Savage Prince (DeSantis Mafia Book 2)

by S. Massery

  “That was impressive,” I say.

  She whirls around, water droplets arcing off her wet hands. “Was it?” Her voice is faint. “Seemed stupid to me.”

  I approach her and set her knife on the counter, then box her in. Her face is pale, and she automatically clutches the front of my jacket. I can’t decide if it’s to keep me from getting closer or farther away. Part of me would prefer if it’s the latter, but realistically…

  She rotates toward the knife, lifting it. “This is mine.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why did you keep it?”

  I press a kiss to her temple. “Why did I keep you?”

  Her cheeks heat. “Can we leave?”

  “Yes.” I give her space and unlock the door.

  Before we go outside, I hand her the small sheath for her knife out of my pocket. She grins and bends down, quickly attaching it to her calf. She’d have to remove her boots and draw up her jeans to pull it, but it doesn’t matter for now. Her unspoken message is that she thinks—knows—I’ll keep her safe.

  The night air is chilly, and she sucks in a loud breath. We make it back to the bike, but she pauses before climbing on. She gives me a rare grin, then tips her head back and stares at the stars.

  Wonder fills her expression.

  I could look up and see what she sees—the sky exploded with pinpricks of light. A sight to behold, especially for a girl who’s lived in Manhattan for most of her life. The city never darkens enough to see the stars. But here…

  And let’s not forget that I’ve kept the princess trapped in her tower for weeks.

  So yeah, I could look up. But then I’d miss the beautiful joy written in her features.

  My heart thumps. I lean against the bike and just… watch her. She shrugs out of her jacket. It falls to the ground beside her. She throws her arms out wide and breathes deeply, rotating in a small circle.

  “Dance with me,” she says.

  I tilt my head and don’t say the obvious—that there’s no music.

  “Aiden. Live a little. Dance with me.”

  I rise and stalk toward her. Her teeth catch her lower lip, but she releases it when I stop just shy of touching her. She raises her eyebrows in challenge.

  Well.

  I take her hand and put my other one on her waist, pulling her flush against me. Her free hand settles on my upper arm, just below the bandage. Whether she knows she avoided my injury or did it subconsciously, it still does something to me.

  We begin to move, following a beat that plays out between us. Maybe it’s our heartbeats, or the wind, or adrenaline. I spin her out and reel her back in. Luca and I used to party downtown—we frequented one of the clubs the Wests owned, among others—and dancing was always one of my favorite things.

  She comes back into my arms and grins. We move across the dirt road, dust kicked up by our boots. Another twirl, her fingers light on my palm, and when she comes back, I dip her low. She shrieks and clutches at me, but there’s no need. I’ve got her, although her cap falls off.

  When we come back up, we both regard each other for a moment.

  Until I can’t take it any longer.

  She must feel the same urge, because our mouths meet halfway. We clash together, a hot new eagerness between us. My erection strains against my zipper. She unbuckles my jeans, wasting no time to slide her hand in and wrap it around my cock. I back her into a tree.

  She grunts at the force and nips my lip. Her hand leaves me for her own jeans, shoving them down. I spin her around and kick her legs wider, guiding her hands to the rough bark. My cock slides against her, teasing her slit. The need to be inside her might kill me, but the little noises she makes when she’s on edge is sweeter.

  “Aiden,” she says, shifting her hips back.

  The head of my cock finds her entrance, and I push in the smallest bit. I exhale sharply and hold on to her waist, stopping her from taking me in further.

  “Princess,” I reply. I reach around her and rub her clit. I want to bury my face in her pussy and taste her—and I will. Later. When I can watch her expressions.

  “Split me in half, DeSantis.”

  I smile at the order, still working her clit. I thrust inside her fully, and she automatically clenches at my length. She’s slick and hot. I draw out slowly and slam back in. Her whole body jolts, only her grip on the tree keeping her upright.

  “Come on,” she growls.

  I give her what she’s asking for. I slap her ass, and she gets wetter around me. Fuck. She groans, her own fingers taking over on her clit. I bat her hand away and pinch. Hard.

  She screams. The orgasm takes her by surprise, and it’s only my hand on her stomach that keeps her upright. She pulses around me, and I see stars. I pump twice more, then come inside her.

  We stay like that for a moment, both breathing heavily.

  “I fucking love you,” I say.

  She goes stock-still.

  I move inside her, my dick still semi-hard, and she whimpers.

  “Did you hear me?” I pull her back against me and bite her earlobe.

  “Aiden, I can’t—”

  I wrap my hand around her throat, fingers on her jaw, and direct her mouth back to mine. I claim her lips, telling her that this is happening. She can’t run from me. She won’t.

  Love will destroy us both, but it’s already done. There’s a Gemma-sized hole in my chest.

  She steps away, and I slip out of her. The loss of her heat is unsettling, but I try to shove it away as I pull my briefs and jeans back into place.

  She does the same, dragging her jeans up from where they rested around her ankles. My cum will seep out of her on the way home, dampening her panties. That thought does dangerous things to me.

  I wait for her to face me, but she doesn’t.

  “You already knew,” I say to her back. “I told you that you were mine.”

  “Being possessive and being in love are two different things,” she whispers.

  I have the urge to throw her over my shoulder and take her home. Not to the tower—fuck that. My home. It’s funny: I just promised I wouldn’t make Luca’s mistake and lock her up. But now I consider it.

  “It’s not different.” I turn her around and cup her cheek. “Part of me fell in love with you that day—but you were sixteen. I wasn’t going to do that to you.”

  Her eyes are wide.

  “I stayed away,” I reiterate. “You were a teenager. Now you’re legally an adult, and you’re really fucking easy to love. So just deal with it.”

  She winces.

  “What?”

  “I’m not easy to love.” She glances away. Tries to, anyway.

  I redirect her gaze back to me. “You are. You won Cat over. And Breaker. Ford, too, probably. Maybe even Sam.” I narrow my eyes. “Not that they’ll ever touch you.”

  “Is it because I stabbed that guy?”

  I tip my head back and laugh. “Not totally. Although it was a fucking turn-on. And you’re smart. You take no shit from anyone. You disobey orders when you think they’re wrong. You speak up. You’re kind.”

  “I can be mean.”

  “You can be,” I acknowledge. “And I enjoy that, too.”

  Her cheeks turn red.

  The moon is high, casting slight shadows on the ground. I hold out my hand and guide her back to the bike. She takes one last look back at the sky and lets out a huge breath.

  “I can’t say…”

  “I know,” I interrupt. “I didn’t tell you just to hear it back.”

  She’s quiet. I’ve freaked her out after an already stressful day. But she needs to hear it—she needs to know that I’ve always been all-in with her. Some part of her doesn’t believe this is real. That the wedding in two days is a sham, that I’m only marrying her to make her family suffer.

  That’s not it at all.

  And once she knows the whole truth, everything is going to change.

  22

  Gemma

 
My thoughts are a jumbled mess on the way to Manhattan. Before we leave, he tucks my hands inside his jacket—a thoughtful gesture to keep my fingers from freezing on the road.

  Still, our ride home is slower. It’s close to midnight by now, and I tip my head back to watch the stars. They fade before my eyes as we cross into the city.

  I let out a sigh.

  There are so many questions brewing in my mind, I don’t know where to start.

  Maybe the first and most important is that Aiden loves me. He’s not shy about admitting it, either. Even more worrisome. And the way my body reacted… my heart nearly stopped dead.

  But then there’s the whole secret-interrogation-house-in-the-woods thing. Rubert’s confession. The information I extracted from him.

  I can practically feel the puzzle pieces sliding together, but it’s like creating the image blindfolded. I don’t know what I’m building—but I’m desperately trying to figure it out. It pulls my focus like an itch I can’t reach.

  The DeSantis construction business is only a part of what they do, but it’s one of their most solid legal businesses. It funds the illegal part—much like our restaurants and clubs fund other such ventures. Drugs, in our case. Weapons in theirs.

  Huh.

  It wasn’t too long ago that Sam and Aiden were discussing the empty container while I scanned an article about Councilwoman White’s new bill in the Pages’ magazine. Back then, in my mind, there was a connection.

  However.

  Italian marble is a hell of a lot more expensive than whatever I was picturing. And… it can’t just be marble. I know how this family probably operates, if it’s anything like mine. There had to be weapons in that shipping container, too.

  Which creates a bit more urgency behind this witch hunt.

  Worry tugs at my gut.

  We slow to a stop at a red light, and I flip up my visor. “Are we going to the address Rubert gave us?”

  He raises his, too, and twists around to meet my gaze. “Are you up for it?”

  I grimace. “We should check it out.”

  He hums. The light changes, and we both put our visors back down. He revs the engine and rockets forward, following the car ahead of us. We reach the middle of the intersection when another engine roars.

  I turn my head toward the bright lights, and my grip automatically tightens around Aiden’s waist.

  He shoots up next to the car ahead of us, still accelerating until we’re alone on the road. Maybe he feels my nerves, because he releases a handle and pats my hand. I appreciate the gesture, although my heart is still in my throat. We fly through the next intersection a block down. The wind whips my hair back, and I take a deep breath.

  The truck comes out of nowhere, and there isn’t time to avoid it. My hollow scream rings in my ears. The headlights are blinding.

  Metal screeches against metal, and the bike jerks out from under us. I lose my grip on Aiden and hit the ground hard. My head bounces on the asphalt, but my helmet protects it from the worst damage. I squeeze my eyes shut as I slide, unable to stop my forward momentum. I hit the curb and roll up onto the sidewalk, finally stopping on my side.

  Aiden’s on me in an instant. He presses me flat on my back, his helmet off and looking like he’s ready to rain fury down on the person who hit us. I grab his wrist, but he just shakes his head. “Stay down.”

  I glance over at the truck, which has blocked one of the streets. Two men climb out, weapons drawn, and my heart lurches into my throat. My whole body hurts, and it reacts sluggishly to my desire to stand.

  Aiden straightens, giving me his back, and strides toward them.

  The way we fell, they’re almost twenty yards away—and closing.

  I grit my teeth and shove myself up. I recognize the truck who hit us, and the two men, too. My stomach flip-flops with dread because they won’t hesitate to kill Aiden. Hell, I’m sure they knew it was him, with his fancy motorcycle and the way he acts like this city is beneath him.

  It is beneath him, but sometimes the city pushes back.

  “Wait,” I call. I start forward, but my leg won’t hold my weight.

  Any minute, they’re going to kill each other. I can feel it more than I feel my own body—just a sense that something is going to go terribly wrong. Didn’t I feel it at the last intersection?

  The two men are West soldiers. They provide security for our family’s illegal activities—transporting imported goods from private airports, debt collectors, guards. These two drive drugs into Manhattan for dispersal at the clubs.

  In other words, they’re scary motherfuckers.

  But not to me.

  One picked me up from a friend’s house, once. That was just after Aiden abducted me and my parents were paranoid. Another shadowed me and my mother at my seventeenth birthday party. Those were my only direct interactions with them, although I’ve seen them in and out of my house plenty of times.

  Turner.

  Marius.

  They’re targeting DeSantises.

  Does my brother know?

  Is he condoning this behavior?

  Belatedly, I realize my helmet is still on, obscuring both my face and voice. I yank it off and quickly limp after Aiden. He stops suddenly, and I almost slam into his back. I dig my fingers into the waistband of his jeans. His breath hitches, but he doesn’t look behind him.

  “DeSantis,” one of them sneers. Turner, probably.

  I have to do something.

  I slide my hand under his jacket and yank his gun free. I sidestep him and show my face to the two men.

  They both jerk to a halt.

  “Gemma?” Turner asks. He lowers his firearm and stares at me.

  “What the fuck?” I yell. “Were you just going to kill him?”

  Marius scowls. “He’s a DeSantis. And after Lawrence—”

  “Don’t.” I stow the gun—it’s better that I have it, but I don’t plan on killing my own men. I march up to Marius and shove him back. “I was there. It was my father’s blood on my face. And Kai’s.”

  Their gazes flick up to Aiden.

  There’s a little distance between us now, and I glance back to gauge my fiancé’s reaction. He wears a blank mask, betraying absolutely nothing.

  Turner scoffs. “What the fuck are you doing with him, Gemma? We’ve been searching for him—and now that we’ve found him, you’re here?”

  “If you try to kill him, you won’t see till morning.” I keep my voice light. Conversational. We just interrogated a man, and now we’re standing in an empty intersection. I’ve lost it—I’m trying to stop a war.

  A wildfire that Aiden and these two would gladly feed.

  “His people won’t find us,” Marius reasons. His voice is pitched low to keep Aiden from overhearing us. “They took you—but we can save you. Come back with us.”

  I tilt my head. They weren’t in the loop—no one was, beyond my father and me. Colin and Kai came later, I’m sure. Once I was already gone. It’s why they wanted to see me in the mall. This terrible secret plan between me and my father was supposed to keep everyone safe.

  It’s done the opposite. Everything that’s happened between Aiden coming to me at Aunt Mary’s house in Rose Hill and today is on my shoulders.

  So, yeah, I could just hang up my hat and go with them. Let them shoot Aiden—or worse.

  But my body seizes up when I think about that scenario. Aiden strung up in a basement, tortured as retribution. It wouldn’t end there.

  “No.” I swallow my guilt and square my shoulders. There’s no escaping this path I’ve chosen. I don’t want to escape it—or him. “You wouldn’t see the light of day because I would put a fucking bullet in your thick skulls.”

  My words echo in my brain, bounce around.

  “You—”

  “My father and I had a plan.” My voice comes out harsher than I intend, and I belatedly remember the weapon. I withdraw it and raise it at Turner, who has taken a step to the side. Like he’d love to go for
Aiden and couldn’t seem to stop himself.

  “You and everyone else targeting the DeSantises on the street are fucking everything up. Spread the word—no one touches them. The feud ends my way.” I sneer. “I’ve got no problem emptying this thing into your gut if you keep moving toward him.”

  There’s no way they’re going to listen to me—I’m… me. Gemma West. The princess, not the queen. Not a leader. Not respected.

  “She’s got more balls than her brother,” Turner finally says.

  I level them with a glare.

  “Fine,” Marius says. “We’ll spread the word.”

  He reaches into his pocket for his phone, then shoves it into my hand.

  I stare at the smartphone, then back at him.

  “In case you decide you want backup.” His voice is gruff. Pity fills his expression.

  I shake my head and toss it back. “You don’t want your phone in DeSantis possession.” Or the pity. I can’t take anything from them, not when I’ll be asking for more sacrifices soon enough.

  He gives me a weird look and rests his hand on my shoulder. “Your father’s celebration of life is in four days. We’ll all be wanting you there.”

  Don’t fuck this up, in other words.

  I nod curtly and step back. I don’t relax until they’ve climbed in their truck and driven around me. Their engine guns, and their taillights disappear around a corner.

  Aiden steps up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. I lean back against him, exhaling.

  “I didn’t expect you to ride to my defense.”

  I twist so I can see his expression, but his attention is on his mangled bike.

  “I…” What can I say to that? I would’ve been more than horrified if something happened to him. “Yeah, well. We go way back.”

  He grunts and pulls out his phone, making a quick call. I recognize the name he says, Ford. The one who helped clean up my father’s murder scene. One of Aiden’s guys—not a DeSantis.

  Exhaustion nudges at me. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, the pain is coming back. My whole left side aches like I was rubbed with sandpaper. I put more of my weight on Aiden.

  “You’re shivering.” He doesn’t run his hands up and down my arms, but he does turn me and hug me tightly.