by Fiona Murphy
I’d described her to the best of my ability to Natasha. Natasha, ever stylish and happy to shop with my credit card, selected several different colors that will flatter her olive skin, dark hair, and golden eyes. I’ve never hung clothes in my life, yet I find myself hanging up everything that isn’t loose, lounging clothes to prevent wrinkles, wanting it all to be perfect when she wears them.
The clothes for her barely make a dent in my walk-in closet. We’ll definitely go shopping for more clothes soon. For the first time the sight of a woman’s clothing along the wall across from mine fills me with satisfaction. Natasha got more than a dozen pairs of underwear in a variety of styles from thongs to plain white cotton briefs. I leave them and the loose T-shirts and leggings and two sun dresses, so she has plenty of choice over what to wear, out on the bed.
It takes me a minute to realize something is missing there aren’t any bras. Then I remember the way Natasha teased me when I described her breasts. How she wasn’t sure if she would be able to find a size perfect, since the woman was so young, it was likely her breasts were still perky enough to go without a bra. So she wouldn’t buy any. I’d responded it sounded good to me. I hadn’t really meant it. I don’t want her uncomfortable. I’ll be taking shopping her soon, hopefully it won’t be an issue. I’d noticed a few of the dresses had built-in bras.
I check my watch. She’s been in the bath for almost an hour. I knock lightly. “Food is here along with some clothes for you to change into. No rush or anything. If you washed your hair there’s a hair dryer underneath the sink.”
I’m not surprised she doesn’t say anything. I still wait for a few minutes before moving away from the door.
In the living room, I find Natasha sipping a glass of wine, twirling her long blonde hair around her fingers. “So when do I start planning a wedding?”
“How long will it take? A big one with the whole five hundred guests, big-ass dress, and fuck ton of flowers?” I ask as I sit down and finish off my scotch.
Her blue eyes go big. “I was joking.” She shakes her head. “But you aren’t. You are serious. Married? You’re really planning on marrying her?”
I shrug. “When you know you know. She’s the one.”
“You don’t even know her name, Luca. She doesn’t know who or what you are.” She swallows the glass of wine in one gulp.
“After tonight, she knows more than enough. Her last name will soon be Sabatini; what it is now doesn’t matter. Everything will come with time.” I’m not concerned.
“Luca, living with someone you love in the mafia is not like getting used to them not putting down the toilet seat.” Setting down the empty glass with a thump, Natasha stands and starts to pace.
“Are you feeling okay? Did something happen in Chicago? You always come back from there half here and there for a few days, but this is on another level.”
Interesting, she’s never mentioned me being different after I come back from Chicago before. “It will be here in the main ballroom. I want a look at all the weddings we’ve had here for the last five years. I’m willing to give enough time to ensure everything is perfect. Set it for the last weekend of August so Christy has some time to heal from having the twins. You think three months is enough time?”
I want to drag her in front of an officiant tomorrow and set it in stone as soon as possible. Except the one thing I’ve heard from the women in the family is how much they loved their wedding day. I won’t deny my woman that. I don’t care if she’s had a dozen marriages before ours, this one will be her last, and I want her to look back on it with pride. There is also the question of who she is running from—likely scenario is it’s a husband or at the very least a boyfriend. If she’s already married he’s dead, so she won’t have to worry about a divorce. But I’ll need to find him first.
Just like before, I feel her eyes on me. She’s standing in the doorway. Her long hair has been towel-dried and is running down her shoulder in light curls. Instantly, I’m hard for her. I recognize the black button-down shirt she’s wearing as one of mine. The shirt nearly swallows her. She left the top three buttons undone, and I can clearly see she’s wearing a silky white camisole that clings to heavy, round, braless breasts I ache to learn. Her nipples harden beneath my gaze and her cheeks turn pink with a blush. The silky pajama bottoms are also in white and are a size too big.
The white of the camisole against her olive skin has me wanting to run my hands over her, followed by my tongue. Her wearing my shirt fills me with satisfaction. There was another bag of toiletries, an electric toothbrush, a wide-mouth comb as well as a brush, a few different kinds of lotion, and a bottle of sweet almond oil—I love the way Natasha thinks of everything. I can smell the almond oil on her skin as I pull out her chair to sit down and eat at the table.
Natasha stares without apology. “Hi, I’m Natasha. And you are?”
Her smile is timid as she shakes Natasha’s hand, but she is stubborn and doesn’t give up her name. Ignoring the chair I pulled out for her, she sits where I was instead.
“She is testing boundaries and limits. Since she’s not giving me her name, I’ll be calling her Bella. Beautiful, it fits her. Don’t you think?”
“Very much so. Nice meeting you, Bella.” Natasha waves as she leaves.
I watch her as she spoons kung pao chicken onto her plate next to a serving of chicken fried rice and chicken marsala. “What would you like to drink? I have some wine or soft drinks.”
“Water would be great, thank you.” She answers in English, her eyes down on her plate without looking up.
“Pellegrino or still?”
“Pellegrino, please.” Picking up her fork, she moves it over her food.
“Be right back.” I’m glad she gave up on pretending not to speak English.
As I walk back into the room with a bottle and a glass of ice, I find she has eaten almost half of what she selected. Setting the glass and bottle within easy reach of her, I sit down across from her. Instantly, she goes still. I’m intrigued by the blush on her cheeks as she puts her fork down. After she takes a sip of water from the bottle, her eyes run over her plate, only she doesn’t resume eating.
“Are you okay?” I don’t understand why she isn’t eating.
She shrugs her shoulders. “I’m, um, done.”
“You’re a shitty liar, Bella. I don’t like it. I’ve warned you once. It isn’t often I give someone a second warning.” I watch as her hand runs over her stomach and she blushes again. Oh hell no, not this bullshit. “Hey, look at me.”
Her eyes are a soft sherry as they meet mine.
Christ, she’s making my cock hurt. “I think you’re fucking gorgeous. You made my cock hard the moment I laid eyes on you. Whatever bullshit you’re thinking about your body, bury that shit deep and never let it see the light of day again. Eat, or I’ll feed you myself.”
Shaking her head, she’s blushing again. “I’m—you can’t order me to—”
“I can and I will. Don’t push me unless you’re willing to face the consequences.” My cell goes off, it’s Mike who should be running the high-stakes poker rooms. “Eat,” I order her again before answering the phone.
“Yeah,” I answer.
“I’ve got Jason Knight here. He’s got an entourage of three guys, him and one of the guys wants to buy in at a table to play tonight.”
I check the time. I need to get ready and get downstairs. At a little after eleven Vegas is just now coming alive. I’m annoyed Mike is calling, he knows better. My guess is he’s got Knight staring at him so he’s going through the motions to ask me. “No one sits down in the back rooms without prior vetting. If he wants to make plans for next weekend, fine. Or he can play at one of the tables we have up front.”
In the bedroom I find she’s left everything on the bed. A quick glance and I know she’s wearing lace pink panties. Fuck. I should not have gone in there. “I’ll be downstairs in a half hour.” Without giving him a chance to respond, I hang up.
>
Undressing in the walk-in closet, I toss my clothes into the hamper then go in to take a shower. I hit a button for my preset, hot as fuck with the pressure just short of punishing. A quick wash, then I give in to need.
Grasping my cock, I flick my thumb over the leaking tip and use the precome dripping at the thought of Bella in the white camisole clinging to her breasts to stroke my length more easily. I prefer natural tits, but they were rare in the women I’ve fucked. Something tells me Bella’s are natural. Remembering how her nipples tightened under my eyes, my cock jumps. I tighten my grip, which isn’t easy as my cock is thick, almost three inches around and nine inches long.
Most women cannot take more than a few inches into their mouth. I would be content with Bella only sucking the tip of me. Her little cupid’s bow mouth wrapped around the tip as her tongue teases my leaking slit. Imagining her here with me, undressing her to discover every inch of her golden skin... Fuck. I come hard too damn fast. Body weak, I rest my head against the shower wall as water runs over me. Damn it. I’ve never come that fast, alone or with a woman. Even when I was a teenager I could go longer. It’s unacceptable. Bella has obviously been hurt before, I’ll need better control when it comes to her.
Time is pressing down on me. I need to get to work. Turning off the shower, I grab a towel and dry off. It only takes a few minutes to dress, then I’m strapping on my gun and knife. Shit. I’d left both on the island when I undressed. Until Bella is settled, I need to make sure I always lock up my weapons.
***
Isa
When it’s been a few minutes since Luca left the room, I begin to wonder where he went. I consider getting up to figure a way out. Except I’m so freaking tired I don’t think I could stay awake long enough to make it to the ground floor. For a brief minute I had almost fallen asleep in the bathtub. I’m tired, I’m still hungry, and I’m not up for anything that requires complex thought.
Because I want to, not because he told me to, I spoon more of the chicken marsala onto my plate. It isn’t fair, everything tastes so good. I blush all over again as I remember the heat in Luca’s eyes as he told me I made his cock hard. It was clear he meant it. I don’t understand it, but Luca Sabatini felt the same crazy attraction—this isn’t all in my head. Too bad for him, I’m a lost cause who will only disappoint him.
He’s back as I begin to clean up, wondering if he has anything as mundane as Tupperware. This time he’s wearing a three-piece suit in charcoal gray with a white shirt and gray tie. It is just not fair for a man to be so beautiful. My chest goes tight, as it had when he called me Bella. For a split second I’d been terrified he’d figured out who I was already.
His eyes roam over the table and he nods with satisfaction. “Good girl on eating more. I need to get to work. I’ll be back around six. I’ll work out for an hour or so then shower before bed. My alarm goes off at twelve thirty in the afternoon to start my day. I want you to get plenty of rest but be ready when I’m up. See that phone?”
I turn and see the phone he’s pointing at.
“If you need anything, including me—pick it up. You’ll be connected to my front desk who can get you anything you need and let me know if you need me.” His phone goes off with an alert. He pulls it out and reads it but doesn’t answer before sliding it back into his pocket.
I shake my head. “For tonight only. I can’t stay here. It’s not safe for you or me.”
He moves so fast I don’t have time to freak out. One moment he’s across the room, the next he’s picked me up and is sitting down on the couch with me in his lap. A hand goes into my hair, pulling me back to look up at him. His other hand goes down on my thigh, holding me in place on his lap.
Luca is all around me, every sense explodes into hectic, charged expectation. The scent of him, moss, rain, spice and something undefinably pure male so utterly Luca has me breathing deep—seeking more. Up close his beauty fills me with awe that he thinks I’m gorgeous when all I want to do is touch him to confirm he’s real. It shouldn’t be necessary considering the hard contour of muscle and sinew press against me yet just like when he held my hand he is gentle. The power within him is leashed, for me and all I want to do is sink deeper into his hold and the hazy, sensual promise in his endless black eyes.
“Since you don’t know who I am, it’s time I formally introduced myself. I’m Luca Sabatini, until two years ago my last name was Toro. The last name doesn’t really matter. What does matter is I’ve been the head of and controlled the interests of the Chicago Outfit—the mafia—here in Vegas for the last nineteen years. I’ve killed a lot of people and done a lot of bad shit; most of the time it’s been for the right reason.” He lifts a shoulder.
“It’s not a brag, I haven’t always been proud of my actions. I did it because it needed to be done. Nothing happens in this city without my permission, nothing gets in and out of this city without my permission, no one is allowed to breathe in this city without my permission.”
I’m trembling at his ice-cold delivery. Everything Mundo said was true. Luca Sabatini is a dangerous man. He’s also a good man. To admit he wasn’t always proud of what he’s done would be considered beneath most people, a weakness they weren’t allowed to have. Without realizing being able to admit they had done things they weren’t proud of meant they were stronger.
A gentle finger runs along my cheek so slowly I feel every ridge detail—it is a touch of promise, of his own longing. “You’re afraid. I understand. No one who winds up in the back of a truck on their way to be sold got there without enduring at least a little trauma. However, you never have to be afraid of me. I’ll do whatever it takes for you to believe in that, in me. I protect what is mine, and you are mine. You belong to me. No one is allowed to hurt you, not even me.”
The words are a vow. Yet they make no sense. Someone like him doesn’t belong with someone like me. Luca Sabatini is a god. I’m nobody. Less than nobody, a fat, broken woman—
His hand tightens in my hair, forcing my eyes back to his. “Hey, whatever the fuck you’re thinking, stop. Stop right now. I said no one is allowed to hurt you, not even me, that goes double for you. You need to get the fuck out of your head.”
It can’t be that simple...can it? He’s asking me to believe in him, to trust him, something I’ve never done before. Something I’ve never wanted to do until this moment.
“You stole my shirt.” A finger traces over the skin above the silky camisole beneath his shirt along my neck. I shiver at what the finger does to me, at how badly I want his touch. “You look good in it.”
There’s no warning before his mouth comes down over the skin his finger had been teasing. Even as a part of me wants his mouth, it triggers a painful memory of my husband biting my neck while he raped me. One moment I’m breathless with anticipation for Luca’s touch, the next I’m fighting him, screaming in fear.
I lose track of time. Slowly, I realize I’m on the floor in front of the couch. Luca is wrapped around me, rocking me as he whispers soothing words in Italian. Oh god, I’m so embarrassed, I just want to sink into a hole and die.
I try to pull away. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
Luca takes his pocket square out and begins to wipe my face. “Who hurt you?”
“My husband. He’s dead now.” I barely manage to get the words out of my tight throat. “It was an arranged marriage. He only married me for children. There was no asking, he raped me the first night then for two weeks every month to get the children he wanted. When I never had them, the rape got worse and he started beating me in anger every month I never got pregnant.”
“At least he’s dead.” Gentle, yet firm hands cup my face as he looks down at me. “But he wasn’t the only man who hurt you. Who is making you afraid?”
I shake my head. I want so badly to tell him, only I know without a shadow of a doubt Luca would go after Augusto and he’ll end up dead.
“Okay, it’s going to be okay. I promise you. No one is going to hurt you, n
ot ever again,” he promises.
In his arms, I believe him. I feel safe. I fall asleep without any fear for the first time since I was a little girl.
***
Luca
Another alert goes off for a text; I ignore it the same as I have the last two. It doesn’t matter I’ve been holding her for close to an hour, I’m not ready to let her go. Her in my arms, her soft body against mine, soothes me. When she started screaming, begging me not to hurt her, if she had pulled out my gun and shot me it couldn’t have fucked me up more. For the fifteen seconds it took for me to realize she wasn’t afraid of me—it was the situation and her recalling memories—I was tortured at the idea of her fearing me.
Watching her eyes turn pure gold when I told her she belonged to me was something I’ll never forget. She wants to belong to me. Nothing in my entire life has felt so right, so perfect as Bella in my arms. Only for it to come crashing down in the face of dealing with the hell she’s been through. Thank fuck the man who hurt her is dead already. Except there is someone else who has power over her. I need to find out who it is and destroy him slowly and painfully.
She shifts, snuggling deeper into my neck then sighing. Fuck. My cock is so hard it hurts. This is going to be hell. I knew she had trauma, that I was going to need patience to get through it and get to her, but this promises to be on a whole different level. Yet as I look down at her, I don’t care about any of the hard shit. Whatever it takes, as long as it takes, I’ll work to ensure she feels safe, she feels loved, and she’s happy.
My phone starts ringing. Shit. I’m able to pull out my phone and stop the ringing without it waking her. She is out. I check the call. I need to get downstairs.
Carrying her to bed, I pull back the sheets and set her down. She rolls over onto her side. I wrap the covers around her. Damn, she looks so right in my bed. It takes a few minutes to round up all the remaining clothes Natasha got her and put everything away. Once I’m done I call housekeeping to have them come up and deal with the food and make sure it’s all put away, with a warning they are not to disturb her sleeping.