His Dirty Promises

by Fiona Murphy

  3

  Bethany

  Good lord, the drive from Alicia’s house in the suburbs takes forever. It’s over an hour from the time I leave before I let myself into the condo. I try to tip the doorman for helping me with my luggage and boxes in my car. His refuses with a thank-you, then is gone.

  I find a note on the bar separating the kitchen from the living room. It’s from Claudine—she stocked the kitchen for me. It will be our little secret; call her or go over to Dante’s condo if I need anything. She also has left the numbers for the cleaners she uses and their hourly rates. Ouch, not cheap. Without a job for at least the next six weeks, three weeks until I can test then another two before the results come back, I can clean up after myself. Although I will miss not having someone else cleaning the bathroom.

  Grabbing a bottle of water, I take my luggage and books into my sister’s former woman cave. It’s completely different than it used to be, except for the massive flat-screen television on the wall. A large queen bed with a white, leather tufted headboard is against one wall. A soft fluffy white rug is beside the bed. Two dark brown bedside tables hold heavy crystal lamps with white lampshades. Hmm... there is a lot of white. Except for the one feature wall of wallpaper. It’s not bad, it’s just not my style. I like color, teals, purples, pops of orange and sunset reds and pinks. Even though Alicia said I could change things, there’s too much to change. This is why I’m going to start apartment hunting after I get a job. I’m going to wait until I’m ready to move before I tell Alicia though.

  At least there are two bookcases against the wall for me to fill up. Even though I do most of my reading on a tablet I can’t get rid of my books and still buy paperbacks if I find a bookstore in my path. Almost an hour later everything is unpacked and settled. I’m warm, so I undress from the jeans and long sleeve T-shirt I have on into silky pajama bottoms and a stretchy black camisole. The bed is calling me. Matteo was banging on my door at seven this morning. Even though I was in bed by ten thirty, I woke up around one to pee and couldn’t fall back asleep for over an hour. Just a little nap.

  ***

  Dante

  Fuck, I’m exhausted. Despite Che sticking me on the foundation, when one of our whale clients, who has purchased six properties with us, had us sell four others, and has us managing three apartment blocks, asked for me neither Che nor I thought of turning him over to an agent. He wanted to see every property over five thousand square feet in the city.

  After the fourth property he gets a call from his girlfriend giving him a laundry list of demands for the property. Almost none of the places we’d seen met every one of them. So I’ll be doing this again tomorrow, but at least we’ll be able to better select the properties. The girlfriend shot me an email of her needs, and I forwarded it to Gretchen. She’s searching through our listings for matches.

  My phone beeps with Enzo’s response to my text that I’m not going back to the office for us to meet up and have dinner. While Alicia still worked, all four of us would go up to the apartment above our offices for dinner and one of us would cook. Now Enzo and I usually grab dinner out or call something in and eat in my office or in the apartment above our offices. After today I’m not in the mood to go back to the office. I’m already in the elevator with my takeout.

  I step out of the elevator, then glance toward the door. Shit, I remember the email Claudine sent me today. She couldn’t exchange the coffeemaker, there wasn’t another one in the store. The attendant helping Claudine placed an online order for a new one shipped directly to the condo, and it should arrive in two days. Claudine left the information for Bethany along with a card, as when she went into the condo Bethany was asleep. Must be nice sleeping the day away.

  As if my thoughts called her, the door to the condo opens. I stop in my tracks. I’m only able to blink when my eyes begin to burn. When I open them she’s still there. Thank fucking god. Shit, my mouth is watering. Bethany Jeffries, my new sister-in-law, is stunning. She’s a little thing, five three, maybe five four. A heart-shaped face is surrounded by long hair the color of mahogany, deep rich brown with touches of garnet red I can’t wait to wrap around my fist. Her hazel eyes are wide as they meet mine. A shot of electricity runs up my spine. Her cupid’s bow mouth is a little “O” of surprise. I envision those lips wrapping around the tip of my cock; it will fit perfectly between them. Does she know? Is it why those round cheeks glow red?

  “Dante Sabatini.” I marvel I managed to get the words out as I offer her my hand to shake.

  “Bethany Jeffries.” She stares at my hand for so long I drop it. She’s smart. I’m not sure I would be able to let her go. I watch in fascination as her throat works to swallow. My eyes drop down to trail over her body, as they first did when I saw her. Jesus Christ, what the hell is she doing running around so barely dressed? The black camisole is struggling to contain breasts growing heavy and swollen beneath my gaze. When her nipples harden my cock begins aching. Stunning. I have no doubt she is a 40DD, maybe a 42. I’m a breast man, a connoisseur, and hers are exquisite. No bra yet they’re still high, round, and shit, stop staring at her breasts.

  My eyes flick up. Hmm... her teeth have captured her full bottom lip as those pretty hazel eyes run over my body. I have my jacket over my arm, and my dark blue shirt is half-unbuttoned, showing the tank undershirt beneath. I’m not the only who likes what they see.

  Only I want to do more than see. I want to touch every inch of her, to know the feel of her skin beneath my fingertips. And fuck me do I want to taste all of her, from that delectable mouth to the pussy I smell hot and wet for me, to the valley between those beautiful breasts to the skin of her neck where I can see her pulse beating.

  The ding of the elevator seconds before it opens yanks me out of my fantasy. What the fuck? A young guy comes out of the elevator holding a small bag and a large coffee from the big-name coffee place across the street. He barely glances my way. Like me, once his eyes find Bethany nothing else exists. Her shy smile of thanks flips a switch I never knew I had.

  “Get the fuck out of here,” I growl at the guy. His eyes widen and he stumbles back into the elevator.

  I turn to her. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing running around half-dressed?” I roar. Why the fuck am I so pissed? Because his eyes were running over her gorgeous body.

  She jumps, and her hand tightening around the cup has the contents spilling down the front of her. I groan as I watch the fabric mold even tighter to her body. I’m so engrossed I never see it coming. Bethany flings what’s left in the cup at me. Damn, that’s hot. “I’m trying to have coffee and eat in peace, you judgmental asshole. If I were standing out here naked it would be none of your fucking business!”

  I’m so shocked I don’t even realize she’s walking away until the door slamming echoes around me. Instantly I’m aware I’m covered in coffee and my cock is still hard. Fuck. This is bad. Really fucking bad. She’s my little sister, to quote Cesare. Little? No, she’s the perfect damn size, everywhere. And she’s not my little sister. She’s my sister-in-law. Right. If Cesare knew the thoughts running through my mind about my new sister-in-law, he’d punch me in the balls.

  Damn it. Stop it. No, not happening. Wrong, bad, fucked up.

  ***

  Bethany

  Holy freaking crap! What was that? Seriously, what the hell was that? Why is my entire body still tingling? Why can’t I catch my breath? Why the hell am I wet... down there? Oh lord, I’m not twelve only it’s never done that before without a lot of effort. While I could appreciate an attractive guy, I’ve always refused to get interested. During high school girls all around me got knocked up and most of them never graduated. No way was it going to happen to me. While I worked my ass off year after year, I did it with a promise to myself after I accomplished my goal, my reward would be to do all the things I missed out on. Dating, traveling, I’m ready for it all of it. I’m not sure I’m ready for Dante Sabatini.

  If it weren’t for the icky
mess of the coffee down the front of me, I would have sworn I was dreaming. Everything about the last five minutes has a surreal quality to it. I’d woken up starving with a gnawing need for a strong, hot coffee. With no coffeemaker in the house, I brought up an app to have coffee from across the street delivered. I’d then spent the next ten minutes waiting impatiently for the ding of the elevator. Opening the door to the condo, I expected coffee and a chocolate croissant—only something much bigger and hotter was there. I’ve seen pictures of Dante all around here in the condo and at the new house, but in person... there’s no comparison.

  In person Dante Sabatini is stunning. His heavy brow is a perfect fit for his square, strong jaw. While his cheekbones are sharp, his thin straight nose is the closest thing I’ve seen to perfect. With all the hard angles and planes he’s intimidating, but his lips, wide and full, soften him in a single glance. Chocolate brown eyes glowed as they ran over me. Those eyes felt as if they were actual hot hands running over me from my hips to my breasts, and oh god did I want his hands on me.

  And I wanted to touch him, to run my hands over the taut caramel skin of his cheek already shaded with dark stubble. He licked his lips and for the first time in my life wet heat flooded my body and a ravenous craving to discover what he tasted like hit me hard. His husky voice, low and rough, skimmed up my spine, urging me closer to him.

  Yet when he put out his hand to shake mine, all I could do was stare at it. Something told me the moment I touched him everything would change, and it scared the shit out of me. So I stared at him like a freak, just staring, wanting to take in every inch of him. His shirt was open almost all the way down to his stomach, with the white tank undershirt stretched tight across a chest bulging with muscles. My mouth went dry then watered at the sight. Wow.

  Then the elevator dinged again. This time it was my coffee and croissant. The guy was a welcome distraction. He’d barely handed me my coffee when Dante growled at him. What? I was already spooked, then he scared the hell out of me when he roared at me. One minute I wanted to lick his face, the next I wanted to smack it.

  How dare he yell at me? I didn’t think, I threw the coffee at him. Angry at him for yelling, for making me spill my coffee, for ruining my sacred coffee moment, for making me want him and him turning out to be a complete fucker and not the gorgeous perfect man I had no idea I always wanted.

  No, I don’t want him. Even if he’s the first man who’s looked at me like I was a tasty morsel he was starving for. Dante Sabatini is an unabashed manwhore so out of my league we don’t play the same game. Nope, not happening, so stop thinking about him. Stop it.

  ***

  Dante

  I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes all I can see is Bethany. My cock is hard all over again for what feels like the hundredth time since I saw her all of five hours ago. I’m not even able to count how many times I’ve beat off to the memory of her. This is getting ridiculous. No way is she as hot as I made her out to be in my mind. Snatching my phone off the bedside table, I open up a website I usually browse to waste time, but nothing interests me. There is no clear idea behind what I do next; it’s a compulsion I can’t explain.

  Her name and number are saved into my phone, in here for almost two years yet never used. Che plugged it in, in case she ever needed something and couldn’t get a hold of him.

  I apologize

  Shit, it’s almost twelve thirty in the morning. Am I making it worse by waking her up? Or is she—

  And...

  Laughter comes out of me for the first time in ages.

  I won’t yell at you again if you choose to run around half-dressed. I’ll just enjoy the view.

  Then my phone rings. I don’t hesitate. She starts blasting me before I even have the phone to my ear.

  “Worst apology ever, Dante Sabatini. You are a massive jerk. You had no right whatsoever to yell at me. I also wasn’t half-dressed. I was dressed.”

  “You would have walked into the coffeehouse dressed the way you were?”

  “If you don’t drop it, I’ll walk down Michigan Avenue from Roosevelt to Randolph dressed in the same outfit.”

  After the way she threw the coffee in my face, I don’t doubt her. “I apologize, sincerely. No yelling, no judgement on your attire.”

  “Apology accepted. I apologize for throwing my coffee on you. Two wrongs and everything. Will it come out of the suit?”

  “Not likely, silk is an unforgiving textile.”

  Her laugh is soft. “Textile, attire; you talk like Cesare, so formal. Where did you go to school?”

  “An extremely unforgiving, strict Catholic school. Although formality comes from learning English as a second language, so I’m told. But only when we think before we speak to avoid using the wrong word. Usually, we aren’t formal. I’m only trying to prevent you walking down Michigan Avenue dressed the way you were earlier. I’m pretty sure Che would kill me.”

  This time her laughter flows freely, sweet as cotton candy. I have no idea why I’m smiling at the sound. “So you can think before you speak. Good to know. I was wondering. Since I ruined your suit, I’m willing to replace it. How do you want me to do it?”

  Hmm... Enzo was right, Bethany is young, yet she is also considerate and thoughtful. “Forget it. I’m willing to admit I earned it. Since you’ll be without a coffeemaker tomorrow, you can come over and use mine. It does espresso and foam in addition to regular coffee. I also have a few different types of coffee for you to choose from. I’m sure you remember your way around the place from when you stayed here.”

  “I do, it’s where I fell in love with your coffeemaker. Thanks for the offer and the coffeemaker coming in the mail.”

  “No problem. I’m sorry I broke the one I bought you. I’m out of practice where shopping is concerned.”

  “You bought it? I thought the note was from Claudine.”

  “You don’t have to sound so shocked. I’m more than capable of doing things for myself. Claudine took back the broken coffeemaker only they didn’t have any left in stock. I’ll admit I never thought about a card, just the coffeemaker. Interesting how judgmental you sound considering you’ve had your own form of a Claudine for the last two years. Che said you thanked him for Jessica every time he talked to you.”

  “I wasn’t being judgmental. I was surprised because the note was from her. And yes, all I’ve heard is how Claudine does everything for you and Cesare to make your lives easier. Shock seems right.” She giggles, and it goes straight to my cock in a way I never would have thought possible.

  “Haha, Alicia said you were a smart-ass as well as smart. I understand completely.”

  “Whatever, you’re just not used to a woman talking back to you. Too many years of women smiling and nodding.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “A little adversity does a person good. At least that’s what Alicia used to tell me whenever I said it wasn’t fair Alicia worked all hours of the days to support us, while our granny was getting money for me even though I didn’t live with her anymore.”

  “Isn’t that theft?”

  “Oh yeah, but Alicia said it was the cost of Granny not snitching to my social worker. With Alicia so young it was unlikely she would have gotten to be my foster parent, and I would have gone into another foster home or group home.”

  “Your social worker never checked in on you?”

  “Nope. At the beginning she checked in on us weekly then after three months, once a month, then after I think a year we never saw her again.”

  “Our social worker checked in on us every other week until I turned sixteen, then it was monthly until I aged out. In the six months before I aged out, she came by a few times to make sure Che and I had a plan for when I graduated from high school.”

  “You were lucky. We didn’t know a lot of the stuff we should have before Alicia aged out.”

  “I’m constantly impressed by the way your sister worked her ass off for the two of you.”r />
  “How about Cesare? Underground fighting for your cousin for a few hundred dollars a fight? He could have been seriously fucked up, we’re talking loss of sight, permanent damage. I mean he’s massive, but all it takes is one even slightly well-placed blow. How could Dominic put Cesare through those fights?”

  I bristle at how she says Dom’s name—it’s too familiar. “Dom did what Che asked for. He gave him a way to make money that wouldn’t land Che in jail. You know Dominic?”

  “Well yeah, he was there for all the wedding stuff the rehearsal dinner and the wedding itself and he came last night. He isn’t quite what I thought he would be. Him or Tony, I like them both, they’re really nice.”

  “What did you think he was going to be?”

  “I don’t know...leather jacket, gun bulging, and rude. He’s a lot like Cesare, they even look alike. If I didn’t know from Alicia what he really does, I would have thought he was another billionaire finance guy like Enzo. Tony is like any happy grandpa, it’s adorable how in love he is with Matteo. Considering he admitted he wasn’t around babies even when his kids were ones, he handles Matteo like a pro. I’m more comfortable with them than Cesare and Enzo.”

  “Have Che and Enzo done something to upset you?” I’m up pacing, wondering what Che or Enzo might have done or said.

  She sighs. “I don’t know. I feel like even two years later I still have to be on my best behavior with Enzo, like he’s waiting for me to screw up. One day Cesare is smiling, the next he’s stiff and I’m watching every other word I say. Dominic and Tony never make me self-conscious or feel as if I annoy them. They’re nice, they ask questions they actually seem to want to know the answer to, then they remember the answers months later.

  “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. I’m sure it sounds like I’m bitching. I don’t mean to. I miss my therapist. Only two weeks of not seeing her, and I’m running my mouth to anyone who will listen. Tomorrow I’m looking for a new therapist. Forget I said anything, please.”