by Fiona Murphy
Sending the lock into place, I take several deep breaths as I stare at myself in the mirror. “Don’t, Regina. Do not fall for that man. He’ll make you fall in love with him and he won’t love you back. All the pain from the past combined won’t equal how much Dominic Sabatini will hurt you.”
***
Dominic
I’m not sure what happened to Regina, but something did. I have no idea what I said or did to make her retreat into herself. Even though I want to drag her out of her hiding place, I let her go. Today had gone better than I could have hoped for. If she needs some time, I’ll give it to her. It will make it a little easier when I have to bring down the hammer after she’s made her attempt. Once I lock her down, hopefully she’ll remember I wasn’t a complete fucker the entire time.
Rolling into Chicago, twilight has fallen, wrapping the city in a dark blue glow that has the streetlights kicking on. She sits up straight to take in everything.
I pull into my parking space behind my building.
“You live here?”
“And you do too, from now on. It was built in 1931, and a Sabatini has done business in it every year since.” I bypass the club entrance and enter the private one in the back. Her eyes go to the card I pull out and press against the scanner to get the elevator to open. “The club is through that door. This second floor is where Marco and Dario will be staying until you’re settled.”
She flashes a glare, knowing full well I mean until I don’t have to worry about her trying to run.
“This is our floor. This is the kitchen. Mary keeps it stocked and I consider it her domain.”
Mary appears. “This is Mary, Mary, my fiancée Regina Conti.”
Her smile is wide as Mary offers her hand. Regina returns it timidly. I wonder if Regina realizes she moves closer to me for reassurance. “Lovely to meet you. Dominic might consider the kitchen my domain, however, I’m always willing to give it up to you. As the woman of the house. I have your room set up for you. Your father has already sent your things to us. I’ve unpacked your clothes. The rest, I’ve left to you.”
Regina goes stiff as she nods. I press my hand to the small of her back. She jumps at my touch, it works to get her mind off Johnny. Keeping her moving, I walk her through the dining room and living room.
I open the door I prefer to keep closed. “This is my workout room. I don’t like people in here.”
Of course she goes into the room. “Do you use all of this?”
There is a heavy bag, a rowing machine, treadmill, a row of free weights, and a weight machine. “Pretty much, I don’t use the treadmill as much as I used to. Everything else, yes.”
Frowning, she stops at the treadmill. “I should start working out.” She says the words like she’s saying she should start eating lead paint.
“Why the fuck would you do that?”
Eyes wide, she tilts her head as her frown deepens. “Because I’m fat. You’re used to being with a bunch of skinny, beautiful women—”
I move fast. Catching her chin, I stop the bullshit coming out of her mouth. “No, fucking no. You don’t say shit like that. Do you understand me?”
Her wince reminds me of how much smaller she is than me. I loosen my grip slightly as I fight the white-hot anger inside me.
“Pay attention, you will not get a second warning. I do not repeat myself. If I say it once, consider it set in stone. I don’t say shit to be nice, nor do I give a shit if you like what I have to say but you will live it. I do not ever want to hear you call yourself that word ever again. I’ve already said I want you. I want you the way you are right fucking now. You don’t change a damn thing.”
Confusion shadows her eyes glittering like fine sherry.
Sighing, I give in. “If you want to lose weight because it makes you feel good, fine. I won’t stop you, but it isn’t what I want. Exactly the way you are right now is what turns me on.”
The urge is too strong to deny, I press my thickening cock against her soft stomach. “Feel what you do to me even when I’m pissed, fighting hard not to bend you over the nearest surface and spank your ass red for saying stupid shit. This is your one warning. Next time I’ll make sure my words are ingrained into the skin of your ass.”
Her eyes widen, her pupils dilate, her breath hitches, causing my cock to harden even more. Damn, my princess is a revelation hour by hour. She wants to be spanked, ah fuck, I can smell her pussy wet for me. My cock jumps, my hand tightens all over again on her chin. With a gasp she takes a step back from me. At least one of us is smart. Then again she doesn’t have two heads that both want to fuck her. With effort, I let her go. “Stay out of this room.”
I turn and she follows a few steps behind. “That closed door is my office, you aren’t allowed in there. This room, you can be in all you want.”
“A library, a real...” I laugh at the awe on her face. I’m proud of my library, it took a lot of work and a shit ton of money. All four walls are covered in books. There are several first editions of both classics and newer books behind a glass shelf. One large window has a window seat, with a stack of pillows. The other window is where one of the two large overstuffed chairs is tucked. A silk chaise lounge and a long leather sofa are across from each other, a long leather ottoman acts as a coffee table between them in the center of the room.
“If this is where you’re locking me in, I’m good with it. I just need a mini-fridge and chamber pot.” Regina runs her hands along the spines of leather-bound books along one wall. Then she’s caught up with the wall of the newer books. The bookcase is stuffed randomly with everything from the smaller paperbacks to the larger softcovers and hardbacks. “You’ve read all of these?”
“The top shelf are the ones I haven’t yet. Don’t get them mixed up. If you take a book from the top shelf, put it back up when you’re finished. I haven’t read all of the classics, those are the only ones that are in any order, alphabetized by Pop.”
“You read Latin and Italian?” She studies a leather-bound Latin copy of a history of popes.
I nod. “Both before I learned to read English. Pop and Nonna taught me. My mom didn’t like the Latin, Italian was fine but her and Nonna went a few rounds on the Latin.”
“You didn’t like your mom.” It’s not a question.
“No.” I check my watch, I have shit I need to get done. This isn’t something I like talking about at the best of times. Except she’s finally talking again. So I lean against the doorframe and settle in to answer her questions. “She was a manipulative, gold-digging bitch who didn’t give a shit about anyone but herself.”
Regina settles onto the window seat with a book in her lap. “What did she do?”
“Her parents wanted her married to a Capo almost twenty years her senior. Pop was a sixteen-year-old dumbass, she was twenty-two. He wasn’t aware of the engagement when he met her in a club, had no idea she was a princess in the family. Her parents had sent her overseas to a finishing school, they had big plans for her as their only child.” I shake my head as I remember her mother still bitter when she spoke of the waste to me when I was only seven years old, shortly before she and her husband moved back to Sicily, never to return to the United States.
“Pop thought nothing of the weekend they spent together until three weeks later when she came back with her father, a positive pregnancy test, and tears in her eyes. My Nonno was pissed. But it was done, Pop wasn’t going to shirk his duty. They were married three weeks later.
“Exactly eleven months after Anthony Junior, she gave birth to me, then she moved into another bedroom and told Pop she had done her duty to him. The heir and spare were delivered, she was done. He could have as many women as he wanted but he wouldn’t have her. All she asked was he was discreet.”
“Wow.” Her head tilts as she studies me. “That’s not all she did.”
Yeah, young and naïve but definitely not stupid. “No, she didn’t give a shit about me or Anthony. She left the raising of us to Pop and my No
nna, who thankfully lived just three houses down. Mom was constantly telling me and Anthony how we were a pain in the ass, a draw on her energy. Everything we did was too loud, too much.”
Regina frowns and shakes her head. It’s not easy to stay away from her—I want to wipe her frown away.
“For my tenth birthday I begged Pop to let me live with my grandparents. Pop wouldn’t have it. She was our mother; whether she was a bitch or not, me and Anthony were to respect her. Same with his parents, they hated her guts, but they didn’t dare let their feelings show.”
“I’m sorry.” Those big eyes of hers are sad. “I was jealous of you for having a mother and a father, but I shouldn’t have been.”
I shrug. I hate the idea of sounding like I’m whining when she had it way worse than I did growing up. “No, however, I was lucky to have my grandparents and Pop. You had no one.”
Eyes wide, she gives a small shake of her head. “Mother Superior and Sister Giulia were better than family. Actually Sister Giulia wasn’t a nun, she was a teacher from America, but we all called her Sister Giulia. They cared for me not out of duty but because they wanted to. It wasn’t a bad life. At least Johnny wasn’t there every day telling me I was a burden and he resented me. I think hearing that every day would have been worse—silence isn’t always a bad thing.”
Regina fits in here, she is the most relaxed she’s been since I first laid eyes on her. Christ, has it only been a day? Whatever, it feels like a blink of an eye, and oddly as if I’ve always known her. Her thoughts aren’t those of someone in their early twenties. She has real empathy, she understands there are things she doesn’t get yet and at the same time the things she gets—they’re more than women twice her age do.
It blows my mind she has no idea how gorgeous she really is. For the first time she appears content, happy as she leans back with a book in her lap she’s clutching eagerly. I’m drawn to her, without any thought I’m across the room and in front of her. None of the other women I’ve fucked have been in here despite my invitation to them. Their expressions of confusion as to why they would want to always a confirmation they would not last long.
Fuck, my cock hardens at the way her legs widen as I get close, opening her body to me. The move is instinct to her—it’s clear in her confused honey eyes. I step between them before she can close them again. Her small intake of air is an invitation I cannot refuse.
I cup her chin, bringing her eyes up to meet mine, as I run my thumb over her smooth, soft cheek. My desire for Regina is seeping into my bones, my very marrow. Catching her behind her neck, I draw her up to me, she sways, melting into me. I bring my other arm up to hold her close.
My name is a whisper on her lips I inhale as I give in to my need. The taste of her, more intoxicating than any liquor, sends me spinning into greedy, desperate need to taste every inch of her. Her response is electrifying, she moans as she answers my hunger, stroke by sweet stroke.
The witch catches my tongue and sucks deep. No, damn it. I grasp her hair in my fist; she gasps as she grinds her hips against me. Fucking hell, I want to be gentle with her and I will be, but it makes her just as wet when I’m not. Perfect. Regina is perfect for me in a way I had never dreamed possible.
My cell goes off, reminding me now is not the time for this. Letting her go, I’m a bastard for loving the bereft expression fluttering across her beautiful face. Again, she sways against me. I wrap an arm around her even as I check the call that has already gone to voice mail. With a small sigh, her head goes down against my chest. For a moment I simply hold her. I understand the word content in a way I have never experienced with a woman.
The beep warning of the elevator arriving on my floor goes off.
Regina’s forehead knots in confusion as she looks up at me.
“That’s Vincent, Marco, and Dario. Come meet your guards.”
12
Regina
Dazed, I’m glad for the way Dominic takes my hand, guiding me into the living room. The men are and aren’t what I expect. They are the dark-haired, muscle bound mafia stereotype I’ve encountered at Johnny’s home. A second look and they remind me of Dominic’s surface calm that hides his alert, watchful tension ready to pounce. I have no doubt they are each carrying at least one weapon. I’m also sure they won’t need it to kill someone.
Only minutes after I’m introduced to them, Dominic squeezes my hand lightly before leaving with Vincent. The loss of his hand shouldn’t leave me so desperate for it. I clench my hand in memory.
Marco and Dario agree Marco will take the first twelve hours. Marco nods at me. “Mary made sure the kitchen is stocked, but if you want something from the kitchen in the club let me know. It’s the best Italian kitchen in the city.”
I give him a hesitant smile. “Thank you—”
A swift shake of his head as he goes stiff. “I’m going to warn you right now. My loyalty is to Dominic, to the Sabatini family. You might not yet have his ring on your finger, but you belong to Dominic. I will give my last breath to make sure you stay his and you are protected from everything, including your own foolish self.” He nods to the open door. “I’ll be by the door.”
Okay then, he won’t be any help.
And I need help so badly. That kiss in the library was so... I sigh as words fail me. Amazing, beautiful, wow, a ten on the Richter scale. I’m not even a hundred percent sure I’m awake because it was the kind of kiss I thought existed in books and dreams, not real life. This is bad, all I want is to beg Dominic to kiss me again, to take me into his arms and never let me go. To lie to me and tell me this will all turn out in happily ever after, not with the tears and pain I can’t help but feel hanging over me, us.
Sighing, I go back down the hallway to figure out if there is another way out of here besides through the brick wall of Marco. Across from the library there is a small half bath. A door is open to a large bedroom, it’s a nice room. Flat white paint covers the walls, but the wall behind the bed has a layer of wallpaper in a bright blue and silver of roses and vines. The hardwood that runs throughout the place is softened here with fuzzy white carpets, different than the expensive Persian rugs in the living room and library.
A massive four poster-bed sits high up; thank goodness I spot a small wooden stool below the bed. I’m tall but I’m not a hundred percent sure I’ll be able to get into the bed without it. Expensive-looking sheets and a thick white comforter are on the bed. On the wall above the padded white leather headboard is an oil painting of Renaissance Florence Italy with storm clouds hovering over the Duomo.
The room isn’t as large as the one I had in the condo, but I like it more. It’s homey in here, there is a chaise lounge in deep blue silk with a small table beside it in one corner. Piled in front of it are three medium-sized boxes with my name on them. My life had been distilled into three boxes and some clothes.
Sighing, I go into the walk-in closet. Even with a large center island it’s big, all my clothes are in here. I check the closed door and find a massive five-piece bathroom. Holy crap, the shower is huge, and there are so many jets and showerheads I lose count at nine. The moment I spot it all I want is to jump into the bath. It’s designed like an old clawfoot tub, but it’s wider and there are jets set into it. Getting closer I find there are settings that control the temperature and jets. This wasn’t the kind of cage I was expecting.
Nothing about this place is what I thought it would be, just like Dominic Sabatini.
***
Dominic
As I knew it would, the news of my impending marriage to Regina has spread like wildfire among the family Vincent informs me. I check my watch as Vincent pulls into the driveway of Carlo Toro’s home. His request to see me as soon as I was back in Chicago at least still carried a hint of an ask instead of a demand. I wonder, was it as Dominic Sabatini, or the future son-in-law of his Don?
His heir, Salvatore, was the son of his sister. Their family wasn’t quite as old in this as mine, but they were just as pow
erful. Sal’s father and his grandfather were newer, they made a lot of money and they liked killing, which went far in the Outfit. Sal’s father demanded Sal over Luca as Carlo’s heir.
Johnny accepted it, as Luca was more of an asset in Vegas. However, I’m well aware Carlo doesn’t like Sal. Carlo had been unable to hide his disdain for his nephew as he shared his concern over Sal pressing for the Outfit to move into trafficking women, despite it being forbidden from the founding of the Outfit.
Our eyes had met briefly, Carlo only nodded, seeing the warning I gave him. If Sal attempted to traffic women, I would shed his blood before the sun set. That was almost two years ago, since then Sal has dropped the women issue, instead driving his crew further into the drug trade, with oxy and heroin his main income.
Entering Carlo’s home, I’m greeted with tense nods from his men; they do not attempt to remove my piece. Good. They do ask that Vincent remain outside. I nod to Vincent.
Carlo’s office door is open, he is alone in the room. I close the door. He’s aged since I saw him last only three weeks ago, I wonder how much of it is since the call from Johnny. He holds up his glass. “Drink?”
I shake my head as I undo my jacket and sit in front of his desk. “Johnny called you.”
He leans his head back to study me. “I know you don’t want to be underboss or Don when the time comes.”
My eyes narrow on him as I nod.
“Johnny doesn’t care. Frankly, I’m glad for it. Sal—” He shakes his head. “I can barely control him now. Him taking over will be the end of us, of my family at the very least.”
Fucking hell, no.
“Dom, we need you. This is your birthright. It always has been.”
“I don’t want this.” I spit out the words. Bitterness wells up inside me.
Carlo scoffs. “Too fucking bad. Your duty is to the family, to your Don. When Johnny dies, I become Don and you become underboss.”
Exhaling slowly, I attempt to rein in my anger. It doesn’t fucking help.