by Susan Stoker
Allegra struggles, fists at my chest. I swallow her words, and Enzo’s opened the back door already, so I hoist her up into the seat and climb in after her. The door slams shut and her cry is trapped inside with us. I release her as Enzo puts the SUV in drive and hits the gas. She’s trying the door handle, but it’s locked.
“Put on your seatbelt,” I say calmly.
She looks at me, mouth shut this time, eyes huge. Adrenaline seems to have burned the drunk out of her, and she realizes the seriousness of her situation as her gaze bounces to Enzo, who gives her a wink and a toothy grin. She tries the door again, noticing the second SUV behind us.
When she still doesn’t put on the belt, I reach over her, and she gasps. She leans way back, as far away from me as she can as I drag it across her chest and click it in. “There.”
“Who are you?” she asks, her voice smaller.
“Gregorio Santa Maria.”
I see her brain working, recognizing the name, but not placing it just yet.
“My dad’s going to kill you.”
“No. He’s not, Princess. He’s in a hospital bed.” She flinches as if I’ve hit her. All of a sudden, I feel like a jerk. I clear my throat, but I’ve never been good at apologizing, so instead, I reach for the phone in my pocket. “Besides, if anything, he’d owe me for playing babysitter,” I say without looking at her as I type a text to my brother and let him know I’ve picked her up. Giovanni owes me for this one.
But I hear a click just as I hit send and when I look up, I realize I’ve underestimated pretty little Allegra Antonino because the bag I hadn’t thought to take from her is unzipped, and in her hand she’s holding a small but very sharp knife, and she’s got it pointed at me.
“Stop the car and let me the fuck out!”
I look at it, then at her anxious face. This is probably the first time she’s pulled a knife on someone. It’d be cute if it wasn’t me.
“I said let me out!”
I hear Enzo up there, clicking his tongue as if to say now you’ve done it. I chuckle as we roll to a stop and she unclicks her seatbelt. She makes a sound, a snort, like she believes we’re stopping because she fucking told us to, and my chuckle turns into a full-out laugh.
“It’s just a red light, Princess,” I say when she shifts the dagger to her left hand to try the door handle. It’s the one moment of distraction I need to grab her tiny wrist and twist her arm back. I realize my grip is harder than it needs to be when she squeals in pain, so I let up, and relieve her of the knife. I release her wrist and look at the blade. Small, but certainly no toy. I fold it closed and tuck it into my pocket. “How many times do I have to tell you to put on your fucking seatbelt?”
A look of fury crosses her features, and she surprises me for the second time that night when she lunges at me, fingernails clawing at my face as she straddles me.
Enzo’s laughing outright now as the garage door to my building opens, and we pull in.
I grip Allegra’s wrists and draw her hands away but keep her on my lap, shifting my hips a little. Her eyes grow wide as she realizes what it is that’s pressing against her pussy, and she leans away. I tug her wrists, and we look down at the same time to see that her dress has ridden up to her waist giving me a full view of the lacy white panties beneath.
Enzo parks and quietly exits. I hold onto Allegra until she meets my eyes again.
“I like it rough, Allegra,” I start, any joking gone from both expression and tone. “And on any other occasion, I’d love to play rough with you. But I’m tired, and I hate fucking babysitting, so I’ll tell you what’s going to happen now. You’re going to very quietly and very obediently get out of the SUV, and we’re going to walk hand in hand to the elevator. We’re going to go up to my penthouse, and you’re going to thank me for being fucking respectful and treating you like a lady when all you’ve done is behave like a spoiled brat. Then you’re going to go to your room and go to bed and be a good little girl until Arturo gets here to take you home in the morning. Understand?”
“What’s my other option?”
“You’re funny.”
“Fuck you.”
I let my gaze rake over her, hover at the slit of her shaved pussy. I can see it through the lace, and I make a point of looking long and hard. She tries to pull away but can’t, and I take my time, dragging my gaze back up to hers.
“That’s the second time you’ve told me to fuck you. Is that what you want?”
Her eyes go wide, and I see her throat work to swallow. She doesn’t answer but lowers her lashes, her face a deep red.
I give her a shake, so she looks at me. “Don’t say it again unless you mean it.”
When I release her, she rolls into the seat beside me, tugging her dress back down.
Her expression is hateful when she meets my gaze again.
“You want another option?” I ask.
She doesn’t reply, just watches me, albeit cautiously this time.
I take the syringe out of my pocket. “This is it.”
Her shoulders slump.
“So you’re going with option one, then.” It’s not a question.
“I hate you.”
“I don’t care.” I knock on the window, and Enzo opens the door. I climb out first, then help her out, and, miraculously, she walks quietly beside me to the waiting elevator. Doesn’t make a peep as I slide my keycard into the slot for the Penthouse, and the three of us ride up in silence. There, I say goodbye to Enzo, who lives just below, and once the doors slide shut, I turn to my reluctant guest.
Chapter Two
After tucking the key card into my wallet, I drop it into the small dish on the table beside the door before undoing the cuff links on my French sleeves. I set them beside the wallet. The maid will clean it up tomorrow. I roll my shirt sleeves up to my elbows, all the while studying her, watching her take everything in.
Allegra’s standing with her back to me. She’s about a foot shorter than me and slim, her legs and arms nicely toned and tanned even though it’s only March. But her family lives in Florida, which is where she’s supposed to be, so that makes sense. It’s probably also the reason she wraps her arms around herself, rubbing them. I move to the thermostat and push some buttons to turn up the heat.
She looks at me when she hears the beeping of the buttons, her gaze cautious, not quite trusting. Good. She shouldn’t trust me or anyone else for that matter, especially now. She’s the daughter of a Mafia family in Naples, Florida. They’re not as large or powerful as ours but have pledged loyalty to the Benedettis, which means they’re family, even without the blood relation. She’s John Antonino’s illegitimate daughter. I remember when the fact of her existence rocked his family, and how he went against his wife to finally acknowledge her as his when her mother, his mistress, was killed in a car accident. I’m still not sure if it was an accident at all. Allegra was ten at the time.
“Are you hungry?” I ask her, moving to the liquor cabinet to pour myself a drink.
“No. I’m cold.”
“It’ll warm up in here soon.” I look around, find one of my sweaters lying over the back of the couch and toss it to her. “Here. Put this on.”
She holds it up, and from the look on her face, it doesn’t pass muster. “Do you have anything clean?” she asks, eyebrows rising.
“Clean?”
“Without your smell on it.”
I raise my eyebrows, more entertained than annoyed, and take a sip of my drink. “You weren’t complaining about my smell when you were grinding your ass into my dick earlier.”
“Jesus!” Her mouth falls open, and, once again, her cheeks color pink, although not as deep a shade as in the car.
Once more, she surprises me.
“Don’t tell me you’re a prude, Allegra. Not the way you dance. Not the way you wear that dress.”
She picks up the sweater she just tossed aside, probably more out of awareness of how much skin is showing than anything else, and slips it
on. Her hands disappear inside it, and it almost covers the entirety of the dress. She pushes the sleeves up to her elbows.
“When is he coming for me?” she asks, her voice taking on a strange tone by the end of her question. I notice she doesn’t call him by name or refer to him as her brother.
“Tomorrow morning.”
Her face grows serious, but she masks whatever it is she’s thinking and bites the inside of her cheek.
“I’m tired,” she says.
“How much did you drink tonight?” I walk into the kitchen and open the fridge to get a bottle of water before turning to her, almost missing the irritated rolling of her eyes.
“What, I have to answer to you now?”
“Relax. I was going to give you some aspirin so you won’t be hungover tomorrow. That’s all. Is that acceptable, Princess?”
“Stop calling me Princess.”
“Stop acting like one.”
She opens her mouth, then closes it again. “I’d like some aspirin.”
I open a cabinet and take out the container, walking toward her with both it and the bottle of water.
She holds out her hand, but I cock my head to the side and raise my eyebrows.
“What?” she asks.
“Magic word?”
She sighs. “Please.”
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” I hand her the things. “Your room’s this way.”
I hear her follow behind me. “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Why did you come after me? Why bring me here? I don’t even know you, and you don’t know me or my family.”
I push her door open, switch on the lights, and turn to her. “But we are family, Allegra. Our loyalties are to the same family, at least, and that binds us. We watch out for each other.”
“You said my father would owe you.”
“Yeah, well, if his enemies got hold of you first, he’d pay a dearer price.”
Her expression changes as if just now considering the possibility.
“What the hell were you thinking, running away?”
“I wasn’t running away.”
“What were you doing then?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing.” She drops her gaze to the floor, and it takes her a minute to look at me again. “This is where I sleep?”
Something about her face, about the look in her eyes, makes me pause. This is a different side of the Allegra I’ve seen so far. The Allegra I expected. Maybe the deeper part of her. Not the spoiled brat, but her. And there’s something about it I never considered. A loneliness.
“Yeah,” I say, not sure what else to say. I just have to keep her safe until her brother can get here to take her home. I’m not interested in getting involved or finding out more. Whatever it is I think I see in her eyes is not my problem.
“Thanks,” she says, slipping past me to look around the guest room.
“Linens are fresh, and the bathroom is stocked. You should have everything you need.” The maid took care of the room this evening when I told her we’d have a guest.
She faces me and places her hand on the door. Whatever I thought I’d glimpsed a moment ago is gone. The cocky, entitled, irritating Allegra is back.
“Are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to let me get some sleep?”
I grit my teeth to hold my tongue. No one talks to me that way. But I’ll let this go. It’s easier that way.
“Let me see your bag,” I say. There can’t be much in there, but she was hiding a knife so better safe than sorry.
“What?” she asks.
“Your purse.”
“Why?”
“To see if you’re hiding any more knives,” I say with a smirk.
“I’m not. And I’d like mine back.”
“You can have it back tomorrow when you leave.” I hold out my hand for the bag.
She unzips it and holds it open for me to see the contents. She’s got a wad of cash, a tube of lipstick and a Florida driver’s license in which she’s smiling wide. I have a feeling that photo was taken at a happier time in her life.
“No cell phone?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I left it at the hotel.”
“I’m in there if you need anything,” I say, pointing to my room. “Or if you get lonely,” I taunt.
She shifts her weight to one hip and cocks her head to the side. I have to hold back a chuckle when she opens her mouth, and I see the words I’d warned her not to use form on her lips before she catches herself. But what she says next wipes my grin right off my face: “I’ll leave you to jerk off on your own.” She tries to slam the door, but it bounces off the toe of my shoe. Her face is the expression of panic when I push it open, and she stumbles backward. I catch her by her long hair to stop her falling and twist her head back.
“You’re hurting me,” she manages, her hands trying to pull mine off.
I tug. She stops and looks at me.
“I’d much rather you jerk me off.” I squeeze my fingers into a fist, and I know it hurts when tears form at the corners of her eyes.
She whimpers. “Please.”
The blue of her eyes is even prettier from the tears, and I watch the pleading look inside them a moment longer before releasing her. She stumbles backward but doesn’t fall, and her hands are on her head, massaging it.
“Don’t fuck with me, Allegra.” I turn and leave her room and haven’t quite reached my own when I hear hers close and the lock turn.
***
I’m a light sleeper. Always have been. Maybe it’s a byproduct of being the son of a mob boss. And something tells me I’d better be alert tonight. That premonition comes to fruition about an hour later when a little red light blinks its silent alarm on my bedside table. The penthouse is fully wired. The moment the alarm is armed, I know if a fucking ant walks across the kitchen counter. But this is no ant.
I grin and glance at my watch. Two o’clock. I get up and pull on a pair of sweats but don’t bother with anything else, so I’m barefoot and bare-chested. My footsteps are silent as I cross the heated floor to the door and draw it open quietly. I could make this easy. Call out to her. Tell her to get her ass back in her room because she’s not leaving until I say she’s leaving, but I’m up, so I may as well have a little fun.
She doesn’t hear me as I stalk down the hallway toward the living room, but I can already see her. She’s standing in her little dress, still wearing my sweater and carrying her shoes in her hands as she pushes the button to call the elevator. Nothing happens though, and she pushes it again several times after muttering a curse under her breath.
“Are you going somewhere?” I ask.
She jumps, letting out a little scream as she whirls around and presses her back against the elevator doors.
“What—” she clutches her heart.
I switch on a light and, scratching the back of my head, go toward the kitchen. The penthouse has an open floor plan with black hardwood floors, sleek, black leather furniture, and a charcoal gray area rug. The living area is separated from the kitchen by a long, white, marble countertop veined with gray—a stark contrast to all the black. Stainless steel appliances line the back wall. I like to cook, and I spared no expense in here.
I head to the fridge and pull it open to grab a bottle of water. When I turn around, she hasn’t moved from her spot and is watching me. I uncap the bottle and take a long sip, watching her back. She blinks, looking suddenly uncomfortable, and it makes me wonder what’s going on in that head of hers. She shifts her gaze to the floor to ceiling windows taking in the view of the city. I follow it. Philadelphia is fucking beautiful at night. At its best in the dark, like a lot of things. Darkness hides the flaws. The cracks. The ugliness.
“Where did you think you’d go dressed like that in the middle of the night in a city you’re unfamiliar with?” I ask, slowly turning back to her and making my way into the living room.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“I told you to stay in your room.”
“I’m not a child.”
“Your brother will be here soon to take you home.”
“He’s my half-brother.”
“What’s the difference?” I only ask because I know she’s sensitive about it.
“There’s a difference.” She faces the elevator again to try the button once more.
“It won’t work. You need a special key,” I say, sitting down and picking up the TV remote.
“What?”
“To call the elevator. You need a special key.”
“Then give me the key.”
“No.” I hit a button and CNN flashes across the screen. I’m not really watching, though.
“Look, I can pay you—”
I shift my gaze to her. She’s taken a step back into the room. “You can pay me?” I ask.
“Yes.” She blinks rapidly. “I have some money—”
“I think you mean your family has money.”
I see it takes effort for her to hold my gaze.
“I have my own.”
Bullshit. But even so. “Allegra, do you think I’m doing this for money? I already told you, family protects family.”
“Look, you don’t want me here any more than I want to be here. Just let me go. Tell Arturo you couldn’t find me, or I snuck away or something.”
“This isn’t exactly a prison,” I say.
“I guess that depends on which side of the locked elevator you’re standing on.”
With a sigh, I switch off the TV and face her. “Come here.”
Reluctantly, she takes a few steps until she’s standing on the carpet a few feet from me.
“How old are you, Allegra?”
“I turn twenty-two tomorrow.”
“Well, happy birthday.”
She just stands there.
I point to the couch across from the one I’m sitting on. “Sit.”
“I’m fine.”