Greatest Distraction (Distracted #1)

by Juli Valenti

  “It’s okay … but I’m really glad you’re here saving me from death,” I whispered, my eyes never leaving Gianpaolo. The older man’s eyes traveled from Dane’s hand at my hip to his son’s face to my eyes. He definitely wasn’t happy. Hail Mary, please don’t let me die, the voice in my head chanted.

  “Son –”

  “Don’t call me that. I don’t know why you’re here harassing Ryen – I can only assume it has something to do with me and your delusions of grandeur. Let me save you some trouble. One, I will see who I want to, when I want to. Two, I don’t care what future you think you have for me – I’m free and over the age of eighteen, you don’t own me. Only I will choose my future. Three, If you ever come near Ryen again, I will make sure you regret it.”

  I had to hand it to Dane. I would’ve never had the guts to stand up to my father like that and he wasn’t a cheating, cold-hearted, murdering bastard. It was also impressing to me, too, that while he kept his tone firm, he wasn’t yelling. He never stomped his foot once. Instead he stated his points, clear and to the … well… to the point, leaving no room for negotiation. One look at his father, though, and I could tell it wasn’t going to go over very well.

  “You dare threaten me, you piss-ant? You know who I am and what I can do.” His father was starting to turn red, though I knew it wasn’t hot in the kitchen – I was actually rather cold. Nope, pretty sure he was either going to pull on his son, have a heart attack, or both.

  “What, Don? What are you going to do to me, to your heir. Oh don’t look so surprised. I’ve heard talk about your ‘plans’ and that you name me as such. You going to pull on me? No? Didn’t think so,” Dane said before releasing me and moving closer to his father while I backed up toward the fridge. Guts. The man had them in spades.

  “My reason for coming, Brian, was to tell you that arrangements have been made. I have reached an agreement with Accosi and you are to wed-”

  “Don’t finish that sentence, Father. I will not marry and I sure as hell won’t marry Francesca. She’s in love -”

  “Bah, love.”

  “-with Giuseppe.”

  “It is a good match; Ranucci and Accosi bound together, good business,” his father said, and I caught him continuously turning the ring on his finger from the corner of my eye. I’d call it a nervous gesture but I couldn’t be sure … I was too busy trying to remember how to get plates down from a cabinet to be sure.

  “I don’t give a damn about your business conquests.”

  “You should be so lucky to marry Francesca. She is beautiful – and no daughter to a dead farmer.”

  There were those damned words again. Dead farmer’s daughter. They hurt to hear just as much the second time, and, of course, the fifth, six, and seventh time my mind replayed them. It took everything I had to bite my lip; self-preservation, I have it.

  “Get out. Leave Ryen alone; and I swear to God almighty, if I ever hear you call her that again, you will regret it, morto figlio del contadino.”

  Dane moved to the door and opened it, his arm outstretched as if to direct his father out of my home. I couldn’t help but hold my breath as Tweedledee and Tweedledum sidled up beside the door, nodding their heads to Dane before looking expectantly at his father. Gianpaolo looked at me for a long moment before shaking his head and leaving. It wasn’t until the front door shut that I realized I was so oxygen deprived that my head hurt.

  “That was…” I tried, only to stop. There was nothing I could say – the whole visit was painful in the worst of ways, stressful, and completely surreal. What the hell mess had I gotten myself into? Yes, I’d known he was the son of the mob boss, but I don’t think I’d really weighed what that meant. It was like I walked into a very bad episode of Kingpin or something.

  “Ryen…” he started, looking pained, ashamed again. “I’m so sorry. I never dreamed that he would come here and try to scare you.”

  “Want to explain what all that,” I waved my hands toward the kitchen, “was? Because, after all, I’m just a dead farmer’s daughter.” Ouch, why did I repeat that. That made the hurt tally up to about sixteen by now.

  “Don’t. Don’t ever repeat that to me again. That is not what you are. And of course I’ll explain the best I can. Let me go get changed and we’ll talk about it over dinner.”

  He kissed me gently as he made his way past me, but I pulled him back, forcing his lips back to mine, deeper. I was still Ryen, he was still Dane – I needed him to know that while I was spooked, I wasn’t packing my hiking bag. There were no hills to head for in Manhattan and I wasn’t planning on letting him go. I just needed answers, needed to understand, and needed to find out if I needed to get a gun license or mace, or maybe The Big Show wrestler to come protect me while I sleep.

  Dane responded, threading his hand through my hair and pushing me against the wall, our mouths never breaking the kiss. It was passion, it was fear, it was adrenaline, and it was fantastic. His clothes were soaking mine, but I didn’t care. He pulled away first.

  “Change. Food. Talk. You’re dessert.”

  I was staring into kitchen space, Chinese plated on the table, when Dane entered the room. To be honest, I was so lost in my own thoughts, the abysmal whirlwind in there, that I barely noticed him. He cleared his throat and I jumped – I didn’t mean to – my eyes just barely catching the fall in his face at my reaction.

  “Sorry,” I told him, moving to my chair. “Your father, and my thoughts, has made me jumpy.”

  Dane nodded, taking a deep breath and running a hand across his forehead. I watched, still fascinated by him, and taking him in. He’d changed into a pair of loose gray lounge pants and a plain white cotton T-shirt – he’d been leaving a spare set at my place for a while now. I wasn’t complaining – the man did comfy casual well. After a moment he sat at the table across from me, his eyes locking with mine.

  “About him and … that,” he started, his lips pursed in a grim line.

  “What did you call him?” I interrupted abruptly. It’d been driving me crazy, those little Italian words.

  “Huh?”

  “Morto fig-leo del conta dinosaur thing? It’s been driving me nuts. I tried looking it up but my spelling must really suck if Google and Google Translate can’t make heads or tails of it.” Dane’s expression changed, turning sheepish, slightly satisfied, and apprehensive all at once.

  “He made me mad, calling you what he did … so I pointed out a truth he prefers to forget.”

  Wow, that was rather vague. I made a ‘carry on’ gesture and narrowed my eyes. Curiosity was killing me – there was no way he was getting out of telling me. I would’ve said as much but I’d stuffed noodles into my mouth and was busy chewing. Priorities.

  “It means ‘dead farmer’s son,’” he answered, sighing before turning his own noodles onto a fork and taking a bite. I merely stared at him for a second before bursting out laughing, struggling to keep food from flying out of my mouth.

  “Have to admit, that’s pretty epic – dumb as hell, but epic. Is it true?”

  Dane smiled from around his bite as he nodded and swallowed. “Yes. He was born in the country and grew up around goats and stuff. He doesn’t talk about it much – ruins his ‘image.’”

  “So the thing he called me –”

  “Was his pride, ignorance, and self-loathing being sloughed off on you,” he finished, pushing his near-empty plate away. I glanced at mine – it was still almost completely full. I supposed being insulted and scared to death wreaked havoc on the appetite. Go figure, I would’ve assumed it would be the opposite.

  “The rest of his shit,” Dane continued, pulling my attention back to him. “Mom had already warned me about his plans. The whole arranged business marriage, not the whole coming over to harass you thing. I wish I could say it surprised me, him just showing up, but I can’t. I am surprised that Giuseppe let him … and that he hasn’t high tailed his ass far away with Fran, though.”

  “The girl you’re suppose
d to … be with … and the guy she loves?” I asked, debating on taking notes so I didn’t get confused later. I swear, I couldn’t make this crap up – it’s like a soap opera or something.

  “Yes, my half brother, one of his guards tonight.”

  “Oh…” I said, nodding, trying to figure out if he was Tweedledee or Tweedledum. They both looked alike to me … and nothing like Dane – except for maybe their height.

  “The other guard was Giancarlo, my other half-brother, Gus’s full brother. Gus being Giuseppe, of course. They’re sixteen months apart and often get mistaken for twins. Even our father has a hard time sometimes …” he trailed off, waving his hand like he was clearing the air. “Anyway, I guess Gus has accepted his decision and is letting her go. I don’t know.”

  “Straight up … how worried should I be, Dane? I believe you; I know you disowned the scary bastard that sat in my kitchen but I also know he owns guns. I don’t want to find myself shot, stabbed, or wearing iron bracelets and cement shoes while taking a swim in the East River.” I was being one-hundred-percent serious, but Dane laughed, lightening the mood of the room. I couldn’t help but join in. “True story,” I added, still giggling.

  “On a scale of worries ... maybe a two. I’d tell you zero, but that’s not realistic in his world. I will say I’ve got some pretty hefty stuff on him – a file, if you will – that could land him in hot water. That, paired with being his only ‘true’ son, puts the threat on the lower end of low.”

  “You all talk like being a ‘bastard’ child is a curse, like you’re in a George R. R. Martin book – bastards are suddenly persona non grata and only ‘true’ borns are anybody,” I huffed, upset on his brother’s behalf. It was such an archaic notion I just couldn’t wrap my head around. It was twenty fourteen for Pete’s sake … People didn’t care about that anymore, did they? I knew lots of people whose parents weren’t married when they had them and I, for one, didn’t give a damn. Oh, and it’s not like it was a question on an application for a job or something.

  “Gianpaolo grew up with the old morals, Ryen. To him, it is that way.”

  “That’s stupid … and sad. Poor Double-Gs,” I stated, shortening his siblings names. Poor kids. A father who treated them like they were expendable, having to live their whole lives with the ‘favored son’ for no fault of their own. And on top of it all, they drew the short straw when it came to names. They couldn’t have easy ones …things that kids wouldn’t make them eat paste for? I mean, really, I understood heritage, but whatever happened to easy names. Think of your kids’ futures, parents! It’s cruel and unusual punishment. You want them to all have names like Brian Dane? Stop being insulting, Ryen. Ah, there was that voice again … I thought she’d taken a permanent hiatus from me. Not that I missed it … okay maybe I did. Moving on.

  “It is, as you tell me, what it is. Anyway, I doubt he’d do anything – besides, it’s one of the reasons I branched out of New York and into Birmingham. I like space from him … a lot of space. Like states and planets and, if I could, different universes. Before today it had been eight years since I saw his face, or even spoke to him. You know how I feel about his … career.”

  “I know. I’d feel the same way. I may be the daughter of a farmer, but at least he was on the up and up – no offense.”

  “None taken. I’ve come to terms with it; sure, I don’t like it and, yes, I’m ashamed of him, but no reason to be up in arms over something I can’t change,” Dane said, standing and taking our plates to the sink and rinsing them. While he made quick work of the dishes, I took inventory of my thoughts.

  Had anything changed tonight? I’d been scared to death to find the New York mob boss standing on my doorstep. His words had hurt, but he hadn’t told me anything that wasn’t true or anything I didn’t know – he could have used some tact, though what did I expect? Did I really expect the man to spout rainbows and butterflies on a fluffy cloud? No. I knew better. Had anything he said changed the way I felt about Dane? That was the big question weighing on my thoughts, the one I knew I had to tackle.

  I glanced at the man in question, watching him be domestic. We’d shared a lot of moments, he and I, and he made me happy. Gianpaolo may be a not-so-great guy, but he’d definitely helped to make one – his son was everything that man should wish he was. Dane was a good guy … not the geeky kind you think of when you think good – I guess genuine would be better used to describe him. He was the first man I’d met who could tame my bullshit, negating it to nothing, and making me laugh while doing it. We could talk about anything, everything, and even if we disagreed, there was no belittling or making the other feel stupid. He listened – you don’t realize how important a quality that is in a man until you don’t have it. Sure I didn’t like that his father was planning a marriage for him, to this phantom that his brother loved, and I didn’t like the insecurity it brought. Then again, it’s not like his father could force him to marry someone he didn’t want to – one leak to the media and it would become a circus.

  Dane came to stand in front of me, bumping my knee, pulling me from my introspection. I looked up at him, still seated and unmoving. It wasn’t a hard question – I still wanted him in my life, I still wanted to hang out with him, I still wanted him around. His father, his mother, the press, none of it really mattered to me. We’d never agreed to be exclusive, never promised a future to each other, and I vowed then and there that I wouldn’t let this drama-shit dictate the rest of my vacation with him. I enjoyed spending time with him, and, for right now, that was enough for me.

  “Penny for your thoughts?”

  “I think you promised dessert,” I told him, putting all the lust in my eyes that I could muster. After tonight, I needed something life affirming, something Dane affirming. The answering look I got in return was worth everything that happened tonight.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Dane wasted no time in following through his promise, lifting me from the chair and carrying me into the living room, depositing me on the couch. I watched as he backed away a moment, making his way to the door and ensuring the bar lock was firmly in place before coming back toward me. His steps were sure, a masculine swagger in each movement, forcing a smile from me. I loved when he did that, when he acted like he was going to open a present and already knew what it was, only with more passion. The confidence he exuded was one of my favorite things – it wasn’t cockiness, it was just Dane.

  He stopped a few feet from me, looking me up from my feet to my head, his eyes resting on my breasts before moving to my face. I shivered from his gaze alone and my insides delighted; I knew if he could do that just looking at me, it was going to be an awesome night.

  “Lose the tank top,” he said huskily, his voice an octave lower than usual.

  I cocked my head, weighing his words as I caught him wink at me. Oh, it was going to be like that, was it? We hadn’t played like this before, but I can’t say it was a turn off. I lifted my shirt and let it drop to the floor. I was so down.

  “Shorts.” Dane still hadn’t moved, remaining in front of me but making no effort to touch or help undress me.

  I complied, shimmying out of my tight shorts – hesitating only momentarily to decide whether or not to dispose of my panties as well. I wasn’t a mind reader – I didn’t have to be to know removing them would be his next request. I hadn’t worn a bra under the tank so panties were the last bit of clothing. And, no, I hadn’t been flashing nip to his dad – the shirt had one of those built-in boob shelves. Thank God for small favors.

  “Hey, come back, beautiful,” Dane said, pulling me from my thoughts. He was finally close enough to touch, but when I raised a hand to do just that, he stepped back out of reach.

  “Ah, there you are. No touch. Stay. Right. There. Just like that … keep looking at me,” he demanded, moving back to the stereo on the entertainment center. He pushed a button and Trey Songz ‘Love Faces’ began filtering through the air, the surround sound speakers creating a cocoon of mu
sic. Normally I would’ve cracked a joke, snickering that he’d chosen a cheesy ‘sexy’ song, but not today. His eyes taking in my naked body, on display like art, paired with the lyrics of the song was almost inexplicably sensual. If he didn’t do more than look soon, I was going to flip out; it was already difficult to sit still, the heat inside me growing. Who raised the temperature in this freaking place?

  “Come here,” he instructed, holding his out outstretched to me. When I placed my hand in his, he pulled, lifting me to my feet and pressing me against his body. I was very aware that I was naked, my breasts rubbing against the cotton of his shirt as he began swaying us to the beat of the song. His hands gripped my hips, our bodies moving together; I couldn’t stop the panting of my breaths. It was so erotic. It was torture.

  “Dane,” I said, my voice rough, pleading.

  “What, Ryen?” His lips teased my ears, his words a whisper.

  “Stop. Teasing. Me.” Why was he still dressed? And when the hell did my living room turn into an erotic dance floor? Seriously, he needed to ditch the duds, like, now. Five minutes ago would’ve worked for me too.

  The man holding me merely laughed and tried to pull me closer, to hold me tighter, but I stepped backward. My patience for this game was slowly evaporating – directly correlating with the heat in my blood. The more aroused I got, the more my patience disappeared. Dane took a step forward but, again, I moved away. Our close dance had morphed, turning into another kind – until the backs of my knees hit the couch, forcing me to sit. Well, shit.

  “Nowhere else for you to escape,” Dane told me, standing between my legs. Fed up with his shenanigans, I grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged. He bent at the waist to help me pull it over his head, revealing his chest and abs. Score! Halfway there, I inwardly cheered. My inner clapping was halted when I reached for his pants, only finding skin; he’d dropped to his knees in front of me. As he parted my legs and placed soft kisses along my thigh, a party of a different sort began in my mind.