Nailed Down: The Complete Series

by Bliss, Chelle

  “Toni, I’m telling you,” Dario tried, leaning on his elbows as his sister glared at him. “You think Papa didn’t know? Or Micky and Nick? They told Papa the second you and Cara here hit the city.” He nodded to my sister, winking at her when her mouth dropped open. “Papa had Micky and his boys following you two that whole weekend.” He nodded at the waitress when she poured him another glass of wine and immediately drank half the contents. He glanced at Smoke, looking to his older brother to confirm the truth. When the man nodded, not seeming the least bit sorry to disappoint his kid sister, Antonia slapped her hand to the table, making a noise that sounded like a laugh and a scream all at once.

  “Son of a bitch!” she said, bouncing back against her chair, ignoring the laughs she got as she and Cara leaned across Kiel, mumbling about whatever shit they’d done that they were only now discovering their fathers had long known about.

  “Yeah,” Dario said, not bothering to stifle his laugh. “They knew about the boys from Long Island with the ten-inch—”

  “That’s enough,” Cara interrupted when Kiel leaned forward, trying to hear what Dario was saying, despite Antonia tossing her napkin at him to keep him quiet.

  “It was a long time ago,” I explained to my brother-in-law, who only grinned, taking the kiss my sister gave him as she excused herself from the table to run to the bathroom. Antonia sulked with her own glass of red, shooting mock glares at her brother, who kept a grin on his face.

  “This is good,” Smoke said to me, a whiskey tumbler hanging loosely from his fingers. Of all of my uncle’s kids, Smoke was the smartest and, I had to admit, the coolest. Uncle Sonny was younger than my father, and he’d never been interested in the level of involvement in the family business that Papa ran. He preferred a simpler life, running more legitimate businesses. Though, there were elements in his dealings that did require things that most folks might frown upon. Smoke handled the bulk of those dealings now that Uncle Sonny was retired, and since Dario was out, he’d probably give Smoke a hand.

  “The fighting?” I asked Smoke, spotting Cara talking to Sofia at the hostess desk through the glass doors separating our private dining room from the rest of the restaurant.

  “All of us being together,” he said, his gaze shooting to his two younger siblings as Antonia moved between Dario and Kiel to share my brother-in-law’s phone. I heard “Keleu” and knew they were looking at pictures of my baby nephew. “It’s been a long time since we were all together.”

  “When will Dante be back?” I asked, wondering if the youngest of Uncle Sonny’s kids would even be welcome back in Bronxville. He’d been an idiot, trying to run drugs out of Dario’s legitimate bar. But Dante was a spoiled kid, always had been. Instead of making him do the bid, Dario took the blame, serving the time that belonged to his kid brother.

  “Hmmm,” Smoke said, swirling the whiskey in his glass before he downed it. He barely got the tumbler back onto the table before the pretty blond waitress replaced it, shooting an eager smile to my younger cousin as she walked away. He appreciated the way she did that, but then he answered me. “Papa’s caved to Mama. Dante lands next week from Pistoia after five years working at our uncle Anthony’s vineyard.”

  “Think it helped?” I asked, calling off the waitress when she asked to top off my nearly full glass.

  “I think five years in the hot Tuscan sun fertilizing soil, pruning vines, and picking grapes for virtually no money at all, eighteen hours a day, under the supervision of a man who doesn’t believe any man under the age of twenty-five should be doing anything but learning how to work a vineyard, is bound to teach humility.” Smoke took another swig of his whiskey then shrugged, glancing at his brother and sister as they watched a video on Kiel’s phone of the baby. “If it doesn’t, then there’s no hope for that asshole.”

  “We all do stupid shit when we’re kids, man.” God knew I had. Sometimes I thought there’d be no making up for the destruction I’d left behind when I lied to Sammy. As I watched Sofia and my sister through the doors, I thought maybe I didn’t deserve forgiveness.

  “There’s a big difference between fucking an off-limits girl,” Smoke said, and I jerked my attention back to him, “and fucking over your blood.”

  I had no idea how he knew about Sammy and me. I thought Cara had been the only one who knew anything about us, but Smoke was smooth on his worst days. Hell, he got the name Smoke by boxing in college, because in under two rounds, that’s exactly what he’d do to his opponents—smoke them. Later, when he went to work for his father, he earned a reputation for picking up info that gave him an upper hand. He was a guy who knew shit, and that shit led to him smoking the competition. Besides, if memory served, Smoke spent an entire summer his senior year of college in the city interning for some Wall Street big shot. He’d dated Sofia back then, and Sofia was Cara’s best friend. Like an idiot, I’d told Cara about Sammy and me. Two and two almost always made four in our family.

  “Maybe you’re right,” I told my cousin, hoping, for Dante’s sake, that he’d actually learned his lesson. His parents may be forgiving, maybe even his sister and brother Dario were, but by the way just mentioning the kid had made Smoke’s jaw clench and his grip tighten on his tumbler, I got the feeling his forgiveness would be harder to earn.

  Smoke shrugged, dismissing the topic by taking another drink, but then his attention caught across the room. And I followed his gaze, narrowing my eyes when I spotted Liam Shane standing a little too close to Sofia and Cara at the hostess stand. That asshole was always sniffing around women who hadn’t invited his attention. It had gotten him in hot water with his uncle Ian, head of the McKinney family, but that hadn’t stopped him from making messes for his uncle to clean up. He’d already knocked up a young girl back in Ireland and was rumored to have a wife somewhere that no one could find.

  Next to me, Dario shot the man a glare, and I got the feeling there was something more to that look than just Shane standing too close to Cara. My cousin curled his fist, looked ready to jump from his spot, but Smoke cleared his throat, catching Dario’s attention, and he grabbed his wine, downing what was left of it in one swig.

  I made to stand, ready to have a word with the bastard about leaving, but it seemed my brother-in-law was quicker. Kiel shot out of his chair, a quick smile on his face, and made it to his wife and her friend, forcing his hand out to Shane for a shake. When the guy took too long to take it, Kiel clapped him on the shoulder, escorting him out of the restaurant with two of Sofia’s beefier dishwashers following behind him.

  “I like this husband of Cara’s,” Smoke said, and I glanced at my cousin, grinning.

  “Si. He’ll do.”

  My cousin’s smirk widened, and he moved his head again, motioning back toward the front of the restaurant. “Your night just got better,” he said, eyebrows arching up like he thought I should pay attention.

  I turned, spotting Cara walking back in, pulling on Sammy’s hand as she reluctantly trailed behind her while Kiel ushered both women into the private dining room. I didn’t even think about what I was doing. I stood, jabbing Dario in the shoulder, ignoring my cousin when he looked up at me. “Move over, si?” I said, walking over to greet Sammy. “Bella.” She didn’t flinch when I leaned down to kiss her cheek or argue when I led her toward the table, right to the seat Dario had vacated.

  “Samantha Nicola,” my cousin said, his deep, gravelly tone lifting almost an octave as he watched her sit down, her cheeks turning pink. She never liked being the center of attention.

  “Dario, it’s good to see you.” She turned toward him, kissing his cheeks like they were old friends, and the tease in my cousin’s tone vanished. She greeted him like she always had when we were kids, not like some felon who’d been locked up in one of the roughest penitentiaries in the country. He seemed to appreciate that. “I told Cara I didn’t want to interrupt…”

  “And I told you,” Cara said, “you aren’t interrupting. We’re all friends and family here.”
She called over a waitress and pointed to Sammy. “Can you grab the order she placed in the kitchen and bring it to the table? She’ll eat with us. Oh, and bring her a glass. She drinks red too.”

  “Well, I really don’t…”

  “You know how stubborn Cara is, bella,” I told Sammy, leaning toward her to be heard over the loud conversation that had started back up when Antonia challenged Smoke about how often he got caught sneaking girls into his room.

  To which, the man told his little sister, “I’ve never been caught doing anything.”

  “Just like her brother,” Sammy said, finally turning her head to look at me. There was a slow, sweet grin on her lips as she moved her gaze over my face.

  I wanted to kiss her right then, almost more than I had two days ago when I’d stopped by to tell her about the designer meeting with her. She’d been honest with me, real. It had been the first time I’d seen that, really seen that from her since we were kids, and I’d been aching for more of the same.

  There was so much noise around us—my family being loud and obnoxious, the waitstaff buzzing around us to make sure the bread and drinks had been replenished. But the only thing I noticed was that faint rosemary scent coming off Sammy’s long, thick hair and how the dim light above us reflected in her bright green eyes.

  Sammy watched me with her elbows resting on the table, her chin on her knuckles and the gorgeous, movie-star face turned toward me like a work of art etched out of marble. So much flawless perfection and only I was allowed to see her this way.

  “What are you looking at, Johnny Carelli?” she asked.

  She was so close and not close enough at all.

  “Everything, Sammy. Absolutely everything.”

  * * *

  Sammy hadn’t smiled at me this much since the night of her eighteenth birthday. But I think that was mainly because her uncle had allowed her to leave with Cara, thinking she’d stay all night with my sister in the pool house of my father’s home, watching movies and swimming under the careful supervision of his guards. Cara had acted like a good friend, which she had been at the time. But she’d been a better sister, convincing our father that she and Sammy were tired and would spend the night alone in the pool house. Sammy did, at least. Cara didn’t. My sister slipped out at eleven, hours after my father went to sleep, and I met Sammy to give her my present—me.

  It had been the best night of my life. Touching her, tasting her, feeling everywhere I’d only teased, every sweet part I’d dreamed about but wasn’t allowed. She’d been relaxed, calm afterward, falling into me, wanting me again and again, teasing me herself, making jokes until we were both breathless.

  Tonight, I’d seen a bit of that girl, surrounded by my family, watching Antonia being teased by her brothers, hearing Kiel giving back all that we gave him. Sammy laughed at us, all of us, and my God had she been beautiful doing it.

  “It’s good that Dario is home,” she said, walking next to me as I led her down the hallway to her door. “I haven’t seen Antonia that happy in a long time.”

  “Me either.”

  My cousins ended the night by closing the restaurant, waving me, Sammy, Kiel, and Cara away as we made our goodnights. Last glance I took, I spotted the three of them huddled at the end of the table sharing a bottle of bourbon, heads together as they talked. Smoke was right. It had been good to see. I worried about Dario, about how he’d do after so long locked inside. Some people weren’t ever the same again, but he wasn’t just some people. He was a Carelli. Besides, family never leaves you, no matter how many hurdles you throw in its way.

  “You think he’ll be okay?” Sammy asked, seeming to read my mind. She tilted her head, looking curious when I moved my eyebrows up. “What?”

  “I was just wondering that myself.”

  She leaned back against the wall next to her door, her keys dangling from her finger. “Is this where you tell me we’ve always had this stupid psychic connection?”

  “Think that would get me inside?”

  She laughed, likely a little buzzed or, at least, relaxed enough not to be bothered when I moved a palm next to her head on the wall and stared down at her. “No. It won’t,” Sammy said. She looked like she wanted to argue with me, may have even been thinking of something clever and sarcastic to say, but I moved then, lifting her chin with my knuckle. And the smile and smartass comment disappeared from her mouth. “What…what are you doing?” Her question came out in a long, panting breath, but Sammy knew what I wanted. It was the same thing she’d wanted from me since the day I sent her the flowers.

  “Can’t you figure it out?”

  She’d always been a good girl, sweet, dutiful. But when I had her, she opened up, became passionate, primal. I saw hints of the woman she was, the creature she had been, surfacing as I moved closer toward her.

  “Sammy, you tell me to walk away, and I will.” I inhaled, my mouth watering at the hint of wine I smelled on her breath and the heat coming from her body. “But I want you to know, because I don’t think I’m the only one thinking these things here…that I want you. I want to taste every inch of you.” I moved closer still, turning her face to press the slightest hint of a kiss against the shell of her ear. “From your ear,” I said, sucking on the lobe, loving how she shook against me, “to the long, sweet slope of your neck.” I kissed her there, running my wet mouth along her neck, down to her clavicle, and Sammy curled her arms around my shoulders, trembling now as though she needed to anchor herself to something solid and steady. She went on shaking, her body going limp when I pressed against her, holding her by the waist to push her into me. “Tell me now,” I said next to her ear. “I’m a patient man. I can wait for you. You want me to leave, I will. I’ll go home and think about how many ways I want to take you and taste you.” At that, the grip she had on my shoulders tightened, and Sammy slipped her fingers into my hair. “If you don’t, I’m going to rush you into your apartment. I’m going to take off that pretty little skirt of yours and slip your panties down those long, beautiful legs.” A low, whining groan left her throat, and her grip on my hair tightened. “Then I’m going to lean you back on whatever flat surface I find and spread you wide. I’m going to make you wet, bella, and I’m going to fucking devour you.”

  “Johnny…ah…”

  There was a hesitation. It would always be there. I’d hurt her so much. She was doubting the wisdom of us together. Maybe she always would. But she knew, I think, somewhere deep down inside her, she knew I really was sorry. “Bella,” I tried, my voice serious, my gaze on hers. “I’m not the kid who broke your heart anymore.” I kissed her mouth one slow, sweet time. “I’ll never be him again.”

  She watched me then, a decision seeming to work through her eyes, her expression shifting from hesitation to fear then back to lust when I licked my bottom lip again.

  “Tell me,” I said, pulling back to see her expression. “Do you want me to walk away or take you inside?”

  She sucked on her lip, her body pressed tightly to mine, hands shifting until her palms were flat on my cheeks. And Samantha Nicola, the most beautiful woman I’d ever known, kissed me right on the mouth. It took me a second to realize what she was doing. It took three more to wonder if this was a goodbye or an invitation into her home, but then as soon as the kiss started, just before I’d fully started to enjoy it, Sammy backed away, staring up at me with her eyes all dark and wide, her mouth plump and wet from our kiss.

  “Take me inside, Johnny. Right now.”

  7

  Sammy

  He took control. Always. Two sentences and Johnny opened my door, throwing my keys and bag to the floor. He had me in his arms, and I didn’t care. He kissed me like he owned me and, in that moment, I guess he did. I allowed myself to admit he always had.

  I didn’t think about anything but the way he moved over me, how his mouth demanded, how there was so much strength in his hands, how he unbuttoned my shirt and slipped my zipper, then my skirt, down my legs. And then I found myse
lf standing there, in the center of my living room with only the table lamp to light the entire apartment, in just my underwear and heels, with Johnny Carelli watching me, sizing me up like I was the prey and he was a starving lion.

  I wasn’t a teenager anymore. Nearing thirty put miles on my body, but I wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed. If he expected me to look like I had ten years ago, he’d be disappointed. But then, Johnny only seemed concerned with looking me over, with tearing his jacket off and prowling forward, grabbing me by the hips, and holding me against his body again. He was so hard all over—his arms, his chest, his stomach, his…my goodness, everywhere I could imagine.

  “Sammy, go to the couch,” he demanded, nodded like he knew I’d only have to be told once. I didn’t like being bossed around, but something deep inside me liked the expression on Johnny’s face when I walked away from him. It seemed to make him happy to watch me move.

  “You like seeing that?” I asked, walking backward, smile widening when he nodded, not speaking a word. “Do you like it more when I do this?” I turned, wondering where I’d summoned the bravado to show him my naked backside, fully aware I’d worn a thong that morning. The groan of pleasure he released was satisfaction enough to tamp down any ego-smashing I might have felt at him telling me what to do.

  “Oddio, bella, that ass…”

  “You like it?” I knew he did, especially when he hurried toward me, untucking his button-up shirt and kicking off his shoes. He reached for his pants, but he stopped short when I slipped my fingers underneath the thin straps at my hips, tugging at them. The hungry smile on his face lowered, replaced by something that looked ancient and primitive, something I’d only seen from Johnny once, a very long time ago.