by Chelle Bliss
“It’s okay to want that bastard to bleed,” I told her, unable to keep from holding her close. When Dante and Dario came back into sight, Sammy stiffened in my arms, her eyes widening as my cousins shrugged, coming back without Liam.
“But he was right there,” she promised, looking between us.
“It’s okay, bella,” I promised her. She took the kiss I gave her, relaxing a little. “We’ll find him.” To my cousins, I nodded when they left the warehouse. “Let’s go,” I told Sammy, leading her toward the door, but she stopped me, tugging on my hand.
“Johnny…there’s something…”
“I know there is.” She frowned, her expression tensing when I dropped her hand. “There’s a lot we’ve got to say.” I glanced up, just noticing the burned scent in the warehouse, some remnant of the lab Liam had held here. My temper rose, knowing Sammy had been inside this place, inhaling all this shit. I wanted her out of there. “But not here,” I told her, nodding toward the door. “Come on. Let me take you home.”
21
Johnny
Mina’s smile dropped when I ushered Sammy through the door.
“Ah!” the housekeeper cried, instantly glaring at me. “What did you do?”
“Wasn’t me.” The old woman took Sammy from me with little argument and led her to my master bath. “That cut on her jaw,” I said, tugging off my jacket and shoes as Mina settled a fussing Sammy on the closed toilet. “Stitches, you think?”
“I’m fine,” Sammy argued, her voice kind but insistent. “Mina, please…”
“Samantha Nicola, what would your uncle say if he knew I didn’t patch you up right?”
I glanced at Sammy when she looked up, deciding it was pointless to correct my housekeeper about the priest’s relationship to Sammy. No one knew, from what she’d told me on the ride back to my apartment. And as far as she was concerned, no one would find out anytime soon. “If he wants to keep me as his dirty secret, then let him,” she’d said, curled up against the car door, rubbing her temples like it would help keep the raging headache she complained about at bay.
“He’s in the hospital,” Sammy admitted, making Mina pause to look at her.
“Oh no.” Mina moved to sit on the edge of the tub, a cotton swab dipped in alcohol held between her fingers. “Is he going to be…”
“It was a heart attack. I don’t know how he is.” That came out sharply, and Sammy must have heard the tone in her own voice or seen Mina’s quick reaction. She sat up, grabbing the woman’s hand, holding it in between both of hers. “I’m so tired, Mina, and my head is pounding. I’ll wash my face, and maybe you can call Dr. Michaels for me in an hour to see about those stitches. In the meantime, would you mind saying a prayer for my uncle?”
Mina’s expression shifted, and the change was immediate—the quick surprise moving into a smile as she patted Sammy’s cheek and kissed her forehead. “Of course, piccola. Of course I will. You clean up and rest. Johnny will get you an aspirin from his medicine cabinet and let you have his bed, I’m sure.” She shot me a glance, smiling when I nodded. “I’ll be back with the doctor soon.”
I helped Mina stand, taking the cotton swabs from her, and let her kiss my cheek before she left the room. Sammy watched her, watched how she doted on me. It was normal for me to have the woman look after me and the people I cared for. Sammy hadn’t had that, I realized.
Still, that was no excuse.
“She’s a good woman,” Sammy said, watching me as I pulled out two aspirin from the bottle and filled a glass with tap water. She took the pills, nodding a thanks, and continued to follow my movements as I took a clean washcloth from the cabinet and ran the hot water. I gave her a smile, then pointed to the free space on the counter, reaching for the antibiotic wash as she sat next to the sink. “She’s always taken good care of you. Just like Marcella.”
“They’ve both been loyal,” I agreed, squeezing out the rag and setting it on the side of the faucet. Marcella had been Mina’s mother and had raised both Cara and me after our mother’s death. My father had always kept a devoted staff who were more family than employees.
“Loyalty is important,” Sammy said, looking up at me when I stood between her legs, my hands lathered with soap, ready to rub away the grime from her face.
Shifting my gaze to hers, I arched my eyebrows, knowing she understood me, knowing we weren’t just talking about good employees now. “Loyalty is everything.”
She leaned into my touch, holding her hair back from her face, eyes closing, her full, tempting lips plump, ready for me to take. I wouldn’t. Not when I didn’t know what would come out of them. Lies? Half-truths? Bullshit she made up to keep me in the dark? All the things she thought I wanted to hear?
“Here,” I said, grabbing the rag, deciding she could handle rinsing her own face clean as I walked into my room before I touched her, before I got so angry my shouts rattled the windows. “You’ll probably want a bath.” She opened her mouth, but I didn’t let her speak, moving quickly to turn on the tap for the tub, jerking open the cabinet to grab fresh towels for her before I left, closing the door behind me.
Twenty minutes later, Sammy emerged from my bathroom sporting my robe, smelling of my soap with her hair wet and her skin scrubbed clean.
“Johnny?” she called, holding her cell between her fingers as she found me in an armchair next to my window.
I didn’t look at her, letting my own cell sit loosely in my hand as I scrolled through the images Angelo had sent me, one beautiful picture of my daughter after another. Each one chiseling away another piece of my heart.
“Your uncle did a shitty thing to you,” I said, not looking at her as she sat on the end of my bed. My attention was focused on that beautiful face, those green eyes like her mother’s and a face so like the one I’d seen in the mirror every day of my life. “All those years, lying to you, keeping you in the dark.”
“It…it was a…shitty thing to do.”
“So, why then, Samantha, haven’t you told me, nine years later, about my daughter?” I looked at her, noticed how she opened her mouth, her surprise turning her cheeks pink before I tossed my phone to her.
She caught it, attention shooting to the screen, thumb moving through each picture before she lowered her hand, resting the phone in her lap. It took her several seconds before she seemed able to look at me. And when she did, her eyes had darkened and were shining.
“Johnny…”
“Where is she?”
Her breathing quickened, like she wasn’t sure if answering me would seal a fate she wanted. But then Sammy nodded, her shoulders lowering, and the tears fell. “In Ellenville at summer camp. She’s safe. We made sure…she’s safe.”
“You weren’t tonight.”
“She is,” Sammy said, wiping her hand across her cheek. “Uncle…Pat. He had the place investigated.” When I frowned, Sammy shrugged as though I should know better than to wonder how a priest could have access to that kind of security. “He takes Betta’s safety seriously. More so than anyone else’s.”
“Because she’s yours?”
She sighed, her mouth tightening. “Because she’s yours, Johnny.”
I wanted her to shut up.
I wanted her to apologize.
I wanted to hate her.
I wanted to kiss her.
I wanted her to disappear.
I wanted her to tell me every detail of my child’s life.
I wanted her to beg for my forgiveness.
I wanted to bury myself inside her.
I wanted her to never touch me again.
Instead, I dropped my head, my throat locking up, face falling into my hands as I tried to hide myself from her, from the world, from the jumble of thoughts I had at that very moment.
Sammy came to me slowly. Her movements quiet, her touch soundless. I only felt the brush of her fingers against my leg as she knelt in front of me, then her palms on my thighs as she moved closer.
“Sammy…” I wa
rned, not knowing what I wanted from her.
Her scent came to me like a whisper until the only thing I knew was her arms around me and her mouth against my forehead.
“It was…the only way,” she said, and I hated the truth in each word. “Your family…the life you live, Johnny… I couldn’t…” She went quiet when I touched her, grabbing her arm to pull her closer.
Sammy knew something I’d never been able to admit out loud. The same reason I couldn’t marry her when I was a kid, no matter how much I may have wanted to. The reason I was willing to destroy her at eighteen. My family could get her killed. It had gotten two innocent boys killed, and they weren’t even related to my family. It had taken years for my father to recover from that guilt and to begin the hard task of working toward legitimacy, something I was still trying to do. Hell, Sammy could have died tonight. We’d been lucky. Shane was an idiot. He had zero clout. But Vinnie hadn’t been like Liam Shane. He’d nearly killed my sister and brother-in-law.
If it hadn’t been for Kiel’s family, I might not have my sister.
“I’m sorry,” she said, holding me tight, arms locked around me like she had no plans to ever let me go. “I had to protect her.”
“I…I know that,” I finally said, pushing her away. My face was wet, my eyes swollen as I looked at her. “But my God, bella, this hurts. I…I would have found a way.”
“It doesn’t matter, not anymore.” Sammy held my face, kissing me, her own tears wetting my cheeks. “I’m so sorry I kept her away. I’m so sorry you didn’t know about her… She’s so…” Her smile was infectious, growing wider when she opened the gallery on her phone. “She’s so smart and brave and, oh God, Johnny, she has the best laugh… She has your laugh and…and…look…”
There were so many pictures—hundreds, so many of our daughter laughing and playing, being silly, dancing with her friends, playing volleyball. And videos, so many videos of her singing and sleeping, at the zoo with Sammy, riding an elephant, on a farm upstate feeding baby goats from a bottle. My heart swelled, and I took her phone, pulling Sammy onto my lap as we both looked at our daughter, at all the times and places I’d missed.
“What did you name her?” I asked, already knowing part of the answer as my thumb worked overtime to move through each image. I was greedy for every picture, each detail that would fill in the spaces I’d never known.
“Elizabetta,” she said, curling her arm around my shoulder as we looked at the pictures. “You told me once it was…”
“My mother’s middle name. Yeah, bella, it was.” I squeezed her, kissing her cheek. “Grazie.”
“Elizabetta Roseline. That was my mother’s middle name.”
“It’s beautiful,” I told her, setting the phone on the table at my side. “She’s beautiful.” Sammy watched me, her eyes unblinking as I reached for her, shifting her head closer. “Whatever it takes, I’ll do it. I’ll walk away from this life. I’ll give up every penny I have. I want her. I want you. I want our family. I want to meet her… When can I…”
“Soon… Next week, she comes home. But, Johnny…”
“Please, Sammy, you’re here. You’re safe.” I felt a little punch-drunk and desperate, wanting so much to make up for what had been taken from me. I wanted everything to settle and sort until I had them both with me, together. Until we could eliminate the distance, the separation, and get on with the business of living our lives together.
“My daughter is safe. And next week, she will know me. Everything else will work itself out.”
“Johnny…this will be complicated…all of this…”
“Nothing is complicated about this, bella,” I said, kissing her silent. She moved against me, her body relaxing into mine when she wrapped her legs around my waist. “This, you and me, everything that happens from now on, this was the dream. It starts now.”
“What about…”
I didn’t let her lay question after question in our way. I lifted Sammy from the chair, carrying her against me to my bed, stealing her breath with every kiss until she relaxed, until she let me slide over her, my mouth on her neck, moving lower, my tongue gliding across all the skin I uncovered when I untied my robe and found her naked underneath.
“Every time I see you like this,” I told her, my fingers curling around her hips, “I’m a kid again, crazed with lust, fully possessed at just the sight of you.” I moved down, adjusting her on the bed, pulling her closer, stroking my hands over her ribs to cradle her generous breasts. “I could kiss you here,” I said, placing one reverent kiss over her nipple, holding it against my mouth. “And here.” Another across her hip, my free hand cupping the round curve of her thigh. “And I’d never be full.”
“Johnny…” she whined. My name left her mouth like a prayer, and her hands greedily tugged at the blankets when I kissed her full on her pussy. “Ah…oddio…”
Then I stopped talking, diving into her. My tongue and mouth working, caressing. My hands under her ass, pressing her to my lips as I sucked her. Sammy wrapped her legs around my head and gripped my hair, riding my face, the sensation between us seeming to drive her over the edge as I teased and tasted her. So fucking sweet. So delicious. My bella Sammy. And when I fingered her, using my index and thumb inside her pussy and against her ass, she arched, her screams loud, her heels on my shoulders as she flooded my mouth with her orgasm.
“God…oh God…” she cried, breathless, overwhelmed as she fell back against the mattress, pulling on me, tugging me close as I hurried to free my cock and get inside her.
She reached for me, greedy grabs around my waist, down the front of my cock. I had to hold her wrist, twist my head away against the sensation of how good her fingers and hand felt on me.
“Bella…shit…”
“I need you. Please, Johnny…I need you inside me.”
Fuck me, that’s all I’d ever wanted to hear from her.
She opened for me, knees wide, ready as I held myself to her. She took me as I entered, both of us gasping, the contact like coming home, filling up the silence with sound and light and impossible sensation. I knew this was where I belonged—in this heat, surrounded by all this perfection, feeling needed, feeling full. Only Sammy gave me that. Only I could give that to her.
I rocked into her, her tight walls clamping down, my bed shifting as I leaned over her, going deep, shuddering when she grabbed my ass, pushing me closer and closer inside her.
“Johnny… please, I need…everything…”
And I gave it to her…for hours or years until we both went boneless.
The sheets twisted around us like vines clinging to our sweaty skin, but the only sensation I felt was the slight weight of Sammy’s body on my chest and the tickle of her hair against my arms.
We didn’t sleep.
We’d fucked and napped and bathed.
We’d sent Mina and the doctor away, ignored her knock for food and every call that came to us. There would be time for everything. For now, there was just the two of us.
Sammy yawned against my nipple, the slow, smooth tease of her fingernail along my chest making me sleepy, but I couldn’t think of anything. Nothing but the question and her answer and what she would say. I’d practiced it a thousand times. How to phrase it, how to sound like a tough guy doing it, how not to embarrass myself. But when the time came, it was quiet and simple and nothing like I’d imagined.
“Sammy?” I said, getting a low, sleepy sound from her as acknowledgment before I swallowed and let the words spill out. “Marry me, si?”
The slow stroke of her finger paused, the nail pointing into my skin for two full seconds before she rested her palm against my chest and I felt the stretch of her mouth pressing into my skin. “Okay, Johnny,” she said before she returned to the gentle movement of her finger trailing over my chest.
22
Sammy
“Are you sure he likes chicken Marsala?” Betta lifted the lid on the pan and sniffed. She squinted her eyes like there was some alien
life-form in that pan and not the meal I’d been working on all afternoon.
“You act like I’ve never cooked before.” When I slapped her hand away from the lid, my daughter wrinkled her nose, still not convinced. “And yes, it’s his favorite. I’m even using his housekeeper’s recipe.”
“Is he fat?”
“He’s not remotely fat, Betta.”
She’d began the third degree the second I picked her up from camp and we’d stopped at the small diner just outside of the city for a late breakfast. It was a summer tradition, and I used that meal as the opportunity to tell her about Pat’s heart attack and her father.
It could have gone better.
“Where’s he been my whole life?”
That was a problem Johnny and I had argued about for an entire week—we both wanted to take the blame. We settled on vagueness. Nine was too young to tell Betta about her father’s business, and we hoped by the time she was old enough, that business wouldn’t be a consideration.
“Set the table, please,” I told her when my “not fat” comment didn’t seem to convince her.
“I’m just saying, there’s a lot of calories in that stuff.”
“Says the girl who downs cheese sticks and Sour Patch Kids like water.”
“And,” she continued, choosing to ignore my dig, “I don’t think it’s fair to the chicken…”
I moved out of the kitchen, still holding three glasses in my hand. “Are you telling me you’re a vegetarian now?”
She looked at me, narrowed eyes serious, like she needed a second to consider her answer before she shrugged. “The trout situation really made me think.”
I nodded, not buying it. “Hmm…well, that would mean you’d have to avoid Sister Dominique’s thick-crust chicken tenders during the holidays…” Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the wince Betta tried to hide, but I didn’t call her on it. When she flopped into a chair, I sat next to her, placing the glasses in the empty space in front of me. “You don’t have to eat the Marsala. I made a salad too.”