Those Boys Are Trouble: Valetti Crime Family Box Set

by Winters, Willow

  I have to admit though, when he hands it over to me and my doll’s picture looks back at me, suddenly I don’t really give a fuck about the iPad. I read the description and go through the photos.

  Rebecca Lynn Harrison. Maiden name: Bartley.

  Thirty-one years old. Birthday: January 2nd 1985.

  Widow to Richard Francis Harrison. Married: December 14th 2011.

  Died of heart attack at thirty-four years old. Birthday: May 12th 1982.

  Mother to Jax Liam Harrison.

  Three years old. Birthday: April 5th 2013.

  My jaw tics as I read that part about a son. Kids complicate shit. I can’t just keep her to myself whenever I want and expect her to submit without any question.

  Owner of Marcello’s Italian Bistro.

  127 Pattinsons Plaza. Value: Two million.

  Owner of two-story family home in Harmony Place.

  42 Hills Lane. Value: 600,000.

  Recent Legal Action

  Divorce and distribution of assets – dismissed

  Questions regarding custody – also dismissed

  “What the fuck is this about?” Anger rises in my chest. Is she not a good mother? I won’t fuck with someone who doesn’t take care of their own. That’s not the kind of woman I want.

  “Her husband was a piece of shit. I’ve got his info on there, too.” He motions to the iPad, and I suck in a deep breath.

  I scroll past a few pictures of my doll in front of her restaurant. Marcello’s Italian Bistro. I’ll have to see about that. I doubt her meatballs are as good as Ma’s. I smirk, taking in the façade of the restaurant. I’ve never been there; never even heard of it. We have our own upscale bistro. But the people who come to us are looking for an experience, not necessarily our food. It’s not like Pops isn’t known as the head of the mafia. The cops have been on him throughout the years, but they’ve never been able to get anything to stick. The papers crucify him any time there’s bloodshed in the streets. Most of the time it’s got nothing to do with us though. Sometimes it’s deserved, but it’s a rare day the papers get their information right.

  So when people come into our bistro, they’re hoping to see some shit from the Sopranos or something. The thought makes me chuckle. I stare at the picture of her restaurant. Of Rebecca’s restaurant. I like that name. Rebecca. It feels good on my tongue. It looks like a nice place. I bet it’s decent inside. But Italian? Real Italian? Nah, I doubt it. I smirk and keep scrolling. I’ll have to go in and find out for myself.

  I stop on a picture of her holding a little boy in her arms. He must be her son. I look past the kitchen doorway to the den and take a peek at Gino.

  “What’s Gino now? Is he three?” I ask him as I lean against the granite countertops.

  He shrugs as he says, “No clue, Dom.”

  “Ma!” I yell through the kitchen to the dining room where her and Jessica are having a cup of tea. I know I’m interrupting them, but Ma won’t mind.

  She walks to the doorway with her hands on her hips and her lips pursed. “Why do you have to yell, Dom? Huh? You can’t just walk into the room like a normal person?”

  “Sorry Ma, just wanted to know how old Gino is.”

  “He’ll be three in June.” She narrows her eyes at me and says, “Why are you asking?”

  I shrug as I reply, “No reason.” I don’t lie to my Ma, not ever. But of course the one time I do, she sees right through me. I guess I don’t lie 'cause I’m a shitty liar. Her eyes focus on the iPad in my hands. “Not now, Ma,” I warn her. Her lips part and she takes a step back, giving me a look of disappointment.

  “I wanna see, Dominic.” She puts one hand on her hip, and the other is palm up, extended in front of her. Fuck me.

  “Ma. It’s just a girl; she doesn’t even know me.” Well, she kind of knows me, in the biblical sense, but Ma doesn’t need to hear that.

  “There’s a lot of broads out there, Dom,” Pops says as he comes up from behind me and takes the iPad out of my hand. He’s the only one in here I’d let get away with that shit. He chuckles. “You always go for the challenge, don’t you? You can’t be happy with a nice single twenty-something. You wanna go for a chick with baggage.”

  “Dante! A child is not baggage!” Ma looks pissed. I raise my eyebrows and stare past my ma to the dining room. My parents don’t fight. Never. Can’t tell you one time they ever got into an argument. But Ma sure as shit likes to beat up on Pops. She doesn’t let him get away with a damn thing.

  “Oh hush, I’m only saying having a kid creates extra work.” He hands the iPad back to me and adds, “If he’s not looking for anything but a good time, there’s no reason to go after a broad who has to worry about a little one.” I nod my head, hearing what my pops is saying, but I don’t fucking like it.

  “What you need to do is knock it off with all the girls and find a good woman to settle down with.”

  “All the girls?” I scrunch my face up in distaste. “What girls?” It’s not like I bounce from girl to girl. I’m not some fucking manwhore. Not that I really see a problem either way. By that I mean I’m not into slut-shaming. You do what you want, how you want. Vince has a fleet of women coming and going. They know what they’re signing up for, and I don’t give him a hard time over it. I just prefer something different. I like to build some trust. A one-night stand is nothing that can give me the high I need. It’s a quick release, and that’s just not my thing. I like gaining trust and pushing limits. I enjoy finding out a woman’s deepest, darkest fantasies. Hard to make that come true if they don’t trust you enough to tell you.

  I hear Vince laugh from the den. Great, the whole fucking family is in on it now. He walks into the kitchen, moving to lean against the fridge with a huge fucking grin on his face. I cut him off as his mouth opens. “Shut it.” I point my thumb in Ma’s direction. “She gets a pass.” Then at Pops. “He gets a pass.” Then I point at him with my brows raised. “Not you. Fuck off.”

  “Dom!” Ma scolds me.

  “I know, I know.” I roll my eyes and pass the iPad back to Tony. “Language.” I look at Tony and say, “Email it to me.”

  Ma looks at me expectantly. “Ma, really.” I don’t fucking want her involved. This is just pussy. I can’t get this broad out of my head. Partly because I want to apologize, but mostly because I want her cunt wrapped around my dick again. And that ass. Just thinking of it makes my dick come to attention. And that’s my cue to fucking leave. I did my part; I came to Sunday dinner. I told them about that little shit Marco, and De Luca’s bullshit.

  I give Ma a hug as she asks, “You’re leaving already?” She sounds hurt, and it would make me feel guilty if she didn’t say it like that every time.

  “Gotta go, Ma; I love you.” She gets a kiss on the cheek. Pops gets a quick hug, and the rest get a wave as I walk my ass out the door to my Benz.

  Time to go home and really look into this woman. I already know I want her; I’ve just got to figure out how I’m gonna get her to owe me again. The smirk on my face vanishes as I remember I’m gonna have to address how I behaved the first time. My hands twist the leather steering wheel. I’m not so good with apologies, but I’m sure I’ll figure out a way to make it up to her. I groan, thinking up all the ways I’ll make it up to my doll.

  I can’t fucking wait to get inside her tight pussy again. I haven’t got anything planned for tomorrow. Well, now I do.

  Becca

  I cringe as I take off my heels the second I get inside the house and drop my purse on the front hall table. Fuck, today was a long day. I wince and suck in air through my teeth as my feet finally have some relief. I drop the heels at the front door and start walking to the sofa, but I stop and sigh. Damn it, I can’t fucking leave them there. I hate not being organized. I lean down and pick them up so I can put them back in the closet. Back on their spot on the shelf. It’ll make me feel better. If I leave one little mess, then it’ll just grow. I can’t be lazy, it’s not like anyone else is going to clean up
after me. Besides, it’s easier to maintain a tidy home than it is to let it go to shit and then have to clean it all up.

  As I slide my Jimmy Choos back on the shelf, I hear the doorbell ring. I look down at my watch with my brow furrowed. It’s only five. I have an hour before Jax will be home. I need this time to prep dinner, which today means ordering out, and to go through my emails and payroll. I really do need to hire someone. I pick up my pace to open the door as it rings again. I can’t keep up this pace. I can’t keep doing everything by myself, especially with how shitty I’ve been feeling. I swing open the door with a sigh and without bothering to look through the peephole.

  My lips part, and my heart stills when I see the man on the other side. He fucking haunted my dreams last night in the best possible way. If I wasn’t terrified at the moment, my pussy would be clenching in need. He’s in dark dress slacks and a crisp, light blue button-down shirt with a dark blue tie. His exposed neck makes me want to lick it and feel the rough stubble on my tongue. As if he knows exactly what I’m thinking he gives me a cocky smirk, which only makes him look even hotter.

  I swallow thickly and try to speak. Why is he here? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I gave him everything. Maybe he wants more? Maybe Rick's debt isn’t completely paid. My eyes widen at the thought. I shouldn’t be so turned on by that. I should be scared shitless, and part of me is. But another part of me wants him to fuck me against this wall and have him leave with the warning that he’ll be back to collect again tomorrow. I must be fucking sick in the head.

  “May I come in, Rebecca?” His smooth baritone voice drips with sex appeal. My core heats instantly. I can’t speak, I don’t trust my voice, so I just nod and open the door wider. As his tall, broad frame passes me I seem to snap out of my lust-filled haze. What the fuck did I just do? I should’ve said no!

  I start shaking my head as though this isn’t real. He turns around in my living room to face me. I paid a designer to make this room look like it belonged on a page of Good Housekeeping. All plush, cream-colored cushions and dark antique finishes. He doesn’t belong here. He stands out amongst all the clean white lines. He may be in expensive, custom-tailored clothing, but he doesn’t fool me. He’s bad. His hair is messy and rugged. His hands are callused and scarred. His smirk is cocky and sexy as fuck. It’s like he was placed in this room by accident.

  Looking around the room to avoid his piercing gaze, I spot a family picture on the wall and I’m reminded of how tainted it is by my husband – ex-husband – deceased husband. Fuck. Tears well up in my eyes. I can’t fucking handle this. I rub my temples. I just want to get whatever this is over with. I shut the door and follow him into the entryway of the living room. I should offer him tea or a drink. My parents raised me right. But fuck that. He’s a criminal. I run my hands through my hair as anxiety consumes me.

  “Can I help you?” I’m barely able to get the words out.

  A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest. He grins, showing off his perfect white teeth. “I think you can, Rebecca.” His smile falters a bit before he asks, “Are you going by Bartley now, or Harrison?”

  I need to shut this shit down. I don’t need someone barging into my life and walking all over me. I’ll give him whatever he wants to just get the fuck out. I should’ve known he’d be back for the interest. For actual money.

  A blush travels from my chest to my cheeks. I shouldn’t have been so stupid to think that he’d be satisfied humiliating me like he did. My heart clenches. Was it really humiliating? I shake the thought away. I’m sure he intended it to be. Why else would he be here smirking at me like he owns me? Fucking asshole. I clench my fists and push out the words, “How much is it that I owe you?” I have a few grand in the safe in the bedroom. I fucking hope it’s enough. I thought all this was behind me. I told Sarah to never speak of it again, and I fucking moved on. It was only awkward for the first few minutes. Thank fuck for Sarah; I need to give her a raise.

  He smiles with that boyish charm I’m sure he’s used on more than a handful of women and says, “Doll, you don’t owe me. You never did.”

  A lump forms in my throat, making it hard to answer, “Why are you here?” I barely breathe the question. The way his eyes narrow and he licks his lips, he’s looking at me like I’m his prey. Every bit of fear I had is replaced with pure desire. My core heats, and my shoulders shudder under his lust-filled gaze. “I want you to go.” The words come out weak. But I need to say them.

  He looks hurt for a split second, and I almost think I imagined it, but I didn’t. I saw it. He gives me a tight smile. “I came to,” he clears his throat and looks out of the large bay window for a moment. “I just wanted to apologize for the way I treated you.” He shoves his hands in his pockets as his forehead pinches, as though he’s truly considering something. “I didn’t mean-”

  “It’s fine.” My voice hitches on the end. I shake my head, turning my back on him to open the door for him. If he just came to apologize, then he can get the fuck out.

  A small gasp escapes me as his hand covers mine and pushes the front door closed with a loud bang. The lock engages with a menacing click. My body jumps from the noise and then from his hard chest pushing against my back. His large frame boxes me in, and my breasts push against the front door. My heart races, and I struggle to breathe as his hot breath tickles my neck. His lips graze my ear as he whispers, “You didn’t hear me, doll. I wanna make it up to you.”

  A wave of heat rips through my body as I close my eyes. The tips of my fingers tingle, and my pussy clenches as his other hand gently grabs my waist and he pulls my ass into his hips. A strangled moan leaves my lips as I feel his hard dick push into my ass. I can feel the wetness between my thighs, preparing me for him. His hand reaches up my blouse and splays across my stomach. “I owe you, doll. Let me make it up to you.” His hand gently travels down my side. A shiver runs through my body as he kisses the crook of my neck.

  My breath hitches, and the word is on my lips. Stop. But I don’t say it. I lean my back into his hard, hot body and rock against him. What the fuck is wrong with me? He wraps his hand around my throat. I love the possession. He could break me. He could crush me. He could take me like he did yesterday. And I want it. Fuck, I want it so bad.

  This is so wrong. I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t feel like I need him. I shouldn’t feel so empty and hollow, needing to be filled. I bite my bottom lip, warring with myself. It was so good. Fuck, it was so fucking good before. I can only imagine how good it would be now.

  My head falls back against his chest, and my lips part as a breathy moan fills the hot air. A dark, masculine chuckle leaves his lips and tickles my neck. It sends an urgent need to my throbbing clit. He nips at my earlobe and then pulls it with his teeth.

  “You want me, doll?” His question lingers in the hot air. I can’t. I can’t want this. But I can’t say no. I close my eyes and shake my head. Tears leak from the corners of my eyes. I shove my back against his hard chest. He doesn’t move. He’s too strong.

  “Yes you do, I know you do.” His voice is hard and unmoving, like his muscular body caging me in.

  I do. I want it so fucking bad. But I push against him again and turn around in his grasp. I yelp as his hand grabs both of my wrists and pins them above my head. His erection digs into my stomach as his hips keep me pinned to the door. He leans into my neck and hisses, “I hate liars.”

  My eyes close tight, and I struggle to swallow the lump in my throat. I can’t explain it. I can’t do this, no matter how much my body begs me for it. My lips find his neck, but instead of kissing him, I bite down. HARD. I sink my teeth deep into his flesh to hurt him. I don’t know why. I don’t want to fight him. But a sick part of me does.

  “Fuck!” he yells out and pulls his upper body away while his hips stay pinned to mine, and his hand tightens on my wrists. His dick jumps from my attack. My eyes stare at his neck. That’s gonna leave a bruise. There’s no blood though. Good. I don’t want to really hurt him, just…
/>
  His hand that isn't holding my wrists touches his neck in disbelief. My breathing comes in sharp pants as his eyes widen. I expect him to hit me. To slap me across the face. My cheek would sting with a violent red mark. I want him to pin me down on the ground, my knees burning as they scrape against the carpet while I struggle beneath him. I want him to rip my pants down and tear my panties off. I want him to fuck me. To punish me and treat me like he owns my body. I scissor my thighs, searching for relief from the heated need of my fantasy.

  But I won’t admit I want it, because it’s wrong.

  I swallow thickly as his eyes darken and narrow. They travel along my body with dark desire as he contemplates what to do with me. I’m paralyzed with a deadly mixture of lust and fear. His hand tightens on my wrists while the other wraps around my throat. He squeezes just before the point of too much. It’s not a struggle to breathe, but I’m pinned to the door. I'm completely at his mercy. He holds my body still while he leans in. “You wanna fight me, doll?”

  I press my lips into a hard line and struggle in his grasp. My body twists and writhes, but it’s no use. He huffs a humorless laugh. “All you had to do was tell me,” he says and leans in closer and bites down hard on my neck, making me scream out. The painful pinch of his bite intensifies the throbbing need burning in my core. He whispers in my ear, “Say red.”

  I still with confusion. Red?

  “Say red, and it all stops. Do you understand?” My eyes widen as I realize what he’s saying.

  “Yes.” The word comes out easy in absolute submission. Hope and lust stir in my blood.

  “Say it.” His words are hard and short.

  “Red.” It whips from my mouth.

  His hand loosens on my throat and he says, “Good girl, now fight me like you want to.” In a flash, he turns my body and pushes me hard against the door. His left hand keeps my wrists pinned while his other rips my pants down my thighs; the fabric burns across my skin as he forces them down. I think to scream, but I don’t.