He made himself join in his sister’s laughter. Sasha looked up, and his heart nearly stopped and then accelerated when her eyes met his. Her face went soft when she looked at him. He didn’t deserve that look on her face, like he was something special, her white knight. Still, he wanted her to look at him like that for the rest of their lives. He was glad he’d overcome such a petty reaction as jealousy. He put his hand over his heart and to his shock, she reciprocated.
Two hours went by, Stefano occasionally dancing with Francesca. Ricco spent a great deal of time dancing with Mariko. Emmanuelle mostly danced with her cousins, and refused invitations politely when other males asked her to dance. Giovanni decided he needed to keep a better eye on his sister. She seemed sad, too sad for a woman of her age. They had duties and it weighed heavily on them, but he didn’t think forcing Emmanuelle to carry them out if she wasn’t happy was right.
Sasha worked the top tier where the family could better protect her. Like the VIPs she served drinks to, she was protected from the others in the club. Giovanni wanted her sitting at the table with the family, but his woman was stubborn and very determined to work in order to pay for the care of her brother on her own. He could see he was going to have to choose his battles with her carefully.
He enjoyed watching her. It no longer mattered if everyone saw him. Their engagement had been announced and his ring was on her finger. She had the protection of the Ferraro family, and that made him happy. Still, he couldn’t help but be on edge. The feeling of dread persisted in the pit of his stomach and kept him on alert.
Sasha came to their table often and each time she came up to his side, her body subtly brushed up against his. He was careful, knowing others watched, to not touch her where anyone could see, but it was easy enough to drop one hand below the table and stroke her leg, up her thigh, taking in all that smooth skin.
Sasha did small things to make him aware of her. She dropped a napkin in his lap, and when she retrieved it with a small, shocked apology, her fingers slid over his cock. She didn’t need to touch him for his body to react to her presence, but when she did, it wasn’t just about the sexual response, it was the fact that she was playing. Teasing him. Making him the center of her attention without seeming to do so. He had never had that before, the way she made him feel as if he really were the center of her universe, and he looked forward to each time she came to their table.
The club was in full swing, packed with people dancing and drinking. Midnight had come and gone. Giovanni wanted the night over so he could spend time with his woman.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Francesca said. “I need to use the ladies’ room and then I would very much like my husband to dance with me again.”
Stefano kissed her hand and rose with her. At once, all the men stood. Two tables away and below them, Emilio and Enzo came to their feet. Francesca looked at Emmanuelle and rolled her eyes and laughed.
Salvatore held out his hand to Emmanuelle. “Dance with me, cousin. I’m not in the mood to hold women at bay.”
Emmanuelle stood and gave him a little curtsy. Giovanni glanced at his watch. His woman would be on her break in another five. He rose to his feet and stretched, wishing the metal was out of his leg and he could accompany Stefano. His family would be exacting payment for what John Darby had done to Sasha. He wanted to be there. He needed to be there, but those pins, bolts and plates that had saved his leg also prevented him from doing his job.
Emilio stepped in front of Stefano and Francesca as they started down the stairs. Ricco and Mariko followed. Emmanuelle and Salvatore were right behind. Giovanni’s other brothers, Vittorio and Taviano, all but prowled down the stairs. Geno and Lucca followed them. Enzo closed in behind them. Giovanni turned toward the bar that was set up in between the two tiers. There were two of them, one serving the upper level and the other the bottom row.
He watched as the Ferraro family captured the spotlight as they moved together, the men as well as Mariko and Emmanuelle wearing their signature pin-striped suits.
Francesca wore a little black dress that hugged her breasts and flared at her hips, the hem short. She wore heels and sheer stockings, her thick hair falling free to her waist. She was beautiful, and flashes went off, capturing every movement. Stefano walked with her, his arms around her, his mouth on her neck, then her shoulder, one hand sliding over her hip. Stefano was rarely with Francesca without touching her. Giovanni knew what that felt like. The moment he was with Sasha, he wanted his hands on her.
Stefano nuzzled Francesca’s neck as they threaded their way through the crowd. “You look beautiful tonight.”
She put her head back and smiled at him, her eyes warm and loving. “You picked out my dress.”
“It isn’t the dress.” He ran his hand over her hip. “I like touching you.”
“I like you touching me.” They were nearly to the ladies’ room, and he spun her around and took possession of her mouth. Francesca did what she always did, no matter where they were, no matter who was around, she gave herself to him, kissing him without reservation, trusting him to control the situation if they were in public.
Stefano loved that she gave him that control and trust. He spent a few long moments indulging himself. He loved her beyond everything and everyone in his life. She was his entire world and if anything happened to her—if anyone threatened her the way Giovanni’s woman was being threatened—he’d lock her up so fast her head would spin. Then he would go hunting until he found the culprit. He knew how frustrated his brother was, frustrated and angry. He couldn’t imagine being sidelined while his woman was in danger.
He watched Francesca disappear behind the door and, as always, when she wasn’t directly in his care, hard knots of tension developed in his gut. Mariko sent him a small smile and followed his woman in. Emmanuelle was added protection and then finally Enrica, Emilio’s sister. Emilio had trained her and she was a damn good bodyguard. That meant with Mariko, Emmanuelle and Enrica with Francesca, he could breathe easier.
He stepped into the men’s room, his cousins and brothers moving in a tight group after him. The lights threw shadows in all directions. He stepped into one and was instantly pulled into the tube, his body feeling as if it were flying apart. Somewhere behind him, he knew Vittorio had also chosen a shadow. They moved from shadow to shadow, unerringly seeking one house.
John Darby resided in an upscale community. Everyone knew where he lived because the parties were endless and his neighbors reported him often to the police in hopes of some relief from the continual noise and drunks vandalizing their neighborhood. Security gates were closed tight, presumably to keep out anyone who would protest the wild party going on.
Stefano blew past the gates and went straight to the two-story house. Wide, open balconies provided space for the men and women spilling out of the house. Glass broke as drunks smashed bottles and glasses against the walls or tossed them over the railing. Music blasted from somewhere inside, the sound reverberating through the entire valley. It was no wonder the neighbors complained. At one o’clock in the morning, they would want sleep, not to listen to John Darby’s particular brand of shrieking guitars.
Stefano moved unseen through the house, seeing the smashed furniture, the drugs and the half-dressed women and men as they wound themselves around one another. Cameras were mounted everywhere, so many in each room that every angle of the interior was being recorded. On the outside, each balcony had been given the same treatment.
Not seeing Darby anywhere throughout the house, Stefano caught another shadow and rode it to the master bedroom. The room was dark and Darby was alone in his bed. Porn was on the huge screen taking up one wall of his room. He was lying naked on the sheets, alternating looking between the screen and the mirror above his head while he frantically worked his very soft and uncooperative cock.
Vittorio emerged in the mouth of the shadow tube beside Stefano and pointed to the cameras that were set up to catch bedroom activities should a woman be so foo
lish as to join Darby in his room. The reports Stefano had read on Darby’s reality show proved more than one woman had made that mistake. The cameras were off, all four of them.
Vittorio was very, very good at disrupting energy as well as causing power surges. One quick surge and the cameras began recording. Darby was too busy trying to get himself off and having no luck to notice the tiny red lights shining, signaling the cameras were on. Because he found the entire thing distasteful, Stefano signaled his brother and they moved back into the main part of the house, staying to the shadows so the cameras couldn’t catch a glimpse of them.
They had to keep their eye on the time. By now, Francesca had left the ladies’ room and his cousin, Lucca, playing the part of Stefano, had caught her to him right in the center of his family and had taken her to the darkest corner, a lover’s tryst, while his family blocked all access to them. He could be seen from the back, nuzzling his wife while his brothers, the women and his cousins visited. It was necessary in order to keep the illusion of his presence that he return quickly with Vittorio.
They reentered Darby’s room after shutting off the cameras in all other parts of the house. He was sitting up, looking down at his flaccid penis in disgust. Vittorio took care of the cameras, making certain they were no longer recording.
“Having problems?” Stefano asked.
Darby yelped and fell from the edge of the bed to the floor. Stefano glided closer. “You really shouldn’t have messed with one of my employees. I had a talk with you and you promised you would behave yourself.”
Darby started to move, but Stefano stepped on his hand hard. Darby screamed, but Stefano didn’t move. He just stood over him, smiling down at him. “Did you think it would up your ratings to show her naked body on your television show?”
Darby tried to crawl away, but Stefano didn’t move. He ground down harder. “When I speak to you, I expect an answer. And Johnny boy, I can hurt you in ways you never imagined.”
“No, no.” Darby held up his other hand to ward him off. “You don’t understand, bitches like it. They want to be seen on my show.”
“No, they don’t. They don’t sue you because you blackmail them with the crap you’re recording. You give them date rape drugs in their drinks and then you record your friends with them and tell them you’re going to release those videos. You make a little side money that way, Johnny boy? You blackmail them on top of raping and humiliating them?”
Darby kept shaking his head, still trying to scoot away.
“You do though. I had you investigated. I do believe that the day of reckoning has arrived. That little porn film you’re watching, the rape of that girl by a couple of frat boys? Is that the only way you can get off now, hurting women? I think the world wants to see that, don’t you? The ratings of your show will go right through the roof.”
He waved his hand toward the screen. Vittorio, from the shadows, produced the necessary surge of electricity and the recording of Darby on the bed, mixed with the film and the mirror moving back and forth, showed the reality star’s underwhelming cock and the frantic pace he’d set with his fist that had clearly done no good. Audio had picked up his continual hoarse shouting at the two frat boys on the bed with the restrained girl, urging them on, telling them to hurt her and shouting graphic instructions to them.
Darby looked horrified. “You can’t …”
“It’s playing all over town right now. Live feeds, you know. It wasn’t hard to arrange.” Stefano leaned down. “You ever touch a member of my family or a person under our protection again, I’ll come after you and you will wish you were dead before you die. Do we have an understanding?”
Darby frantically nodded. The music had stopped and the house was eerily silent. Stefano stepped back into the shadows. Vittorio’s foot snapped out of the shadows, delivering a kick between Darby’s open legs. He howled and doubled over. The Ferraros were gone, riding the shadows into the next room where the screens were all playing and replaying the same video of John Darby.
Sasha was a little tired of the men smirking at her and staring pointedly at her breasts, held in by the lace of her camisole. If she hadn’t needed the money so badly, she would gladly have taken a few days off in the hopes that another scandal would have taken the attention of the bored celebrities and their entourages she served drinks to. Most groups were polite, but there were a few that annoyed her.
She had to laugh at herself about that, because she’d been fantasizing pretty heavily about playing Giovanni’s game. She would ask him to dance first. She’d already scoped out the darkest corners in the club. She knew when they took the dance floor the paparazzi would go crazy, and that was okay. Hopefully they’d get bored. She hoped to enlist Mariko, Francesca and Emmanuelle in her little dance of seduction. They just had to get the attention of the paparazzi and give her some time alone with her man.
If she managed to do half the things she wanted to do to Giovanni, she would definitely deserve the smirks and knowing looks she was getting. Then, after being completely sated and feeling smug, she wouldn’t mind those looks. The thought made her smile. She glanced up at his table. His family had headed down to the dance floor. They all seemed to like to dance and they were very good at it.
She had to admit, the Ferraro family was very good-looking and drew the eye. She had been known to stare a bit at them when she first was hired, earlier in the month. Of course, she worked the floor far down below their elevated status. She’d found herself staring at Giovanni every time he went onto the floor until she realized he was such a player. Now, she wasn’t so sure. He didn’t seem like one when he was with her. He kept his gaze fixed on her. Not once, even now, when his brothers were on the dance floor and he would have had an excuse, did he look down at the other women.
Sasha looked. She made a slow perusal of the club and the women while she waited for the tray of drinks to take up to two of the tables. Most were beautiful. Really, beautiful. Their clothes were quality, clearly designer. Their hair was styled perfectly and most dripped gold and diamonds. How had Giovanni overlooked them to find her?
It wasn’t that she thought the others were better than her in any way—she didn’t. Sasha had confidence in herself as a woman. She could take care of herself and her brother. On the other hand, she knew her heart was very vulnerable, and she’d always protected it. When she loved, she loved with everything in her. She was intensely loyal and expected the same. She wanted a home and family. She also believed in a strong partnership. She didn’t want Giovanni to make the mistake of thinking he was going to take care of her.
Her gaze was pulled inevitably back to him. He was so handsome he took her breath away. He really did. She could barely breathe sometimes when she got close to him and inhaled his scent. He had the kind of body artists sculpted or painted. He was sweet to her and caring. She hadn’t planned to fall for him. She’d started out thinking he was the worst kind of human being and somewhere along the line she’d fallen under his spell.
“You look like you got it bad, Sasha,” Alan, the bartender, said.
She laughed and turned back to him. “I do. He’s very sweet to me.”
“So, it’s really true? You’re engaged to him?”
She held up her left hand and showed him the unusual band. “I am.” It was important to play along with the engagement so the Center continued to believe she was with Giovanni and the Ferraro family. She wasn’t the best security possible for her brother. And the truth was, she liked the thought of being engaged to him, but that she kept to herself.
Fingers brushed her wrist as if the person wanted to see her ring. She turned toward the man standing that little bit too close to her. James Corlege and Tom Mariland, the MMA fighters who always came in with Aaron, stood close, crowding her against the bar. She dropped her hand to the tray, but James and Tom could clearly see the ring.
“Looks like your little ploy worked,” James snickered. “I told Aaron you were interested in the Ferraros. All the ser
vers here are. Pay someone to rip your blouse, and he’s all about saving you.” His voice was nasty. Sneering.
She stepped back away from him. When she stepped back, she did so right into his friend, Tom. He didn’t move. He felt like an oak tree, his body hard from all the workout and training for fights he’d done. She was used to men with hard bodies—she was from an area of cattle ranchers, men who rode and worked for a living—so Tom didn’t intimidate her.
Sasha glanced at him over her shoulder. Tom wore the same mask of contempt as James did. She stepped to the opposite side, moving closer to the bar and away from both men. She knew she could signal the security guards. Right now, they probably thought the men were being friendly. The fact that she could summon help made her feel confident.
“What did you do to get his attention?” Tom sneered. “Give him a blow job? I hear that’s one way girls like you snare wealthy men.”
James nudged her with his foot, keeping the action small so Alan, behind the bar, couldn’t see him. “You like giving blow jobs, Sasha?”
She sent him a small frown, feigning confusion and a wealth of being sorry for him. “Doesn’t your girlfriend like to give you blow jobs? Because if she doesn’t, maybe you need to figure out why. Cleanliness is at the top of the list, and then there’s what you eat. You want to take care of yourself or she’s just not going to go there.” She switched her attention to the bartender. “Do you have those drinks up yet, Alan?”
He grinned at her. “Right here, Sasha.” He pushed the tray toward her and then switched his attention to the two men. “What can I get for you? Usually your server will take your orders.”
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