“I may know something about who killed him, but why would I tell you?”
“What’s your price?”
“Blood,” I say, clenching my fists under the table. “Anastasio blood.” If he takes the bait, It will get the Anastasios out of the picture and leave the Sanatores for me. Either way, it will get the Ricci’s off my ass, which would be a welcome relief.
I pull up outside Vince’s house. Callie’s car is in the driveway. Good. I was worried she might just leave town as soon as I cut ties with her. I still can’t help feeling like I did the wrong thing. Agent Conway was right though, even if he was an asshole. Being with me would make her a target. If they think I’ve thrown her aside, they won’t bother trying to use her against me.
Then I see the black sedan parked a few houses down. The engine is running and there are two men sitting in the car. Are they watching her? Shit. I get out of the car, tucking my gun in my waistband and walking toward the car. Before I get there, the car backs up into a driveway and the driver guns it, not slowing down until they are out of sight.
I look toward Vince’s house, gritting my teeth. She’s going to want to kill me, but I need to make sure she’s still safe. I have to.
12
Callie
I pack the last of what little I own in my suitcase and take one final look in the mirror. I look terrible. There are bags under my eyes from crying and lack of sleep. One month and I’ve been cheated on and thrown away by a criminal who probably got me pregnant. The sooner I can put this behind me, the better. I’m not wearing makeup, and my clothes are anything but fresh. Considering what I’ve been through, I give myself a pass. The part that shocks me is how much more it hurt to lose Damian than it did to lose Greg.
I don’t think I ever consciously knew it, but catching Greg cheating on me didn’t really surprise me. It just pissed me off. It made me feel like an idiot. Like one of those women I always got mad at in movies who were so blind to what was right in front of them. I zip up the suitcase and lug it down the winding staircase. Would it have killed them to install an elevator? The staircase looks beautiful, but after walking up and down it on a regular basis, I find myself just wishing it went in a straight line and saved me the steps.
I know I’m probably forgetting something, but I need to just leave. I don’t even know where I’m going to go. I can try calling some other old friends from high school, maybe. I guess I’ll be begging for couches to crash on until I can find another advertising job to get me back on my feet. I’m not going to let Damian pay me off to try to make everything okay. I can make my own way, I just can’t stay here. Aubriella won’t be out of town forever, and knowing I’m still so close to Damian hurts too much.
I’ll have to call Aubriella and offer to pay to have someone else come watch her house until they get back. I just hope she doesn’t ask questions. I don’t want her to know how much of a mess I am.
I should be thankful. I knew being with him was a bad idea. I mean, what kind of person knowingly gets involved with a guy in the mafia? I would always have to look over my shoulder and wonder if someone was after us. I’d know the lips I was kissing were the lips of a killer. I lean against the wall as an unexpected wave of emotion makes my legs weak. God. He’s probably the father. Greg never got me pregnant in however many years he was probably trying to poke holes in condoms. What are the chances that it would suddenly work?
If Damian is the father…I can’t even go there right now. Instead, I see images of myself in a shitty apartment, trying to soothe a screaming baby while I struggle to do work with my free hand. A single mom. But I’ll take it over going to Greg for help.
There’s a knock at the door. I start, standing straight and wiping the tears from my eyes. Thankfully I’m not wearing mascara, so I clean up most of the damage before opening the door. My breath catches when I see him. He’s wearing a dark suit that fits him perfectly. His hair is pushed to the side carelessly, but still manages to look elegant and classy. His strong jaw is flexing as his dark eyes take me in hungrily. Even though I know he’s through with me, I can’t stop from wanting to go to him, to wrap my arms around him and beg him to keep me.
“Callie,” he says.
I take a deep breath. Don’t be weak. “What do you want?” I ask.
His face falls a little. “Has anyone else been by?”
“You don’t get to ask me those questions anymore. You threw me away.”
He steps forward, putting his strong hands on my shoulders. I feel a thrill of excitement rush through me, making me warm and cold at the same time. “Answer my fucking question.”
I glare at him. Something inside me feels like it’s on fire, like I could hit him or scream. “No.”
He’s inches from me, hands still on my shoulders. I hear him take in a slow breath through his nose. “I need to know,” he says through clenched teeth.
“Too fucking bad,” I say, stepping back and trying to close the door on him.
He slaps a hand to the door, holding it open effortlessly. I struggle against it, glaring at him. All the anger and disappointment is coming to the surface and I can’t stop it. I just want to stop being thrown away and mistreated. I want a man to want me, to crave me, to think I’m so valuable that they wouldn’t do anything to risk losing me. Looking at the man who is probably the father of my unborn child and knowing he’ll never feel that way about me lights an unquenchable rage inside me.
He steps inside, slamming the door behind him. His massive form blocks the doorway, wide shoulders and powerful hands clenched. He’s the incarnation of rage and power. I take a step back.
“I’m trying to protect you,” he growls.
“You’ve done a really great job of that,” I say, backing into the couch and losing my balance. I fall on my ass, scooting back away from him as he comes closer.
“I didn’t want it to be this way,” he says, still walking slowly toward me.
“You got what you wanted. You fucked me and left. I shouldn’t have been surprised.”
“I wanted more,” he says quietly.
I reach the end of the couch, having no more room to back away from him. He looms over me. Something strange passes over his face, and my eyes wander down his body, realizing his cock is hard, straining against his slacks. I know I should feel terrified, appalled that he would force himself into the house and corner me like this, but my body is responding to him. My core clenches, spreading a blossoming warmth between my legs. Why am I so fucked up? Why is this turning me on?
“I wanted you to be mine,” he says.
“Fuck you,” I say. “You don’t get to come back here and do this. You already tossed me aside. It’s not fair to do this. You can’t just take me when it suits you.”
He glares. “What makes you think you can talk to me like that? I should teach you a fucking lesson.”
My heart starts pounding even harder in my chest. Why do I want him to teach me a lesson? Why does imagining his hand slapping my bare ass make me feel giddy with excitement? A confused ball of emotion wells in my chest when I realize what I’m about to say. “Fuck. You.” I say.
He lunges forward, pinning me to the couch. His voice is barely above a whisper in my ear. “Do you remember the safe word?”
This is my chance. I can end it. I could. I should. But I don’t want to. My body doesn’t want to. I need this too much. “Yes,” I whisper.
He grabs my sweatpants and yanks them off. I try to get away from him, kicking my feet as he manhandles me, but his hands are like steel vises, inescapable and impossibly powerful. Even as I curse at him and yell, I feel more turned on than I’ve ever felt. Even though I know one word can stop it all, the fear of his power amplifies everything else. Feeling how powerless I am against him is strangely liberating.
He flips me over, trying to get my shirt off. I manage to scratch his face, leaving four red lines on his cheek. He growls, shredding my thin white shirt effortlessly until I’m left in my bra and pantie
s. He takes his jacket off and tosses it carelessly on the ground. He fumbles at his belt with his free hand and pushes me down by the chest with his other hand.
“I’m going to teach you a fucking lesson,” he says.
I squirm, trying to free myself, but unable to. He climbs on the couch beside me and positions his head between my legs, grinning up at me like a devil. I make a show of resisting, kicking my legs and twisting my hips, but seeing his full lips between my legs has me practically soaked with anticipation. I want to feel him again, to feel his tongue against me and inside me.
He puts his hands down hard on my hips, pinning me to the couch and licking me through my panties.
“You taste so fucking good.”
I moan, writhing against him and shaking with need. He grabs the waistband of my panties and yanks, snapping it like a rubber band. Having my clothes literally torn off is so incredibly hot. The warmth of his mouth on my bare mound is almost more than I can handle. He laps at me like he’s relishing every second of it, and I can’t bring myself to even pretend to resist anymore. My hands dig in his hair, squeezing hard and pushing him harder into me, deeper.
Being with him like this makes everything feel okay. It’s not perfect, and it’s not right, but it’s better than being alone and abandoned. With his beautiful head between my legs lighting my nerves on fire, I feel like I can forget for the first time in days.
He kisses the insides of my thighs, running his tongue along the crease between my leg and my pussy. I gasp, throwing my head back and squeezing my eyes shut.
“Fuck me,” I beg.
He stands, pulling his unbuckled belt free and sliding his pants down. He’s only wearing the blood-red button down shirt with the buttons undone. His perfectly carved body is tantalizingly close to being bare.
“Take off my underwear and suck my cock,” he says.
I bite my lip. Why is this all turning me on so much? I’ve never had sex like this. Not even close. I’ve never even fantasized about this kind of sex, but God, I have a feeling that’s going to change.
I get on my knees in front of him and reach to pull his boxers down. He grabs my wrists, looking down at me and shaking his head. “Take them off with your mouth.”
I blush, nodding and moving to use my teeth to pull his underwear down. A chill passes through me to have my mouth so close to his cock. His scent fills my nose, raw and absolutely irresistible. I breathe it in deeply through my nose, fighting the urge to slide my hand between my legs and give my clit the friction it’s begging for.
His cock springs free, resting against my cheek. I move my mouth to the base of his length, kissing him and sliding my tongue along his length, kissing him and cupping his warmth in my hands as I work my way to the tip. He’s so long that I have to scoot back a little to reach. I swirl my tongue around him, using my lips to keep my teeth from scraping him. He’s so wide I can barely fit him in my mouth.
I find a rhythm, working my hands across him and swirling my tongue along the rim of his head. He grabs a fistfull of my hair, pushing my head down on him so far that I gag. He works in and out of me, groaning with satisfaction and throwing his head back. He bends his neck to watch me, and I move my eyes up his gorgeous body to meet his gaze. His eyes dart to the side, locking on something behind me. Without warning, he pulls himself out of my mouth and walks away. I turn, distracted at first by his perfect ass. He picks something up from the couch and holds it in front of his eyes, staring intently.
Oh shit. It’s the pregnancy test.
“What’s this?” he asks.
He turns. I barely even notice his naked body. My heart is pounding and I feel like I’m gasping for breath. “It’s…”
“You’re pregnant,” he says. “Is it mine?”
I shake my head, suddenly self-conscious of my nakedness. I cover myself with my hands. “I don’t know. It could be. I always made Greg use protection, but I caught him trying to damage the condoms before.” I swallow hard. “I don’t want it to be his,” I say quietly.
He gives me a hopeful look, tossing the test to the floor and moving to kneel beside me. He takes my head in his hands, looking intently in my eyes. “If this baby is mine…then so are you.”
My stomach turns over. God. I want that. I really do. Even if being with him is dangerous, I’ll take it. I can live with that. I want to be with him. I want him to be the father.
“If it’s Greg’s,” I say, “He’s going to do everything he can to make sure he gets custody.”
“Fuck him,” says Damian.
The simplicity of how he sees the world is refreshing. He doesn’t care if Greg has the money and connections to do almost anything. He doesn’t dwell on the past or what could happen. He just acts, moving forward with a relentless confidence that can’t be dampened. Maybe that’s what draws me to him so much. He’s so many things I’m not, and he’s strong in ways I’m not. Part of me wants to tame him, to take the wild and violence out of him.
“His father is friends with the district attorney,” I say. “He could—”
Damian silences me by kissing me so hard that it knocks me back. He falls on top of me, catching my head with his hand and straddling me. He’s ripping his shirt off with his free hand and then my bra. Within moments, we’re both completely naked. His cock presses against my entrance. He rocks his hips, spreading my wetness and sliding inside me easily. My walls stretch to fit him, but it’s a pleasant pain, a comfortable fullness.
He leans down and kisses me softly for the first time, his lips like satin against mine and his tongue a warm caress. His hips move like a well-oiled machine, smoothly pistoning his cock into me. I feel my body mounting toward a climax rapidly. Emotion and sensation swirl together, forming a perfect torrent of ecstatic release that washes away pain and uncertainty. I dig my fingers into his back, wrapping my legs around him, trying to get him to fill me even more deeply.
He flexes, squeezing his hands against my hips as his cock pulses. A rush of warmth fills me, triggering my own climax. I gasp like I’ve been plunged in cold water. My body shudders. An explosion of pleasure wipes my worries and pain away in a blissful burst of white light. For a few quivering moments, everything feels like it will be okay, like being with him is right and there’s no need to ever question that.
When the aftershocks of my orgasm fade and he lays beside me on the floor, thin tendrils of doubt creep through my body. I know if the baby isn’t his, he’ll leave. It has to be his, or this will all end. Even if it is, will he really stay? And what kind of father would he be?
He leans over to kiss me again, but I stop him with a finger to his chin. His eyes search mine.
“What will you do if the baby is Greg’s?” I ask.
“Maybe I’ll just kill Greg.”
I scowl. “That’s not funny.”
He smirks, but the humor quickly fades from his face. “All I know is that I need to make sure you’re safe. That both of you are safe.”
I narrow my eyes at him, standing to start putting my clothes on again “Why wouldn’t we be?”
Damian watches me admiringly. “You know what kind of man I am, Callie.”
I do. Too well. “So what are you going to do, lock me in a cage until I give birth?”
He strokes his chin. “That’s not a bad idea.”
I pull my sweatpants up over my naked flesh, because someone thinks the only way to take panties off is shredding them like an animal. “Don’t even think about it.”
“You’re going to come stay with me, at least. It’s too dangerous here.” He stands and starts putting his own clothes back on.
It’s hard to focus while I watch his naked body move. Every muscle is perfect, strong and defined with no fat softening his edges. He catches me looking and gives me a look that says he will happily fuck me again if I want it. I blush deeply, pulling my half-shredded shirt over my head without bothering to put a bra on.
“I need to call someone to watch the house for Aubriel
la before I go.”
“I’ll have my guys handle that.”
“And what if I don’t want to go with you? How can I trust you after what you did?”
“You weren’t complaining when my head was between your legs.”
I purse my lips. “Just because...I, well…” I wave my hand in frustration. “There’s a difference between being what I need physically and what I need emotionally.”
He steps close enough to kiss me, freezing me with his dark eyes. “You need me. End of story.”
I shudder, despite how irritated I am with him. He thinks he can just lock those bedroom eyes on me and solve everything. The frustrating part is how I can’t think straight when he’s looking at me.
“Okay,” I say, licking my lips. My heart is pounding from being so close to him. It doesn’t seem to matter that I’ve already slept with him twice now, I feel like I’m a little girl again, having a borderline panic attack just from being near a cute guy. “I’ll go with you. For now. But you have to give me my job back.”
He quirks an eyebrow and a grin pulls at the corner of his mouth. “You’re making demands now?”
“Yes,” I say, hoping he doesn’t see the way I’m fiddling with my hands.
“Fine. It’s yours.” He leans in and kisses me softly, sending chills through me with one brush of his fingertip along my jawline. His hand falls to my stomach. He holds it there, looking in my eyes. “I think we’ll name him Victor.”
I can’t help from smiling. “Or Victoria?”
Damian lives in a Colonial style house a few miles north of Aubriella’s house. I raise my eyebrows when we pull up.
“You live here?” I ask.
“What did you expect?”
I shake my head. I really don’t know what I expected. Did I think he’d live in some kind of brick building underground with pictures of old Italian men and the Italian countryside? “Nevermind,” I say, feeling silly.
Mine (Citrione Crime Family #2) Page 8