A Debt Owed-A Promise Made

by Destiny Blaine

  “Oh God, Brooklyn. Um…yes, baby. There we go. Hold still. Good Lord, woman.”

  His hot cum shot through her channel traveling like hot lava. His essence splashed over every inch of her intimate flesh. And in that moment, Brooklyn changed.

  She wasn’t just a lust-driven, sex-focused woman. She was passionate and careful, aware of what their union represented. She was a woman hopelessly in love, a woman who would do anything to protect the man driving inside her, planting his seed, and making her feel like she would always belong in his arms.

  * * * *

  They didn’t go downstairs for dinner. At one point during a break in their lovemaking, Dante had called the kitchen. He told Mrs. Walker to send his guests away with his sincerest apologies.

  His associates were probably pissed but he didn’t give a damn. This was a night he and Brooklyn would remember for the rest of their lives. He had a strong feeling about their time together. The consequences of their recklessness would reward them.

  As he rose over her again, he stared down, entranced by the way her body welcomed his. He watched his cock disappear inside her pussy, captivated by the glistening moisture shimmering around her intimate lips.

  “My sweet, sweet baby,” he whispered, his breath catching in his lungs.

  She’d been insatiable. Her body had provided him with more pleasure than any man deserved.

  As his rigid length pulsed inside her, his come burned the base of his dick. Good damn, he hadn’t possessed one ounce of control since she’d entered his room hours earlier.

  “Watch me, Brooklyn,” he demanded, cupping the side of her face as her slick pussy enveloped him. “Let me look into those dark black eyes. Let me see you enjoy me.”

  “Dante,” she whispered, raking her fingernails over his chest. “Love me.”

  His nipples spiked when she made the request. Her cunt milked his cock as he forced the weight of his shaft inside her.

  Her long, shapely legs tightened around him. Then, he became a lover out of control, a man with more desires than he’d ever felt in his life. He pounded his prick inside her, fucking her like a man gone wild, as if they’d never fucked before or perhaps never stood a prayer of lying down with one another again.

  “Dante!” she screamed as her intimate lips quivered around his cock, vibrating as violently as her pussy pulsed with her release.

  “That’s right, baby. Fuck me, Brooklyn,” he muttered, at her mercy and completely vulnerable as a ripple of appreciation jetted through his body.

  His toes tingled. His arms felt like gelatin and his whole body jerked as he filled her cunt with his release. Again.

  Coming inside her, he dropped his head to her chest. Cupping her breast, he licked her nipple, rolling the point around the tip of his tongue.

  “I’m in love with you, Dante,” she admitted for the first time, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him to her.

  “I never doubted it for a minute,” he said, though the truth smacked him right upside his head.

  He’d had his doubts. He’d feared the worst.

  Yes, for a split second he’d been afraid. He’d feared she’d turned on him. And he wasn’t sure how he would’ve coped if the only woman he’d ever loved let him down when he needed her most.

  Chapter Five

  “The two of you believe in bringing down the walls around here, don’t ‘cha?”

  “Good morning, Billy,” Brooklyn said, giving him a real stare-down before taking her seat at the breakfast table. She couldn’t help but feel betrayed considering the fact Mr. Mamazza had played her like an out-of-tune fiddle.

  Maybe that was the problem. She’d been away from her career for far too long. She didn’t know the good guys from the bad. Dante glanced up from his newspaper long enough to lean over and give her a peck upon the lips before she was seated.

  On second thought, she still knew the difference. The bad guys were always damn good where it mattered.

  “Good morning, beautiful,” he said, returning to his paper. Without looking up again, he added, “Mrs. Walker, please pop a bagel in the toaster for Mrs. Mancini.”

  For some reason, whenever Dante addressed her as Mrs. Mancini, her stomach turned summersaults. She laid her palm against her middle with the thought and caught a glimpse of Dante in her peripheral.

  “Are you feeling all right?” he asked, a peculiar expression stamped upon his face, one she couldn’t help but translate as both hopeful and concerned.

  “Of course,” she replied, but under his scrutiny, the pleasant reminder of their passionate night sent a zip of arousal through her body. She became jittery thinking about their lovemaking, the way they’d seemingly acknowledged an unspoken desire to have unprotected sex. They’d embraced the possibility of bringing a child into the world together. The morning after, she wasn’t sure how she felt about that exactly.

  Yes, she’d love to have Dante’s child, but the timing couldn’t have been worse. What on earth had she been thinking?

  As if Dante picked up on her angst, he lowered his periodical and reached for her. “You look adorable today.”

  Squeezing his fingers, she shot him a quick smile, picked up her coffee mug and left the table, pursuing the nearby coffeemaker like it was a lifeline more than a caffeine fix. “Mrs. Walker, I can warm up a bagel.”

  “It’s my job,” she snapped, taking the mug from her hand and filling it with hot coffee.

  Brooklyn sighed. She’d learned long ago not to argue with the housekeeper. Mrs. Walker was a German woman who’d been scorned by several American men. She was bitter and her bitterness could turn into rage over the simplest of things.

  Returning to the table, Brooklyn noticed the smirk stamped upon Billy’s lips. He must’ve felt like he’d somehow managed to turn the tables on her. Acknowledging how he must’ve felt some measure of pride in pulling the wool over her eyes, irked her, especially since she’d pondered the fact before her first cup of coffee.

  Taking a sip of the hot liquid, Brooklyn indulged in the quietness. A few minutes later, Mrs. Walker dutifully approached the table. Placing bone white china on a royal blue placemat, she used a pair of tongs and discarded a toasted bagel on the expensive dish. Seconds later, she returned with a saucer of cream cheese. Then she exited the kitchen.

  “Why don’t you fill me in this morning?”

  Dante, who had been watching her intently, sat back in his chair. Crossing his arms over his broad chest, he tilted his head at Billy as if he should be the one to speak first and explain everything.

  Now that really ticked her off.

  Why did Dante trust this guy? Better still, why did his actions seem to suggest he planned to let Billy take the lead? Did he understand what was at stake here? Did he know what they stood to lose? This guy didn’t have their best interest at heart. He couldn’t. It wasn’t his neck on the line.

  Billy shoved a piece of crunchy bacon between his lips. He made a show out of munching on breakfast, popping his lips after every bite.

  Spreading cream cheese over her bagel carefully, Brooklyn decided two could play this game. If they wanted to play quiet mouse, she wouldn’t make a sound. Eventually, the overwhelming silence would lead one of them into a well-placed snapping trap, and she was a betting gal. Billy would trip over himself and tell all.

  Billy left the table, filled his plate with pastries from the breakfast bar. He returned to his chair without uttering a word.

  So maybe she underestimated the rookie.

  She’d finished her breakfast by the time Billy pushed away from the table. He tossed his napkin on his placemat as if to make an outward statement. Apparently, he needed a full stomach before he could discuss business.

  “So you really want me to handle this?” he asked Dante. He shot Brooklyn a sideways glance. “Believe me, Dante. I can keep your woman in line.”

  Rather than quick to anger, Dante laughed. He appeared thoroughly amused. “These theatrics were your idea. I don
’t see any reason why you shouldn’t explain. You’re the one who wanted to wait and tell her who you are after your arrival here so yes, the explanation is all on you.”

  “You have a point,” Billy agreed, standing and stretching. He cleared away his dishes, walked over to the kitchen sink and left his plate and fork there before returning once more.

  “I’m Dante’s first cousin.”

  “Hmm,” she said, processing. Feeling more betrayed by the minute, she added, “It’s ironic, isn’t it?”

  “How?”

  “First you’re my mother’s cousin. Now you’re Dante’s. Who the hell are you really, Billy?”

  “Dante’s cousin,” he told her again.

  “And tomorrow, let’s see, who will you be then? Let me guess—the great-great-grandson of Al Capone or some other famous mobster, maybe the last President’s illegitimate son or a senator’s love child. We can’t be sure now, can we?”

  “He’s family, Brooklyn,” Dante assured her.

  “So what, you and Mrs. Walker pretended not to know him and strung me along completely in the dark?”

  “Something like that, yes,” Dante replied, acting a little too proud of the fact.

  “As if she needed another one-up on me?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Dante asked, always ready to take Mrs. Walker’s side in any of their little tiffs, which only drove her fury now.

  “Beg for nothing,” she snapped, staring at the man responsible for her rage.

  Dante sniffed. His lips tilted in a half-smile. “I don’t grovel for much, lover.”

  Brooklyn slapped her napkin against the table. Her eyes held his to challenge. Where was this male attitude coming from? She’d awoke with the scent of him on her flesh, filling fully sated after a terrific night of lovemaking only to join him downstairs and face the unexpected—arrogance and secrets. Italian men really knew how to keep the romantic fires burning.

  When Dante didn’t soften, she said, “You may not beg the ordinary woman, but I’m not ordinary Dante, at least not where you’re concerned.” She acknowledged Billy again. “And you? Don’t get too comfortable here. If you cause me grief, an ultimatum will be handed down. Count on it.”

  “I’ll be watching for you,” he taunted her.

  “Brooklyn, you’re overreacting,” Dante said, rising from his chair.

  “You trust this…this…kid…more than you trust me?” Her eyes stung with too many tears to conceal. Soon, she’d become a weeping willow, sobbing for no apparent reason. Correction, crying because suddenly she felt used, betrayed, and hurt on so many different levels she couldn’t even begin to describe the pain. And she was acting like a codependent woman which really pissed her off. She was tougher, much stronger. Oh yes, she’d earned her stripes.

  Still, she found this recent turn of events excessively disturbing. She had thought she and Dante had an understanding. She’d believed they’d fully joined together as one. After their night together, she’d fallen asleep in his arms while he’d whispered all sorts of loving endearments. They were a team. Her faith in him and his belief in her should’ve taken precedence.

  “This isn’t about trust, Brooklyn. And I never said I trusted him more. I just don’t trust him any less.”

  She gasped, stung by the chosen words that spilled into the room like a thoughtful reflection finally spoken. “I guess you believe that was well put, properly said.”

  The room fell silent. This time, Billy spoke first. “Don’t be too hard on Dante. He had to be sure you were trustworthy. He needed to know where your loyalties lie.”

  “He knew where my head was. He knew where my heart has been from the beginning!” She instantly covered her mouth, realizing she had confessed too much.

  Dante’s expression softened then. He folded his hands and brought his two forefingers to the tip of his nose, running the pads of the digits back and forth. His eyes set as if he’d been thrown back into the years that had plagued them.

  She knew then that he recognized their truth. The temptation that she sometimes fought with great resistance was often almost too great to overcome.

  At one time, she’d almost betrayed her husband for him. Instead, she’d asked Dante to leave town. He’d refused. The family was in a volatile position. His brother needed him. She needed him.

  “Put yourself in his shoes,” Billy said, interrupting her thoughts. “Remember your history. He had to be sure he could trust you.”

  The fury returned as quickly as it had first diminished. He knew things about her that only Dante knew and they wanted to discuss trust? She rose to her feet, slung her plate from the table to the sink and faced them both. “Is that true, Dante?” She gripped the marble countertop behind her.

  “Yes.”

  His reply delivered a blow to her heart.

  “My distrust was short lived,” Dante said as if his words were a written disclaimer to erase his previous skepticism and make everything all right between them again.

  “How could you not believe in me after everything we’ve been through?”

  “You were my brother’s wife. I knew everything about you that I needed to know except for one thing, Brooklyn.”

  “What?” she asked, knowing what he must’ve feared, realizing regardless of the unspoken commitment that existed between them, there must’ve been some seeds of doubt stemming from her previous relationship with his brother. Mixed in with his distrust of others, he was one of the most paranoid individuals she’d ever known. Of course he had his doubts. He wouldn’t have been Martino’s brother without them.

  “Tell me about the deal you made with the Information Operations Center Analysis Group.”

  “I’ve told you everything. Ten times over, I’ve told you.”

  “Tell me again,” Dante deadpanned.

  “For his benefit?” she asked, tilting her chin toward Billy. “Or yours?”

  “Both.”

  She took a deep breath and turned to the window. Why didn’t Dante see how much pain this caused her? Why didn’t he believe she’d always been honest with him? How could he think she hadn’t been forthcoming since the very beginning?

  “Your brother trusted me. Why can’t you?”

  “That’s not what this is about now.”

  “Now?” she asked, her tone an octave higher. “Oh so let me see here. You weren’t sure you could put your faith in me until you manipulated me, lied to me, and then—oh wait, but there’s more—trust wasn’t given completely and freely until I let you fuck me without a rubber!”

  “Enough!” Dante screamed, rushing her. He clasped his hands around her shaking limbs and stared at her with pure rage pumping through his veins. She could see the fury in his eyes, the anger she’d provoked.

  “You’re right,” she said through clenched teeth. “It is enough.”

  She pushed him away and started for the door, but Billy quickly blocked her expedient departure.

  “Move or I’ll move you.”

  Billy copped a smile. “I’m physical, too, sweet thing. Don’t test me. You will lose.”

  She studied his face and for the first time saw a resemblance between Dante and Billy. Worse, she saw more of her deceased husband in his hardened expression. The tight line of determination told great stories. He presented a physical match worthy of many opponents.

  She could always spot a trained operative or skilled fighter. Billy knew what he was doing. How had she missed this before? She had to give Billy credit. He’d played his part well. She couldn’t help but feel somewhat defeated. Given their differences in body weight, he could take her. She didn’t feel like being tossed around regardless of how much she wanted to put up a fight.

  Martino had always been like this. He could be lighthearted and carefree one minute and as mean as a rattlesnake the next.

  “I’m not afraid of you,” she told him, holding her head higher.

  “I don’t want you to fear me. On the contrary,” Billy said, shooting Dante a quic
k wink. “I want us to be friends. Close friends.”

  “I just bet you do,” she muttered, looking over his shoulder at Dante. “And I imagine you want the same.”

  “Sit,” Dante said, pointing to the chair she’d vacated.

  “Ordering me around like the hired help now?”

  They glared at one another. Finally, Dante took a deep breath and said, “Brooklyn, please. Have a seat.”

  After brief hesitation, she returned to the table. Making up her mind to run through the events of the past one last time, she quietly began, “Martino was wanted on murder charges.” She felt the tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. “Everyone knew he’d committed the crime, but because he’d employed some of the mob’s highest paid hit men, they were willing to let it go for an exchange. They were willing to overlook his crimes because I made them an offer they couldn’t refuse and convinced them of Martino’s innocence.”

  “What sort of deal did you cut?” Billy asked.

  Apparently, Dante hadn’t filled him in as much as she’d originally thought. Maybe she had been overly dramatic when it wasn’t necessary. That wasn’t like her. Theatrics weren’t her bag unless she had the floor at the IOCAG or a similar organization. What the hell was wrong with her? Was it the idea of drudging up the past in front of a complete stranger that bothered her or was it because Dante had admitted his temporary distrust in her?

  After another moment to consider her feelings, she thought of her own apprehensions, too. Hadn’t she pried into Dante’s background? Didn’t she check and double-check everything he’d told her before she’d climbed into bed with him the first time? Didn’t he, too, have the right to be somewhat cautious, maybe even a little suspicious of what she’d shared with him considering who had visited her bed on more than one occasion? She shuddered at the memory of spending time in Braxton’s bed. Their sexual encounters occurred a long time ago but it still sickened her, especially now.

  “What did Martino trade, Brooklyn?”