Chapter Eight

Stefano

I stopped on the ground floor of the building. Crews worked twelve-hour shifts, and the workers would be replaced at each stage of construction. No individual would know the full scope of my building's mechanics, security, or purpose. All except Joe Jilani.

Allegra's uncle was in the construction business. Or rather he had a certain influence with contractors and subcontractors. One could say there wasn't a concrete sidewalk in the city or a basement of a building that the mafia didn't pour.

"Change in plans," I said to Joe. "I need one of the rooms repurposed, and I need it done today." He left the crew working and followed me to the elevators. "How is Anna's place coming?"

"Good. Appliances are coming in this week for most of the units."

"I need this unit gutted." The entry was open, awaiting new secure doors and locks. The open room had north lighting. According to the internet that would give her the best lighting. "Whitewash all the brick except for that wall." I explained how I wanted the room set up. Shelving, modified kitchen with utility sinks and stainless steel instead of granite.

Joe circled the room. "I can refinish the floors today, but they won't be ready for forty-eight hours."

I shook my head. "Whatever you can do needs to be done today."

Joe nodded. "We'll get it done. I'll get another crew of guys."

He stayed in the unit, making notes, and I took the elevator down to the parking level and climbed into my SUV. I set the notebook on the passenger seat, then I headed to the bank.

I'd checked my text messages. I'd missed a few from Carmine. And one exceptionally pissed off voicemail from Marco wanting to know where the fuck I was.

At the bank, they waited as I stepped into the command room. Emilio sat at a display of computer monitors. "Do you have it?"

I pulled the notebook from my jacket and handed it to him.

Like a kid at Christmas, he spun around in his chair and carefully opened the first page.

"Start at the last entry and work your way back," Marco said.

I plopped down in a swivel chair next to him. "We need the notebook, but don't forget why we have it. Ian Byrne wants her for a reason, and I want to know why." And why would her own father be willing to sell her off to the Irish mafia? "It's important to her. Make a copy."

The notebook had been her insurance policy, giving her a sense of security over her father. I didn't want to take that from her.

Emilio began his magic on the computer. Anna poked her head into the office. "Giada just pulled into the parking garage."

"Knox and his crew are holding Story in the van." Marco pulled out his phone. "Time for her to see more than banking is going on in the building." He lifted his gaze to me. "Are you ready?"

An intoxicating hit of adrenaline spiked my blood. We exited as a group, following Marco to the elevators. Orlando stayed back with Emilio. My youngest brother was never comfortable with the violent side of our world.

Ant and Marco walked ahead. Anna hustled to keep up with me.

"Are we going to talk about this morning? You pushed me out of the room as soon as I dropped off your grocery order. Who was in the shower? You said no one was allowed in the building, but I'm pretty sure that bra on the floor makes you a liar."

I growled and said, "Later," because I did want Anna to know Celine. They would meet soon, just not this morning when Celine had panicked at Anna's arrival.

When a person had been fucked with for their entire life, they had issues, like anxiety and panic attacks. Celine trusted me. Whatever I could have used her for changed the moment she climbed onto my bike, climbed into my bed, and became mine.

A tempest of barely banked fury waited to be unleashed on Ian Byrne and Charles Moreau. First, I had to deal with Edmond Story.

Anna and Ant deviated off to the offices while I walked with Marco and Carmine to the elevators. Knox would already have Story in the basement of the bank.

Carmine opened the door, visually securing the room before Marco entered. Knox leaned against a wall and smoked a cigarette. Chains hung from large meat hooks at the rear of the room. There were cabinets and storage closets along the west wall, along with a utility sink and workstation.

Two of Knox's crew, guys who used to run with Santi Jilani, sat on chairs behind a solid hardwood butcher block table. Edmond Story was wedged between them.

I cocked a brow. Story didn't have a mark on him, not a touch of blood visible, but his mouth pulled into a hard line, and his attention focused on Marco. It was easy to see who was in charge. My brother made a statement of intimidation in his black suit and a calm as fuck mask of indifference. Whereas my hands balled into fists at my side.

I raised a brow at Knox.

He shrugged. "Seems he wanted to come for a chat."

"Fuck you," Story said. "I've been in the game long enough to know shit's already fucked when the Italian mafia sends the Irish to my door."

Marco shrugged out of his suitcoat. "You and I are in similar situations," he said to Edmond. "We both have investments to protect. Competition isn't always good for business." He approached the table and draped his jacket over the back of the chair before sitting down.

I made my way to Knox. "Did we get the attention we wanted?" Had Giada seen Story?

We kept our voices low.

"By the way she took off for her office, she definitely saw him, but I'm not sure he saw her."

Marco spun his lionhead ring on his left hand. The red diamond in the eyes glinted in the fluorescent lighting. "We both know you'll tell me what I want to know at some point today. How we get the information is up to you."

"I'm already fucked," he said. "Everyone knows you've taken over for Jilani, and whatever went down with the Irish took out Patrick Byrne. I'm fucked for trusting the wrong assholes."

"I'll need the names of those assholes. I want a list of your clients. I want dollar amounts, percentages, and frequency of deposits." Marco leaned forward. "I want to know how you were introduced to Giada, what information she gave you, and how you were involved with my brother."

Marco had to be talking about Luca because I wasn't involved with Story. When had he found out about Luca's involvement? And how deep did it go because I was fucking tired of hearing Luca's name when it was connected to a debt I intended to collect.

Marco's phone pinged. "Perfect timing," he said reading the text. "If we're going to start at the beginning, we need all the players in the room."

I stiffened and glanced at Marco. A deviant smile played across his lips. What the fuck was going on?

A knock sounded, Knox twisted the handle, and the door swung open. Story's eyes widened, and a vein swelled and pulsed in his temple.

Marco leaned back in his chair, his gaze finding mine.

Ant stepped into the room. Luca entered next. He stared at Story and slid his palms into his front pockets.

"What the fuck?" Story attempted to stand, but Knox's man slammed a hand to his shoulder, forcing him back onto his chair.

"You recognize my brother, Luca Bruno. Good, introductions won't be needed." Marco rose from his chair and stood next to Luca. "Stef, I'd like Edmond's full attention."

Adrenaline fired through my system, a scorching blaze of denied retribution. I pulled a measure of chain, with a shackle at each end, from the wall.

"Arm on the table," I said.

Knox's man didn't give Edmond time to process my request. He grabbed Edmond's arm and slammed it onto the table. I snapped the steel shackle onto his wrist. Edmond thrashed, but the effort was useless.

As I pulled the chain through the anchor ring attached to the opposite side of the table, Edmond realized what was happening. The chain stretched his right arm across the expanse of the table. He tightened his hand into a fist, fighting against the pull.

I repeated the process to his left arm, securing his left wrist in another shackle. Tendon and ligament stretched, and veins popped against his faded and blown tattoos. I took out my knife and stabbed the point into the wood of the table.

"Spread your fingers, or I'll take your whole fucking hand."

"Listen," Story stammered. "Fuck this. What do you want to know?"

"First finger is just the down payment," I said. "How much you'll owe is dependent on the information you have for us." I slowly wrapped my fingers around the hilt of the blade.

Ant pulled a cigarette from the pack. "Might want to decide quickly. Stef gets off on this shit." He lit the cigarette, then held a small hunting knife to the blue base of the flame.

"Jesus Christ." Fear had his lips trembling and snot dripping from his nose. "Okay, Fuck. My pink—."

Before he could choose, I pulled the knife, smashed my palm against his fist, and cut through the joint of his pinky finger at the base.

Story screamed, and Ant pressed the glowing flat of the knife to the injury. The skin sizzled and smoked, cauterizing the wound. The stench burned my nostrils.

Story gasped, his chest rising and falling with hard, sharp breaths. Sweat trickled down his forehead and beaded on his upper lip.

Chair legs scraped across the floor, then Luca sat in front of Story. "Giada set up our meeting when we had dinner at Tuscany. Start there." Tuscany was an Italian restaurant in the city.

Edmond nodded. "I don't owe that cunt anything. I know when I'm part of a play, and her pussy wasn't good enough to lose my dick over."

"I haven't threatened to cut off your dick yet," I said.

"Yeah. Yeah. This shit didn't start with dinner at Tuscany." Edmond strained against the chains. "Five years ago, you made a lot of people nervous with your engagement to the Jilani girl," he said, looking at Marco. "Jilani has a lot of power and influence but stayed in his lane. Motorcycle gangs and cartels were running the streets, Karas was running the docks, even bringing in Bruno merchandise. Jilani owns the construction front and real estate. You know, government kickbacks and shit."

Story stared at Marco while he spoke, and I watched Luca. Months apart had changed him. He'd always been in control, never letting his emotions dictate his behavior. Sitting in the chair, there was a calmness in him, a confidence that resonated.

I wanted to believe he'd come home. He belonged with us. As kids, we'd dreamed of the day we'd rule as brothers. Both he and Marco wore lionhead rings, gifts from our father. They represented the Bruno family. Power, loyalty, and respect. Orlando had his. Mine was gone. I'd buried it with my mother. At the time, I'd been afraid for her to be alone because if it took good deeds to get to heaven, I'd never see her again.

My good deeds were done in bank basements and back alleys.

Blood stained the table, and Story's finger rested near his hand to remind him to keep talking.

"Karas is moving a lot of sensitive merchandise for Byrne."

An electric charge prickled the hairs on my arm. I cast a glance at Ant. He crossed his arms over his chest, noting the same thing I had. This was the first we'd heard of the connection between Byrne and Story.

"I had a sweet deal laundering money, small scale, but business was growing. Then Jilani announced the alliance between him and the Bruno's." He swallowed hard. "Had you come to marry her, you never would have enjoyed the honeymoon. I made the mistake of believing Karas had the situation handled.

"Then you showed up," he said to Luca. "At first, it made people nervous, but then it looked like you were doing business with Alex Ferraro." He shifted his gaze to Marco. "Karas found out you were expanding. Shit got serious after that.

"I didn't give a fuck if you were growing your territory. Luca wanted to use my smurfs to launder serious cash. We were pretty tapped but fuck, I wasn't going to turn down a ten percent cleaning fee. Then that bitch showed up with Karas. Made it clear that I worked for them. She promised I'd still have Luca's accounts, but I'd get twenty percent."

"Who ordered the hit at the diamond exchange?" Luca asked.

"Karas. The whole thing was setup to take out Stefano. Giada said you were personal to her," he said to Luca. "I don't know what she had planned. When she finds out you're still alive, you're going to be personal to her again. When it comes to the Brunos, especially you, she's got venom in her blood." He stumbled over the words. "Fuck, how are you not dead?"

"What about Giada?" I asked. "She fucks for information. What were you giving her?"

Story licked his lips. "Sorry, but yeah, I got off on fucking Bruno pussy. I wasn't hiding anything from her. Once Luca was dead, we were done. She wasn't creaming her panties for me…or for any of you. The bitch is in bed with Karas."

Luca leaned back in his chair. He turned to Marco. "I need to see a picture of Isaak Karas." The man was notably absent from online sources.

"I have records of dates and shipments," Story said.

"Good." Marco slipped on his jacket. "Looks like you live another day. We're going to need access to your accounts. Lock him up."

"Wait," I said, turning my knife over in my hands. "What do you know about Charles Moreau?"

Story sniffed hard, flaring his nostrils. "He's a prick. I'm not telling you anything you don't already know. Patrick Byrne is into girls. Moreau must like them young because that's what Patrick specialized in before you disrupted the supply chain. Not even the district attorney can quietly clean up that mess."

"What about his daughter?" I asked.

"Byrne doesn't have any kids."

Was he fucking stupid? "Moreau's daughter," I clarified.

"If she's young, keep her away from Byrne."

Fuck. I couldn't keep her safe until I figured out why the fuck she had value to Ian Byrne.

Once I removed the chains, Ant and Knox grabbed Story under each arm and hauled him off to the holding cells. I stayed in the room with Marco and Luca.

I sat on the table, tucked a cigarette between my lips, and waited for one of them to explain the situation. What changed for Luca?

"What's the situation with Moreau's daughter?" Luca asked.

I narrowed my gaze at him. "Who's asking?"

"Your brother." Luca clasped my head in his hands and pressed a kiss to my forehead. Then he stared hard into my eyes, his glistening with unshed moisture. "I never meant to put pain between us, never wanted to believe my family would betray me, and I have never betrayed my family. I have always wished for the day to stand with you again, united as brothers."

"What about Mia?" Marco asked.

"Mia's concerns were the same as mine. Now, the threats to me and my family have been exposed, she agrees we're stronger with our families unified. Her safety will always be paramount, but I belong in the fight."

In answer to his question about Moreau's daughter, I said, "Emilio is breaking down the notebook. It's like a puzzle of names, numbers, and dates. It's going to take him a few days to put it all together. Where are the two guys we picked up last night?"

"In holding cells," Marco said. "Tim and Knox worked them over. I haven't decided what to do with them yet. Seems not all the Irish understand they're at war with us. The only information they were given was to detain the girl, notify Byrne, and wait for extraction. Where is she now?"

"My building."

"Keep her locked down," Marco said. "If Moreau finds out, he can get a search warrant on your building."

And there were aspects of my building that needed to be concealed from law enforcement. Industrial sized disposals and incinerators would require some explanation.

I wanted Moreau, but the disappearance of a district attorney wouldn't go unnoticed. I'd find another way to get to him.

As soon as Luca was safely out of the building unseen, I went to Emilio's office. He kicked back in his chair, eating a bag of chips. He pointed at his computer, smiled, and shoved another chip in his mouth.

"Giada is freaking the fuck out. She thought opening up a private window on her computer would protect her. She's got a nervous trigger finger with the way she's firing off emails."

"Any progress on Moreau?"

"Yeah." He sat up straighter, set his chips to the side, and pulled up a news article. "You wanted to know how his wife died. She drowned. They found her in her car at the bottom of a lake. Her death was ruled an accident with alcohol as a contributing factor. I have the report."

Christ. A stab of pain hit my heart for the little girl who lost her mom. No siblings to share the grief, a dick of a father, although perhaps back then he hadn't been as cruel to his little girl, hadn't seen her as a commodity to be sold.

I sat in the chair next to him. "Anything else interesting?"

"Her maiden name was Liora Nielson. She and Charles had both attended Eminence University. She left to do a semester abroad, found out she was pregnant, came home, got married, and popped out Celine. After her death, Moreau's star rose fast in the prosecutor's office. He cracked down on low level street crime, drug dealers, gun violence, shit to give him easy wins."

"Text me if anything comes up. Oh, and I need a phone."

Emilio spun in his chair and went to the supply cabinet. "Any preference?"

"Something with tracking and monitoring."

Emilio nodded, grabbed a new smart phone from the stack, and returned to his chair. "I don't think I need to ask who this is for."

"Hers was compromised."

"Yeah, well so is this one. The details are in who has done the compromising." He handed me the phone then grabbed his chips.

With the phone in my jacket, I left Emilio's control center and found Anna in my office.

"I'm going to need another favor," I said to her. "What do you know about art supplies?" Because I'd needed everything to set up a studio.

"You mean paints, canvases, brushes. Or knives, guns, and tarps because I've heard Marco call you an artist."

I chuckled and sat across from her, feeling a little strange on this side of the desk. "Everything someone would need to paint."

"Watercolor, oils, acrylic, pours, pastels?"

"I don't know." I raked my fingers through my hair. "Get it all."

"Carmine mentioned you'd recently become a collector. I saw the piece on the wall in your apartment. Dark but beautiful. Sort of a prerequisite for you."

"Do you have a point to make?"

Her lips twisted with a knowing smile. "I want to know about her."

I leaned forward and braced my forearms on my knees. I thought about the woman in my apartment. She was more than the soft touch of her hands, the warmth of her whispered breath against my flesh as I held her, and the erotic pleasure of being inside her. The need to give her the world and to protect her from it burned in my gut.

"She paints." I rubbed my palms on my thighs. "She's mixed up in all this shit. I still don't know how. I need to keep her safe. She's going to be staying with me."

My sister had a soft heart, and she was fiercely loyal. There was no need for me to tell her how important Celine was to me. That she was in my building said all she needed to know. "For how long?"

I sat with the question for a few beats of my heart. The answer rested on the tip of my tongue, sweet, unfamiliar, and fucking addicting, ready to be felt, but until this moment unsure if ready to be spoken. "Forever."

"Stef?" Her gaze softened.

I stood. "I asked Joe to convert a unit on the same floor as you into a studio. She's locked in, and she needs a place to paint. Can you take care of it for me? Fuck, she needs clothes and girl stuff, too."

"I'll ask Ant to go with me. He wants to check the progress on the building."

She fidgeted under my scrutiny. I could read her like a book, and what I gleaned from her discomfort had me concerned. "Ant was in the building yesterday. Besides, he needs to stick close to Marco." She understood why. Until Byrne was handled, Marco was a target.

"If not Ant, get one of your guys to take me. Who would you want to spend the day with me? It has to be someone you don't mind knowing your business because I'm not an artist, and I don't shop at the mall. Plus, whoever he is, is going to be in and out of your building."

"Fine. Take Ant, but don't pretend I don't know what you're doing." I cradled her cheek. "Sorella mia, my sister, I can see it in your eyes. You cover it well, but Antonio isn't the man for you. He's devoted to Marco, and you know Marco would never allow it."

"I don't know what you mean. Ant is like a brother to me."

Yet, she trembled beneath my fingers, her face flushed, and her heart raced in the hollow of her neck.

"Good, because were anything to happen between you and Antonio, Marco would see it as a betrayal."

She swallowed. "And would you?"

"I've got you out of the house, and I've asked Marco to relax about getting you a husband. You say you love Ant like a brother. Keep it that way. Don't put me in a position to interfere because I love you, and I don't want to see you hurt."

She nodded as we walked out of the office. Ant and Marco stood at the elevators. Anna stumbled in her steps. She turned to me. "Maybe not exactly like a brother."

Celine

Even if I'd wanted to play games on Savio's phone to save me from boredom, I couldn't, and I'd given up on trying to figure out how to change it from Italian to English. I'd considered cleaning, but Stefano's barebones apartment hadn't been lived in long enough to make it dirty.

After I made the bed, picked up the clothes, and organized the few groceries his sister brought, I'd found a crate to convert into a chair. My palms warmed, wrapped around my second cup of ginger tea. The buzz of saws, and the thud of hammers echoed from the floors below me.

I sat with my knees tucked to my chest at the open window, watching cars drive by. There wasn't a lot of foot traffic, but the view stretched for miles.

White, fluffy clouds floated in the sky like melting marshmallows. The sun was warm on my bare legs. Stefano's T-shirt draped my body. I brought the collar to my nose and inhaled. It smelled like him. Letting go of the shirt, I pressed my hand to my chest, cupped my breast, remembering the heat of his mouth and hands. My nipple tightened.

I leaned my head against the glass and skated my hand higher. My pulse spiked as I curled my fingers around my neck. An answering pulse centered between my legs.

He said the bank was only a few blocks away. Was he in an office? I couldn't imagine him behind a desk, counting money, or setting up accounts. Scars carved a history into his body. His calloused hands had mapped every inch of me.

My father had the hands and form of a man who worked with a pen. I balanced the mug of tea on my knees. The man who'd come for me, carried a gun and a knife, and had muscles on top of muscles. He was nothing like my father.

The lock clicked. My breath caught, but I didn't need to worry. It had to be Stefano because he'd said no one else would be on this floor. The handle turned, and a breath of anticipation slipped past my lips. The door opened, and he stepped in with a pizza box in one hand and my duffel bag and backpack in the other.

He was beautiful. Dark hair brushed against the collar of his leather jacket. Stubble darkened his jaw. He scanned the room, seeking me out. The moment our gazes connected, I felt the tug from nipple to clit.

A soft smile curled his lips. He closed the door with his foot and dropped the bags.

"Did you miss me, Angel?"

I unfolded from the crate, lowered my feet to the floor, and rushed across the room. My things could wait, food could wait, but I couldn't. I wrapped my arms around his neck, rose onto my tiptoes, and tugged his lips to mine.

His chuckle and a low growl rolled together. He grabbed my ass and crushed me hard to his body. The lonely hours of the morning melted away with the heat of his kiss. He owned my mouth, taking my tongue, stealing my breath, and breathing his desire into me.

"You don't have to feed me before you fuck me." I smiled against his lips.

The pizza dropped to the floor and both of his hands were on me, in my hair, then pulling my shirt over my head. He dipped down and captured my nipple in his mouth. Each tug of his mouth sent tiny flares of electricity along my nerves, like lightning in a night sky, so hot, and so bright.

"I've been thinking about you all morning." My panties were damp and creamy with my arousal.

Gripping my ass, he lifted me, and I wrapped my legs around his hips. His hard cock nudged against my panties. I nipped along his jaw as he carried me to the bed and tossed me into the center.

With a hand behind his head, he ripped his shirt from his torso.

"What happened?" I scrambled onto my knees and grabbed him. Blue medical bandage wrapped around his arm.

Stefano tugged the end, unwrapping the bandage. "Blood draw. Doc will have the results this afternoon." He stepped away, grabbed my backpack, and set it on the bed. "I stopped at the pharmacy for us."

I sat back on my heels, my legs tucked underneath me. "I'm sorry I killed the mood."

Pausing as he unzipped my bag, he turned and stared into my eyes. Then his gaze slipped lower, lingering on my breasts. My nipples hardened into small stones, and a shiver whispered across my skin.

"Mi fai impazzire."

With my questioning stare, he repeated his words in English.

"You make me crazy." The backpack discarded, he smiled and sipped my lips.

A spark of insecurity flared in my belly. Was he frustrated with me? I'd disrupted his life, but his touch belied my thoughts. He made me crazy with lust. Made me crazy with a reckless disregard for the bold way he looked at me. Made me crazy with want, because right now I wanted him to take me in his arms. Made me want to open my legs for him.

Made me want to fuck the consequences of thinking about anything but the two of us. Skin to skin. I wanted him to devour me until I saw stars.

"I make you crazy." He made me crazy. I needed to feel him moving inside me. Then I had my hands on him. Muscles rippled beneath my fingertips as I unsnapped his jeans. His cock kicked behind the denim, filling the front of his jeans, straining to be released.

Those whiskey-colored eyes darkened. His breath became sharp as I lowered the zipper. "I want inside you, Angel."

"I need you, too." His cock dropped forward, thick and heavy in my palm. I slid off the bed and sank to my knees on the floor.

"Angel."

When he whispered my name as an endearment, I felt beautiful and desired. I swiped my tongue over the tip, tasting his essence. Intoxicating and addicting, I wanted more. I felt light-headed as I took him into my mouth.

A dark and dirty groan crawled out of him. He pushed his jeans over his hips until his balls dropped into my palm. Then he fisted his hand in my hair, not a gentle gathering, but a firm grip, an anchor to hold me steady as I opened wider, and he slid deeper, pushing in until he hit the back of my throat. I gagged but swallowed hard to fight the need to pull back.

"You want me," he said. "Take me."

He filled my mouth, thrusting into my throat. Tears leaked from my closed eyes. I braced one palm on his thigh, clutching the denim of his jeans. My other hand circled the thick, hard base of his cock. I pumped my fist as I bobbed on the shaft. Spit soaked my fingers.

"Angel, you fuck me with your mouth, your hands, and your eyes. Look at me."

The deep tone of his voice did wicked things to me, a swirling need to be as depraved as he was.

I lifted my gaze to his, pulled my mouth from his dick, and spat. My saliva trickled over the slit and dripped into the small V under the head. I swirled my tongue through my saliva and savored his bitter fluids.

"That's it, Angel. Fuck me so good. Suck my cock. Make it yours the way your sweet cunt is mine."

A hum of pleasure surged through my veins as I took him into my mouth again. The harder he pulled my hair, the harder I squeezed his dick, and the more I sucked. With slow steady inhales and exhales, I relaxed my throat, then I held my breath, flattened my tongue on the shaft, and forced his dick deep. My throat burned as the length and girth stretched me open. Tears flooded my eyes, and my nostrils flared, desperate for air, but I couldn't take a breath.

"Cazzo." He fucked my face with hard, shallow thrusts. Muscles in his abdomen contracted. "I'm going to fill your pretty mouth with cum."

I nodded as best as I could, and I sucked until my cheeks hollowed. His quadriceps bunched and hardened beneath my hand. As his climax encroached, he wound my hair around his fist and took over most of the work, using me for his pleasure. I relaxed my jaw and throat, swirled my tongue while he pistoned into my mouth, racing toward release.

My mind numbed, and my body relaxed. My breathing slowed, but my body heated. Cream flooded my core, and my nipples ached.

The first hot spurt slid down my throat.

Stefano roared and reared back. Cum splashed across my tongue and painted my lips. His grip on my hair stretched my neck, and my head tipped back. "Bellissima. You look beautiful on your knees, taking my cock like a good girl."

I preened with his compliments, opening my mouth, craving his cum as he continued to fist his cock, pumping through his release. Warm, salty essence bathed my mouth and slid down my throat.

Temptation twisted low in my belly.

Stefano's grip on my hair loosened. With the softest touch, he trailed his fingertips along my face, and wiped spit from my lips and chin with his thumb.

My body was limp as he helped me to stand. With a step, my legs pressed against the bed. I sat, and he slanted his mouth over mine, parted my lips, and dipped his tongue in for a taste.

With my arms braced slightly behind my back, my breasts kissed his chest, tightening my nipples. He stirred a hunger in me, made me into someone I didn't recognize. I wanted to be her, the woman he needed, the woman who stoked the barely banked heat within him. The woman who wasn't afraid to be vulnerable to a dangerous, and powerful man.

In his arms, I traded my terror for trust. Truth for the chance to have something real.

"All morning, I thought of you like this." He hovered over me, closing his fingers around my throat and forcing me to my back.

"It gave me time to think, and all I could think about was you. I missed you." I ran my hands over the hills of his shoulders and onto his biceps.

His mouth moved lower, nipping and kissing my belly as he tucked a thumb into my panties and pulled them down my thighs. Fluids soaked my pussy. I could feel the slippery wetness between my thighs.

"I hated leaving you alone."

"You're here now."

He spread my thighs, breathed in my scent, then he was there, his moist tongue cool against my heated flesh. My back bowed, and his assault on my pussy drove me to the edge of sanity.

He growled with a wild lashing of tongue and lips.

"Stef," I cried, heat and pressure coiling low in my belly.

"Come for me, Angel. Scream my name."

I was blind to everything but his mouth and breath on my aching center. The stubble on his jaw abraded the tender flesh of my inner thigh, sending quivers rippling through my legs. My feet dug into the mattress, and my hips gyrated against his mouth.

"That's it, Angel. Fuck my face." He sucked my folds, dipped his tongue into my center, and nibbled on my swollen clit.

"More." I bucked against his mouth with wild abandon, uninhibited, and careening toward release. "Please."

"My greedy girl." He slid a finger deep into my core.

"Oh, god." My body tightened. Muscles spasmed. I clutched the sheet in my fists, and shards of pleasure fractured my mind into a million sparkling stars. Uncontrollable trembles ricocheted through me. Bruising strength had Stef's fingers gripping my hips as he sucked my pussy hard, biting and tonguing my soaked center.

Another spiral of flutters whirled and eddied through my belly and exploded into a riotous storm. My heart pounded. My body vibrated with the thunder. Lightning flared, igniting me from the inside out. I came hard, bathing Stefano's mouth in my juices.

Breath gusted past my lips as my body sought refuge from the brutality of my climax. Stefano leveraged over me, sweeping my mouth in a consuming kiss, then holding me tightly. I clung to him, and our limbs entwined.

The scent of his cologne surrounded me, and his strong hands soothed the clamoring of my body, still trembling with the aftershocks of my orgasms.

Wind whistled through the window, chilling my sweat-dampened skin. Stefano rolled onto his side, and I curled into his chest. For a moment, we simmered in the afterglow, touching and softly kissing.

"I came home to feed you pizza," he said and chuckled. "I love to see your mouth filled with my cock, but your belly is growling again."

I tipped my face to his and smiled. "Sorry."

Stefano swatted my ass, rolled over, slid from the bed, and picked the pizza box up off the floor. He set it on the bed and flipped the lid open.

Cheese stuck to the lid and toppings had slid off the crust. Stefano glanced at the kitchen area. "I can microwave us a frozen mini pizza."

I laughed, leaned over the bed, grabbed Stefano's T-shirt, and pulled it over my head. "This is perfect." Using my fingers, I piled cheese and a few toppings onto a slice. Then I folded the slice in half and took a big bite of the barely warm pizza.

Stefano stretched out next to me and did the same.

"Do you have to go back to work?" I asked and licked sauce from my fingers.

"Not back to the bank," he said around a bite. "But I have to go out again. Only for a few hours."

"It's okay. My computer is in my backpack."

"I have something for you." He leaned over the bed, grabbed the backpack, and hauled it onto the bed. "Inside."

I tugged it closer, peered into the main compartment, and pulled out a phone box. "Thank you." I opened the lid.

"The number is new." He rested his hand on mine. "I want to be open with you. There is tracking on the phone. No one can trace it to you, except me."

That Stefano would know how to find me didn't scare me. It was Ian Byrne and my father who terrified me. "Can I text Marie? I want to make sure she's okay, and to let her know I'm safe."

"Of course. Because there is encryption on the phone, she won't be able to trace it back to you unless you give her the number. Anyone who has the number can become a threat."

"I won't share the number."

"You made two requests of me."

I pulled a paper bag from the backpack and peered inside. There were several square boxes. Each box was a month supply of birth control pills.

How was he able to get me birth control pills without a doctor? He was good at reading my mind, or I had a horrible poker face because he took the box from me and set it aside.

"I'm going to take the pills. I'm just shocked a doctor would give you a prescription for me."

"I asked Dr. Senna—Felix—for the pills."

"And people just do what you say?" Because I'd been on this ride for too long with my father. I was young, and I'd foolishly believed my twenty-first birthday would change my life. Unless I sued my father, the district attorney, I was never going to receive my trust fund. All I had left of the life I'd known was my insecurity. I understood Stefano lived in a dangerous world. He was in the mafia. "What happens if he doesn't do what you say?"

"Felix works for the family. He does what we ask him to do, and he's paid well for his discretion. I picked up the prescription, but the decision to take the pills is yours."

I rolled my eyes. "Are you going to wear a condom?"

"No," he said around a big bite of pizza. "Once we have the results, there won't be a need for condoms."

I chewed my lip.

"Angel baby, I don't have to fuck you to make you come again." He slid his hand along my thigh. "I want inside you, but I can wait a couple of hours until the doc calls."

No matter how good it felt to be with him or what promises he made, or how deeply I'd fallen for him, I wasn't ready to be responsible for a baby. I couldn't take care of myself.

"Birth control, Stef. It's a little late to be worried about your sexual past. I'm talking about babies." It came out as a scolding, but my pussy still tingled with the proximity of his fingers to do just as he promised and make me come.

A slow smile curled his mouth. "You're mine, Angel. One day I'll put babies in your belly."

"You're funny." My heartbeat spiked, and words stuck in my mouth. He spoke so casually. He couldn't be serious. Tamping down my anxiety, I ignored his comment as anything but speaking in jest, however, the hard angle of his jaw and the piercing intensity in his amber eyes had me questioning if he had a sense of humor.

"I'm serious. Don't you want marriage and children?"

"I'm already married." I smiled, but he didn't laugh. A questioning flicker crossed his eyes. His fingers tightened on my thigh.

"Your husband will never touch you, never taste you, never know the feel of your body against his. The only ring you'll wear is mine, the only marks on your body will come from me."

Blood roared through my ears, and my heart pounded hard enough to break.

If I'd heard those words from anyone else, I'd be petrified with fear, counting tiles, searching out pink items to rein in my anxiety. But it was the rough undertones in his voice shooting desire through me. With him, I could lose myself. That wasn't fear but a visceral longing. My need for him was palpable, a tangible craving I could taste.

Pushing the pizza box to the side, he crawled over me. "If you want a condom between us, I'll wear one. But I'm the only one who is going to be inside your body. Don't use those lips to lie to me, not after you've used them to kiss me."

Here was the lethal mafia man that made men tremble. I trembled. Something was wrong with me because I wasn't afraid.

The dangerous man who would fight to claim me made me want to climb into his skin, work my way into his heart, and find a home there.

I widened my thighs, and he braced in the cradle of my pelvis, the rough edge of his denim abrasive against my tender folds. My fingers slipped beneath the soft waves of hair on his neck.

"One day, I want marriage and children with a man I can trust." I wanted love, but I wasn't sure I'd ever felt it. I was sure I had my mother's love. At least, I'd like to believe I did. Whatever this was between us, I didn't want it to end, and I didn't want anyone else.

"You can trust me, Angel. I'm going to make your world safe." And then he kissed me, becoming my gravity, a force stronger than myself, invisible but felt in every part of my body.