by Savanna Gray
Allowing Marco to take my virginity was supposed to be a silent act of defiance, but it became so much more. I began melting into him, craving him more with each second that passed. And once he removed his pants and boxers, my mouth opened in shock at the sight of his cock. He was long and thick, with a little pre-cum which I wanted to lick from the crown.
Marco rolled on a condom and pushed me back to the mattress, pinning me down with his muscular body. He was in control in the bedroom that much was clear. I was so sick of everyone in my life telling me what to do, but I wanted Marco to take the lead, show me how much he wanted this, too.
Marco lined himself up at my entrance and inched inside me. The initial pinch was painful, so much so that I almost screamed from the intense pressure. With each inch, he broke through my walls, careful as he rocked into me, slowly filling me.
A few errant tears fell from my eyes, even though I tried to keep them at bay. To my surprise, Marco stilled inside me and bent forward to lick the tears from my cheeks, making me feel cared for in a way I didn’t understand. It was a weird gesture but also kind of sweet. In that moment, I knew I was completely fucked, and not in the rode hard kind of way.
The man I’d been trained to believe was my enemy was anything but that right now. And I wanted him to be more, even if that would never be possible.
“Are you okay?” Marco whispered the words against my ear as he raised my hand above my head to thread our fingers together.
I nodded, the waterworks finally gone, and he continued to rock his hips, his cock burying deeper and deeper inside me. My body adapted to his size, and it wasn’t long before I encouraged him to stop being so cautious. The pain I’d once felt quickly turned to pure pleasure.
I was so drunk on Marco, my body hijacked by the sheer force of the orgasm that owned me. He was an addiction I couldn’t kick, no matter how hard I tried to stay away from him.
It wasn’t long before I came again, followed by Marco. He collapsed on top of me, making sure to kiss each of my breasts before he rolled onto the other side of the mattress. We didn’t speak for a few minutes, both of us still trying to catch our breath.
I couldn’t believe what I’d just done with Marco.
Did I regret it? No, not at all.
Marco ran his hand through his dark, sweat-slick hair and glanced over at me. “How do you feel?”
“Like I want more,” I muttered.
He smirked, about to say something when his cell phone rang, cutting through the tension. Marco let out a low groan and slid off the bed to retrieve his phone from the pocket of his pants.
Rolling his eyes at the screen, he raised the phone to his ear and said, “Yeah.”
His eyes found mine as he listened to the caller on the other end, and then he turned his back to me, giving me a nice view of his perfect ass. I was too busy admiring his backside when he walked into the bathroom, now yelling at the person in Italian.
The Salvatores were from Italy. Marco and his brothers were first generation Italian-Americans. From what I’d heard, his grandfather still headed the operation in Calabria, while Marco’s father was in charge of one of the largest families in New York.
I knew some Italian because of Cara. She’d taught me a few words and phrases when I was a child, but not enough to understand Marco’s conversation.
A few minutes passed before Marco exited the bathroom with his phone clutched in his hand, his grip so tight I thought he would break it.
“Everything okay?”
He shot me a pained look. “Yeah. I have to go.”
“Oh… okay.”
To say I was disappointed would have been an understatement. He was leaving me as if this was nothing more than a business transaction. My chest hurt when the realization of everything hit me, even though I went into this knowing it was all about sex and nothing more. So why did I want more?
I sat up and covered myself with the comforter. Not like it made a difference after Marco had seen and touched every part of me.
Marco got dressed in a hurry, and then stood in front of me, staring down at me with those deep blue irises I so easily got lost in. He clicked a few buttons on his phone and handed it to me.
“Give me your number.”
“Who says I want you to call me?”
He rubbed the stubble along his jaw, eying me up, and then laughed. “Don’t play games with me.”
Because I had no willpower, I added my number to his phone and handed it back to him. No matter how much I went into this thinking it would be a one-time thing I didn’t want it to end there.
I was hoping for a kiss or something more meaningful after giving so much of myself to him. Instead, he touched my head with his big hand and said, “You’re a good girl. Too bad I’m going to ruin you.”
You already did.
And then he was gone, leaving me alone with nothing to hold onto but the memory of Marco and the reminder of what I’d done.
Chapter Ten
MARCO
MY BROTHERS WERE PARKED out front of the mansion where I’d just taken Sienna’s virginity. And I had to leave her because, as usual, duty called. If my older brother, Giovanni, as much as snapped his fingers, Antonio and I were expected to follow.
Antonio gripped the steering wheel, waiting patiently, while Giovanni sat in the passenger seat with a miserable look on his face. My older brother was eight years older than Antonio and me, and he exercised every bit of his authority over us.
I pulled on the handle and got inside the car. “Where are we going?”
“To take care of something,” Giovanni shot back. “A favor for York.”
Just hearing Sienna’s last name piqued my interest. Even though our fathers kept their distance from each other, my family often dealt with the dirty shit Senator York couldn’t handle himself. “What are we doing for him?”
“Dad sent Grant and Sal to take care of Carlo Moretti, and they fucked it up. He managed to get away and turn some of our guys against us.” He shifted in his seat to look at me. “You knew better than to go near that girl, and yet we’re cleaning up your mess because of her.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, frustrated. “I didn’t force Carlo on York’s daughter, so I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
We drove for close to an hour before we reached the vacant building my father owned. It wasn’t used for anything other than torturing and killing people. Holding as much property as my family did had its perks, and this particular building had been like a second home to me for years.
Antonio parked next to the black van at the front of the entrance. We got out of the car and strolled across the parking lot to a side entrance. I never asked questions about jobs. There was no point. My brothers and I followed orders and did what we were told without complaint.
We followed Giovanni into the dark building. The faint scent of bleach and cigars penetrated my nostrils. Behind a closed door, a man was strapped to a metal table, his bare chest covered in open gashes and blood. Hovered over the table, and dressed in a navy suit and brown wingtips with a clear poncho cover his clothes, was Jimmy Barone. With his boyish looks, he didn’t look like a man who used vile methods of torture to break people. But he did. Jimmy was one of the best in the business.
I tapped Antonio on the arm to get his attention. “Jimmy has this covered. Why are we here?”
He shrugged, keeping his voice low. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
Jimmy didn’t turn his body, or even acknowledge we’d walked into the room, going about his business as if this were normal. To all of us, this was just another day. Our line of work was dangerous, and we all knew the risks involved. Unlike the other men in the room with us, my brothers and I never had a choice. Our lives were chosen for us at birth.
I stepped closer to the table, with Antonio at my side, realizing I knew the man being tortured by Jimmy. Giovanni stood next to Jimmy, his wicked gaze fixed on the man strapped down. He folded his arms
over his chest, his head turned to the side as if he were thinking over what to do with Joe Moretti, Carlo’s cousin.
“Where’s your low-life cousin?” Giovanni asked Joe, his tone unusually calm given the situation.
He refused to answer the question, either out of loyalty or stupidity, or maybe even a combination of both. Joe squirmed when Jimmy shoved a rolled up cloth in his mouth.
My brother repeated his question one more time, greeted by the same silence, and then ordered Jimmy to continue cutting at his flesh.
As Joe’s screams filled the room, I didn’t budge, never flinched. I was desensitized to death and blood. I grew up helping my father with things children should never see, at least not until they’re old enough to understand what it means to take a life. But my life wasn’t conventional, far from it.
Five minutes passed, with Jimmy slicing off parts of Joe’s skin, before Giovanni raised his hand to stop him. He removed the rag from Joe’s mouth and growled, “Where the fuck is Carlo?”
Nothing again.
Giovanni raised his hand, holding up his index finger. “I’ll ask you one more time before I collect your wife and bring her back here. I’ll force you to watch while Jimmy does the same thing to her. And then I’ll kill her. I might even keep you alive just so you have to live with making the wrong decision. Is that what you want? Tell me where Carlo is now, and this can all stop.”
My brother was a liar. Men like us knew there was no way we’d hand over information and walk away unscathed. Joe knew this too, which was why he chose to ignore my brother’s question once more. This wasn’t a dead-end. Even though Joe was fighting the inevitable, he would serve his purpose after his death. Once we dumped his body where Carlo would find him, it would cause enough of a stir to draw Carlo out of hiding. Or at least that was the plan.
“No, please,” Joe pleaded. His face was bright red with tears of pain streaming down his cheeks. “Don’t touch her. I’ll tell you where Carlo is, okay? Just leave her alone.”
Giovanni loosened his tie and tugged on his collar, looking bored as he waited for Joe to share Carlo’s location.
Joe closed his eyes, his face writhing in pain. “He’s at O’Shea’s.”
The Irishman was protecting him, but he wouldn’t for long.
Satisfied with his answer, Giovanni turned away from him, his eyes fixed on Antonio and me. He leaned into Jimmy’s shoulder and gave one final command, before Giovanni snapped his fingers at Antonio and told him to get the car ready.
Joe was as good as dead, and we all knew it. But at least he’d managed to spare his wife in the process. With Joe on his way out, it was time for us to hunt down Carlo Moretti and remove him from the equation, all because Jonathan York wanted him dead.
Chapter Eleven
SIENNA
AS I GLANCED around my new office, I thought of how undeserving I was of the space. I was two days into my temporary job working for my father at his campaign headquarters. He’d trampled over so many people through the years to get here, and now I was getting these comfy digs handed to me when I hadn’t even earned them.
It felt wrong. All of it. The office, the job, and everything my father pretended were earned legitimately. But even after all these years, it was abundantly clear to me that he still spoke to Domenic Salvatore when he needed help. Yet, I wasn’t allowed to go near Marco.
I was so angry with my father for keeping me sheltered for so many years. Pissed off that I couldn’t be with the only man who’d ever made my heart pound. And I was even more mad that over one week had passed since I’d given Marco my virginity and hadn’t even received as little as a text message.
Since I was a massive disappointment to my father, by refusing to attend graduate school, he’d suggested—more like forced—me to work for him until I could find something more suitable. He had too much control over my life. I’d followed his orders, listened to his advice, and I was miserable because of it. And now I was miserable because of Marco.
Even when I was away at college, I couldn’t do anything fun. Fear was constantly instilled in me. What if someone saw me with a drink in my hand at a party? Or a boy on my arm? I’d kept my life simple because of it. Because God forbid someone saw me doing something scandalous enough to report it to the press. My father would’ve had a coronary over it. All Senator Jonathan York cared about was public perception and polling numbers. Family came second. Maybe even third or fourth.
I was settling into my new workspace, an oversized office on the right side of the building with a view of the parking lot, when my phone rang. Lifting it to my ear, I didn’t even have the chance to speak before Stephanie, one of the many receptionists at my father’s campaign headquarters, started talking.
She spoke fast, and with a thick New York accent. “Sienna, Mr. York would like to meet with you for lunch. Are you free?”
“Which one? My brother or father?”
“Oh, right.” She giggled. “Sorry, your brother wants to see you. He said he has a few things he’d like to go over with you. He also asked me to get your lunch order.”
“In his office or mine?”
It wasn’t like I was doing anything other than staring at my cell phone every ten seconds, wishing to hear from Marco. Nope, I wasn’t doing that at all. I needed a distraction from Marco.
“Mr. York’s office,” she said. “I’m ordering from Paradise Deli if you’d like a sandwich. I can e-mail you the menu.”
“That would be great. Thank you.”
“No problem. Reply with your order, and I’ll let him know to expect you.”
I muttered my thanks and then hung up the phone.
After checking my cell phone one more time, deflated I had no missed calls or messages, I opened my e-mail and looked at the menu Stephanie sent me. Scanning the long list of sandwiches and side dishes, I tapped my nails on the desk, irritated with myself.
I clutched the choker Marco had given me between my fingers, tugging at the feather. The man who’d given this to me was still in there, even if he was a criminal hardened by all the years of following his father’s orders. Regardless of which side of the law we were on, we had a lot in common. We both had impossible father’s who’d chosen our lives for us.
I sent Stephanie an e-mail with my sandwich order. The office was too quiet, which made my nerves worse. From the other side of the room, I could hear the clock hands moving, the eerie silence almost deafening.
Bored and in need of a distraction, I walked around the perimeter of the building for over an hour until a man in a Paradise Deli polo shirt delivered our food. At the reception desk, Stephanie paid for our lunch from the expense account and then handed me the brown bag. I found Ethan in his office, with his feet kicked up on the oak desk, leaning back in his chair. He had a cell phone raised to his ear, engaged in what seemed like a personal call.
Ethan lifted his hand to give me a tiny wave, motioning for me to set up our food on the conference table to his right.
I nodded.
After I sifted through the containers, I snapped my fingers at Ethan to gain his attention. A few seconds later, he hung up the phone and sat at the opposite end of the table from me.
“Sorry about that, sis.” Ethan opened the box in front of him and peeled back the layer of paper covering his roast beef sandwich. “I had to take care of some last minute business.”
“What did you want to talk to me about?” I bit into my turkey sandwich, glancing across the table at Ethan.
“Is it so unusual for me to want to have lunch with my sister?” He sighed. “It’s your first week working on Dad’s re-election campaign. The numbers aren’t looking good. Bob Parker is a war hero and a philanthropist. People can relate to him more than some boring old stiff like Dad.”
“Maybe people want change. Dad has been a Senator since I was a kid. He has enough money and connections that he could lose this campaign and never work for the rest of his life.”
Ethan shook his head, lau
ghing. “You don’t understand how this works, Sienna. Holding public office comes with great power. Our family could lose everything Dad has worked so hard to build. Do you want that?”
“Well, no, but I wouldn’t mind having a real family for once. It would be nice to not have a father who’s never home, a mother who pretends to plan charity events so she can sneak off with her lover, and a brother who doesn’t have to do drugs to work through the night. I’ve been on my own for years.”
Ethan finished chewing his food and grunted. “This kind of attitude is toxic for this office. We need you to do your part while you’re here, not shake things up. It’s important we present a unified front.”
My stomach turned, no longer hungry. I set the half-eaten sandwich back in the box and pushed it away from me. “That’s why I’m here? So we can look like we’re a family.”
He refused to answer me, stuffing a few chips into his mouth.
“Maybe I don’t want Dad to win. I wouldn’t mind things being normal for once.”
“Don’t say that, Sienna. Don’t you dare. I’ve given years of my life to support Dad. So has Mom. All of our efforts will have been for nothing if you don’t help us.”
“And what do you think I can do to sway votes in his favor?”
“Do you remember Karl Wolfe?”
I narrowed my eyes at him, confused by his question. “The heir to the Wolfe shipping empire?” I couldn’t stop myself from laughing, a snort escaping my mouth. “The last time I saw him, he was eating his boogers when he thought no one was looking. He’s gross.”
“He’s also very rich and about to come into his inheritance.”
“Good for him.”
“We need this, Sienna.” Ethan’s hardened expression softened. “You can help Dad by marrying Karl.”
I laughed so loud my ears hurt. “You have got to be kidding me? I’m not marrying anyone, especially not that weirdo.”