by Naima Simone
Impossible… Or was it?
Sasha had trusted her with a private piece of him. What they’d shared—especially this last night—had been special, more than sex. God, she wanted it to be.
Maybe…just maybe… The acrid flavor of fear filled her mouth. What if he rejected her? He’d been adamant about their arrangement being temporary—and so had she. But she’d changed her mind. Still, what if all he wanted was a fuck buddy?
Did she have the courage to find out?
Yes, she did. Because by the end of this night she would know one of two things: He didn’t want her as anything more than a fuck buddy, and she was in way too deep…and it was her job to shovel herself out. Or, Sasha foresaw a future for them, and he would give her what she wanted…him outside of The Loft.
Her belly somersaulted, the nerves playing havoc with her.
A valet appeared at her door, disrupting her spiral into panic. Forcing a smile at the middle-aged man who looked more like a boxer with his muscled body and bullish face, she stepped out of the borrowed Escalade and handed over the keys.
“Jake, hold up.” Sasha appeared under the awning, the door open. “Wait for a few minutes.”
The valet nodded, shutting the car door. Confused, she glanced from him to Sasha, a sliver of worry and uncertainty wriggling under her skin.
“Sasha,” she said, studying his closed expression. “Is something wrong?”
“Come in, Corrine.” He held out a hand to her. Corrine, she mused as she slipped her hand in his. Not lisichka or even baby. Corrine. And spoken in that aloof tone. The sliver grew into a shard.
The door shut behind them, but she barely heard the dull thud, all of her focus pinned on him. Something wasn’t right. Aside from his cold demeanor and the order to the valet not to park her car, a deepening unease seeped into her chest through an ever-widening crack. And when Sasha didn’t head for the staircase but stood in front of the door, the crack yawned into a fissure.
“Just tell me,” she murmured, surprised at her even tone when her heart thudded against her sternum like a scared rabbit.
He studied her, his blue-gray gaze steady…shuttered. “I received a visit from your brothers tonight.”
“Gianni and Marco?” Confusion swirled inside her head for a moment, then comprehension dawned with sickening clarity. “Damn it. They found out about my coming here. How?”
“They didn’t say exactly how they discovered that, but your friend confirmed you knew me.” A shadow passed through his eyes, but the distant reserve in his voice and expression didn’t change. “They asked about you, but they also proposed a business arrangement on behalf of the Salvaggi family…an investment in Lick. And a not-so-veiled threat if we turned the offer down.”
The unease bloomed into horror. Nausea churned, and bile raced for the back of her throat. Though her father and several men under him had been arrested, her brothers hadn’t been charged. She’d almost convinced herself they had been in the dark as she had, but this proposal…partnered with the threat…smashed that last hope. They might not have been indicted with their father, but if what Sasha said was true, her brothers were more involved in the mob life than she’d known. And they’d come to Sasha, using her as an in. Jesus. She wrapped her arms around herself, wishing Sasha would touch her, hold her, give her some damn clue that the generous man she’d come to know still existed behind that icy exterior.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “They had no right to come to you. I’ll talk to them a—”
“No need,” he interrupted.
“Of course there is,” she objected. “It was me, my coming here, that brought you and the club to their attention. I’ll—”
“No, Corrine,” he objected, his tone hardening. “The last thing I need is more Salvaggi interference.”
She flinched. God, that hurt. “I’m sorry, Sasha.” Her apology was all she could offer, all she had.
“Damn,” he swore, his cold façade finally cracking. He dragged a hand over his closely cropped hair. “It’s not your place to apologize. You aren’t responsible for their actions. But this does change things.” His sensual mouth firmed into a grim line. “Our deal was based on secrecy. No one could find out about you coming here to be with me. I told you what would happen if they did.”
No one can know you’re here. Not your friends, not the press, and definitely not your family. The moment anyone does, this ends.
His words rang in her head.
“So that’s it?” she asked, forcing the question past numb lips. “That’s why you told the valet not to move my car. You’re sending me away.”
For a brief moment, his expression darkened, but then it cleared. Except for the resolute set of his jaw and the hard finality in his eyes. “Yes. This isn’t just about me, Corrine. I have my friends and what we’ve built to protect. Your brothers would only be the first to come sniffing around. Now it’s your brothers, but who next? A cousin who figures he can get in on the action? And if the word gets around that Lick is vulnerable, weak? Then others will be in here trying to claim us as territory. They want to invest like your brothers, only to turn Lick into a place to run prostitutes and drugs out of. I’ve seen it happen, Corrine. I, we, can’t afford—”
“Me,” she finished for him. “I’m a liability you can’t afford. You made that abundantly clear from the moment we met. I really should’ve listened to you and just stayed away.” If she had, then this terrible cold wouldn’t be invading her blood, numbing every limb and organ. Especially her stupid, stupid heart.
But then, the ice was better than the pain. That was sure to come, but she had to get away from here—from him—first. Damn if she would break down in front of him. Let him see how he’d hurt her…how she’d started to hope for more…
“Corrine.” He stepped toward her, his hand outstretched, and a horrible softening in his eyes. Pity. She didn’t need his pity. She wanted… Didn’t matter what she wanted. Just like when it came down to it, she didn’t matter to him.
And there went the razor-sharp pain.
Ducking her head, she sidestepped him and barreled through the door. The valet handed her the keys and held the door open for her. Unable to murmur a thank-you past the fist squeezing the air out of her lungs, she climbed into the Escalade and started the vehicle.
She didn’t glance over her shoulder to see if he followed. A brutal crack of laughter escaped her. Why would he come after her? She was giving him what he wanted.
She was out of the club.
Out of his life.
Chapter Eight
“Carmine Salvaggi.”
Corrine rose from her chair in the visitors’ waiting room of the Suffolk County Jail. Her legs trembled as she strode toward the guard who’d just announced her father’s name. God, her stomach churned along with her shaking knees. This was her father, for god’s sake. Not a stranger.
Well, not technically.
Inhaling a deep breath, she entered the visiting room. And when a tall man with thick salt-and-pepper hair, wide, straight shoulders, and a football player’s build stood up, she released it. The wave of relief propelling the air from her lungs left her weak, almost lightheaded.
Yes, he might be in a scrubs-like uniform that was the drabbest shade of blue imaginable. And he might have a little more salt than pepper since the last time she’d seen him. But he was still her father. Handsome. Strong.
Love, anger, grief, confusion—they all swirled and churned together in a muddy mixture. She’d come to the jail not knowing what to expect. Maybe that being imprisoned had changed him into a shadow of his former self. Part of her had dreaded seeing that. But now, the other half of her simmered with anger that he still looked so normal. As if all the hell he’d brought down on their family hadn’t affected him much, while the rest of them wore the added facial lines, extra or lost pounds, and the pale pallor that was a result of little to no sleep. That part sneered that he should at least wear some of his crimes on his face.<
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And underneath it all, there was still the love of the little girl who used to adore running to her father and being swept up in his arms.
God, she was a conflicted, confused mess.
Her feet carried her across the room before the rest of her was ready, and in seconds, she stood before Carmine Salvaggi—her father and an accused crime boss.
“Hi, Dad,” she murmured.
“Honey.” A gentle smile lit his face, and he spread his arms wide. She stepped into him, and those strong arms closed around her, holding her in a tight embrace. A tight, familiar embrace. So damn familiar, tears stung her eyes. “God, I’ve missed you,” he whispered into her hair.
“I’ve missed you, too.” And she had. No matter her anger and sense of betrayal, she’d missed his voice, his laughter, his presence, even the scent of his aftershave.
“Sit down, sit down.” He released her and waved her to one of the backless seats attached to the table. “Your mother didn’t tell me you were coming to see me.”
“She doesn’t know I’m here,” she admitted, her hands in her lap, fingers twisting together. She’d never been this nervous around him. Then again, she’d never been in a jail before today either. “I needed to come without everyone else.”
He sighed, setting his folded hands on top of the table and studying her. After a long moment, he murmured, “You’re angry with me.”
Her first instinct was to deny, to assure him she was fine, they were fine. But instead, she nodded. “Yes, Dad. Very. And I hate that I am.”
“You should be angry, Corrine,” he said, weariness lacing his tone. “I’ve failed you, your mom, your brothers. It’s my job to protect you, provide for you, and I’m not there. It kills me that I’m not with you, doing what I promised from the day I married your mother as well as the day each of you were born.”
“You lied to me.” Her voice cracked. “All my life you lied to me. And that hurts me just as much as everything else that’s coming out. I’ve found myself questioning everything you’ve ever told me. It’s hard for me to trust anymore because the one person who was always the most solid in my life turned out to be a stranger. Who hid an entire different life from me.” Her fingers curled into fists on her lap. “And I feel so stupid because I’m the only one who didn’t know. Mom, Gianni, and Marco… You trusted them with the truth but not me.”
The tears that had just been a threat until that instant spilled over and rolled down her cheeks. She swiped at them, resenting them because they made her appear weak. But then she looked across the table and saw the same moisture dampening her father’s eyes. The only time she’d seen her father cry had been when his mother died when Corrine was ten years old. And now for her. Because he’d caused her pain. Unlike her tears, his didn’t fall, but his gaze glistened, and the sight stunned her.
“I’m sorry, Corrine,” he said. “I know I disappointed you, betrayed you. I wanted more for all of you. Better. But I couldn’t hide the truth from your brothers; they discovered it early on and decided it was what they wanted. And I didn’t deny them. But you…you’re my only daughter and too pure for this life. I was determined you would have better, and my world would never touch you. It had nothing to do with my trusting your brothers more. I’m sorry that I hurt you.” He turned his hand over, his palm up, extended toward her. “Please forgive me.”
Sasha’s words echoed in her ears. You can hate his actions and still love him. And she reached for him. Covered his hand with hers. And held on.
A weight tumbled off her shoulders, and for the first time in weeks, since the shit had hit the fan, she could breathe easier.
“I love you, Dad. Whatever comes, I love you.”
“Thank you,” he rasped. “One of my biggest fears isn’t spending years in this place. It’s losing your love and respect.”
The murmurs of conversation surrounded them, but they might as well have been locked in a bubble; it was just them.
“Now”—he squeezed her hand—“tell me about what’s been going on with you.”
“Funny you should ask. There’s something I need your help with.” Then she told him about Lick and Sasha—leaving out the parts having to do with hot sex—and ending with Gianni and Marco’s visit to him. “Dad, he and his friends left the mob to build something for themselves. Something they can call their own. And Sasha Merchant made sure no harm came to me.” Pleasure. Tons of pleasure, but no harm. Squeezing her fist, she forced her arm to remain at her side. God, just saying his name punched a hole in her chest, but she continued. “I need you to tell Gianni, Marco, and everyone else who would think of threatening their club to leave them alone. For me.”
He silently contemplated her. “Who is this Sasha Merchant to you, Corrine? Someone I need to have come see me?” he asked, arching a dark eyebrow.
“No, Dad.” And it was the truth. As of three days ago Sasha wasn’t anything to her. He’d made sure of that by sending her away. “He’s just someone who doesn’t deserve to have his business compromised because of a brief association with me. Will you talk to Gianni and Marco?”
More quiet, and then he nodded. “Of course. I’ll call them tonight and have them spread the word that this friend of yours and his club are off-limits.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Good. She’d ensured that Sasha, his friends, and their club were protected. Even if just talking about her father’s “business” left an oily stain behind that soap couldn’t wash away. And wasn’t that the problem the entire family faced? None of them would be completely clean again—not their reputation, not their name. And that…saddened her. The integrity, the pride she’d always possessed in the name Salvaggi had been tarnished, and she didn’t know how long it would be before it would be clean again—if it would be.
“Dad,” she whispered. “I know you believed you were doing the best for your family, and like I said, I forgive you. But…I don’t want this touching me. This is your world, not mine. And it shouldn’t be Gianni and Marco’s either. It’s not too late to make your mistakes right, starting with us.” The chances of her brothers leaving the mob were probably slim to not-a-chance-in-hell, but at least her father would know where she stood. And as long as he understood one last thing… “And, Dad?”
His hold on her hand tightened. And needing the connection as desperately as he seemed to, she extended her other hand across the table and clasped his in both of hers.
“I love you. And I’m going to miss you. So much.”
…
Another Cinderella Run For Big Papi And The Sox? by Corrine Dunn Salvaggi.
Sasha stared at his office laptop screen with the banner for The Beantown Globe stretched across the top. Curiosity or an unknown masochistic predilection had him clicking on the sports page, and there, under the bold article heading, was a small, color picture of Corrine, right over her name. Not C. Dunn. No more hiding behind a pseudonym. No longer giving a damn if people knew she was Carmine Salvaggi’s daughter.
A ghost of a smile touched his mouth. He’d known she was brave. She’d called him Ragnar. That would make her a shield maiden: fierce, battle-ready, loyal. And so fucking beautiful.
With a curse, he swiveled away from the computer and launched out of his office chair. He strode to the window that offered him a view of the busy Leather District on an early Thursday afternoon. Turning from it, he strode to the bar on the other side of the room. Even what had formerly been his sanctuary didn’t offer peace anymore. Not when every time he looked across the room, all he could see was Corrine huddled on his couch, wrapped in a blanket, flushed and trembling from the orgasm he’d just wrung from her. He didn’t even need to close his eyes to feel the phantom weight of her on his thighs, or her heat cuddled against him.
Rubbing a hand over his chest, as if he could erase—or capture—the memory of that heat, he shook his head. It’d been three days since she’d walked away. No. Correction: since he’d sent her away. Three days of seeing her, inh
aling her scent, hearing her voice in every part of the club, especially The Loft. Three days of constantly watching the front entrance of the club to see if she’d decided to return.
Three days of this goddamn hole in his chest that wouldn’t close.
A perfunctory knock echoed on his office door, then Rion appeared in the doorway.
“Starting early, are we?” he drawled with a pointed look at the tumbler in Sasha’s hand.
“It’s five o’clock somewhere, right?” He splashed bourbon into the glass and recorked the decanter. “I’m guessing something besides my drinking habits has brought you here, though.”
“You guessed right,” Rion said, leaning a hip against the bar’s edge and crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m paying it forward and giving you the same kick in the ass Killian gave me not so long ago. Get your head out, and go after her.”
Sasha stared at him, stunned. Then just plain disbelieving. Loosing a bark of humorless laughter, he took a deep sip of the bourbon. “Weren’t you the one who told me the last thing we needed was the Salvaggi family sniffing around here? Or having the press associate us with them?” He shook his head. “I did what you asked me to. What needed to be done.”
“Yeah, I did say that. But that was before you went and fell in love with the woman,” Rion snapped.
Sasha slowly lowered his glass to the bar top. Denial, panic, and fear rushed through him, paralyzed him. He stared at his friend, meeting Rion’s narrowed gaze.
“I don’t—” Sasha choked.
Rion cut him off with a slice of his hand. “Save it. Been there, done that, have the Denial Anonymous T-shirt to prove it. Listen,” he said, tunneling his fingers through his hair. “We’ve been friends for a long time. Killian and me…we get it, okay? We don’t ever talk about it, because no matter how you would deny it, we know your family is a sore subject.”
“Then don’t go there,” Sasha rasped, walking away from his friend…from the topic he didn’t want to dig up again. Hell, he’d gone there with Corrine. He couldn’t…not again.