by Olivia Deici
“You're so sweet. I love you.”
It had been two weeks that we said those words to each other. It came so easily now, that I found myself saying it several times a day. It's like my heart wouldn't let me keep the words on my tongue anymore. They kept spilling out.
“Here. Sit on the desk.”
One side of my lips raised in an uncertain smile as my suspicions grew.
“What are you planning?”
“A massage. You look a bit tense.”
I did as he asked and he kneeled between my hanging legs. He took my scrub pants off and my underwear followed.
“Roman, I can't. I have a room full of patients and I only gave myself ten minutes for lunch today.”
His smirk was wicked sexy.
“Haven't you ever heard of nooners? They're quick.”
I giggled. “I can't. What if they hear?”
He grabbed a pencil and placed it between my teeth.
“Clamp your mouth around that.”
I threw my head back, grabbed his head that was between my legs, and laughed. I took the pencil out.
“Roman, I can't do this now.”
I felt his tongue on my clit and I groaned. My hand shoved the pencil in my mouth, and my teeth clenched down on it.
His mouth pulled at that nub of nerves and I leaned back until I was lying prone on the desk.
“Yes, baby…”
My voice sounded garbled through the pencil. I was trying to be quiet but his tongue felt so good. He would roll his tongue and then suck my clit. Then he would lick my walls and shove his tongue deep within me. I began moving my hips against his mouth.
Then he slid his finger in me and began rubbing me.
“You feel so good, Roman.”
I’m surprised he could understand what I was saying.
“You fucking taste so good, baby.”
I took the fucking pencil out of my mouth.
“Is this the massage you meant?” My voice was breathy.
He ran his tongue along my sides and said, “Fuck yes. What would you call that?”
I groaned as he blew on my clit. I hastily clenched the pencil between my teeth again. When he sucked my clit, I grabbed his head and began rubbing my pussy on his lips.
“Yes. More.”
He pulled it hard and I splintered. I bit into the pencil to keep from screaming. As I rode out the intense orgasm, Roman rose from between my legs.
“Delicious.”
He was licking his lips. A mortified smile spread on my lips and I covered my eyes.
“Don't be shy, Izzy. Not when you shoved your pussy in my face and ground it against my mouth.”
I groaned and covered my whole face with my hands as he chuckled.
“God, I love teasing you.”
He palmed one of my cheeks. “I hate to eat and run but I have a meeting in a half hour that I can't miss.”
I pointed to the Chinese food.
“But you haven't eaten. Let me put together a plate for you.”
Roman shook his head. “Baby, I ate plenty.” His grin had me blushing. “It was delicious, too.”
He leaned down, kissed me, and walked to the door.
“Roman…you're going to be hungry.”
His smirk had me smiling before I even heard his response.
“Eating your pussy is like eating Chinese food. I'll be hungry in a little while anyway.” He winked and I couldn't help but erupt in laughter. “I can't wait to see you tonight for the main course.”
As Roman left my office, I shook my head.
This man was going to be the death of me.
Chapter 29
Roman
My steps were lighter.
My soul was lighter.
Izzy was the missing piece in my life. I fucking loved her. When she told me those words, my heart freaking leapt out of my chest.
I was a lucky bastard.
I didn't deserve her but fuck if I was letting her out of my life.
I was on my way to a meeting at the shipyard. Pop, Marco, Carlos, and D were meeting me there with Tony. Marco told me that despite the warning, Tony kept shooting the shit with a Russian.
That was raising red flags, and I was going to deal with that shit.
We were doing a sit-down with some other big families. The Fiores were going to be there. If you fucking asked me, they needed to stay the fuck in New York. Why they were trying to shoulder in down here was suspicious.
And I was starting to wonder whether there was a connection between my Izzy and Marcelo fucking Fiore.
The reputation of that family was brutal. Don Angelo Fiore ruled with an iron fist. I assumed his offspring wasn't any better. You know, falling fruit and the tree, and all that shit.
I'd not met a Fiore yet, and I wasn't sure I wanted to. They fucking needed to get in line with the Russians. The Zambranos held the most territory, and that wasn't going to change no matter what family tried to move to Miami.
Fuck the Russians.
Fuck the Italians.
Both Russian bratvas, and the Italians were attending. The Callaghans would be there, too. I had nothing against the Irish. We just stayed away from one another.
The only thing I was looking forward to seeing was the venom and foam coming out of the mouths of Pavel Zaitsev and Yuri Semenov as they are forced to stomach each other in the same room.
I snickered. They fucking hated each other.
I saw my family and Tony off to aside and walked over to them. We hugged and slapped the lungs out of each other via manly back slaps.
“What’s the meet about?”
We'd begun these meets, what we call white flags, nine years ago when the last street war happened. It took a lot of work to broker a peace agreement among the families. The Irish were very helpful in that endeavor. We'd had peace until Daniela’s kidnapping and Jenny’s murder.
Now someone’s been stirring the pot and when we found out who was responsible, cutting off the hand that held the spoon will be the least of their worries.
Pop’s laugh was derisive. He took the Cuban out of his mouth and exhaled the smoke.
“The Russians want to introduce a new industry. The Italians want to come to an agreement about territory.” He took a drag from the cigar. “The little that opened up after the Vrionis left.”
“Pussy Albanians,” Marco said and spit on the ground. “Couldn't take the heat.”
I laughed. “Well, they got found out. Trying to put a hit on the other Albanian group’s head was not smart if they couldn't keep it on the DL.”
Diego grinned. “For real.”
Pop blew out another billow of smoke. “They want to talk about the downtown properties, as if it's up for discussion. We're nearing closure of most of those properties.” He looked at me. “All except your rubia’s building.”
“Yea, blondie’s. How's it going with that hot piece of ass?”
I leveled a glare at D and he raised his hands. “Sorry, Rome. Serious then?”
I looked at my father when I responded. “Very.”
Pop didn't take his eyes off me as he exhaled again. “Close it up, hijo. We need that building.”
“She's her own woman and making up her own mind, Pop. I'm trying to guide her in the right direction.”
He nodded his head. “Good.”
I shook mine. “Not because it's what's right for the family, but because it's what's right for her. Her neighborhood is too dangerous for her.”
“Whatever it takes, Romano,” he responded.
“Gentlemen, we’re all here” Sean Callaghan said, nodding.
Marco swept his arm to the interior of an industrial container we’d outfitted with air conditioning and some other creature comforts for off-the-radar meetings like these. As they moved in, they disarmed and placed their metal in lockers we’d installed. They walked through metal detectors and took their seats.
We took no fucking chances. These are the conditions all the leaders agr
eed to.
“Now that's some fucking detector.”
Sean spoke nodding to the bug detector sitting pretty in the middle of the table. It should be impressive. It cost a fucking grand. Let's not even mention the signal zapper we have hanging on the wall.
The meets we had in here were serious.
I was sizing everyone up. They brought their own people to these meetings, just like it was understood that Pop would bring his sons. I recognized all the players except for four- the Italians. They had dark hair and were all pretty big and my age. The one who looked like the leader had tats on his arms. His green eyes watched me. The one next to him looked like a snotty bastard, eyeing the interior of the container with distaste.
Did he think it’d be the Ritz?
His eyes were fucking dark. I wasn't in to making more of something than what was there, but those eyes of his were dark and cold. And I had a pretty good hunch it reflected his soul.
“Why did you want to meet?”
Pop asked the question. He had the hard look on his face that made most men shudder.
The one who I thought was the leader, spoke.
“I'm Marcelo Fiore.” He nodded to the cold-eyed one. “This is Giulio.”
So this was Marcelo. I felt my body tighten as the urge to shove him against the wall and ask him why the fuck the woman I loved knew his name roared through me. I paused for a minute, noting the body language between the two. I was a good reader of people- in my profession, it was an asset.
And it looked like Marcelo didn't like Giulio.
Interesting. I'd file that away and speak to the family about it later.
“He's not a Fiore.”
Pop’s voice was dismissive.
The snot responded, and he had a fucking Italian accent. Well, what do you know? Wonder if he was from the motherland.
“I am like Don Fiore’s adoptive son.”
My father took a last puff from his cigar, snuffed it out in the ashtray in front of him, and sat back.
“I only deal with men with power.”
Cold-ass bristled.
The urge to laugh was strong. I couldn't help it with guys like him who thought they were more important than they actually were.
Pretentious prick.
Cold-ass’s eyes moved to mine as if he knew the mockery moving about in my head. He had an inferiority complex, too. This was great.
I'd love to play poker with this bastard. He gives every emotion away.
There was a tick in Marcelo’s jaw as he glanced at Giulio. Yep, definitely didn't like his adoptive brother.
My eyes went to Pavel and Yuri, and I hid my smirk. They stared at one another with such blatant hatred, it heated the air between them. It didn't look like they even knew what the fuck was going on in the room.
I looked at my brother Marco then. His eyes were on Pavel. The hostility in his eyes was palpable.
The info we were getting about his wife’s murder was pointing to the Zaitsevs.
God help us. There was only so much me and Pop could do to leash Marco. When that snapped, all hell would break loose.
“I am here with his blessing.”
It never ceased to amaze me how Pop could make an ordinary exhale of breath sound condescending. His eyes centered on Marcelo, ignoring Giulio. “Great. So what is it that you want?”
Pop had a no shit policy.
This was going to be an interesting meeting.
Chapter 30
Izzy
Patient chart in hand, I found that my concentration wavered. I'd been waiting on Detective Alvaro Martinez to get back to me about the notes. I hadn't wanted to trouble Roman with them. Anyways, I had given the first one I received to the detective before I even met Roman. When I received two more, I did the same thing. They’d read:
Bella.
Essere uccel di bosco.
The last one worried me more. I had received that a week ago. Anyone knew “Bella” in any romance language- beauty or beautiful. It could also be the nickname I hated and had told Roman to never call me.
The second phrase raised the hairs on my neck. To know what it meant, you had to know the language. It was an idiomatic expression. It basically translated to being on the run, having flown the coop.
And it was in handwriting that looked familiar, but I didn’t know from where.
And it almost sent me into a panic.
The detective told me to keep giving them to him but there was nothing he could do for the moment. He asked if I felt threatened or felt like I was being stalked, and I didn't. Rather, I hadn't until that third note. I couldn't tell him that without revealing why and I wasn't going to do that. So for now, and God-willing it didn't change, it was just the notes.
Roman had been so stressed, I hadn't wanted to tax him more with these. He had security for me and that was enough. I wouldn't burden him like I saw his family do. He thought I didn't notice, but I did.
Roman was the center of his family. He hadn't told me everything, and I sensed some of it was private family business, but what he could tell me involved him cleaning up everyone’s messes.
He'd told me that trial a few months back was of his younger brother. He told me about his father’s dependence on him, especially after his older brother’s instability following the murder of his sister-in-law. Sadly, he'd told me of his younger sister’s abduction and murder, which led to her twin’s, his younger brother’s, drug problem.
To top it off, he had his job, which was stressful enough.
I shook my head. There were nights when he came to me that I could see lines of stress on his face. He basically lived with me now. He slept over more often than not. He said my home comforted him, which was one of the best compliments I'd ever received. He also said I calmed his soul and gave him peace.
And I'd be damned if I burdened him like his family did.
I won’t lie and say that was my only motivation, but it was my main motivation. Truth was, too, I didn’t want to open up about my past.
The days were getting longer. Now that the newness (but not the passion) of our relationship had faded, we settled back into our rigorous schedules. We were both night owls and early morning risers, which were typically irreconcilable and unsustainable schedules. I guess it was good that we both didn't need much sleep.
We were going on five months now. Roman and I got along great and never argued. We teased each other and the ease of our relationship was amazing. The happiness I felt was something I thought I'd never have.
It frightened me now more than ever, though, the thought of what could happen if he found out the truth about me. I brought my hand up to my forehead. The fear made me anxious.
I hoped these notes were a fluke.
If he found me, if they found me, not only could my relationship with Roman be jeopardized, but God only knew what would happen to me.
I looked on my iPad to see the chart of the next patient and sighed.
It was Gina.
Chapter 31
Roman
“So, what did you think?”
We were back in Pop’s office and he was sitting behind his desk. We were all scattered about, sipping our drinks of choice. I could tell Pop wanted another cigar, but mom would have his ass for smoking in the house.
That was the thing. Pop was one tough motherfucker, and he didn't bend to anyone.
Except my petite mother.
My lips drew up a bit on one side. The same could be said about me and Izzy. I hoped our relationship and love would be as deep as that of my parents.
I looked at Pop and answered him. He always trusted my gut.
“Reluctantly, I admit Marcelo wasn't bad. He was a straight shooter. It was that asshole with him who was the problem.”
Marco nodded his head before knocking back his shot. “Yea. That prick needs an attitude adjustment.”
I laughed. “You could tell Marcelo isn't a fan of his, either.”
“We have a problem with the Russ
ians.”
Marco grunted at Carlos’ remark. “Yea. Surprise.”
“They want to move sex trade in. The fuck that's going to happen in my city.”
Pop’s fingers twitched. He really wanted a cigar.
“It's the only thing the Russians agree on.”
I looked at Diego. “Pretty much. Disgusting assholes. They’re probably back on a plane to the motherland while girls are being shipped there.”
“We need to keep our eyes open. That shit isn’t going to happen here.” Pop was clenching his jaw and shook his head. “Both bratvas are trying to expand down here, both in territory and industry.” He looked my way. “We need to close on her building. Offer what it takes.”
This shit was getting on my nerves.
“Pop, it's going to take as long as it's going to take.”
“No pierdes la razón por cuenta de una mujer.”
My fists clenched. He's telling me not lose my sense/reason because of a woman?
The fuck.
“Oh, you mean not losing my head for a relationship like you have with Mom?”
“I have known your mother since we were children in Cuba. We fell in love as teenagers. It's different.”
I leaned forward in my chair, rested my elbows on my knees, and looked at my father.
“Just because I've not known Izzy since childhood like you've known Mom, doesn't mean that the love we share is any less, Pop.”
Pop’s eyes rounded. Marco got up to refill his glass.
“He's in love, Pop. Let him be. Hopefully he never knows the pain of having his heart ripped out of his chest by bringing an innocent into our world.”
Pop grimaced but wasn't deterred.
“You've known her for all of cinco minutos, Romano. What the fuck do you even know about her?” He paused as I stared at him. I got up to get another drink.
Fuck me, man. He was pissing me off.
“Lay off him, Papá,” Carlos said from where he looked out of the window. He was older than Diego but younger than me and Marco. He and Diego were similar. They had a joking side to their personality, but Carlos could be very serious. He was that now as he turned to us.
“She's obviously not just a piece of ass.”