Ranieri Andretti: A Second-Chance, Enemies-to-Lovers Mafia Romance Novella (The Five Syndicates Book 3)

by Parker S. Huntington

  And if he wasn’t going to tell me, I wasn’t done with this night. I was going to push his buttons until he caved.

  Even if we spent the rest of tonight and tomorrow wide awake.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yup.” I popped the ‘p,’ trying to keep as casual as I could.

  “We listened to a mini-concert at the Metrorail, ate lunch at Rocky’s, shared churros while feeding the ducks at the lake, shot water guns at pedestrians from the hotel rooftop, had teppanyaki at a place where staff and chefs spoke Japanese exclusively, and topped off the night with stealing coins from my hotel’s fountain and trying to sneak them into people’s pockets, purses, and shopping bags. What else would you like to do?”

  When he put it like that, I felt greedy for wanting more.

  But I didn’t back down. “One more thing. Give me one thing.”

  “Well, I did say I’d give you anything you want.”

  I arched a brow. “And all I have to do is ask, genie?”

  “If I were a genie, you’d only get three wishes.”

  I held up a finger. “First wish, I want to do something fun.”

  “Your wish is my command. Second wish?”

  “I want off these legs. They’re sore as hell.” I laughed when he bent forward for me to climb onto his back.

  He hooked his arms under my legs and waited for me to wrap my arms around his neck before he lifted me. “Third wish?”

  I leaned into him, my nose brushing the sensitive spot below his ears. I felt him shudder beneath me. “I want the truth. What happened to us?”

  He swallowed hard. I felt his Adam’s apple bob wildly against my arm. “I can’t tell you this.”

  “But you said all I have to do is—”

  “Ask. I know.” He turned his head, trying his best to meet my eyes with me hanging onto his back. “But it’s not just my secret.”

  Another mysterious clue.

  I would take it, for now, but I wasn’t giving up.

  He took a step forward.

  I squeezed my arms tighter around him, and he was pressed so tightly to me, my body lit up with need. “You’re not going to carry me the whole way, are you?”

  “Hell, no. You’re heavy.”

  I bit his neck at his words, and he groaned, tightening his grip on me. “Take that back.”

  “Never, if it means you’ll bite me again.”

  I rolled my eyes. He shifted my weight, so he held most of it on his right side, pulled a hundred out of his pocket, and held it out toward the street. Two cabs instantly stopped, and he opened the door to one of them, slid me down his back, and helped me into the back seat.

  He shut the door. “Rylafax Park.”

  The cabbie looked at me like Ranie had just abducted me, his eyes asking me to blink three times if I was in danger and twice if I was okay. And I wasn’t okay. Not really.

  At the Metrorail, my brittle heart had gained a beat or two.

  When Ranie had swiped sauce off my lips at Rocky’s and licked it off his finger, I reconsidered my position on sleeping with him.

  When he fed me churros at the lake, I was on the verge of asking him if he could feed me something else. Something south of the border.

  When he handed me a water gun and shot a spray of water at a wetsuit-clad tourist from the rooftop, I wished we were twelve again, having water fights at the park we had later shared my first kiss at.

  When he ordered for us in what I assumed was fluent Japanese at the teppanyaki restaurant and the pretty waitress’ eyes sparkled with interest, I wanted to grab Ranie’s shirt, pull him to me, and plant the biggest kiss on his lips, like a testosterone-doused dog in a territorial pissing contest.

  And when we nabbed coins from the fountain at his hotel and he taught me how to reverse pickpocket, I felt free and exhilarated for the first time since our friendship disbanded.

  So, was I okay?

  No.

  But I blinked twice anyway.

  * * *

  * * *

  Rylafax Park was a hilly park adjacent to the airport and, as far as I could see, an unusually loud place to top off the best date I had ever had. Hell, I wasn’t even sure if it was a date, but no other label felt right.

  “What are you doing?”

  Ranie opened the lock to the closed-off park—of course, he would have a key—and led us to the side of the park, where a row of lockers stood. “Niccolaio and I left blankets and flashlights in here a long time ago, but I’m not sure if they’re still here.” He eyed the row before settling on a locker left of center. “Here it is.”

  When he twisted in the combination and the lock popped open, a genuine smile spread across his face. He handed a blanket to me, swung the other over his shoulder, grabbed a long flashlight, and relocked the locker.

  “Was that my birthday?”

  A sly grin replaced his smile. “Maybe.” In the taxi ride, he had mentioned that he came here in high school. But that had been after he had dropped me as a friend, yet he made the locker combination my birthday? “It’s easy to remember.”

  Right.

  July 18, 1992.

  07-18-92.

  Not exactly 11-11-11.

  I cocked a brow. “What are we doing in a dark park alone at night?” There wasn’t a single lamp pole in sight.

  He flicked on the flashlight and led me toward the center of the park. “You’ll see.” It was late, yet he shouted to be heard in the empty park, the sound of plane engines interrupting each syllable.

  I took the hand he offered because, despite my oversized pride, I didn’t feel like stumbling stupidly in the dark. When we reached dead center of the highest hill in the park, he straightened his blanket on the ground, grabbed the one in my hand and gestured for me to lay down.

  He stretched himself beside me, so we laid shoulder-to-shoulder, our full bodies inclined by the hill and pressed against the soft, plush blanket. He swung the other blanket, the thicker one, over our bodies despite the Florida heat. I leaned forward to sit up, but he held his arm out, blocking me, so I remained flat against the blanket-covered grass.

  I turned my head to face him, keeping my back pressed to the ground. “What?”

  He met my eyes, anticipation brimming in his. “Wait for it.”

  “Wait for wh—”

  “Scream.”

  Not a second later, he let loose a shout that startled me, and when a fucking plane flew mere feet above us, my screams grew louder than his.

  Once it passed, my hair flung wildly, and my eyes glazed over with delight. “What the hell was that?” I took a deep breath, trying to calm the throbbing of my heart. “Will there be more?”

  “Lots of red-eye flights are taking off soon, so yup.”

  He grabbed my hand, and I let him, intertwining our fingers in a way I would pick the details apart later. This moment was too extraordinary to ruin with our tainted history.

  He squeezed my hand. “Stay pressed to the ground, okay?”

  I nodded. “That was…” I was speechless.

  “I know. I felt the same way my first time. It’s technically closed off to the public for obvious safety reasons, but I bought Rylafax as soon as I turned eighteen.”

  I resisted the urge to shake my head. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I had an overwhelming desire to build a house at the edge of the park and come to this hill every day for the rest of my life, and he owned this place.

  At least forty planes took off and flew right above our faces before they stopped coming. I had never felt higher than I did at this moment, lying beside Ranie underneath soaring planes. No drug, alcohol, or substance could replace sharing new experiences with someone you loved.

  And I did love him.

  The last twenty-four hours had reminded me why I loved Ranie when they were supposed to remind me why I shouldn’t have.

  He turned to face me, and it was just like that night on the jungle gym, both of us laying side-by-side. And just like that night, his
breath teased my lips, and he asked, “Can I kiss you?”

  And though I meant it, I mocked, “I deserve better.”

  And I did.

  I deserved the truth.

  A nostalgic smile tilted his lips upward, full of regret, remorse, and affection. “Yes, you do. You deserve everything.”

  He slammed his lips onto mine, colliding them against me like he could push eleven years of hate away from our souls with one kiss. I returned it, my heart in my throat, as I slipped my tongue into his mouth, needing to be closer to him.

  Déjà vu coursed through my flesh, and pleasure saturated every receptor of mine, but unlike our first kiss, this wasn’t PG-13. He caressed my tongue with his and pulled me onto him, so I straddled his body. I was tall, but he was taller, and the way we fit lulled me like a hot bath after a long day.

  His breath still tasted like orange Tic-Tac candies, and we still laid beneath the stars of a humid Florida night. And it was still us, and I was still dizzy, and giddy, and breathless. But instead of rain crashing down on us, it was all-consuming, decades-old lust.

  I ground my core against him, moaning into his mouth as my clit met his erection through our clothes. He flipped me onto my back until he hovered over me and thrust against me, like he was fucking me despite his thin sweats and my thinner yoga pants.

  I tore my lips from his and trailed them down his jaw to his neck. His Adam’s apple bobbed as I ran my tongue along it, followed by my teeth. Pulling his sweats past his firm ass, I slipped my hands into the front of his boxer briefs and gripped his smooth cock with my fingers.

  “Fuck,” he hissed.

  He grabbed my hands and placed them both over my head, trapping them with one of his large palms. With the other, he slid my yoga pants and panties to my knees until I was bare before him.

  When he slipped a finger into my pussy, it slid in so easily past the wetness, I blushed, thankful he couldn’t see the color of my cheeks in the darkness of the night. Using his teeth, he pulled my shirt down, and his lips wrapped around my nipple, sucking me through my bralette.

  He drove two more fingers in me, and I sank down on them, riding his large fingers fervently, a moan on my lips each time his palm brushed against my clit. When he curled his fingers, I came apart, screaming his name louder than I had screamed all night.

  I pressed my forehead against his after I came down from my orgasm. He slid his fingers out of me and rocked himself against my pussy. The head of his cock had escaped his boxers, and when it brushed against my wet clit, I let out a groan.

  With my hands still trapped by his left hand, he raised his fingers and traced my lips with them, coating me with my wetness. He pressed a kiss against my mouth, his tongue sketching the wet trail of cum he had left on my lips. I could taste myself as he slid his tongue past my lips and stroked the roof of my mouth.

  He pulled back, and I could barely make out the satisfied smirk on his lips in the dark. “Where to now?”

  Nowhere.

  I would wake up tomorrow, wanting the truth, but right now, in his arms, I was finally happy again.

  * * *

  Resentment is… an emotional

  rehashing or re-fighting of some

  event in the past. You cannot win,

  because you are attempting to do

  the impossible—change the past.

  Maxwell Maltz

  * * *

  I woke up when a bird landed beside my head. I opened my mouth and screamed, and an enormous palm covered my lips and a chuckle met my ears.

  “This isn’t funny.” My voice was garbled beneath Ranie’s palm. I pushed off his chest, a tangle of blankets making sitting upright more difficult than it should have been.

  “It’s a bird, not an orgasm.”

  “I did not scream that loudly last night.”

  Ranie laughed as if he didn’t believe me, and the bird took off with one loud squawk, like he was taking Ranie’s side. I stood while Ranie folded the blankets. We returned them to the lockers, where I, the responsible one, called an Uber because Ranie’s phone had died last night.

  Each step toward the lobby elevator was reluctant because I knew this trip was coming to its end—and with it, the sole weekend I had vowed to give Ranie. I wanted the truth. I deserved the truth, and I wouldn’t cave until I got it.

  Ranie stepped into the elevator first. “What’s wrong?”

  I followed him, and the doors slid closed. “Our overnight trip is over.”

  His eyes shifted to me. “Say the word, and we can be together. This doesn’t have to end.”

  I lowered my head. “No.”

  His fingers met my chin and lifted my head until I was inches from his lips. “Say the word.”

  “No.”

  He reached behind me, pulled the emergency brake, then reached up and broke the wire to the surveillance camera with a yank of his wrist. “Say the word.”

  I took a step back as he approached me, and my back hit the mirrored wall of the elevator. “What are you doing?”

  “Ask me what I want.”

  “No.”

  He lowered to his knees until his face was level with my pussy. “Ask me, Gallo.”

  “W-what are you doing, Ranie?”

  His fingers dipped past the hem of my yoga pants, and he slid them down my legs. He held eye contact with me and leaned forward. His teeth grazed my clit through my panties. “How many times did you fantasize about this when we were in high school?”

  All the time.

  “Never.” I let loose a moan. “You were mean to me.”

  He pushed my yoga pants past my feet, and I stepped out of them, not sure if I wanted to prolong or stop this. “Liar. You wanted me. I saw the way you looked at me.”

  “How did I look at you?”

  “Like you’re looking at me now.” He tore my panties in two and tossed them carelessly behind him. “Like you want me on you. In you. Underneath your skin. Like you want to consume me.” His mouth latched onto my clit, and I was a goner. He stroked it with his tongue.

  Once.

  Twice.

  Three times.

  I threw my head back and groaned, latching my fingers onto his hair so hard, it must have been painful. But he didn’t complain. He grabbed my leg and hooked it over his shoulder, pressing his tongue deeper into my slit.

  I turned my head to the side and met my eyes in the mirror before lowering to Ranie. He had a hand gripped on his cock through his sweatpants, and he stroked himself as he fucked my pussy with his tongue.

  I was close. So close to coming undone. “I’m close.”

  He pulled back, and cool air brushed against my wetness. “This doesn’t have to end. Say the word.”

  I tried and failed to push him back into me. “This is cruel.”

  He leaned forward and nudged my clit with the tip of his nose, eliciting a groan from me. “All you have to do is say the words. Tell me you want this.”

  “I want you to make me come, Ranie.”

  Heat flashed through his eyes, and his voice was hoarse when he spoke. “Tell me you want us.”

  “Not until you tell me the truth.”

  Say yes, my eyes begged.

  He was on the verge of saying no, and my body deflated as a tentative voice broke through the sex-filled haze. “Uh, excuse me? This is the manager. We’re not yet sure of the issue, but we are doing our best to get it fixed quickly. The fire department has been called and will arrive shortly.”

  Irritation glinted in Ranie’s Grinch-green eyes, and he pulled the emergency brake while I quietly slid my yoga pants back on. Ranie hadn’t played fair, and I may have been the responsible one, but I had never said I was the mature one.

  I wanted revenge.

  Soon.

  * * *

  * * *

  “Where are we going?” Again, I quickened my pace to catch up with Ranie as we made our way through the decadent hotel lobby. “Home, right?”

  He tipped the bellhop
generously as the tall man loaded our suitcases into the town car the hotel had offered us. “We have one more stop first.”

  I hopped into the backseat while Ranie held the door open for me. “It was an overnight trip.” My hand reached out and stopped the door from closing. “The night is over, so we’re going home.” I closed the door in his face.

  “We have an appointment we can’t miss!” he shouted from the other side of the door.

  I rolled down the window. “Home.”

  “Appointment.”

  “Home.”

  “Appointment.”

  Goodness, it was like we were kids all over again.

  Except he was my boss now.

  “Fine. Make it quick.”

  He nodded, rounded the car, and entered the backseat through the opposite door. “Straight ahead,” he ordered the driver. “I’ll tell you when to turn.”

  Ranie led us to a wealthy area of South Beach, where palm trees lined the pristine sidewalks and white sand stretched up and down the aquamarine coastline. We stood in front of an empty beachfront commercial space in a gorgeous area of South Beach that had managed to stay hidden from the tourists. The crowd was large at this hour, but I didn’t mind the herd as I took in the view of the clear-water beach across the street from us.

  I turned to Ranie and raised a brow. “I thought we weren’t here to scout locations for The Down & Dirty 2.0. This would be an awful place for a strip club, by the way.”

  And it was. The empty space was sandwiched by two family-friendly restaurants. Hardly something that screamed, Enter for bare tits!

  He kept his eyes centered on me. “Would it be an awful place for a restaurant?”

  “What?”

  He took a step closer. “Your restaurant.”

  I retreated a step back. “What are you saying, Ranie?”

  “You stopped following your dreams—”