He watched her dance on the stage beside the bar, her body undulating to the music. She was more titillating than the scantily clad go-go girls dancing up a storm on the counter beside her. Was it the corset part of her dress that pushed her breasts up obscenely high and emphasized the narrowness of her waist and the swell of her hips? Or was it those fucking socks that bared a flash of creamy thigh? Or was it the strength of character the outfit conveyed—that she knew what she liked and gave fuck all what anyone thought.
She looked up, straight at the camera. Danced in a circle giving him the full picture of what he was missing, flipped her frilly skirt just enough to show the curve of her cheek. She had to know he was watching. She had to know what would happen when she gave him a glimpse of something he shouldn’t see.
Something he wanted.
Something he would have. Tonight.
*
“I like your socks.”
Mia smiled at the pleasant-looking man in the polo shirt and chinos dancing in front of her. “Thank you.”
“I like your skirt, too.” He moved awkwardly to the music, like a dad who had forgotten his rhythm, although he didn’t look older than twenty-five.
“Thank you.”
“I’m Richard,” he said stiffly. “Is it okay if I dance with you?” He did a zombie jerk of his arms, and Mia bit back a laugh.
“Yes.”
After four rounds of vodka shooters, two games of craps, a Mai Tai, and some decidedly bad luck on the Big Six wheel, Mia was ready for some action. If it happened to come in a preppy package with a blue collared shirt sporting a little pony on the chest, then she’d take what she could get; she’d given up on Nico showing his face several hours ago.
“I like your boots, too. I don’t meet a lot of girls who dress like you.” He made a not-too-subtle adjustment of his chinos, and Mia looked the other way as the beat slowed. She wondered what he would think if she told him he was dancing with a mobster’s daughter who spent her days hacking computers.
He moved closer and put his arms around her, still trying to find the beat. She leaned her cheek against his crisp, cotton shirt. He smelled cool and fresh, faintly of soap and aftershave. He was nice. A gentleman. He had tassels on his shoes, and his shirt was well ironed. This was the kind of man she should go out with if she didn’t have to worry that he would get shot in the head by a father who only cared about her for her value as a prize cow. Not a dark, dangerously seductive mobster with a fierce scowl, who overwhelmed her so quickly she lost her inhibitions and let him finger fuck her until she climaxed in the hallway outside her office.
Her skin prickled with heat. Was Nico watching? Resisting the urge to look around, she leaned closer to Richard. If Nico couldn’t be bothered to leave his office, then she’d give him something to watch. There was something between her and Nico, some kind of chemistry she didn’t understand. Although she was scared to open herself up to such a dominant, powerful man, to show the vulnerability she had hidden for so long, she was determined to explore their curious connection. And if he didn’t show, she was pretty sure tall, blond, and tasseled would be happy to take Nico’s place in her bed tonight.
Richard’s hand slid down to her ass, and her hopes shot up that this night might not end as badly as she thought it would.
“Is that okay?”
Mia was momentarily lost for words. She’d never been asked by a man if it was okay to squeeze her ass in public. But if that didn’t draw Nico out, nothing would. “Squeeze away.”
He laughed and held her tighter, rocking her from side to side until she thought she might get seasick. She looked for a stationary object to focus on to make the nausea go away and found a glowering mob boss instead.
Nico.
A giddy thrill swept over her. She hadn’t felt anything like it since high school when the senior she’d been crushing on showed up at her soccer game just to watch her play
But, unlike the senior who had asked her out after the game, Nico wasn’t smiling.
He took his time perusing her body, his scrutiny thorough and avid, his heated gaze lingering on the bare expanse of skin between the top of her socks and the bottom of her dress.
Damn. Nico was by far the most breathtaking man in the bar, the most beautiful man she had ever seen. He was impeccably dressed, as usual, in a perfectly fitted dark suit and blue silk tie, but his dark hair was slightly ruffled, just begging to be smoothed down. That tiny imperfection hinted at the wildness that rippled beneath the surface, the predator that watched her with hungry eyes.
His gaze dropped, sharpened on the hand on her ass.
Ah. A miscalculation. She didn’t want the nice man to get blood on his shirt. “I’m really sorry.” She gently disengaged Richard’s hands from her ass. “My boyfriend is coming.” She directed his attention to the bar. “My friend, Jules, is single, though, and looking to hook up with someone tonight. She’s over by the bar—pink streak in her hair. And thanks for the dance.”
Before he could respond, she pushed him gently in Jules’s direction and turned just as the sea of dancers parted, waved aside by two burly bouncers who had appeared out of nowhere. Nico stepped into the space only just barely cleared by her new friend.
“Che cazzo fai—what the fuck are you doing?”
She lifted an eyebrow at the strong words. Did he even realize he was speaking Italian or how sexy swear words could sound in the language of love? “Dancing.”
“Not anymore.” He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, claiming her with his body. His hips moved to the XAmbassadors’s “Unsteady,” so smooth they were one with the beat, and she felt the thrum of desire between her thighs.
“Maybe I wanted to finish my evening with Richard.” She circled her arms around his neck. “He was very nice.”
Nico snorted. “You’d eat him alive.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” she said, indignant. Why couldn’t she have a nice guy like Richard? They could see movies, go for walks in the park, build a house with a white picket fence, have babies …
Because she belonged to the Mafia, and they would never let her go.
“I know everything I need to know about you,” he whispered in her ear, his lips brushing over her sensitive skin. “I know you’re going to be wherever danger is at. I know you aren’t afraid to take risks or you wouldn’t be in my casino. I know a man like that would bore you to tears.”
She shivered, drinking in his deep, rich voice. Her panties were wet with her desire, and she was damn sure Richard, with his zombie dancing and baggy chinos, hadn’t turned on the tap. Not a drip.
Their gazes met, his eyes so dark they were almost black. Mia sucked in a deep breath, desperate for air. She didn’t know if it was the alcohol in her blood, the heavy beat of the music, the darkness around them, or the fact it felt like they were alone despite the sea of people, but she felt awake when she was with Nico, alive in a way she hadn’t been since Danny died. It was a heady, addicting feeling and the more she had, the more she wanted.
“I actually came about your security system.”
“Bullshit.” He thrust a thick thigh between her legs. “You came to see me.”
“I can’t access the system without you, so yes, I came to see you.”
They were no longer dancing, but their bodies were still moving, grinding, his hand on her ass, his lips in her ear. “You want me. I can feel your wetness against my thigh, the heat of your body. I can smell your arousal, bella.”
She did want him. And from the press of his erection against her hips, he wanted her, too. Why play games? She was bold in business, why couldn’t she bold with her personal life, too? “What are you going to do about it?”
“Dio mio, you test a man to the limits.” He fisted her hair, tugged her head back. “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. Tonight I’m going to fuck you like the bad girl you are. You’re gonna learn who you belong to. Your voice is going to be hoarse from screaming your ple
asure. And when we’re done, you’re gonna beg me for more.”
Mia tried to rein in the runaway lust train that was on a crash course to tear off his clothes in the middle of the bar. Nico was different tonight. Wild. Raw. Uncontained.
“I wanted to tell you your password isn’t secure.” She drew in a ragged breath, struggling against her own desire. “It should really have a mix of upper and lower case letters, some symbols and numbers.”
“Fuck the password.” He nuzzled her hair, ran a possessive hand over the curve of her hip. “Someone breaks into my system, they steal from me. They steal from me, they die.”
“So, I’ll just reset it to Mr. Mob Boss, then, shall I?”
His hand slipped under her dress to run up the inside of her thigh. “You keep talking business, and I’ll find something else for that smart mouth to do.”
She moaned softly and his eyes blazed with sensual heat. “That’s right, bella. Tell me how bad you want me, and I’ll give you what you need.”
“You seem to get off bossing me around. I didn’t appreciate what you did at my office.”
“I kept you safe.” Beneath the screen of her dress, his finger pushed the damp cotton of her panties aside while he kept his body close, shielding her from view. “I’ll always keep you safe. And you’re gonna hate how much you like it. Now, turn around or I’m gonna slide my finger in your hot, wet cunt and work you hard right here on the dance floor.”
Since ‘no’ didn’t seem to be an option, she turned as stared into the crowd seething in front of them. Nico yanked her against him, her back to his front, and his hands on her waist, spanning her stomach. He didn’t miss a beat as he rocked them from side to side, rolling his hips against her with the kind of sinfully sexy moves she had only ever seen on the big screen.
“Good girl.” He leaned down, feathered kisses along the sensitive curve of her neck. Mia lost herself in sensation—the pounding of the bass vibrating through her body, the sweet slide of alcohol through her veins, the energy of the crowd dancing to the party that was Vegas, and the heat that was Nico pressed up against her.
“I’m not a girl.”
“No, you’re not. You’re all woman. My woman.” He wrapped her hair around his hand and tugged her head to the side, baring her neck for the erotic nip of his teeth. A tremor ripped through her body. Fuck Papà. Fuck her family. No one could stop her from taking what she wanted, and she wanted this man. The enemy. Dark, dangerous and utterly delicious.
She turned in his arms, and her breasts pressed up against his chest, her nipples taut and throbbing. Nico grabbed her ass and pulled her against him. His scorching gaze slammed through her, melting her from the inside out. He licked his lips, leaned down until she could feel the heat of his breath on her lips, until he was so close she only had to reach up for a little taste.
“We’re leaving,” he murmured, pulling away seconds before their lips met.
“Good. Let’s go.” She nuzzled his neck, breathed in the fresh scent of his cologne. “I think you comped me a room. Let’s use that.”
“No.” Gritting his teeth, he gently detached her hands from where they had sunk into his very tight ass. “I’m taking you out for dinner.”
She gave him a puzzled frown. “I don’t need to be wined and dined. I’m quite happy to go upstairs, tear off our clothes, and continue what we’ve started.”
“You deserve more.” He threaded his hand through hers and led her through the crowd. “But make no mistake, bella. I am going to pleasure the fuck out of you tonight.”
THIRTEEN
“So nice to see you, Mr. Toscani. I’ve got the best table in the house ready for you and your guest.” Lennie swept the door open and Mia preceded Nico into Il Tavolino.
Always on the alert, Nico checked out the other diners as Lennie led them to their table. Was that guy in the bowling shirt hiding a weapon under his table? Was that suit heading for the restroom going to pull a piece out from beneath his jacket? Were the two guys in track suits talking by the bar connected, or just stopping for a bite to eat after hitting the gym?
Lennie seated them in front of the stage, and Big Joe sat at a table a discrete distance away. He was Nico’s second pair of eyes, and Nico trusted him to have arranged for guards to be at every entrance to the building.
“What are we gonna eat today, Lennie?” He waved the offered menu away.
Lennie made a few suggestions that Nico ignored.
“You know what? I’ll tell you what we’re gonna have. Make me some prosciutt’, a little antipasti, some arancini, a little caponata, polenta with gorgonzola, some chicken masala, then when we’re done with that bring us a little red mullet in onion sauce. How’s that?”
“Very good, sir.”
Mia coughed discretely and he caught her frown. He’d ordered lots of food. Wasn’t it enough?
Lennie’s gaze flicked to Mia and back to Nico. He looked decidedly uncomfortable, like he’d been squeezed between a rock and a hard place. “Anything else, Mr. Toscani?”
What the fuck? “You unclear about something I said?”
Mia gave an irritated grunt, and curled her hand around her water glass, clutching it so hard her knuckles turned white. Something niggled at the back of Nico’s mind, but before he could work it out, Lennie backed away with an obsequious bow.
“Mi dispiace. I’ll get that order to your table right away.”
“Never had a problem with Lennie before.” He reached for Mia’s hand, and she moved it away.
The niggle in his mind became a prickle of warning. Fuck. Of course. Not everyone liked mullet.
“You don’t like the food? I’ll tell Lennie to make something else.”
“I like it,” she said, her tone clipped. “But I would have preferred to have been asked.”
Asked? He always ordered the food. He was the man. It was his job. And women ate what the men ate because men knew what was good. She needed to understand that when it came to matters of protection and providing, he was in charge.
“I’m the ma—”
She held up a hand, cutting him off. “Don’t go there. Just. Don’t.”
He felt the slightest twinge of regret that he hadn’t asked her opinion, especially since she’d been very careful not to disrespect him in front of Lennie. Given her views on empowering women, her restraint was a gift of immeasurable value.
“Next time, bella, you tell me what you like.”
Would there be a next time? Did he want to get involved when he still had the Scozzari engagement hanging over his head? The only possible future they had was one in which Mia became his goomah—mistress.
Nico felt a curious tightening in his chest at the thought of putting Mia through what his mother had been through. Yes, there was love, but there was also a lot of jealousy, sadness, and pain. And what if they had a son? Would he really want a child to bear the stigma he had borne, growing up a bastard in a culture where marriage was a sacred bond? Nothing had come easy for Nico. He’d had to fight for what little respect he earned. And everything he achieved had come with a price.
“This place is amazing.” Mia gestured to the photographs on the walls nearest them—classic prints of the heyday of Las Vegas, showgirls in the fifties, the Rat Pack in the sixties, Sinatra, Liberace, and the classic hotels—the Flamingo and the Riviera.
“Those were the days,” Nico said, grateful for her attempt to smooth over what could have been an abrupt end to the evening. “Big names. Best acts. The hotels were all trying to outdo each other. Money flowed. The Mafia ran the show.”
“You really do like the oldies. Is this restaurant yours?”
“I have a part-interest.”
She laughed, the shadows fading from her face. “Soon to be a full interest, I expect. I know how those part-interests work. It would be a shame if it burned down.”
“It won’t. I protect everything that is mine.” He cupped her jaw, brushed his thumb over the curve of her cheek. “Everything.�
�
Mia studied him for a long moment, and then she tipped her head, rubbing her cheek against his palm.
Forgiven.
He felt something uncurl inside him, and liquid warmth flooded his body, spreading out to his fingers and toes.
“So you’re a history buff?”
“Just Vegas.” Nico reluctantly released her when a waiter came to refill their water glasses. “The idea of creating something out of nothing, this incredible city in the middle of the desert … I would have liked to be part of it.” He hesitated, reluctant to share more, but no one had ever shown much interest in his secret passion. “My father would have hated all this. He was a very practical man. Very traditional. Very committed to the family and the business. He was very New York. Being sent here to set up the Las Vegas faction was a punishment to him. He said the only good thing that came out of it was that he met my mother.”
“His goomah?”
“Yeah.” He sipped the ice water, felt a cool rush through his veins. “It was hard on her. They loved each other, but there was never a chance he would marry her. Her family had nothing to offer. And, of course, Cosa Nostra marriages are forever, so there was no possibility of divorce once he married my stepmother.” He downed the rest of the glass, trying to take the edge off the bitter memories with the icy burn. “I built the casino in my mother’s memory. She was Vegas—a dancer in one of the shows; she loved to sing and dance, gamble and party. I run it clean. Respectable. For her. If I could do that for the family, I would.”
“You want the family to be respectable?”
“What bastard wouldn’t?”
“Nico…” She moved close to him, stroked her fingers through his hair in a soothing gesture that did much to ease a pain he had never realized he carried in his heart.
“Love isn’t worth the pain,” he said.
“Love created you.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek, as she whispered in his ear. “A dangerously delicious, sexy, handsome mob boss.”
If love felt anything like how he was feeling right now, he would be able to take on Tony and the family and the Falzones and even the fucking Sicilians with one hand tied behind his back. He would be able to fly to the fucking moon, dive to the bottom of the ocean, catch a star and bring it back to the earth. Would he feel this way for his Sicilian bride? He’d always been resigned to a loveless marriage, but then he’d never had a taste of what he might be missing.
Nico Page 15