Chapter Four

Stefano

Anna burst into my office like an Italian gypsy. She wore billowy pants and a white tunic showing off her trim figure and olive complexion. Her shoulder-length hair flipped as she slammed my door closed. "Can I move into your building?"

I glanced up from my computer. "No."

I refocused on the list of clients, their recent deposits, and the cuts for the bank. Several bundles of bills were stacked on the desk. One hundred bills to a strap, and ten straps to a bundle. Each bundle was worth a hundred grand.

"Fuck." There were a few discrepancies and two missing straps. I'd lost more at the tables in Monte Carlo with Carmine. Twenty grand wasn't a lot of money, unless someone was stealing it from me.

Anna stomped across the room and plopped into the chair in front of my desk. "What do I need to do to change your mind?"

"You can't." Twenty-four hours after meeting Celine, I'd secured a building. The location was perfect. Just a couple blocks from the bank. However, it was currently undergoing renovations. Technically, it wasn't zoned as residential, but a call to an associate at the planning commission and a fat envelope of C-notes had the building quietly rezoned.

I'd moved in a couple of days later, but there was still a lot of work that needed to be done. Bathrooms weren't completed, and none of the floors had kitchens. But the basement had my dick hard and my balls about to nut.

My workshop below the bank was adequate. When I finished the renovations on the building, I'd have a lower level equipped with a walk-in freezer, holding cells, and a cremation chamber.

"Carmine is there. And I know Lorenzo is coming to work for you. He'll live there. And you'll have soldiers living there."

Lorenzo had stayed in Italy with Cirillo, but I needed him here. I needed men I could trust close to me. "It's not fit for you to live in."

"I think it is. And I would know because you wouldn't have it without me." Her gaze narrowed on me, and her plump, red lips pursed. "I found you the building."

"And I convinced the investor to sell."

"He didn't have a choice. You forced him to take the offer."

Exactly why she couldn't move into the building. "Anna, you know what I do."

"Sì, and I know there won't be a safer building in the city with your modifications." She took a deep breath. "Please, Stef."

I leaned back in my chair. Anna wasn't usually one to plead for anything. She'd been mothering me and my brothers since our mom died. Now, she doted on Savio. I knew my sister. She wouldn't leave her nephew to live in my building without serious motivation.

"Even if I said yes, Marco would forbid it."

"You could convince him. I'm going crazy. There are too many people at Marco's."

"There're less now." Carmine had left with me.

"I want to live on my own."

I chuckled. "That's never going to happen. Accept it. You're going to live with Marco until you get married. Then you'll live with your husband and have babies."

She jolted to her feet, paced the room, and tossed my words back to me. "That's never going to happen. Accept it."

Something wasn't right. My sister was the voice of reason, the calm in the storm, but she was emitting sparks of aggression like her new sister-in-law. Fuck, just what Marco needed. Another stubborn woman telling him what she was going to do regardless of his concerns.

"Anna, just tell me what's really going on."

She smoothed her hands over her hips.

"I overheard Marco arguing with Antonio." She blinked back a tear. "Marco will have sons with Allegra. Giada will be gone." She hiccupped, biting back a sob. "All I have is Savio." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "Once it's safe, Luca will want his son."

I'd thought of that, too, but Luca would never deny Anna access to the boy. Had Giada once put her son first, I'd show her mercy. Perhaps allow her to live in a secure cell where she'd have access to her son. But the bitch hadn't considered Savio when she'd tried to kill Luca or when she'd killed my father.

"Savio needs you," I said.

She stared out the window overlooking the street. "Marco is negotiating for my marriage. He's determined to make a match with an American. Can you find out who Diego Ricci is? But you can't let Marco find out I know. And don't ask Emilio either." She rolled her eyes. "And don't tell Carmine because he'll tell Emilio. Emilio will laugh with Orlando. Dio mio." My god. She dropped onto the chair. "I shouldn't have told you."

I scratched the name on a paper. "I can keep a secret." I lifted my head. "You won't have a choice in the marriage."

"I know. But if I'm not there, he won't be reminded that I need a husband." She pointed her finger at me. "Because I don't need a husband. He just thinks I do."

"Are you sure this is what you want, to live in my building? You'll be under constant surveillance, not because I don't trust you, but because I have enemies."

"I already am," she interrupted. "Stef, I know what you do for the family. I've seen you bloody. And I know there are always people trying to kill you."

A smug smile twisted my lips. "They try." I sympathized with her. Marco would be pissed, and there were risks.

Not only did the vacant structure have five stories above ground, but also two below ground, including my future workshop and an underground car park. The first floor had already been fitted with reinforced walls, bullet-resistant glass, and secured entry points. The perfect location for training new soldiers.

The top floor had been sectioned into two units. Carmine lived across the hall from me. If Anna moved in, I'd want her on the floor below me. Close enough to protect, but separated enough that she wouldn't see things she shouldn't. "Meet me at the building this afternoon."

She smiled, lunged to her feet, and rushed around my desk. I stood, blocked her hug with an outstretched arm, laughed at her huff of irritation, and shoved her into my chair. "You work for me now. And I'm an asshole for a boss."

"I can handle it." Spinning in the chair, she gazed up into my face. "What are you going to tell Marco?"

"I need you close. With you here at the bank you can keep an eye on Giada. I hate this shit." I leaned over and turned on the computer.

"Don't expect miracles. I'm not Emilio."

I pulled up the office surveillance system. "Emilio's watching her computer. I want to know what clients she has in her office. See if any seem friendly."

She raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't they all be friendly? We take care of their money, and most men are scared of you. Both good reasons not to be assholes. Unlike Bruno men. You are all assholes."

"I've heard that from you before."

"And you'll hear it again."

"As your boss, I'll excel at being an asshole." I pulled up Giada's office feed. "She doesn't know about this camera." She knew the hall was monitored, but once her door closed, she assumed she was safe. I'd watched her use a bug checker to search for video and listening devices.

Obviously, she underestimated Emilio's abilities. Not only was her computer camera, and the light fixture constantly watching and listening, but the office was fitted with infrared for gun detection.

"Giada fucks to get what she wants," I said. "If a guy has had his dick in her, he's going to feel comfortable. If someone puts their hands on her ass—"

"Yeah, yeah. I got it. No details or I won't be able to be an innocent, virginal bride when I marry."

"And you want to live in my building?" After setting aside two straps of bills, I gathered up the bundles of cash and placed them in the safe behind my desk.

"Oh, right. With your inclinations, I won't be that innocent."

I growled and locked the safe. "In case no one has made it clear, you'll be a virgin on your wedding night." I kissed the top of her head. "If I catch a man in your apartment, I'll castrate him and shove his balls down his throat."

"Noted, but I'm not dating anyone, and I don't want a husband."

"Ever?" I glanced at her profile. "Are you trying to tell me something? You're not demure enough for a convent."

She laughed. "One day, I'll want a husband." Her voice lowered. "When I can marry the man I want."

"Anna—"

"Stef, just find something wrong with whoever Diego is because I'm not marrying him."

I grabbed my gun off the desk, slipped it into the back of my jeans, and shrugged on my leather jacket. My fixed blade fit snuggly against my lower abdomen in a slim lined sheath, and the two straps of cash slid into my inside pocket.

"Are you leaving?"

"Sì."

"What am I supposed to do when I'm not spying on Giada?"

"Ask Emilio."

She grumbled as I headed out.

Banking hours were over for me. Anna wanted to move into my building, and I needed her to take over in the bank. I hadn't realized how much I'd hate being in an office, or how much I'd hate having to be nice to people.

I went to the secure parking structure next to the bank, straddled my black Ducati, and pulled out my phone.

Even with Anna moving into the building, if I was careful, I could still keep Celine a secret. If she'd answer my text messages. She'd been silent since our late-night chat.

I pulled my phone up and checked my chat log. Four unanswered texts. I sent another.

Stefano: A burger pairs great with greasy fries and an icy Coke.

I started the bike and typed another reply.

Stefano: Have you heard of Jay Swings? It's on Washington Street.

I immediately followed with another.

Stefano: Great vanilla shakes unless vanilla isn't your flavor. Do you have a wild side, Angel?

She was killing me with her silence.

I attached the phone to the mount on my handlebars, shifted into gear, rode out of the parking structure, and then rolled the throttle and bulleted down the open road.

Instead of going to my apartment and waiting for Celine to reply, when she clearly wanted to ignore me, I rode the few miles to the offices of Lanfear and Collins. Both attorneys represented the Bruno and Jilani families. There would never be a conflict of interest in their practice. If they had any other clients, they were directly related to our business.

"Is he busy?" I asked the pretty redhead behind the reception desk.

She smiled. "I'll check."

Dwight Collins handled all the contracts, real estate, and tax issues. He handled paperwork. Stan Lanfear was a defense attorney with teeth. In the legal community, he was known to be a bloodthirsty predator, swimming in deep waters, and capable of tearing apart any threat to the family.

The interior door opened. "Stefano. It is good to see you again." I shook his hand and followed him into his office. "I spoke with Marco earlier today." He sat behind his desk. "Moreau is foolish. He knows he doesn't have shit on Dante."

"Then why is he still being held?"

Stan pulled a cigar from the humidor behind his desk. "A couple of high-profile crimes, including the murder of your brother, without arrests being made have the district attorney's office feeling the heat."

I held up my hand to decline when he offered a cigar to me.

"While he tries to salvage those cases, he has the spotlight on organized crime. You know the game. It's politics and optics."

I wiped my hand on my knee. "Politics and optics aren't my job. This is your game to play."

A cloud of smoke circled his head. "Then you need to get to Oscar Banks."

"Who the fuck is he?"

"He's the man who ratted on Dante. I'm not sure how he's connected. Talk to Marco. I gave him everything I have on Banks. It wasn't much."

"Fuck." I stood. "I need Dante."

"He's all but free. Judge Hale has the case."

Names didn't mean shit to me.

Stan's lips puckered as he inhaled three puffs off the cigar. "He works for you now. He'll dismiss the case for lack of sufficient evidence or an unlawful arrest. We've made sure the prosecution doesn't have one credible witness. Preliminary hearing is next week." He twisted the fat diamond ring on his finger. "Careful with Moreau. He's playing a dangerous game. Brunos are stepping on Irish turf, and they're pissed."

A menacing laugh rumbled from my chest. "Good."

"You're not going to make my job easy."

"Don't worry. I never leave a witness."

"Remember, without evidence, it never happened."

Before stepping out, I paused at the door. "Don't make me chase you. The next time I'm in your office, it'll be because you've notified me you have information."

Stan's hand slowly lowered to the desk, and he rested his cigar on the ashtray. He nodded once.

"Perhaps don Jilani wanted direct communication," I said. "The bank is my responsibility. Dante is my responsibility. You'll report directly to me."

"Understood." He arched a brow as if debating whether to question me. "And don Bruno?"

"Confirm with him if you need to, but he'll agree."

I had no doubt he'd be on the phone with Marco before I'd left the building. I slid on my sunglasses, mounted my bike, and checked my phone again.

Stefano: Angel, we're not doing this again.

She wasn't going to run and hide from me. I'd chase her…and when I caught her, I didn't plan to let her go.

***

Anna's code would give her access to the parking level, front door, elevator, and to her apartment on the fourth floor. I wished her luck with Marco. Once she left, I informed Carmine with a text, but I could've walked across the hall because thirty seconds later, he banged on the door.

"You're not serious," he said, storming across my nearly vacant room to the kitchenette. He grabbed one of the bottles, the rum, I think.

Carmine was a machine when he fought. The fearless fucker never backed down from a fight. I'd seen him take on guys twice his size, his body pumping a combination of adrenaline and aggression through his veins. But he was a pussy with his drinks. He liked his cocktails sweet and fruity.

"She'll be fine." I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at the painting. Celine still hadn't returned my text messages.

"And when Anna sees the shit going on in the basement?"

"She won't." And if she did, she wouldn't cower. She accepted the roles and rules of the family.

Anna was smart, a nurturer, but she was raised in the mafia. Men had always controlled her life. My father had isolated her, spoiled her, but he'd died before he could fulfil his obligations to her. As her father, he should have planned for her future and found her a husband who would protect her and strengthen both families.

Now he was gone, and Marco had the unfortunate responsibility of securing her future. Diego Ricci might be his choice. Not mine. We didn't need antiquated arranged marriages. If she wanted to fight for what she wanted, I'd train her to fight dirty.

Carmine sat next to me on the bed. We both stared at the painting.

"It makes me uncomfortable," he said and sipped his drink. "If I had to describe it, I'd say it's you."

I cast a side glance at him.

"The painting looks pissed off." He downed the rest of his drink. "Stef, we need to get out. Get the boys, and we'll hit the club. My dick is lonely."

I shook my head.

"Tutto a posto? Everything okay?"

"No." I raked my hands through my hair. But I wasn't ready to confess. I wasn't looking for pussy. I wanted a piece of heaven.

Carmine left me alone with my painting. I shed my clothes and stretched out on my bed. As I had done every night since meeting her, I spit in my hand, banded my fingers around my dick, and squeezed.

I'd fucking rubbed my dick raw with thoughts of this girl.

As I stared at the painting, I fucked my fist and replayed the way she trembled in my arms when I kissed her. I'd tasted her innocence, felt the pressure of her delicate hands on my chest, and heard the small catch in her breath before I sucked her tongue into my mouth.

With my other hand, I scratched across my chest, imagining her black polished fingernails raking my flesh.

Heat streaked along my spine. I pumped my fist and imagined those wide, sinful lips wrapped around my cock. My balls grew heavy and tightened against my body. I squeezed harder.

My gut clenched, and hot ropes of cum jetted across my groin in violent spurts. "Fuck, Angel."

Harsh inhales lifted my chest. I released my dick and imagined it was her hands sweeping through the smeared cum on my stomach. I closed my eyes, slid my fingers into my mouth, and sucked.

Soon, I'd paint her with the salty bitterness. My masterpiece of dark pleasure.

My cell pinged. I shot up, grabbed my phone, and checked the message.

Carmine: Going clubbing. Come with us.

Stefano: Next time.

I flopped onto my back and draped my arm over my eyes. Outside my room, the door across the hall slammed. A fist pounded on the door.

"You're a dick making me go alone with those three assholes." His laughter drifted away. Knox, Emilio, and Orlando were fuck boys. Tonight, I wanted to be fucked up with my thoughts of my angel. I sent her another text.

Stefano: You can ignore me, but I'm going to be in your dreams.

I didn't expect a reply.

Angel: I'm not ignoring you.

I pressed the call button.

"Hello?" Her soft voice went straight to my dick.

"I've heard that before." Those were the first words she spoke to me at the gala. Fuck me, but I swear, I could hear her smile. I pushed up and leaned against the headboard.

"But this time I'm really not ignoring you. I wanted to text you," she said with a breathy sigh.

I closed my eyes and just listened to her voice. "You should have."

"My schedule changed." She exhaled a shaky breath. "My days are crazy between work and school. I can't text in class, and I can't use my phone when I'm with my boss. Seriously, I thought he was going to follow me into the bathroom today. I've been so tired, I crash as soon as I get home."

"You should get some sleep."

"The middle of the night is the only time I have. Now, I'm glad I missed dinner tonight. I wanted to talk to you again." Her soft laugh filled the phone. "I'm rambling, but I think my stomach growling woke me up."

"Do burgers and fries sound good?"

"Oh my god, yes. But Marie would kill me when she comes in the morning. I'd probably start a grease fire. I admit, I'm not a very good cook. I'm going to have a bowl of cereal with milk."

I slid off the bed and headed to the bathroom. "I'll pick you up. Give me fifteen minutes." I needed a quick shower to wash the drying cum from my chest.

She laughed again. "It's late. I can't leave."

"Why not?" I flipped on the bathroom light and started the shower.

"I don't know, maybe because I need to sleep. I have to work again tomorrow after my classes."

"We won't be out long." When she hesitated, I continued. "We eat, we talk, I get to kiss you again, and then I bring you home."

"That sounds like a date," she said, her voice edged with a note of enthusiasm.

"Do you want to go on a date with me, Angel?" She could call it whatever she wanted as long as I was with her—that she would have her hands on me, and I would have my mouth on her.

A moment passed with my gut in my throat, waiting for her to say something, preferably to say yes.

"Yes."

I smiled. "Dress warm. Jeans and a hoodie. Give me fifteen minutes."

"Stefano." My name whispered into the phone had my dick hardening. Silence stretched between us. She finally spoke. "Don't come to the door."

My pulse spiked. "I'll text when I'm out front. See you soon."

"Don't you need my address?"

"Angel, I know everything about you." And I wasn't ready to out my interest in her. I didn't want her father to see her with me, not yet, but soon he'd know I was taking his daughter.

I'd already driven past her house a few times since the gala. Not that I'd ever knock or, as I would prefer, let myself in without anyone knowing just so I could watch her sleep. I could wait until she slept on my bed, her blonde, tangled hair spread out on my black sheets.

"You know that should scare me."

"We both know it isn't the only thing about me that makes you nervous." She might hate her father, but she wouldn't want him dead. She'd never agree to our date if she knew what I had planned for him. Fuck, she might run if she knew what I wanted to do to her.

I disconnected the call, grabbed a three-minute shower, then dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, boots, and my leather jacket. My gun sat on the table next to my bike keys and my knife.

I didn't want to scare her on our first date. But I wasn't foolish enough to be caught defenseless. I slid my knife onto my black belt, left the Desert Eagle 50 handgun on the table, and strapped a small Ruger to my ankle. Five minutes later, I had my helmet and gloves on and rode my bike out of the secure underground parking structure.

Once I was at the curb in front of her house, I pulled off the helmet and gloves and sent her a text.

"Hi," she said.

I'd been focused on the front door and hadn't heard her come up beside me.

"Hi to you." I climbed off my bike.

"You didn't say we'd be on a motorcycle." She bounced a bit on her toes and tucked her hair behind her ears. "I've never ridden on a motorcycle."

"Ah, I like being your first."

Her wide eyes lifted to mine.

"Wear these," I said handing her my gloves. "And let me put this on you." I slid my helmet over her head and adjusted the chin strap. I pointed to the rear foot pegs. "You're going to get on from this side. Put your left foot on the peg, put your left hand on my shoulder, and lift your right leg over."

She nodded with a full, beautiful smile on her plump lips.

I straddled the bike, started the engine, and braced for her to climb on. She stood on the peg, swung her leg over, and settled in behind me. Then she wound her arms around my waist.

"Ready?"

She nodded again. When the bike rolled forward, her gloved fingers curled into my shirt beneath my unzipped jacket. We rode for a few minutes, taking it slow, and letting her get a feel for the bike. Her thin arms hugged me tight as I rounded a corner. Because I didn't want to scare her, I kept a slow speed.

I stopped at a red light. "Are you okay?"

"Can we go faster?"

If she wasn't wearing my helmet and her lips covered by the face shield, I'd kiss her. "Hold tight."

The light turned green, and I twisted the throttle. The bike launched into the night. Her body vibrated behind me as she laughed. She felt good with her chest molded to my back. I leaned down and she followed, gripping tight, leaning with me as the bike hugged the road in a curve.

I turned into the twenty-four-hour fast-food drive-thru and stopped at the order box.

"Cheeseburgers and fries?"

"Yes."

The box crackled, and I ordered four burgers and two large fries. I hadn't thought about the complication of drinks.

She lifted the face shield. "Do you have something to drink at your place?" She smiled. "I want to see my painting in your apartment."

As soon as I was handed the food through the window, Celine took the bag and balanced it on the bike between us.

Ten minutes later, I pulled into the underground parking level of my building and parked near the elevator. I held the bike as she climbed off, then I unclipped the helmet for her.

There were two cars, my SUV and Carmine's Jaguar, and Carmine's Yamaha R1 in the structure. The guys must have picked him up. Good, he probably wouldn't be back tonight. I had Celine alone.

She pulled off the gloves and handed them to me. Her brows furrowed. "Is this your work?"

From the outside, the building didn't look like apartments, more like a modern prison. Grey steel, concrete, and reinforced windows. I slid my hand into hers and laced our fingers.

"I work at LB Consorzio. It's a bank a couple of blocks from here."

We stepped into the elevator. I entered the code for the top floor. Her gaze shifted from me to the bag of food in her hands. Every time she turned her face to me, she caught me staring at her. Only I wasn't trying to hide it. I squeezed her hand.

"You work at a bank? Is that how you know my dad?"

"One of the reasons." The elevator doors opened to a short hallway. Double doors faced each other. My apartment was on the left. Security cameras monitored the interior of the elevator, and another captured the hall and both doors.

I entered the code and opened the door.

I'd left the small light on in the corner. I viewed the sparsely furnished room through her eyes. Black sheets on a king-sized bed, a mini fridge, a microwave, and a small table with the lamp. She entered the room and stood before her painting hanging on the brick wall.

I shrugged off my leather jacket and tossed it on the bed.

I leaned against the wall and pulled a cigarette from my pack as she slowly migrated deeper into my apartment. The wood floors still needed to be refinished. The kitchen and bathroom were tiled, and the windows had all been replaced with reinforced glass.

Celine was hesitant, but she belonged in my space. I wanted her in my bed, but I wanted more. I wanted her to be comfortable with me.

The whirl of my lighter broke the silence, and the flare of the flame cut through the shadows. I inhaled, tipped my head back, and blew the smoke toward the rafters in the high ceiling.

She prowled the perimeter of the room, stopping a few feet from my bed, and peered out the window overlooking the street below. Then she turned in a circle, taking in the entire room. Her gaze rested on my gun. "Are you a criminal?"

I sat on the end of the bed and rolled the filter of my cigarette between my thumb and finger. "Bankers, lawyers, politicians, we're all criminals sometimes." I drew in another inhale.

"My father told me to stay away from you because you're in the mafia."

I stood and let the smoke escape from my nostrils as I stalked toward her. I pushed the cigarette into a can of sand next to the window. "Yet, you're here."

She countered my moves, stepping further into the large open room. "Then you are a criminal." She slid her fingers into her back pockets. "And, yes, I'm here." She wore a black Eminence University hoodie, but it couldn't conceal the narrowness of her ribcage, or the thrust of her tits. "Because you said you'd kiss me again."

I closed the space between us and tunneled my fingers into her hair. "Is there anything else you like to do on a date?"

She licked her upper lip and swallowed. "I don't know. This is my first date."

Fuck. I stared into her eyes, and just like that, I was lost. Her breath wisped over the rim of her lips, warming mine. I slid my mouth onto hers. When she opened for me, I dipped my tongue in for a taste of her. She whimpered with a soft mewl, rose onto her tiptoes, and rested her hands on my shoulders.

Within seconds, the kiss grew more frantic. A spark of lust ignited into a scorching need to burn. Tilting my head, I kissed her deeper, twisting wildly into her mouth, and thrusting my tongue against hers.

I'd thought she tasted of innocence at the gala, but she was sinful heat. Spice and a cool sip of water with a blistering intensity. I crushed her tightly to me, rocking my groin into hers, letting her feel the hard press of my cock against the soft contour of her pelvis.

I kissed along her jaw, breathing in the subtleness of vanilla and flowers scenting her skin. The touch of my tongue to her pulse point had her shivering in my arms. I grasped her ass, crushing her to me. Christ, she felt and tasted nothing like I remembered. She was sweeter, softer, her body fitting perfectly against mine.

Claiming her lips again, I moaned into her mouth, and her stomach growled.

She smiled against my lips. "I'm hungry."

I loosened my hold on her but kept my hands on her hips. "I did say I'd feed you and kiss you."

After she kicked off her sneakers, she crawled onto the bed and sat in the center with her legs crossed.

I grabbed two sodas out of the mini fridge then sat on the edge of the bed, tugged off my boots, unstrapped my ankle gun, and tucked it into the boot. I stretched out next to her. She placed the food like a picnic, dividing the burgers between us, then dumping the fries on the flattened bag. She smiled as she chomped into one of the salty fries.

"Tell me about my painting," I said, and then took a big bite of burger.

She studied the painting on the wall while she finished chewing. "It's called Emancipator."

"What happened to Beauty in Winter?"

She shrugged. "My dad hates my paintings but loves to be the center of attention. After my mom died, he let me convert one of the bedrooms into a studio. I don't think he ever thought about how he'd been a single parent after…after she died. Maybe he expected Marie to raise me."

"Who's Marie?"

She rolled her eyes. "More than a housekeeper, but less than his girlfriend." She plucked another fry from the pile. "Anyway, he donated the painting to the auction. Either he named it, or one of the people coordinating the donations did."

Then she brought her thumb to her mouth. I trekked her movements, my cock thick and hard beneath the fly of my jeans. Her tongue slipped out from between her lips and tasted the salt from her skin.

The room was quiet. I leaned up, banded my fingers around her neck, and tugged her mouth to mine. She kissed me back, initiating with her tongue, exploring my mouth. I moaned and slid my palm along her neck.

"Thank you, Stefano," she whispered into my mouth.

"Call me Stef, and never thank a man for kissing you."

She laughed and shyly dipped her head. "Not for that." She lifted her gaze just enough to make eye contact. She was flirting, and it was fucking adorable.

Moments like this made me realize how young and na?ve she was to the way I lived.

"Thank you for dinner," she said.

She sipped her cola. For a moment, she stared at the painting, and then she glanced around my apartment.

"I'm glad you won the bid, but I feel bad."

I crumpled my burger wrapper. "Why?"

She nervously bit her bottom lip. "Because it's a lot of money."

"It's worth more than money."

"That's why I thanked you. I wouldn't want anyone else to have my painting, especially my boss."

"You don't like that your boss supports your artwork?"

"He wasn't my boss when he bid on the painting." She set her soda on the floor, gathered up the garbage and stuffed it into the bag. "He's my dad's friend or associate, or he could be an enemy. It's hard to know with my dad. Eventually, everyone becomes his enemy."

I scooted back on the bed. With my arm round her shoulders, she curved along my side. I pressed my lips to her forehead. "I know you're scared of him."

At the gala, dinner had been a volley of uncomfortable glares and silent condemnation from across the table. She'd been petrified to be seen with me on the balcony.

She followed the contours of my chest with her fingertips. "It's strange to be out of the house. Even stranger that I'm here with you. I have anxiety issues. When it gets bad, I have panic attacks."

"Angel, everyone is fucked up in one way or another. Some people are better at hiding their issues."

"I'm not comfortable around people, so I just spend most of my time alone."

With my palm, I mapped her shape through the thick fabric of her hoodie. "I generally dislike people. It's easier to be alone."

"But you work in a bank."

I clenched my jaw, not wanting to lie to her, but I wasn't going to tell her the bank was only part of my work. "I'm a debt collector for the bank."

Bank being code word for my family.

"Is it dangerous? I mean, it must be if you have a gun on the table and a knife on your belt."

I unclipped the knife, leaned over, and set it on the table next to the gun. "Not here. You're safe with me."

She shook her head. "I'm not. I want to be, but I can't. I have classes and a job I don't want with a boss that makes me uncomfortable." She stumbled on her words.

"Quit the job."

She rolled away from me and sat up. "I can't quit my job. My dad won't allow it. He won't allow me to see you, either."

"Fuck him."

"I wish it was that easy. I mean, I could because I'm an adult. But he has something that belongs to me, and I won't let him keep it." She seemed to study me, debating what she wanted to say. "It's complicated."

"You don't have to tell me anything," I said to her.

We sat in silence for a moment and then she started talking. "My mother left me a trust fund, and my father has executive control. I don't know how much will be left, but legally he has to turn it over to me when I turn twenty-one."

"A trust is just money."

"Not to him. And not to me. It's what the money represents. I was robbed of something more important than the money. Something money can't buy." Her gaze softened on mine. "I…I want you to keep my painting, but I'm going to pay you back the fifty thousand dollars once I have access to the trust."

"Don't worry, Angel. I can afford the painting."

She sank her teeth into her bottom lip. "I can't afford to lose my trust. It's not the money. I mean, it is." She shook her head. "It's more than money, and he's taken enough from me. My dad is narcissistic and cruel. He can't have anything else of mine. Ever."

"How long until you can tell you father and your boss to fuck off?"

"Fourteen months and nine days. I don't know if it'll be worth staying, but if I walk away, I'll never know." She bowed her head. "Not the best conversation for a first date."

"I want to know everything about you, Celine Moreau. Your dreams, your fears, where you want to be kissed, places you want to go." I laced her fingers with mine and pulled her back to lie next to me on the bed.

I wanted to feel the softness of her skin against my lips. I wanted a lot of shit. But my dreams would be her nightmares. I fed on fear, and one day, she'd fear me. Until then I would kiss her, touch her, I'd fucking make her come until I'd wrecked us both.

I leaned over her, caging her with my arms, and inhaled the warm scent of her. Her fingers curled into the hair at my nape. She arched into me, and her head angled into the pillow. I tasted along her neck, lightly sucking, following the tendon to the dip of her shoulder. Gripping her hip, I pinned her to the bed.

"Kiss me, Angel."

I chased her breathy inhale with a kiss, sliding my lips over hers, and touching my tongue to the seam of her mouth until she opened for me. With a guttural moan, I pushed my tongue into her mouth, tasting, exploring, tempting her to take more from me.

No way she couldn't feel the crush of my dick as I rocked against her. I slid my palm under her lower back and split her legs with my thigh.

"Stef." My name escaped her lips as she swiveled to grind against me, held to my biceps, and whimpered.

Her touch was like lightning, a blistering heat electrifying my skin. "Tell me to stop, Angel."

"No. Don't stop."

Leveraging over her, I stared into her eyes, grazed my knuckles over her lower abdominals. Her stomach quivered, and her chest rose and fell with the cadence of her rapid breaths.

"Fottutamente bella. Fucking beautiful."

I tucked my fingers beneath the hem of her hoodie and lifted it.

Celine leaned up and pulled the sweatshirt over her head and dropped it over the side of the bed. She shyly tilted her head and combed her hair away from her face with her fingers.

She was stunningly innocent with untouched skin as smooth as silk. Those blue eyes darkened as she tugged up the hem of my shirt. Reaching behind my head, I jerked it off with one pull.

Her tongue peeked out from between her parted lips. Her fingertips traced where her eyes went first, across my chest, lower along the thin strip of black hair bisecting my abdominals, then lower. When she reached the edge of my waistband, my dick kicked and stretched. I was hard as fuck for her. I dropped my head back and growled.

"Holy fuck, but you make me want." With one hand, I unbuckled my belt, and unsnapped the top button. Then I reached in and adjusted my cock flush and erect against my groin but still contained behind the fly of my jeans. Blood surged into the shaft with a hot, throbbing pulse and made my balls heavy. Pre-cum seeped from the head peeking out the waistband.

Her arm curled across her chest, covering her small, round breasts encased in a pastel flowered bra that clasped in the front.

"Don't hide from me, Angel. You're beautiful."

She dipped her head.

"You don't believe me. Someone has lied to you, Bellissima." I grazed the swell of her breast with my knuckles. The nipple puckered beneath the fabric. I raked my thumbnail over it, then dipped my fingers into her cleavage. "Will you take it off?"

A slow smile tilted her mouth. Could she be any more perfect? Then with a twist, she had it unhooked, and it slipped down her arms, catching in the crook of her elbows, and revealing those pretty pink nipples.

Blonde hair, messy from my hands, tumbled around her shoulders. The black dress she'd worn to the gala had draped her slim form, but sitting on my bed, jeans rode low on hips built to grip.

Possessiveness snaked through my gut.

Her kisses were mine. Whether she kissed my lips or kissed my cock. Just as I wanted her coming undone on my mouth because her body, her breathy moans and whimpers were mine. I wanted to lick the beauty mark next to her sexy bellybutton.

When I made her come, when I fucked her pussy, and after I fucked her pretty mouth, I wanted her tears on my tongue.

I climbed over her, forcing her to her back. Feathery brown lashes framed her sultry blue eyes. And if she was going to fear anyone, she'd fear me.

"Are you wet for me, Angel?"

She licked her lips and nodded.

I popped the snap on her jeans and lowered the zipper. She trembled beneath me. When she lifted her hips, I peeled her jeans down her legs. A scrap of lace covered her pussy. I slid my hand into her panties, slipping my finger through her soft curls, splitting her folds, and carefully glided a finger into her wet center. Cream slicked her hot, silken passage.

"Angel, is this what you want?"

"Yes," she gasped, and her thighs opened wider.

I pulled my finger out, circled her clit, then added a second finger, plunging into her again. "Am I the first to be inside you?" I didn't need words. She was so fucking tight, pulsing, and hot against my skin. I thrust deeper and curled my fingers, searching for the trigger to make her break. "Has anyone made you come?"

"No. Yes. I mean no one has touched me. No one has made me come." Her fists tightened on the sheets. "I haven't done anything, Stef. You were my first kiss. First touch. First everything."

Fuck. First everything. First to show her pleasure. No doubt, I'd be the first to break her heart. First to make her feel betrayed. But I wouldn't be the first man she hated. Her father had already claimed that first. I'd take the rest. Sin and darkness. Her light couldn't change a soul that was already black.

I pulled my fingers from her panties, slid the two glistening with her cream into my mouth, and sucked her flavor from my skin. The first to taste her sweetness.

Her eyes widened.

"Open." My fingers, still wet with her juices and my spit, touched her lips.

She shifted onto her knees, and her small hand wrapped around my wrist, but she didn't move to taste herself.

"I'm not sweet, Angel, not like you are. If you stay in my bed, I'm going to fuck you filthy."

"I'm not afraid." She touched her tongue to my finger.

With the fragility of a butterfly, a touch so light I almost couldn't feel it, she sucked my finger into her mouth. Her tongue fluttered around the tip, and I nearly came in my jeans.

"Angel, you should be afraid of me."

"That's what you don't understand." Her voice was a quiet whisper in the room. "I know I should be." Shadows cut across her delicate face as she took my finger deep into her mouth again, pulled her lips along the length, and cleaned me of her cream. "But I've never not been afraid…until you."

I growled, surged up, fisted my hand in her hair, and devoured her. I sucked, and tasted, lashing my tongue against hers and gently biting her lip.

Her moan of surrender morphed into a dark twist of need. Shedding her insecurity, she kissed me back with equal ferocity. A wild unleashing of tongues, teeth, and spit. I groaned, needing more.

"I want tonight for me." She searched my face, and her fingers scraped softly along my jaw and brushed over my lips. "Our first date might be our last date. I'm here. I want to be with you."

I covered her hand with mine, pulled it away from my face, and kissed her palm. "No promises," I said to her. "Not from you and not from me."

"No promises," she repeated.

I lowered my hand to her lap and pushed our fingers between her thighs.

She sucked in a breath. "I want you to fuck me filthy."

"Open your mouth."

She stared into my eyes and did as I asked.

Shifting onto my knees, I towered over her. With one hand fisted in her hair, the other grasped her jaw. I licked her lips, hovered over her, and spit into her mouth. Heat slipped through my veins, a testament to the power I wanted over this girl. My palm slid onto her neck. Her pulse raced against my thumb as I applied pressure.

Her lips closed and she swallowed.

"I'm going to be in every part of you, Angel." I kissed her, tangling my tongue with hers.

Once she leaned back on the pillows, I sipped kisses along her neck, across the contour of her collarbone, and the crest of her breast. Then I had her nipple in my mouth. A hard suck had her bowing off the bed, gripping my hair, and biting her lip.

With a roar, I surged up. I stood at the end of the bed, tugged her to the edge, ripped her panties down her thighs, grasped her knees spreading her wide, and covered her pussy with my mouth. Kneeling on the floor, I sliced my tongue through her soft, dewy folds, instantly addicted to the tang of her arousal.

She was drenched, soaking my face. I slipped two fingers into her slickness, fucking her with my hands and mouth. I smiled at the socks slipping off her feet as she dug her heels into the mattress.

"Stef, oh god, Stef." Her hips bucked against my mouth.

An aural seduction of whimpers from her slightly parted lips had my cock throbbing. I hummed, knowing what she needed and unwilling to break from the taste of her. I was gluttonous for the scent of her arousal, the velvety texture of her folds, and the sweetness of her cream. I licked the length of her cunt, flicked the hood of her clit, and dipped into her hole with the tip of my tongue.

Sweat beaded on her flesh as she writhed on the bed, thrashing against my mouth, making me chase her pleasure. She was wild and uncontrolled, lost in the delirium of having my mouth on her pussy.

She tasted like the ocean. Clean, a touch salty, and no matter how long I drank from her, I couldn't quench my thirst. At the first quivers, I screwed two fingers into her tight passage, and sucked her clit, rasping my tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Stef, I can't breathe." She gasped, and I sucked harder, sending her over the edge of sanity.

Celine cried out, biting hard into her lip, and shattered. Her smooth thighs clamped against my shoulders, and her fingers gripped handfuls of my hair. I sucked and licked until the final pulses faded to soft flutters.

I stood at the foot of the bed, unzipped my jeans, and pushed them, along with my boxers, down my thighs and kicked them off.

Celine scooted up the bed and leaned back on her elbows. Naked, pale skin and blonde tangled hair against my black sheets. An angel's fall from grace. Blood stained the seam of her lips, bite marks denting the luscious fullness. Moisture dampened her lashes, and her eyes had gone from stormy ocean blue to bright with unshed tears.

"Spread your legs."

Her gaze stayed with mine as her thighs fell open. I fisted the base of my cock, stroking the length. Fluids seeped from the slit.

She twisted onto her hands and knees and crawled across the bed toward me.

"Do you want your mouth on me?" I angled my dick toward her lips. She nodded and licked the slit.

Tunneling my hands into her hair, I held her head. The wet warmth of her mouth surrounded the crown. My grip tightened. I was too hard and too close to coming for this. But fuck, her mouth was stretched around my girth.

"Relax your throat, Angel. You suck me so good. Fuck me with your mouth."

She tried to take more of my length. Licking, sucking, and slurping her way down the shaft. Spit trickled over her fingers and dripped onto my balls.

Pressure built low in my groin, and my buttocks clenched. "Fuck." I ripped her off my dick. I wasn't going to come in her mouth, not this time.

Bracing my hands on the ladder of her ribs, I urged her to her knees, and I kissed her deeply, licking the stain of blood from her lips, claiming her mouth the way I wanted her body.

She broke the kiss. Silence lingered between us, both of us motionless.

"Open," she said, a shy smile tempting me to kiss her again. She waited for me to comply.

Fuck, but this girl followed my example. I parted my lips, and she spit into my mouth. I tipped my head back, feeling her saliva slide down my tongue, and swallowed.

Celine rested her hand on my chest. Quivers rippled through my abdominals as she grazed her nails lower, tracing the V of my groin with her fingertips. The need to cram her full of my cock bit painfully in my gut.

"I want inside you, Angel. There's no way to undo this. No way to ever forget tonight. No saving yourself for your future husband." If she were a mafia princess, taking her innocence would have me married or buried. I'd still want her in my bed.

"Fuck me filthy, Stef. Make me feel…everything."

I gripped her ass, my fingers digging into her buttocks, and lifted her. "Wrap your legs around me."

She did, and I climbed onto the bed. I smiled down at her as she scooted up the bed and lay back against my pillow. "Will you turn off the light?"

I leaned over, flicking off the light and plunging the room into blackness. The mattress dipped and the fabric rustled as I used my knees to spread her thighs.

Soft wet curls covered her pussy. "You're so small," I said, sliding a finger into her tight passage.

Her palms glided onto my ass, and her hips tilted. I gripped my dick and braced in the cradle of her pelvis. Cream slicked the head of my cock as I notched her opening.

I pushed in another inch, and she sucked in a breath.

"We'll take it slow." I braced on one arm, and with the other, I ran my palm along her flank, down to her ass, and angled her pelvis. I slowly rocked into her, but she was too fucking tight. I felt like I was tearing into her.

"I feel like I'm splitting apart," she said on a breathless gasp. "I must be crazy because it hurts so good. So good, Stef. I need more. Please."

I rested my forehead against hers. "Take a deep breath and hold it."

Her chest lifted with her inhale. Gripping her ass, anchoring her to my hips, I entered her in one hard, brutal thrust.

Celine screamed a piercing wail of pain. Her nails raked my back, and her resistance shattered. I pushed in deeper, bottoming out inside her body, and stilled. I clutched her tight to my chest as she trembled in my arms.

"I'm sorry." Heat slipped beneath my skin. I sipped the tears from her cheeks. The sick part of me gloried in her pain, branding her as mine, knowing I'd be the only one to ever be her first. "I'm sorry," I whispered to her again.

In the blackness of the room, she wrapped her legs around my hips, holding me inside her. Her arms clung to my shoulders. "Never apologize to a woman when you're still inside her."

I chuckled against her neck. "Any other requests before I fuck you filthy?"

"Make me come again, Stef. I never want to forget how good I feel with you."