by Lynn Burke
Damn Risso women intuition. “I’m good.”
“Well.” Her face lit up again. “I’m going to make your night even better.” She held out her hand to her husband Ryan, her dark eyes shining.
“How are ya, brother?” Ryan asked, a grin in place, as he pulled Lia against his side.
“Good. Good.” I glanced between the two of them as Ryan planted a kiss on the top of my baby sister’s head. They’d always been sickeningly in love, but the look they shared… “What’s going on?”
“Well.” Lia sounded breathless and peered up once more at Ryan. “I’m … we’re going to have a baby.”
It took her words a few seconds to sink in, but when they did, the tension left my body. I swung Lia up in my arms and spun her around. No wonder Papa grinned rather than frowned over my usual lateness. Fuckin’ tears pricked my eyelids.
I set Lia back on her feet and kissed her cheek, her laughter still tickling my ears. “Congrats, Sis. Best news I’ve heard in ages.” Once I released her, she leaned into Ryan. He wrapped his arms around her again. I clasped Ryan’s shoulder. “So, when’s the big day?”
“Early July the doc said.”
“How ‘bout you two?” I asked, turning to greet Cole and Gwen.
“Oh, another ten years at least.” Gwen laughed, a sparkle in her hazel eyes.
Papa shot her a glance, brow furrowing, but Cole shook his head. “Already trying.”
The grin returned to Papa’s face.
‘Course they were trying after a mere four months of marriage. The good son needed to carry on the Risso name, make the old man proud and all that shit.
A few minutes later, we all settled down at the table, still grinning like idiots. Papa threw out a joke—a fuckin’ joke while eating. I couldn’t remember his having done such a thing since I was a kid.
Bastian’s chair across from me remained unoccupied, and I had to put up with my siblings and their spouses making eyes at each other all evening. Hell, even Papa and Mom smiled at each other from either end of the table, their eyes full of love for the other. I scarfed down the pot roast Mom had made and enjoyed a second helping of Tiramisu with my espresso while trying to ignore the fuckin’ five-hundred pound dumbbell in my stomach.
Across the table, Cole leaned down to whisper in Gwen’s ear, and she blushed. He sipped his coffee and grinned. Beside me, Lia’s hand rubbed Ryan’s upper thigh, squeezing and flexing. He draped his arm across the back of her chair and tugged her close, his gaze enough to melt any woman’s panties. Hell, even I found it hot. Pretty-boy Ryan would have been on my must-have list if Lia hadn’t seen him first.
Taken. Spoken for with words and an obvious energized tether of love. All of them.
I glanced around the table again. Fuck, was I missing out. Countless partners and conquests beneath my belt, but not a damn one filled me with what my family thrived on—the kind of love little girls dreamed about, that once in a lifetime connection. A soulmate.
I stretched my neck side to side, trying to clamp down where my thoughts had been heading since I tasted Raquel’s lips. “I’m heading out.” Always the last to arrive and the first to leave, my words didn’t seem to surprise anyone.
Hugs and kisses in goodbye lasted another full ten minutes while my feet burned to get the hell out. I needed to cleanse my fuckin’ head and lose myself in someone—anyone—before I decided to do something stupid.
But, my mind was already made up. I wanted what they had and felt sure Raquel could give it to me. If I gave up the BDSM lifestyle and became a conservative, goodie-two-shoes.
I cursed the entire twenty minutes home, knowing—just knowing—what Theo would say when I bailed on him come Friday night.
Chapter Six
Mind and body remembering the feel of Zane’s mouth, I stared at the to-do list Cole had scribbled on a legal pad. The words hazed together as arousal swept through me, and I clenched my eyes shut. The outer office door swished open, and lips pursed, I pushed up my glasses and lifted my head.
Zane stood inside the door, arms crossed and staring at me with a strange look on his face, one void of the usual hunger and sexy cockiness. My heartbeat sped up as he continued to peer at me in silence. He almost appeared … afraid.
Emboldened by his unusual display of insecurity, I raised an eyebrow and waited.
“I’ve been going about this all wrong.” A deep inhale swelled his chest, and he dropped his arms to his sides. “I need to meet your father.”
I lifted my brow farther. “Why?”
“I need to ask him something.”
Anxiety snaked its way through my stomach. “What?”
“I’d like his permission to … court you.” Zane’s lips twisted as though the word sickened him, and I stifled a laugh with my hand.
“And why would you want to do that?” I asked once I knew I wouldn’t giggle.
An unnaturally shy smile lifted his luscious lips, and I almost swooned in my chair. Zane Risso and shy, unsure of himself. Crazy dangerous.
He took a few steps closer to my desk, but didn’t loom above me as he’d seemed to be fond of doing. A quick glance at Cole’s closed door, and he turned his unsmiling face my way again. “I want to court you—date—or whatever your parents call it. I’ll talk to them. Ask permission. Do whatever I’ve got to do.”
Good Lord, was he sincere, or launching a new plan to get me naked? I stared at him, my stomach tightened, anxiety twisting. “I’m not the kind of girl you’re looking for, Zane.” I kept my voice low, but only because I could barely draw breath.
“How do you know what I want?” Zane searched my face, but his gaze didn’t slip below my chin as it usually did.
I tilted my head to the side, lips pursed in what Jenny called my “pah-leeze” look.
He grinned, all out and teeth gleaming like the Zane I was a little more comfortable in dealing with. “You’ll never know if you don’t try.”
I peered at him, almost trusting the honesty in his eyes—and in his words. It seemed he hoped for more than a conquest, and God help me, I wanted to do exactly as he suggested.
My parents should have named me Eve.
“You don’t have to ask my parents’ permission,” I said, my voice a jumble of shaking nerves.
A slow smile sent his blue eyes to twinkling. “Have dinner with me.”
“Yes.” My whispered response rang in my ears, a loud gonging of doom echoing on its heels.
“Tomorrow. After work.”
I bit the inside of my lip, but mind made up, I dipped my head in agreement.
****
“Did you finally say yes?”
Cole’s voice jerked my head up from the folder spread out on my desk. “I’m sorry?”
“Zane. Dinner.”
Stink. Heat flooded my face. Admit the truth or lie to my boss? I nodded.
“When?”
“T—t” —I cleared my throat— “tomorrow. Please don’t tell anyone. My father wouldn’t approve.”
Cole nodded, his gaze fixed on my face while I fought not to squirm. All the Risso men, save Bastian, held an intensity in their gaze, one of a confident man in charge and used to getting their way.
Scary as hell on Mr. Risso and Cole, but on Zane? Hot enough to liquefy my bones.
“He’s a good man.” Cole smiled, and the tension left my shoulders. “Might take a while for everyone else to realize it, but he is. Just a little … sidetracked in life. He needs a stable woman, one who will ground him and tame his wild ways.”
Unsure why my boss told me such personal stuff or how I should respond, I kept my mouth shut and dipped my head.
Cole returned to his office without another word.
What in the world? He all but gave me his blessing to go out with his devil of a brother. And, he thought I could tame Zane? I glanced out the far window to see if the sky was falling. Rain drizzled from above, the dark clouds hanging low over Boston’s downtown, but certainly not falling.
> Giddiness lit inside me, sending a rush of adrenaline clear to my toes. I was going to dinner with Zane Risso, the Italian god of my dreams.
If my father ever found out… My smile disappeared.
I heaved a sigh and returned my focus on the folder in front of me. Honor thy father and mother, I’d been taught. Lying is sin, they’d instilled in me. Pre-marital relations were an abomination.
Clasping cool palms against my hot cheeks, I squeezed my eyes shut. I’m going to burn in hell.
And I would without a doubt enjoy every second that would earn me the one-way ticket.
****
Friday proved torturous. Long and boring. Sure, I loved my job as a personal assistant to the next patriarch of the Risso Family business. It paid well, offered great benefits, and awarded me handsome men to feast my eyes on, but I wanted the work day to be over with a capital O.
I checked my watch for like the fiftieth time. Ten ‘til five. Butterflies had been fluttering in my stomach all day, and I’d barely been able to force down lunch. My gaze strayed to the door. Would Zane come to get me? Meet me in the parking garage? His car, or mine?
Stomach churning, I shut down my computer and gathered my things. Cole had left an hour earlier, offering me a good luck on my dinner date as he slipped away.
Five o’clock, and no Zane. I pulled on my navy pea coat atop the light blue blouse he’d complimented a few weeks earlier, placed my purse strap over my shoulder, and made my way outside to the parking garage.
My mouth, dry as the Sahara, refused saliva to form, and although not cold, shivers had me trembling from fingertips to toes.
Zane stood beside my parents old Corsica they’d gifted to me, overcoat hanging open, loosened tie drooping from his unbuttoned shirt. Dark hair, a tad too long, brushed his coat’s collar. His blue eyed gaze roamed down me as it always did, lighting sparklers in its wake, and I had to look away.
Sin personified.
“Hello there, gorgeous.” His low voice had my sex clenching and pulse thrumming.
Definitely sin. “Hi.” I stopped a few feet from him, purse clutched close.
“Hungry?”
Heat licked at my face. “Starving.”
He held out his hand.
I peered at it a few seconds before realizing what he wanted. Last time our hands had touched, I’d been half-drunk, half-numb from a single sex on the beach. I reached out, and my breath caught as his fingers laced through mine, warm and firm.
“I’ll drive.” He tugged me left toward the reserved parking area and his shiny Audi. “Ever been to Valentino’s?”
“No.”
Like a true gentleman, he opened the passenger door and held my hand until I settled. I breathed in the scents of new car, leather, wintergreen, and a hint of Zane’s musky cologne as he rounded the front of the Audi.
My mouth watered.
He climbed in and put on his seatbelt, but turned toward me with the gaze that had me clenching my thighs together. “You look good in my car.”
I pushed up my glasses and glanced away, my lips in a closed-mouth smile, since I had no idea how to respond to such a thing. Hands clasped around the purse on my lap, I looked out the windshield—and to whatever the evening held.
Chapter Seven
I was determined to make a change, but just the sight of her submissive nature and her raspberry scent had my inner Dom hollering to escape the cage I fought to keep him locked inside. Unable to help myself, my mind wandered to my favorite flogger. Hot wax dripping on her skin, causing her to arch and gasp.
I cleared my throat and turned left, leaving the parking garage behind.
Darkness had already taken over Boston’s north end, the streetlights glinting like diamonds on the inch of snow coating the sidewalks and parked cars. We drove in silence for two blocks while I fidgeted in my seat, trying to come up with something to converse about—something we might have in common other than work.
Goodie-two-shoes and selfish prick. Not likely. I down shifted a little harder than necessary.
“Everything okay?” Raquel’s voice sounded tiny and nervous.
Going for change meant honesty, and saying exactly what was on my mind. Kind of. “Just thinking it sucks that outside work, all we know about each other is gossip or assumption.”
“We can remedy that.”
Her simple reply made me smile and erased my annoyance. “You first.”
Light laughter escaped her, relaxing me back into my seat. “Tell me what you’ve assumed,” she said.
“All right.” I nodded, enjoying a conversation with the opposite sex for the first time since I could remember. “You’re a good little girl, going to marry a perfect Christian man, have five children, and a white picket fence around your suburbia home.”
“Hardly.”
I whipped my head toward her. “What’d I get wrong?”
“I’m a good little girl, but that’s about it.”
Not looking for a perfect Christian man to give her five kids? Well, fuck me. Hope leapt up and took note. “Seriously? I thought for sure I had you pegged.”
Her face grew thoughtful as she peered out the windshield. “If you’d said that about me a month ago, I would’ve totally agreed, but now that I’ve moved out on my own, well...” She shrugged and smiled. “I’m kinda looking forward to making my own life, my own choices and seeing where they take me.”
I couldn’t help gazing at her in a way I’d learned made other women grow hot. “Sounds like a good plan.”
Cheeks pink, she glanced away again. “My faith, values, and convictions will never change, but beyond that? Guess I’ll just have to wait and see.” She shifted back toward me and cleared her throat. “What else?”
I wasn’t too disappointed about her convictions not changing. Since I’d made up my mind to try for more, I looked forward to doing exactly as she’d said. Waiting—holding off—always made for a better ending. “You’re pure, innocent, kind, and good. All things I haven’t experienced since childhood.”
“Childhood, meaning I’m too young for you?”
“No.” I snorted, praying to the Mother Mary that Raquel wouldn’t play the typical female games, trying to read into whatever words spewed out of my mouth. “Meaning you’re untouchable.” My grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Unattainable to someone like me.”
“Someone like you.” She grew silent, and I couldn’t resist another peek at her profile in the passing street lights.
“Go ahead.” I turned forward once more, stopping to let a handful of pedestrians cross the street. “Tell me what you’ve heard—or what you think of me.”
Raquel hesitated long enough I had to turn. She fiddled with her purse, her gaze downcast. “You are sin personified,” she whispered.
I burst into laughter and shifted into first, leaving the crosswalk behind.
“Why so amused?”
“I’ve been called all kinds of things,” I said, still chuckling, “but nothing’s ever stroked my ego like that.”
Raquel huffed something that sounded an awful lot like cocky jerk.
“So that means you do find me tempting like Jenny said, doesn’t it?” I asked while pulling up to Valentino’s valet attendant.
Lower lip between her teeth, she cast me a sidelong glance.
I put the car into park, but didn’t release her gaze. “Be a good girl, and don’t lie to me, Raquel Hawkins. I tempt that innocent mind and body, don’t I?”
“Yes.”
Her whispered reply had me telling my cock to back down and wait. Grinning, I hopped out and handed over the keys to the waiting attendant. She wanted me. I wanted her. It would doubtless take a wedding for me to get in her pants, but fuck it all, I was willing to wait and do it right. Willing to give change a try.
****
“You what?” Raquel laughed at my confession.
I bit back my smirk. “I said I like country music.”
“No way.”
&nbs
p; “Honest to God. Chesney, Aldean, Underwood. Got all their albums at home. I even went to all three’s concerts this year.”
“Get out.”
I swallowed down the last of my wine and pulled our almost empty bottle from its bucket of ice. “Why? What’d you think I listened to?”
Raquel shrugged and twirled linguine around her fork. “Hip hop. Techno or whatever they call the crap at dance clubs.”
“Who said I went to dance clubs?”
Her cheeks tinged pink, and bottle tipped to pour, I stared as I’d been doing all night as she put the pasta between her lips. A smear of red clam sauce lingered on her lower lip. I wanted to lean across the damn table separating us and lick it off.
“Don’t you?” she asked once she swallowed, drawing my attention back up to her smiling eyes half-hidden behind her smokin’ hot secretary glasses.
“Don’t I what?”
“Go to dance clubs.”
I wasn’t about to tell her what kind of clubs caught my fancy. Clearing my throat, I poured myself the last of the wine since she hadn’t touched her half-full glass in over an hour. “I don’t dance.”
“You did with me.” Although her face flamed, she held my gaze.
“And it was the best fuckin’ dance of my life.” Determined to keep our conversation and my mind off sex or anything even remotely related, I plowed onward in getting to know her better. “So, are you a Sox fan?”
She nodded. “Bruins, too.”
“Really? Never would have taken you for a sports fan.”
“There’s another nasty assumption.” She tsked and wiped her lips clean with a linen napkin. “In the Hawkins household, if a game was on, we tuned in.”
“Ever been to Fenway?”
She sighed and slumped in her chair as a busboy cleared our table, discrete and quiet enough our conversation didn’t pause. “No. My father took the boys a couple of times, but always left me and my sisters at home.”
“I’ll take you to opening day if you’d like.”
Her eyes widened. “You can get tickets for opening day?”
“I have season tickets.”
“Of course you do.”