by Kay Maree
Nodding like the discombobulated head of a ventriloquist doll, I can’t think of anything else to say so I knock the gear shift back into drive and pull back onto the road. The rest of the trip is made in silence and I do my best not to give into my desire to pepper her with the half-dozen questions her promise of an explanation sets whirling around in my head.
When we pull up to the wrought iron double gates and I enter the code into the metal box, I feel Jennifer’s own curiosity begin to get the better of her. She looks down the hedge lined circular driveway, then to the manicured gardens on either side.
“Here goes nothing,” I mutter as we drive down to the huge mansion the Carlucci Clan calls home. “I hope you’re comfortable around excess because this shit is excess on steroids.”
My second statement is said louder than I intended. Jennifer sniggers quietly and I bite back my own laughter until her fit of giggles gets the best of her and I end up laughing too.
I park Hayden’s car and make my way around to her door. She barely spares the mansion a second glance when she takes my hand and I walk her to the two men guarding the front door. As we’re patted down, I begin to wonder why she’s not questioning the over the top security.
“Unfortunately, excess is my middle name,” Jennifer whispers once we’re inside. She takes my hand once we’re inside and lays her head against my upper arm. “This feels more like my home than I’d prefer to admit.”
For the second time today, I want to kick myself for not remembering the stark differences in the lives we live. She’s used to this type of opulence. If anything, I’m more out of my depth here than she is.
“Wait here,” I direct harsher than I intended. Letting go of her hand, I point at my grandfather’s office. “I need to explain why you’re here before I bring you any further.”
Hurt widens her eyes, then she drops her gaze to the floor. “Of course. Take your time.”
I pause for a second longer than necessary, wracking my brains for something to say that will take back the harshness of my order. When nothing pops into my head and Jennifer keeps her eyes pointed toward the shiny floor, I give up and knock on my grandfather’s office door.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t apprehensive about his reaction to my abrupt return. He gave my explicit instructions to find the Imbruglia stupid enough to invade his turf and I’m returning with some girl who needs help.
Here’s hoping he takes mercy on my ineptness and finds solace in the ease of my capitulation to his rule…
Chapter Twelve
Jennifer
The double doors close behind Angelo with a muted thud. Slumping back against the wall, I check up and down the wide hallway for the armed men who patted us down. While I can’t see anyone, I know they won’t be far away. There’s something off about this mansion. It’s prickling my sense of déjà vu and I’m starting to wonder if I’ve made a huge mistake by choosing to come here with Angelo.
Phyllis’s nephew didn’t seem equipped to help me in the same way as Angelo and his sister. They had a weary worldliness to them that seemed be suited to what I needed.
Now that I’m here, ensconced in this mansion that is nearly as scary as being trapped with Desmond this morning, I’m not so sure I’ve picked the right person to trust. Especially after his abrupt change in mood seconds ago.
The doors open and Angelo steps out. He’s pale and he goes out of his way to avoid my eyes when he beckons me to follow him.
“This way,” he murmurs. I glance inside the room he exited as we pass. My heart leaps into my throat when I recognise the man sitting behind the great desk. “Jennifer?”
Looking up, I find Angelo standing in front of me with curiosity creasing the edges of his chocolate eyes. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?”
His question is loaded with hidden meaning. I arch an eyebrow and glare up at him. “Maybe I have. Huh? I bet you know exactly what spooked me.”
“Excuse me?” his tone is accusatory. “I think you’re forgetting that I’m the idiot trying to help you. I’m the moron you dragged into this mess.”
“Yeah?” I ask him. “Is that right?”
My breathing has picked up and my bad feeling has been confirmed as a warning. With my initial shock subsiding a little, I’m left to wonder how I’m going to get out of here. The man in the office is my family’s worst nightmare. Somehow, I’ve managed to stumble into enemy territory and I still don’t know if the man glaring down at me with betrayal on his gorgeous face is the architect of my downfall or an unwilling pawn like me.
“Yeah. We both know who’s the idiot and who’s the user in this scenario,” Angelo sneers. He reaches behind me and tangles my hair around his fist. Wrenching my head back so he can peer straight into my eyes, he lowers his mouth until our lips are almost touching. “Explain to me how my grandfather knew you’d be there today?”
“What?”
Angelo ignores my question. He swipes his lips across mine. I gasp. He groans. We stare at each other, then the next thing I know, we’re kissing.
I don’t know who moved first or how we went from arguing to making out. I’m not sure why I’m not freaking out and demanding to leave. I have no idea how his hands found their way from my hair to my backside and mine fingers are linked at the back of his neck to hold him to me.
And I definitely haven’t the first clue why I’m disappointed when Angelo is the one to break our connection. He leaves me gasping my air with swollen lips and a head filled me fog.
What I do know, even as he hits the wall above my head then drags me by the arm down the wide hallway to a bedroom, is that I want to kiss him again. Soon. Really soon.
“Shit,” Angelo shouts. He slams the door shut and shoves me toward the bed that dominates the middle of the room. “What the fuck was that?”
Sitting on the edge of the mattress, I bite down on my lip when it trembles and blink back the tears that threaten to fall in the face of his hostility.
“I don’t know.”
“Bullshit.”
I swipe at my eyes, then snap back at him. “Do you think I want to be here? My dad’s going to kill me if he finds out that I’ve run away and ended up with the goddamn Carlucci’s. Hell, my grandpa will start a war if he finds out where I am.”
By the time I’ve finished my halting explanation, my voice has risen to an unpleasantly shrill level. The tears I was fighting are running down my cheeks and I’m wringing my hands together like I’m trying to pull the answer to my predicament out of thin air.
Angelo squats down in front of me. He pulls my hands apart and holds them in one of his big paws. With the free thumb, he wipes under my eyes.
“Why don’t we start at the beginning? You tell me how you ended up at Freddie’s this morning and I’ll explain why I’m the black hearted devil who’s going to help you get the Hell out of here.”
His suggestion makes sense, yet I’m loathe to admit how stupid I’ve been. Hindsight really is twenty-twenty. The clarity it brings is blinding. It highlights the dumb choices I’ve made since I bluffed my way into Desmond’s office and set all this in motion.
“Why don’t I start?” Angelo offers.
I nod. “I’d like that.”
“Do you mind?” he asks, gesturing to the spot next to me.
“Of course not.”
When he sits next to me, I hold myself stiff. That ends when he lifts his arm and I lean into his side. Pressing the side of my face against his strong chest, I allow him to pull my legs across his lap. It takes a moment, but ensconced in his embrace, I relax for the first time in days.
The heavy weight of Angelo’s arm laying across my shoulders is comforting and his scent—musky male mixed with Old Spice—envelopes me in a cloud of safety. I could be making another monumental mistake that compounds all my current ones, but I’ve never felt this protected by anyone before.
Even my grandpa, who I believe woul
d kill for me, never makes me feel like this.
For better or for worse, I trust Angelo.
His chest expands when he inhales a deep breath. The richness of his voice is doubled by the rumble in his chest. The sound creates a primal response in me—one that heats me from the inside out and sends a rush of something I can’t name coursing through my limbs.
“My name is Angelo Carlucci. The Don is my grandfather, but I am not a member of the Clan. My father is Gio, the one who sold out the ports to your grandfather, so I’ve been living in exile in Mount Druitt since I was five years old. Maria is my little sister and, until the Don reached out to me three days ago, she was the only family I had. He sent me to the library today to find the Imbruglia who was invading our turf.”
“Me.”
“Yeah,” he states. His arm tightens around me. “I didn’t know I was looking for you. I thought I’d run into a new recruit trying to make a name for himself or a Capo who was looking for a fight with Gio’s son. When he congratulated me for taking the initiative and sweettalking you into coming here without a fight, I almost died on the spot.”
Angelo pauses, his big body stiffening. “He laughed at me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologise for.”
As much as I don’t want to leave the cocoon he’s created for me, I sit upright and force myself to meet his earnest eyes. “Yes, I do. If I’d listened to Phyllis, none of this would be happening. I wouldn’t be engaged to Desmond and I wouldn’t be running for my life because he’s proven to be a veritable psycho.”
When Angelo moves away from me, I realise what I said and try to backpedal. “It’s not a real engagement. My dad told me I had to accept, and I thought Desmond would be easier to deal with than my parents. Turns out I was wrong… he’s worse. So much worse.”
Even though he’s sitting right next to me, a distance has developed between us. I shouldn’t be upset about it, we barely know each other, yet losing his warmth makes me feel cold. The way he looks at me chills me to my core and I try to rationalise the bombshell I just lobbed his way hot on the heels of our kiss and his raw honesty.
Everyone in Sydney knows the story of Gio Carlucci. Being his son couldn’t be easy.
“Why don’t I start at the beginning, like you said.”
The chill turns to icicles when he drawls sardonically, “Yeah, why don’t you try to explain why you had your tongue down my throat when you’re marrying another man.”
I push him away from me and jump to my feet. Stomping my way to the door, I attempt to twist the handle and yank it open. It doesn’t budge. I try again. Still nothing.
“What the Hell? Did you lock us in here?” Angelo looks me up and down. A small smirk lifts his lips when I pop my hip and jam my hand on it. He might think this is funny, but I don’t. “I’m not joking, Angelo. What kind of sick game are you playing? Why would you lock the door?”
Chapter Thirteen
Angelo
The anger I felt when Jennifer announced she was engaged quickly turns to humour when I realise that she’s hot as fuck when she’s pissed off. Her green eyes flash, her pillowy lips pressed together in a firm line that I want to kiss away, and her long legs seem to become even longer when she stands with her hip cocked, one hand resting on the generous curve, looking like an avenging queen.
Her annoyance about to hit new heights when I answer the question she keeps throwing at me.
“Not me. I didn’t lock a thing,” I smirk. “The Don’s men, on the other hand, they’re pretty good at following orders.”
“What?!” Jennifer’s exclamation hits a pitch an opera singer would be proud of. “Why? How? Oh, my God, this day just keeps getting better and better.”
She stomps her foot. I do my best to swallow the laughter that tries to escape. When she kicks the bed and I have to grab her, so she doesn’t land on her arse when the mattress bounces back, I’m gone for. Holding her forearm, I bend in half and laugh like I’ve never laughed before.
It’s pushes her over the edge. Jennifer yanks her arm out of my grip and swings her arms in a windmill motion at me. The resulting slaps are like mosquito bites which only makes me laugh harder. Standing straight, I bite down on my bottom lip and fight for control of myself when I see that she’s deadly serious.
Plump tears roll down her cheeks. Undiluted anguish screams at me from her eyes. She wobbles on her feet and I catch her again. This time, I’m not laughing. I swing her into my arms, catching under her knees with one arm while to other holds around her back. The sitting room seems to be the safest place to take her, so I take her in there and try to put her down on the settee.
Jennifer clutches to her. “Please?”
It’s one word. It probably means fuck all to her. In my world, it’s everything. Three people use that word with me—Maria, Freddie, and Martha. Everyone else makes demands.
“Okay,” I sigh. Rearranging her in my arms, I sit down and hold her in my lap. She snuggles into me with her head on my shoulder and her fingers gripping my t-shirt. At the start, I hold myself away from her. I don’t want to scare her, but the need to crush her to me is overwhelming. Eventually, the sound of her sobbing becomes too much and I give into the urge. First, I stroke her silky hair, then I rub her back. All the while I croon to her, “Shhhh, Jen. It’ll be okay. I’m working on a plan to get you out of here.”
I’m not sure she hears me at first… or at all. When Jennifer’s cries begin to lessen and eventually stop, then her body softens, I push her hair away from her forehead to inspect her eyes.
She’s asleep. This girl, this abo-fucking-lutely gorgeous girl, has fallen asleep in my arms. Jennifer DeLuca comes from the kind of wealth I’m only just beginning to recognise exists. Her soft hands and futile temper tantrum proves just how pampered she is. She has everything I ever wished to give Maria, yet she doesn’t have the one thing I know my sister would never give up—no matter the wealth she was promised.
Someone she can completely trust.
Someone who will put her first.
Someone like me.
I remain holding her, sitting while she sleeps serenely in my arms, long enough for the midday sun to rise higher than the floor to ceiling bay window that dominates one wall of the sitting room my grandfather designated as mine when he brought me home with him last week.
In the time that we spend together, with Jennifer sleeping and me thinking, my chest swells until it’s double its normal size. I’ve never felt like this about anyone either than my little sister. Proud to be trusted. At peace with the challenge ahead of me. Ready to defend this girl with everything I have.
It’s a heady feeling. One I’m going to have to wrap myself in when Jennifer goes back to her normal life once this mess is over. We’ve spent one morning together yet I already know she’s going to leave a whole in my life.
“Ang-elo,” Jennifer’s voice breaks when she says my name. “You’re worthy, aren’t you?”
It takes me a second to work out what she means. “I’m going to get you out of here.”
“Thank you.” Shifting in my embrace, she presses her lips against my cheek. I loosen my hold, expecting her to move off my lap. Colour me surprised when she buries her face in the crook of my neck and slips her arms around me. “You’re the ….”
I don’t catch what she mumbles. I don’t care enough to ask her to repeat it. I’m lost to the desire flooding through me. It heats every inch of my body. My dick hardens directly beneath her. I shift, trying my hardest—no pun intended—to keep my dilemma from her.
Stiffening when she wriggles on my lap. I use my strength to hold her off my hard on. When she kisses my neck, I try to swallow down my need to kiss her back. She’s been to enough today without my wayward body telegraphing what I’d like to do with her. The muscles in my arms strain from the effort to hold her aloft when all I want to do is pull her so she’s straddling me.
I’m about to give up hiding what I want.
I’m on the cusp of losing control.
Then Jennifer giggles.
I turn my attention to the bay window and concentrate on the garden outside.
She giggles again and kisses my neck.
My cock is straining in my pants when I resort to counting the individual leaves on the closest rose bushes and pretending that she’s a grenade that will blow us both to Kingdom Come if I give into my driving desire to kiss her.
“You’re shaking,” Jennifer whispers against my neck. “Put me down.”
Swallowing hard, I shake my head. “I can’t.”
“I’ve felt an erection before.” She shifts until I place her back in my lap. Taking hold of each side of my face, Jennifer kisses me. I kiss her back, tangling my hands in her hair and tilting her head back so I can access her neck. When she groans, I nibble my way down to her shoulder, “Oh, my… Angelo.”
The inexperience I discovered when I kissed her in the hallway becomes apparent again when she tentatively moves herself over my hard on. I let go of her hair and grip her hips to stop her.
“It’s okay,” she whispers. “I want to say thank you.”
Her words have the same effect as a cold bucket of water being tossed over me. I put Jennifer back on her feet and head back into my bedroom. She follows me. I stop at the door and try to bite back the insults I want to throw her way.
“Why would you say that?” I ask as evenly as I can manage. “I’m not interested in fucking you like your pussy is some sort of consolation prize for doing what’s right.”
“Seriously, Angelo? I’m sorry,” Jennifer touches my back. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Honestly.”
“Yeah?”
She touches me again. This time on my pulsing carotid. “Yeah. I’m a virgin. I was, just… I don’t know. I like you… and I wanted to touch you.”
Turning around, I use my body to back her against the door. I lower my forehead until it’s touching hers and peer straight into her gleaming eyes. Shame has her on the verge of tears, but I refuse to allow her the easy way out.