by Dana Delamar
Heading through the double doors that led outside to the party, she almost collided with Nick coming back into the house. Delfina had nothing to say to him. She tried to brush past him, a painful lump in her throat almost strangling her.
Nick grabbed her arm, stopping her. “I need to talk to you,” he said.
She yanked her arm out of his grasp. “We have nothing to discuss.” Her voice came out distorted, laden with emotion, and he looked at her sharply.
“We don’t?”
Madonna. She scanned the yard. They were in far too public a place. “If you’re going to insist, we’d better find someplace private.”
“Agreed.” She followed him in the direction of the cottage, but they couldn’t talk there because of the bugs. She stopped him and pointed that out. “Where, then?” he asked.
“Follow me.” She turned and headed up the hill past the hedge maze, which would be too prone to intrusion right now. The replica temple to Ares that her grandfather had constructed should be relatively safe, if they kept their voices low. The path around it was gravel, so they should hear if anyone approached the arched doorway.
She led Nick up to the marble structure. It wasn’t huge, but it was large enough to fit a half dozen people at once.
They stepped inside and she took a seat on one of the benches under the cupola. Leaves and pine needles were scattered about the stone floor; they’d either blown in through the open doorway or dropped through the oculus in the domed ceiling. She’d have to get on the gardeners about maintenance.
Nick sat beside her, his wavy hair showing glints of chestnut in the light streaming from the opening above. Damn her for wanting to touch it. “What is so important?” she asked, an edge to her voice.
“I owe you an apology. A huge one.”
“For what?” She could think of several things he needed to apologize for.
He took in a breath and leaned forward, bracing his hands on his knees. “You were right. I should have listened to you about taking the vows.” He paused. “On top of that, Cris and I were joined as blood brothers.”
A knife pierced her heart. “Dio. You didn’t.”
“How could I refuse without it looking suspicious? But now I don’t know if I can go through with my plan. He’ll never forgive me.”
Hope sparked in her. He raked a hand through his hair, reminding her of his father, who’d done the exact same thing the exact same way at the initiation ceremony.
“What if we found something on Benedetto? Would that be enough to assuage your conscience?”
“Maybe.” He scrubbed a fingernail up and down over the stone lip of the bench they sat on, the soft clicking echoing in the silence.
She needed to be sure. “Could you leave my father and brother out of it?”
“If they’re not directly involved. But Delfi, I have to be honest—I want your father’s hide for what he’s done to me. How he’s used me.”
Her father had used her too. But what hurt Papà, hurt Cris. She stared at her hands, clasped together in her lap. Maybe there was some way. She raised her head, meeting Nick’s eyes. She had to trust him. “Please, spare Cris. And…” She hardly dared say the rest.
“And?”
“Your father. He doesn’t deserve what’s happened.”
Rubbing his eyes, Nick averted his gaze. “I’ve really fucked things up with him, haven’t I?” His voice was hoarse, and something tightly wound in her chest let go.
“Oh Nick, why did you have to be so damn stubborn?”
His cheeks curved up into a grin, but still he didn’t look at her. “Nature of the beast.”
She wanted to laugh, but couldn’t quite. He’d joined the ‘Ndrangheta. He was an ‘Ndranghetista now. How could she marry him? Not only that, but how could she marry a man in Interpol? “Nick, explain something to me.”
“What?”
“If you put any of them in jail, that means we’d have to go into protective custody, and you’d have to leave Interpol.”
He mulled that over. “Maybe not. My work could be done remotely.”
“Nick,” she said, careful to keep her voice gentle. “They’ll want you out, no matter what you do. You’re a mobster’s son. You’re compromised.”
He smacked a closed fist onto the stone bench. “If that’s the way they look at it, so be it.”
“You keep saying you’re an officer of the law. But you can’t have both. Either you give up going after them, or you give up Interpol. Which is more important to you?”
“When all this started, I could have given you a clear answer. Now I don’t know.”
She let out a hiss of exasperation. “You have to decide, Nick. And whatever you decide affects me. It’s not just you anymore. If you turn them in, I’ll be the wife of a traitor. Do you know what that means?”
“I think I can guess.”
“Let me spell it out for you. It means my family would be within their rights to kill me.”
“Your father wouldn’t—”
“But Lorenzo might.”
His shoulders slumped and he let out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’ll think of something. There has to be a way where we can both get what we want.” Reaching over, Nick took her hand, pulling it onto his lap and cradling it in both of his. “I know you didn’t want to marry someone mixed up in all this. I know you want to get away from this life. So, I want you to know that I’ll give you a divorce any time you like.” He spoke to her hand, his voice soft, rasping. “But I won’t want to.”
He was killing her, he really was. “You were easier to handle when I could be angry with you.”
Nick caressed her hand, petting it as if it were a fragile bird. “So you forgive me?” He had yet to meet her gaze.
“I might, if you could look me in the eye.”
“I’m afraid to.”
A fist closed around her heart and squeezed. “Why?”
“After everything I’ve done, how foolish I’ve been, how cruel—I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I know that. I can’t bear to see how unhappy I’ve made you.”
Tugging her hand out of his grasp, she placed her fingertips under his chin, using the barest pressure to turn his face to hers. His eyes were swimming, two shimmering pools of sea green. Her own blurred and tears rolled down her cheeks as she leaned in to kiss him. She brushed their lips together, then pressed her forehead against his, their lips almost touching when she spoke. “Don’t ever break my heart again.”
He smoothed the backs of his fingers down the side of her face. “I’m an idiot, Delfi. I’m bound to screw up again. But it won’t be intentional. I can promise you that.”
“Set the bar low, why don’t you?”A smile filled her voice.
“That way I can wriggle over it on my belly.”
She sat back so she could see the amusement on his face. “You’re not much of an achiever.”
“Not in my personal life, no. That’s been one cock-up after another. Best not get your hopes up.”
He was hopeless, this man. And now so was she. She loved him, hopelessly, helplessly. Somehow, she’d become his slave after all.
She offered him her best smile. “You really know how to sell a girl.”
Laughter huffed out of him. “I truly don’t. I’ve spent my whole life trying not to do that. Doing the opposite, in fact. You’re the only one who’s made me want to change.”
She gave him another smile, this one utterly unforced. “That’s better. Much better.”
“How about this?” He leaned in and kissed her, his tongue sweeping between her lips, invading her, claiming her, making her moan.
Oh, how she loved his touch. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he pulled her sideways onto his lap, then started kissing and nuzzling her neck. Delfina offered her throat up to him, each caress of his lips on that sensitive skin sending a ripple of pleasure straight to her sex. He pushed her skirt up her thighs, his fingers making circles on the soft flesh he found there. She grabbed his wrist
. “Not here.”
Ignoring her, he pulled his hand out of her grasp and slipped it under the fabric of her panties, stroking her sex. She clamped her legs closed on his hand. “I’m serious.”
His eyes met hers, but he continued caressing her, his thumb finding her clit. “Delfi, you didn’t care in the garden shed. You didn’t care in the olive grove. And you didn’t care that your father might have overhead us last night.”
“But the party… someone’s going to come searching for you.”
His lips trailed along her neck again, his thumb doing sinful, wonderful things below. “So? We’re engaged.”
“I’d rather not get caught.”
His response was to slip two fingers inside her, making her breath hitch. “The whole idea of getting caught adds a certain… spice, doesn’t it? Someone watching us, maybe getting turned on?”
She moaned. The idea did excite her. “Damn you,” she whispered, her voice husky.
“I told you before. You are the woman of my heart.”
Was that as close as he’d ever get to telling her he loved her? Some other time she’d ask him, but not now. Now she wanted something else from Nick, something else entirely. She spread her legs wider for him, and his fingers worked faster at her slick, swollen flesh. His erection bumped against her hip. To tease him, she wriggled on his lap, making him growl. “Keep that up and this will all be over in a few minutes,” he said. She did it again, and he hoisted her up and carried her to the wall, pressing her against the cold marble. To her right was the alcove that housed the statue of Ares holding his sword.
They were directly across from the doorway. Anyone who looked in could see them. And with how heavily they were both gasping, she doubted they’d hear anyone approach, despite the gravel. This was ridiculous… mad… insane. And so deliciously wicked.
Nick held her in place, his large hands under her buttocks. “Unzip me,” he grunted. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she leaned back to see what she was doing. She quickly freed him, his hard cock springing up between them. Unable to resist, she gave him an experimental stroke, grinning like she’d just won the lottery when he shuddered at the contact. “Condom’s in my right pocket,” he said.
So he’s been thinking about this. The idea excited her. She fished around until her fingers closed over a ring wrapped in foil. She held it up for him. “Put it on me,” he said.
“I’m not sure how.” She hated to admit it, but it was true.
“Well, that tells me something,” a voice said from the doorway. Delfina’s breath caught and her heart pounded until she processed the voice. Cris. She peeked over Nick’s shoulder to be sure.
“Get out of here,” she snapped.
“No.”
No? “You don’t get to tell me what to do, Cristoforo Andretti.”
Nick released her legs, easing her back onto her feet, careful to keep his body in front of hers, shielding her from Cris’s view. He glanced over his shoulder as he zipped himself up. “Really, mate?”
Cris leaned against the doorway. “I know you’re engaged, but could you not treat my sister like a dog in heat?”
Delfina’s face flushed and a thrill rippled through her. What they must have looked like. How could she be ashamed and angry and turned on at the same time?
“It’s not like that,” Nick said as he straightened his clothes.
She could have continued to let Nick handle Cris, but something inside her rebelled. She nudged Nick aside and stepped forward. “What I do and who I do it with is none of your concern.”
Cris reddened with irritation. “I am capo di società of this family.”
Someone had a swollen head, and it wasn’t Nick this time. “I’m not part of the cosca, and I don’t want any part of it,” she said. “I didn’t take any vows. As far as I’m concerned, you’re just my little brother. Now leave us be.”
“Well, dear sister, anyone could have seen you.” Cris jammed his hands in his jacket pockets. “You’re damned lucky it wasn’t Papà who went hunting for Nick. Engaged or not, he’d take this out of his hide.” Cris kicked at the marble flooring. “Use some fucking discretion.”
Nick chuckled. “Unintentional pun?”
Cris’s mouth quirked up, and Delfina had to suppress a smile. Leave it to Nick to find something funny about the situation. “I suppose.” Cris motioned with his head back toward the house and started down the stairs. “They want to toast you.”
“You’d think it was my birthday,” Nick grumbled. He offered Delfina a hand as they descended the steps and met Cris at the bottom.
“In a way it is,” Cris said. “You’re a new man now.” They headed toward the house, Nick’s fingers still wrapped around hers. Cris gestured around them. “You have a new life now, new rules. And one of them is not to disrespect the women in other men’s families. Mothers, wives, daughters, sisters. Capisci?”
As if she were a child who couldn’t defend herself. Or a possession. Delfina rolled her eyes. Her anger flared again, but Nick leaned over and gave her a swift kiss on the cheek. “Message received, mate. It’s just that I adore her.” Warmth spread through her chest at his words. Even though it wasn’t “I love you,” it reminded her of the first time he’d said it, of the way Nick had looked when he’d told her he was happy.
“Adore her chastely then. Save the rest until the wedding.”
Delfina let out a groan of frustration. Hadn’t Cris heard a word she’d said? “I told you, Cris, it’s none of your business.”
“It is my business. You may not have taken the vows, but Nick did. I’m his capo di società now. And I have to watch out for the well-being of my men and my family, which, by the way, includes you.”
She wanted to strangle him. It must have shown on her face, because Cris held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Listen, I know I’m being a pain, but I’m trying to do you both a favor. You don’t want your husband to look like a punching bag on your wedding day, now do you?”
Nick squeezed her hand. “He’s right.”
Was he just saying that to mollify Cris, or did he mean it? She glanced at Nick, and he waggled a brow at her. Incorrigible. Her man did love to live dangerously.
But didn’t they all? That’s what the men in her world did. Risk their lives to earn the euros that brought home the pancetta, prosciutto, and provolone.
Why did she think she’d ever love a man who didn’t? What was done was done. The man she loved was an ‘Ndranghetista.
She just hoped her man’s love of danger didn’t get him killed.
Madonna. She must find those recordings. Benedetto had to be stopped before he killed Nick, before he killed Cris, before he destroyed her father. And bringing Benedetto down might be just the thing to assuage Nick’s conscience and bring him some measure of peace.
The only problem was preserving her dreams in all the chaos to come. Following Nick’s form of justice would mean giving up everything she’d worked for. Protective custody and the fashion limelight didn’t mix.
But perhaps there was some backdoor way to get what they both wanted? If she had inarguable proof that Benedetto was a traitor, that he’d lied to his father and acted against the family, perhaps Bisnonno Lorenzo could be persuaded to let Nick send Benedetto to prison as punishment. Jailing an Andretti would be a major coup for Nick, and it would help bolster his standing in Interpol. They’d never suspect that he was an ‘Ndranghetista. Especially not one working for the Andrettis.
But there was grave danger in that plan: Lorenzo would own Nick then, body and soul. And of all the vipers in the Andretti family, Lorenzo was the king.
CHAPTER 19
After the shooting at the nightclub, Delfina’s father had insisted she bring Orsino, one of the guards, with her to work. Although she was grateful for the protection—there was no reason to think the Russians had given up, and they very well might go after her to get to Cris—Delfina wanted Orsino to wait in a café nearby and pick her up at the end of the
day. However, he’d insisted on coming inside and sitting in a chair near the front door.
Orsino was an unfortunate choice. He wasn’t as intimidating as Flavio, but as his name implied, he had all the social graces of a bear; he scowled at everyone who came near her, even Jacopo. Maybe especially Jacopo. She tried to ignore her bodyguard, but it was hard when Ornella and Mario kept asking about her entourage, saying things like, “Does it speak?” or “Perhaps it’s hungry. How many bananas does it eat a day?”
After this last comment, Delfina’s gut burned. How much more of this merda was she going to have to put up with?
Despite spending hours searching the house, she’d made no progress on finding the recordings, and it was driving her mad. Much the same way that unfinished business with Nick yesterday was driving her mad. Her damn brother just had to interrupt them at the worst possible moment. Somehow she had to figure out how to steal some private time with Nick. She’d love to model the burgundy dress for him. She could picture her bra showing through the gauzy top, the peek-a-boo panels in the flowing skirt allowing her legs to tease him as she strutted back and forth. Maybe she should forget the bra? A flush of heat warmed her cheeks. The gauze would feel so soft as it rubbed against her nipples…
Focus on the dresses. She and Jacopo were showing the first one to Signor Morelli that afternoon. They had only to put the finishing touches on the black dress and then they’d be ready. Quickly fanning her face and trying to banish all thoughts of Nick, she went back to the rack where she and Jacopo were storing the mockups they’d made so far. Her heart skipped in her chest when she found the rack empty. Where were they? Had Jacopo moved them elsewhere? She searched the surrounding racks, but didn’t find them.
Maybe he’d put them in another storeroom. With a fluttering under her ribcage, she searched the room where they kept finished work. Nothing.
Turning, she noticed a heap of fabric in the corner. Black, burgundy, white, silver, and cobalt fabric. Her pulse sped up as she walked over to it. She lifted up the black fabric, a combination of gauze and velvet panels. It was her dress, sliced to ribbons. A bolt of heat flashed through her. She picked up the partials they’d started putting together, all of them slashed and torn. Ruined, every one.