo hits a gnarly tangle, he doesn't force the brush but adds another spritz of detangler and then pulls the matte apart with his fingers until the brush will go through.

"If I wasn't already falling for you, this would do it right here," I tease.

"Good to know." He doesn't look at me in the mirror when he speaks but keeps hyper focused on his task.

"Who were you on the phone to when mom and Cookie got here earlier?" I ask, curious about his life as much as he is about mine.

Well, maybe not quite as curious. I have no plans to go foraging under beds to see what he treasures. Knowing him, there's nothing under the beds in this place. Not even a dust bunny.

"My boss, Severu. He wanted my version of what happened last night."

"Someone told him about what happened in the alley?" Will Angelo get in trouble for his men killing a capo's soldier?

Angelo shrugs. "I would have but I didn't want to leave to make the report in person."

"Because your guys kidnapped me and were bringing me here."

Angelo's lips quirk, but he doesn't answer.

"Are you in trouble?" Some of the tension that drained away is creeping back into my muscles.

"No."

"But I bet Stefano is mad at you."

"He is, but I'm not the one in trouble," Angelo assures me.

"Who is?" I wonder.

"Bianchi."

"What? Why?"

"His men were sloppy and that's on their capo."

"Oh." Derian and Mario sure hadn't seemed impressed with Freddy and Gino.

"Until recently, Bianchi leaving you and your mom to fend for yourself wouldn't have gotten him in actionable trouble with his don."

"But now?" I ask.

"Miceli will sanction him in some way for creating the clusterfuck from start to finish."

"I wish someone had made him pay my mom support back in the day, for her sake, but I don't want anything from him now."

Angelo runs his fingers through the section of hair he just finished "You don't need him."

"No, I don't."

"But that doesn't change the fact that he abandoned you," Angelo says grimly. "Family is supposed to mean something in the mafia."

"His family does mean something to him. I'm pretty sure they're why he never acknowledged me."

"You're his family too. Things happened to you that should not have happened because he did not watch over you like a father should watch over his daughter."

I can't deny that. "Those things led me to mom and I wouldn't give her or Cookie up for anything."

"Why do you call her Cookie when her name is Diamond?" He spritzes another section of my hair.

"That's my fault. Mommy never used her given name and she called me her Candi girl when I was little. So, when I started dancing, I used Candi as my stage name."

"Everyone calls you Candi now."

"I ask them to. Candi feels more like me than Kathleen, or even Kath." For a while, Bianca called me Kath because she thought I wanted her to, but I don't. "Cookie wanted to be like me, so she asked us to call her Cookie. It stuck."

"Because of the nickname your mom gave you?" he asks, working on another big tangle.

I grimace. "And because Kathleen is the name of my sperm donor's grandmother."

Mommy probably thought naming me after her would make Stefano more likely to show an interest in me. If that was her plan, it failed.

"Asshole," Angelo mutters, like he knows what I'm thinking. Then he cinches it by saying, "I promise you, Candi, I will never abandon you or our children."

"Now we're having children?" I can't help it, there's a thread of panic in my voice.

Everything about this thing with Angelo has gone fast, but kids? I'm not ready for that.

"We don't have to talk about having them right now. We should wait a couple of years anyway. Relationships benefit from time alone as a couple before bringing children into the mix."

He's quoting the book on relationships again, I bet. But I happen to agree with that nugget of wisdom.

"I never really thought about having kids." Before Angelo, I didn't think about having a relationship either.

My life was consumed with caring for mom and Cookie.

"But you'll be such a good mom."

"You think so?" I tease, wondering what kind of dad Angelo will be.

If he's anything like he is with me, my sister and mom, he'll be an amazing dad.

"Loving comes naturally to you." He meets my eyes in the mirror. "You'll never abandon your children."

"No, if I ever have children, the only thing that would take me from them is death."

"Like your mom."

"Mommy never would have abandoned me if she had a choice." I know that the same way I know deep down that I'm Candi, not Kathleen.

Angelo goes back to brushing my hair. The tangles are pretty much gone now, and his long, smooth strokes are hypnotic. "I notice that you call Mira mom and refer to your biological mother as mommy."

"Yes. Mommy preferred to be called that. I was ten when she died, but I never called her anything else." It's my way of keeping her alive in my heart.

"My mother is alive, but she's got no place in my heart," he says grimly.

"She abandoned you."

Angelo nods and shrugs. "Living with nonno and nonna was a huge improvement over life with her and dad. And that's when I met Severu, Miceli and Salvatore."

"How?"

"We went to the same school."

"Mafia school?" I tease.

"St. Catherine's. It's where all the children in the Genovese Family go if they don't attend public school."

"Were you friends then?" Does it bother him that Severu essentially has the life he was born to lead?

"Yes. We clicked right away. None of us showed emotion. They were trained not to, but for me there were no emotions to show."

"Do you mind that Severu is the godfather and Miceli is a don and you'll never be those things?" I ask, a little worried.

What if Angelo wants that life? Can a stripper be a don's wife?

"My brothers are welcome to those headaches." Angelo runs his fingers through my now tangle free hair, seemingly mesmerized by it. "They don't show emotion, but they experience more of it than I do. They want what's best for the mafia. I want what's best for the few people I care about."

"And I'm one of those people?" I ask.

"The most important one."

My heart swoons in a ridiculously girly fashion I have no intention of admitting to. "So, no sibling rivalry?"

He called them brothers and I like thinking he has some decent family, so, I'm going with it.

"None. Miceli can be a pain in the ass, Severu wants to control the fucking world and Salvatore's still a little pissed I got to Gino before he did, but we're family."

Of course, Salvatore would want to punish Gino for putting the same pressure on Bianca that he did to me, but honestly? If he hadn't, the capo would never have met my friend.

"Thank you…" I pause. Am I really going to do this? Yes, I am. "For killing Gino. He was a predator and he would have found other women to exploit and hurt if you hadn't."

"Yes, he would." Angelo makes a ponytail with his hand and releases it, letting my hair fall softly to my back. "Can you put your hair in a dancer's bun?"

"Are you telling me that's not one of your many skills?" I ask, only partially joking.

"If you want me to learn, it could be." There's zero joking in his tone. He means it.

"Not necessary." I grab the paddle brush from the drawer and smooth my hair into a high, tight ponytail. "Why a dancer's bun?"

It's a little early for sleep, but I assumed sexy times were on the dessert menu for tonight. Not sure how putting my hair up plays into that.

Does Angelo want to try something kinky?

"I want to show you something and I don't want your hair to get tangled again."

"Tired of brushing it?"

"No, but you'll be too tired to sit here and let me do it."

That sounds promising. I finish creating the tight bun and stand up. "Ready."

"You're going to like this." Angelo's eyes glimmer with sensual promise.

No question this man knows what to do with his body, and mine, in the bedroom department. "I'm sure I will."

"I had it installed just for you." Angelo takes my hand and tugs me out of the bedroom, a palpable air of anticipation around him.

All the soothing calm he bestowed brushing my hair turns into sexual eagerness.

When we get downstairs, we take a right instead of a left and Angelo leads me down a hall and through a door, where we step into a garden of jungle plants. The air is a little humid and it smells like earth and flowers.

"What is this place?" I reach out to touch the broad leaf of a banana plant.

I only know what it is because our dental clinic has one in the waiting room and I asked.

"A conservatory."

"And indoor garden," I breathe.

I chaperoned a school trip for my sister to The New York Botanical Garden. Their conservatory is bigger, but not any more impressive.

There are plants and flowers everywhere, and the sound of rushing water hits my ears. Mom is going to love this place.

Angelo pulls me further along the path. "I had this area designed just for us."

Coming around some large potted tropical trees, we step into a grotto surrounding a small pool fed by a freaking waterfall.

"It's a hot tub," he tells me. "With a special feature just for you."

"Hot water to soak in is pretty great all on its own. You don't know how much I want to be able to just soak after a night of dancing." The bathtub in our apartment is too short to stretch out my legs, even when I'm sitting up.

"We're going to do more than soak, amate ." Angelo's sensual growl sends a shudder through me.

"We didn't bring swimsuits." And right about now, I'm really regretting that oversight.

"We don't need them." Angelo peels his shirt off, folds it and puts it on a bench tucked behind some foliage.

He does something and a small door opens revealing a cabinet with a black hard plastic case inside. Opening it, he slides the knife sheath from his shoulder into one compartment and follows that with the rest of his weapons.

Watching him take off all of the guns and knives he wears on a regular basis shouldn't turn me on, should it?

The wetness soaking my panties right now is an irrefutable fact though. Knowing he's always that ready to do his thing sends a pulse of arousal right to my core.

"What if someone comes in?" I have no desire to put on a show for anyone but Angelo.

Which begs the question: can I keep dancing at Pitiful Princess?

"I locked the door with the remote on my phone. Only yours and my thumbprints will open it when we're in here alone." He unzips his pants and shoves them down his muscular, hairy legs.

Everything about this man is so darn sexy.

"What about the windows?" I wave toward the glass mostly obscured by plants.

Mostly being the operative word.

"It turns opaque at night, or whenever it's programmed to."

It's definitely dark outside. "So no one can see through it?" I ask, just to be sure.

"No one. It's a matter of safety too." He finishes putting his clothes in a neat pile on the bench, leaving his body gloriously naked. "All of the window glass in the house is the highest level of bullet resistance, but we don't take chances."

"Huh? Oh. That's great." My eyes are glued on the rippling muscles of his torso.

The men who dance on ladies night at the club would kill for Angelo's muscle definition. Never mind the size of his dick. Which is drool worthy hard right now. Although I'm not sure that thing ever goes down.

"Are you always hard?" As much as I want to tear my own clothes off and get straight to nakey-times, I force myself to go slow, toeing off my shoes first.

He takes them from me and puts them on the rack under the bench next to his. "When I am around you, yes."

"Seriously?" I pause in the act of removing my socks. "Even at dinner?"

"Not like this." He waves his hand at his erection. "But yes, I'm always at least semi-erect when you're around."

"That's got to be uncomfortable." I slide my leggings down my hips, putting a little wiggle in as I bend down to pull them off over my feet.

Angelo groans.

I hide my smile before I straighten and start tugging up the hem of my top one slow centimeter at a time.

"When you spend so much of your life not feeling much of anything…" His eyes hot on my body, he fists his hands at his side, like he's stopping himself from reaching out to touch. "Having a constant source of emotional stimulation isn't always a comfortable experience, but it's one I revel in."

Wow. Okay, yeah, he's said stuff like this before. But the idea that when he's not around me, he doesn't feel much of anything makes my heart ache.

I pull my top over my head and toss it to him, grinning when he lets it fall at his feet.

"What about you?" he asks in a gravelly voice. "Does being around me keep you on a slow burn of arousal?"

Am I always on the verge of wanting to have sex when he's around? The startling answer after years of having almost no sex drive is, yes. Yes, I am.

"Even when I've been kidnapped and I'm lying on a sofa, trussed up like a mummy."

He steps forward and reaches around me to undo my bra. "You're not going to hurt my feelings if you tell me you're not as excited by my presence as I am by yours."

"I just told you—"

"That during a time of high adrenalin, which can have an amplifying effect on the libido, you were turned on. You don't have to find my presence the same stimulant I do yours. It's okay. Everyone is different."

He's really not getting it. "You read that in your book didn't you?"

"Yes." Tugging my bra straps down my arms, his eyes never once stray from mine.

"You and that book." I let the bra fall. "I'm not sure if I should hug the author or smack them."

"If you hug them, I'll have to smack them, so how about neither?" Dropping to one knee, he presses a kiss to my tummy as he slides my panties off.

"Was that a joke Angelo?"

He smiles that pirate smile I'm coming to love. "Maybe." Then suddenly, Angelo, the enforcer comes over him. "Or was it?"

I shiver but not from fear. "Your death mask shouldn't turn me on so much."

"You mean the mask at the Halloween party at the club?" Lifting my panties to his face, he inhales deeply.

My thighs clench and it's all I can do to remember the question I'm supposed to be answering. "No, that mask on your face you get when you become Death.

He frowns. "I'm always Death."

"I know that, but sometimes that part of you eclipses all the other parts."

"Most people think there are no other parts."

"Most people are wrong. And by the way, my adrenaline doesn't spike when you go all Death on me because I trust you, but it still makes me wet. So, yeah, being around you is a pretty constant turn on."

His jaw so taut it looks hewn from rock, Angelo sweeps me into his arms and carries me to the pool. He steps into the water without hesitating.

There must be stairs, because I feel the jostle of each step before he sinks down to sit on something. Hot water bubbles around us, not too intense to enjoy but warm enough to relax my muscles.

I moan, and it's not entirely sexual. The water feels so good. "I would spend hours in here if I could."

"The temperature is set at a perfect 98°. You can soak in the water as long as you like." He shifts me so my back is to his front and my legs dangle in the water on either side of his thighs, his erection pressing against my spine.

I let my head fall back against his shoulder. "Good to know."

Angelo presses my thighs further apart so I'm completely open. I expect his hand to slide up my thigh and touch my vulva.

It doesn't. He puts his hand behind him and does something. A second later, a strong stream of water hits me right between my legs.

I cry out in surprise and try to close my legs.

Angelo's hands grip both my thighs, holding me in place. "Relax, amate . You're going to like this, I promise."

But it's not his reassurance that stops me trying to close my legs, or even his hold on my thighs. It's the way the water feels pulsing against my intimate flesh, stimulating my clitoris in such an unexpected way.

Of course, a lot of my experiences with Angelo are brand new for me but this is a doozy.

Once I relax, Angelo's hands begin to explore my body, caressing my limbs and finally coming up to cup my breasts and play with my nipples.

My desire grows to epic proportions as he plays my body like a finely tuned instrument only he has the key to. I'm on the verge of coming, so stimulated, I can't think straight.

The water continues to pulse against me. Angelo continues to touch me, but it's not enough.

"I can't," I finally cry in frustration, once again trying to close my legs. "It's torture."

Amazing torture that feels better than pretty much anything, but I can't come.

His calves coming around mine to trap my legs in place, he lifts my hips enough so that his dick can press against my opening.

"Yes," I breathe. "That. I need you inside me."

He lowers my body slowly over his engorged penis. "Water washes away natural lubricants so we have to be careful here. Go slow. I don't want to hurt you."

Do I believe him? Or is this more sexual torture? But he doesn't stop the roll of his hips that push him deeper with each thrust.

"Move your hips but only a little."

My instincts are to ride him like a wild pony, but I do what he says. He helps, his hands guiding me until I find a rhythm that has me moaning with pleasure.

Then his big hands glide up my torso to cup my breasts again, pinching and rolling my nipples under the water.

His engorged erection continuously hits that spot inside me that lights my clitoris up like a strobe spotlight.

Needing something to hold onto, I throw my arms behind me and grab his hair.

It's too much.

It's not enough.

My body is on fire, but I never want it to end. Turning my head into his neck, I kiss the underside of his jaw, lapping at the salty skin like the cat he likes to call me.

His head turns and his lips crash down on mine.

And that's when the cataclysm happens. I explode into sparkly bits all over the place, my body going into a rictus of such pleasure, I can't breathe.

Can a body survive feelings this intense?

Angelo's calves keep my legs trapped so I can't get away from the stimulation to my clitoris as he continues to thrust into me from behind. My climax goes on and on and on.

There's no aftershocks; it just doesn't end. The ecstasy is so intense my vision is going black around the edges. It's the jet of water. The muted pressure against my pleasure center never lets up.

Angelo's breathing speeds up and he swells inside me, his movements losing their smooth rythm. He's about to come and I crave it.

I want to feel him in that moment he is as lost to ecstasy as I am.

But he's not done with me yet. Two of his fingers slip down on either side of my clitoris, rubbing fast as the water continues to jet against it. It's too much. I'm going to pass out.

For real.

And then my second climax hits so hard my muscles contract to the point of pain as Angelo bathes my insides with his heated cum.