Boss (Chianti Kisses #2)

by Tara Oakes

  Her voice, her eyes… they make me forget the things I don’t like about myself. They make me forget about the things in our past that we both try to forget. Unfortunately, a walking reminder of that past is about to come walking through the front door soon. I resign to make the most of the moments before that happens.

  Opening the thick glass door between us, the musical notes grow in intensity and vibrate through me. I watch her lips move with the entrancing sounds escaping and seducing me, bringing me closer to her.

  He body is soaped up, with bunches of lathered bubbles clumped in clusters over her drenched skin. The heat of the water scalds as I join her under the steady stream. I close my eyes, and wait for my body to adjust, to acclimate, to it.

  “How the hell you don’t boil under here, is beyond me, V.”

  Don’t get me wrong, I like warm showers. Hell, if I’ve had a really hard workout, I’m not against a steamy hot shower. But V takes it to a whole new level.

  She smiles, eyes following her hands as she proceeds to lather me up to match her. The soap slips and slinks around and between all of my muscles as she travels inch after inch of my body.

  “Oh baby, don’t tell me you can’t stand a little heat?” she chides me.

  I take a step back, to fully submerge myself under the liquid magma, and make sure I don’t show any evidence of my discomfort. Within a handful of seconds, the water is now temperate to my skin, the initial sting having subsided.

  I pull her to me, directly under the centermost pulsing of water, proving the level of my commitment to our moment. I crash my lips down to hers, taking her plump flesh in mine and forcing them open, seeking out the delicate tongue that helped make those sweet sounds from before. Once its found, I stroke it, surge it strongly to come and play. My hands skim over her naked skin with water slipping between my fingers and in the tight spaces between our bodies.

  I feel her responding to me, with her palm finding its way to the growing, throbbing mass between my thighs. She circles it with her nimble fingers, and I feel her body hitch from the surprise at what she’s found.

  I lick her lips in parting. “How’s that for heat?”

  Her eyes drop down to what’s in her hand, and I see the look of longing in her eyes. Her chest rises before settling and releasing a deep moan. “Looks like just what I need.”

  I pull up hard, forcing her hand to abandon my shaft. Her body rebounds from the momentum, lifting her to my waist. My arms settle under her thighs, providing a shelf to stabilize her body.

  “Wrap your legs around me, baby, and squeeze tight,” I instruct her.

  She doesn’t miss a beat, doesn’t pause the teasing of our tongues. She wraps one leg and then the other, hugging me tight between them. Once she’s secure, I angle her perfectly to take me, with the only sounds to match those of falling water being the loud cry she makes as she sheathes me.

  Her nails dig deep into my shoulders, marking my flesh as hers. Her breathing deepens, her body clambering to mine, inching closer and closer to a release. She steals her lips back from mine, stretching her neck and yearning for me to finish her. She licks her lips heartily as I push her into the tiles behind her back.

  She presses her body against the porcelain, using the layer of wetness to help glide her as every bit of her strength is mustered to raise and lift herself each time I lower her down to me. Again and again, our bodies dance intricately, melding into and out of each other.

  My skin is fevered, scorching from the movements, my heart rate racing along insane speeds. The water running down my back is now serving as a coolant, trying its best to soothe me from all of the exertion.

  We’re wearing each other out, each one unwilling to give up until the other has had its fill. I sense her growing closer to the edge, dangerously close. I push one last time, sliding her body up the wall and I collapse into her, spilling myself out, my eyes closing from the intensity of it.

  And I listen to her sing as she cries out my name.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “I’ll get it!” I call out into the vast rooms behind me. The staff is usually pretty good with answering the doorbell, but the close proximity of my office to the grand entrance gives me an advantage.

  The guardhouse buzzed up to let me know our guest had arrived, and was heading up the main drive. I hear the clicking if the lock mechanism within the heavy oak panels as I swing the barrier open.

  The briefest of moments is spent sizing each other up, in the typical masculine way. It’s been years since we’d laid eyes on each other. The last time I saw Carmine, he was a cocky seventeen-year-old, feeling up a waitress in the coat room of Alberti’s. Those were the days when I was a bit of a jackass when it came to women, so… I’m pretty sure I just gave this kid a pat on the back, reached past him for my jacket and slipped a rubber into his pocket.

  That, well, that was obviously well before I knew he was using those same playboy tactics on my baby sister.

  The man before me now bears the same cocky grin as the teenager from years ago, but that’s where the buck stops. He’s bulked up and out, having packed on about thirty pounds of muscle, and is packing it all in an expensive custom-fit suit and loafers.

  I see him sizing me up, too. I’m sure I’ve changed over the years, aged a bit. He smiles and nods between us.

  “Good to see you again, Dom.” He holds out his hand. I take it in mine and we shake hard, firm. He’s got a solid grip.

  “You too, kid. Thanks for coming. Please, come in.” I step aside.

  He nods his agreement and strides into the house, carrying a leather duffle and a garment bag. “My pleasure. Anything we can do to help, Dom, you know that. Mr. Moretti wants you to know that I’m at your disposal for as long as you need me.”

  I’m sure. Mr. Moretti, also known as Carmine’s capo, would be happier than a pig in shit to have me owe him even more than I’ve just signed on to, by having his number one soldier stay on for as long as possible, to be his eyes and ears inside my operation. An operation he’s been itching to get his hand in for years. I’ve been able to keep him at bay for years, with my claims of keeping ATH on the straight and narrow, distancing myself from the world of my father. This recent development has left me little recourse than to accept his help.

  Well, what’s done is done. Carmine’s here now. He better be worth it.

  “Well, hopefully this situation will be over in a timely matter and we can all get back to our normal lives.” I sidestep any sort of time commitment.

  Carmine nods at the vagueness. “No sweat. Just tell me what you need, Dom. I’ll make sure it gets done.”

  “Dom!! Is that him?” V calls out excitedly, her voice reaching her before she actually makes her appearance from the kitchen, speed walking toward us. “Carmine? No! Is that really you?”

  My bride smiles widely and moves past me and to my surprise, wraps her arms, the arms that were holding onto me not long ago, around his neck and squeezes tight.

  “Vincenza! Surely this is not the little Vincenza that I once knew?” He’s smooth alright. I eye him suspiciously.

  I interrupt their reunion, “I see you two remember each other.”

  Carmine stiffens, releasing my wife and resuming his professionalism.

  V turns her attention to me, “Oh, baby, don’t go getting your panties in a bunch.”

  I shrug my shoulders and cock my eyebrow. She rolls her eyes and takes a step away from her new bestie.

  “Thank you so much for the wedding gift, Carmine. And please thank your mother for us. She sent us the most beautiful embroidered dinner napkins.” It’s amazing how V remembers each and every gift and who sent it. I mean literally, there were about a thousand.

  Carmine seems happy at the mere mention of his generosity. “My pleasure. I’m just sorry we couldn’t make it to the ceremony. Momma isn’t well enough to fly these days.”

  V sighs, “I’m sorry, Carmine. Your uncle told us. I hope she’s doing well with treatment?�
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  I immediately feel guilty for the stand-offish vibe I’ve been giving him since he walked through my door. The poor guy’s mom is practically on her deathbed. Who the hell cares if he’s friendly enough with my wife to hug her?

  The bodyguard shows a touch of vulnerability. “Thanks, V,” he whispers.

  The somberness settling around us is depressing. “Let’s have a chat about what kind of internship we can work out, Carmine. V, we’ll be in my office for a while.”

  My new employee nods in agreement, no doubt thankful for a distraction from his mother’s medical scenario. V picks up on my subtle hint and decides to shift her concentration to the handling of Carmine’s luggage.

  “I’ll have your things sent to your room. We’re going to set you up in the guest house, if that’s alright?” she asks our guest.

  Carmine warms to the idea, no doubt thankful for the privacy it will afford him. “Thanks, V.”

  My wife kisses me on my cheek before I escort our guest into the seclusion of my office. Carmine disappears into my sanctuary, heading straight for one of the high wingback chairs strategically placed in front of my desk.

  “You’re a lucky man, my friend. You’ve married one of the good ones.”

  Damn straight I did.

  “So. What exactly are we looking at here? Stalker? Jealous ex? Blackmail?” He’s my kind of man, he cuts right to the chase. No pussyfooting around it.

  I round my way to my desk and open the drawer housing the key piece to this puzzle. The note. I stretch across the table surface and deliver the paper to him.

  “This was waiting for me when we got home yesterday. No return address. No postage. No courier. My staff has no idea how it appeared on top of my mail pile,” I begin to paint the picture, sketch the background for the scene we are in.

  He studies the item in his hand, his fingers tracing the letters while reading them. “What’s the web address lead to?”

  I’m one step ahead of him, already having typed the letters into the browser on my monitor. Once the familiar black screen appears, I turn the monitor to face him before I hit the enter key to activate the portal.

  The sleek, black, rectangular, form of the monitor doesn’t afford me a view of the pictures, but judging by the look on my companion’s face, I can register the severity of each of them as I continue to click the forward button.

  The look of initial surprise from what he is seeing turns to one of hardened resolve and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Once the photos have been run through, he turns his attentions to me.

  “It’s a message,” he states.

  I nod, replacing my monitor to its original position. “It means they can get to her. They want me to know she’s vulnerable.”

  He squints his eyes, assessing the scope of things. “Why us? You have a hugely successful company with its own security, not to mention your own private detail, I’m sure. Mr. Moretti hasn’t said much, but I know we’re all surprised you reached out to us for help on this. But, I gotta know… why?”

  I sit back into the thick padding of the seat cushion behind me. It’s an honest enough question, and I can’t fault the guy for wanting to know what it is that he’s putting his neck on the line for.

  “Because I don’t mix… things. My ATH security doesn’t have the experience in these things, to be able to take the appropriate measures necessary. And we don’t have the time to help them through the learning curve while they figure it out. And most importantly… this is a family problem. I prefer to handle it accordingly.”

  I do leave out the illegal nature of the way this will need to be handled “accordingly.” You don’t go asking a nurse to perform surgery, now do you? You get the top board-certified specialist for that. This is no different. There’s no time to waste in being cautious and naively optimistic that this will stay within the confines of the law, when I know very well it will very well cross that line fairly soon.

  “Who’s most likely behind this, Dom. Last we checked you don’t really have any beef with any of the families. Besides that nonsense with Rizzo last year, you pretty much stay out of the loop,” he says giving a fairly accurate abridged summary of my activity within the commission. “Mr. Moretti has sent word to the other families and no one has accepted any responsibility. It’s not likely sanctioned, whatever this is that’s being done, Dom.”

  Nothing he’s saying is surprising to me. I may not be as involved as my dad or V’s father were, back in the day, but I still have enough of a position even if just by birth, to get this information on my own.

  “It’s Rizzo. I know it is, Carmine. He did eight months in the pen for that shit he pulled last year. He was stupid and careless, and left just enough of a trail for the feds to get him on racketeering charges. He’s lucky that’s all they got him on, too. If he hadn’t taken the plea deal that he did, he could have gone away for a hell of a lot longer. He’s the type to hold a grudge. And the fact that he hasn't done anything sooner than this is the only thing that’s surprising about the whole thing, frankly.”

  I can see Carmine mulling over my theories.

  “It’s possible… but after all the attention and heat he brought down on everybody with his investigation, he’s lost a lot of pull with the other families. In times like these, it’s too easy to get caught up in a RICO case, or linked to someone who is. No one’s willing to take that kind of chance by associating with Rizzo since he’s been released. Business ties have been cut on more fronts than his pocket would care to admit. I’m not sure he’s your guy, but you’re the boss. Just tell me what you need.”

  Now we can get down to the meat of it all.

  “You’re V’s new best friend. You stay close whenever she leaves the grounds. As far as she knows, you’re here to intern for me down at the company. But I’ll come up with a few good reasons for you to tag along with her. You’re to be armed at all times… without her knowing, of course.”

  My new covert employee seems up to the task. I just want to make it clear exactly what the boundaries are, though.

  “But, kid… make no mistake. You get too close and I’ll make sure you get sent right back to Moretti. Piece by piece. Do I make myself clear?”

  Carmine’s eyes glint with a touch of humor. “Crystal, boss. Don’t get me wrong, V’s a beautiful woman. But… she’s not exactly my type, and, I don’t chase married women. There are too many single ones to make it worth the effort. Your wife is perfectly safe with me.”

  Glad to hear it. I stand first, and he catches the drift, following suit. “Speaking of single women… I hear you happened to have chased one that happens to be pretty close to me.” I see the level of discomfort wash over him. I push further. “Make sure you don’t make it a habit. For your sake.”

  Carmine exhales slowly. “You got it, boss.”

  ~*~

  “It’s nearly two in the afternoon. Why do you have to go in today? Let’s just call it a wash and you can go back to work tomorrow. I’ll make it worth your while….”

  I turn my attention from the reflection of my half-tied necktie in the mirror, and find her eyes within the wooden framed glass from her seat behind me.

  “V, you always make it worth it. But,” I can see her deflate, “I need to get in for a conference call with the loading dock managers.”

  I finish the intricate practice of tightening the tie and smoothing it. Satisfied, I turn to the closet door handle nearby and remove my suit jacket from its temporary home to slip it on, arm by arm.

  She does her best at a mock pout, clearly disappointed in her powers of persuasion. “What am I supposed to do for the rest of the day?”

  I reach her, perched in the middle of the mattress of our king-sized bed, sitting tall.

  “You,” I lift her chin to me and caress her lower lip with my tongue to soften the blow of my departure, “can settle in to your new house and start to work your way through the huge pile of wedding gifts in the sitting room. They just keep coming. I think
the housekeeper’s starting to get pissed about it.”

  V rolls her eyes defiantly, dodging my next kiss. “I say we just donate all of them and call it a day.”

  I gingerly trail my fingers up to the hem of her fitted top and tease my way under, my fingers feeling the heat of her skin and following it to the warmth of her breast. She’s still playing her little game, pretending to be mad at me for leaving the task to her. I see her eyes flutter as I angle my fingers to trace the delicateness of her peak with the hardness of my nail. She inhales sharply, fighting against herself to give in to me, to concede. She’s stubborn, and I don’t expect her to give in this easily.

  “You go through them and make a pile of anything you want to donate. When I get home I’ll look through it and I’ll set up a pickup for the shelter. Then… I want you to go through all the pretty little boxes I bought you in Milan and decide which one you’re going to wear for me tonight, Mrs. D.”

  She gives in and finally locks eyes with me.

  “Not… that I don’t love your pink fuzzy pants, but,” I reach around to grab her plump ass cheeks, “I want to practice taking all the frilly little things we picked out off with my teeth.”

  I watch her eyes cloud over and hood themselves. She grits her teeth and threatens me through them. “I swear, DiBenedetto, if you don’t come home on time tonight, the only thing you’re gonna be taking off with your teeth is a collection of pink fuzzy pants every night for the rest of your life.”

  I smile wickedly and kiss the tip of her nose, accepting her terms. “Seven o’clock.”

  She scowls, “Six.”

  So she wants to negotiate, huh?

  “Six thirty, and make sure it’s the black corset with the fishnet stockings.”

  She thinks on it. “Deal.”

  ~*~

  “Just gimme whatcha got, Nick,” I interrupt the tech genius’s most recent apology for not having all the answers I’m demanding.

  “Well… the best I was able to do was to disrupt the embedding so that if anything new is uploaded, the site won’t recognize it, and therefore can’t add any more pictures,” he explains to me in layman’s terms. He knows I’m not a fan of all the technological mumbo-jumbo jargon he usually bombards me with.