If only they’d had a bit longer. If only he’d pushed her over that desk in that back room, shoved her skirt up over her ass, and plunged inside of her.
She could almost feel him. Almost feel his thick cock thrusting inside of her, forcing her to take every inch. Could almost feel his teeth at her neck, his guttural cry of abandon when he came. Shooting his seed inside of her.
The orgasm flashed, hitting her suddenly and hard. A spark of lights and pleasure. Her whole body shivered from it, and when it was over, she rolled to her side and let out a long sigh. She’d needed the release, yet somehow she was hungrier than before. Hungry for Giancarlo. Hungry for the passion she’d felt when she was with him. Hungry for freedom.
He must have been out of his damn mind. Pursuing Domenica Todaro was out of the question. She wasn’t just the daughter of his father’s biggest rival, she was as untouchable as a woman could be.
Yet, she’d let him touch her. And he’d fucking loved it.
With the light of the new day cresting beyond the city, Gian grappled with the memory of the night before. He leaned against his balcony railing and watched the sun rise, inch by inch.
He hadn’t been able to sleep the night before. His inexplicable erection had disappeared with Domenica, and sexual frustration intermingled with guilt and his sense of duty in his brain, making sleep impossible.
Even now, with the insanity of the night behind him, he couldn’t think of anything but her. Her touch. Her smell. Her fire.
Only a glimpse of that fire, and yet he couldn’t seem to get it out of his head.
Forbidden fruit, she was as delectable as she was beautiful. As fiery and intelligent as she was sensual and sexy. The woman had been intriguing before he’d met her. And now that he tasted her… All he wanted was more.
“Fuck,” he muttered, then pushed away from the railing. His first duty was to his family. To their empire. He wasn’t about to throw all that away for a goddamn woman. Even one as unique as Domenica Todaro.
Even one who finally woke his cock.
All day long, Giancarlo tried to lose himself in his work. It was usually easy to do—especially on a day packed like this one. Meetings with accountants, attorneys, and his father’s Capo. Yet still, the feel of her body, soft against his, the twinkle in her eye and the teasing spark on her lips refused to leave him. By the end of the day, he was half ready to march up to Don Todaro’s mansion and fight his way to his daughter.
It was fucking ridiculous.
He needed a distraction.
Not bothering to change from the suit he’d worn through the day, Gian grabbed his car keys and headed for one of his clubs. The inside of the club thrummed with energy when he stepped through the doors. It didn’t matter that it was a weekday—his family owned the hottest strip club in town. It was busy every day. The only difference was on the weekdays, there wasn’t a line extending far beyond the door.
All eyes were on him when he walked into the main room of the strip club. Some assessing. Some full of lust. Some fearful. Rightfully.
He didn’t give a fuck. Then again, he didn’t give a fuck about much of anything.
Which made him the perfect successor to his father’s empire.
He thought so, anyway. His father disagreed on occasion. Don spoke of things like passion as if such an emotion was necessary to run a business empire like this one. Gian had always considered it a hindrance, himself. More than once, he’d seen his father make a decision Gian considered poor, all in the name of passion.
Gian would never be accused of feeling too much passion.
Until last night.
In all ways but one, he fit exactly what his father wanted him to be. He pushed for his own power but didn’t try to dominate. He understood the necessity of the violence within their world and didn’t cringe from it, but he didn’t get off on it, either. If his father needed a mess to be cleaned up, he one hundred percent relied on Gian to do it.
The only problem was, he knew something his father didn’t. He would never provide his father an heir.
No one would call Gian a pussy and live to tell the tale. But if news of his impotence got out into the mafia world, it would take an awful lot of violence to maintain the respect he’d gained during the years of working for his father.
He loved women. Loved taking them, with his hand in his mouth.
The look on their faces, their silky, beautiful bodies. The way they moaned and moved under his hand and mouth. The desire to fuck was within him, but his dick didn’t cooperate.
He long ago decided that it was irrelevant. He found no attraction toward men, no matter how deeply inside himself he looked. And he appreciated making any woman who caught his eye orgasm repeatedly. But it wasn’t something he’d ever experienced himself.
But last night, on the dance floor, he’d almost fucking come in his pants.
Mind churning, Gian sat at the table reserved for his family and glared into the club. His favorite drink appeared by his right hand, delivered by a cocktail waitress who skittered away quickly. His dark mood apparently obvious.
He needed another woman. Someone to take his mind off what happened the night before with Don Todaro’s daughter. Yes, he’d gotten the first hard on of his life. That could’ve just been a coincidence. Circumstance. If nothing else, he’d take out the inexplicable need inside him by making one of his favorite strippers come, over and over again. Until she begged him to stop.
“Who peed in your Cheerios?” a jovial voice asked.
He didn’t spare Marco, his father’s Capo, a glance. “The fuck you want?”
Marco sat in a seat next to him. “Just looking for some entertainment tonight, same as you.”
Bullshit. Marco was a family man—one faithful to his wife. He didn’t turn to strip clubs for the pleasure of it. Gian had a pretty good idea why he was here. “My business is my business.”
“Don Todaro seems to think that your business is now his business.” Marco waved at one of the cocktail waitresses, and she nodded, then disappeared to grab his drink.
“That fucker won’t get between me and what is mine,” he growled, then very nearly started. The fuck was he saying? Sure, he wanted Domenica in a way that he’d never wanted anyone else. Hell, he could still smell her sweet scent, like she’d been branded into his skin. The desire to find her was strong, almost overpowering. If only to confirm that what he’d felt the night before hadn’t been real. He knew logically it was nonsense, and yet he couldn’t get the fucking hunger for her out of his system.
“War is a serious thing,” Marco said, and Gian knew that was the closest his father’s Capo would get to a warning. Gian wasn’t prone to fits of passionate rage, but he also didn’t stand for someone of lower rank telling him what to do.
“Noted,” he said, but when he reached for his glass, his hand shook, ever so slightly. He fisted it then grabbed the drink. The fuck was wrong with him?
“Let me buy you a lap dance.” Marco slapped him on the back, then got up and walked away. Marco’s drink remained untouched
Gian snorted. As if he had to pay for a lap dance of his own club. But sure enough, Mindy—one of the hottest strippers the club had ever seen, and one that Gian hadn’t yet tasted—swaggered up only moments after Marco disappeared into the dark.
She had a come-hither smile on her face, and she strutted like a woman who knew how to fuck. “Hey, sexy.”
Gian managed to grunt as he looked her up and down. She was beautiful. Stunning, even. Yet not one twinge of lust touched his body. His dick remained flaccid. His mouth didn’t even water at the idea of tasting her pussy.
She began her lap dance. Grinding and squirming to the music in a way that would make nearly any man ready to pounce.
But his mind drifted. To the perfect shape of Domenica’s ass. The secret little grin she’d shot him when he first began dancing with her without asking permission.
In his pants, his cock twitched.
He stoo
d, pushing Mindy away gently.
“I’ve got an appointment,” he said. He tossed a couple hundred-dollar bills for her on the table, then turned and walked out the door.
3
Domenica’s father, in his benevolence, had granted her a short stay. A single day to get her businesses and personal life—such as it was—in order. She’d use the time the only way she knew how. She called her best workers together—including her general manager who she knew was more than capable of running the businesses for her for a few weeks if needed—and told them she was going on a long vacation.
A month, and a promise to her father to not pursue, or allow herself to be pursued by Giancarlo, and he’d let her come home. No matter how hard her father pretended to be, he wasn’t fond of having her gone for long. While he’d never be the huggable father she always yearned for watching sitcoms on TV as a child, he did love her. And when it came down to it, he was doing this for her. No matter how badly it pissed her off, she knew that was true.
Giancarlo was still on her mind, though, as she did her makeup and got ready for her forced vacation. She just couldn’t shake him. That wasn’t like her. She had enough things that kept her bound—she wasn’t about to find herself willingly bound to someone else. Restrict her freedom further. And yet somehow, he’d clawed his way into her mind and wouldn’t let go.
She fluffed up her dark-brown curls then shook her head. She was overreacting. A few surprisingly excellent, sensual minutes and she was acting like a hormonal teenager. This wasn’t her. And she wouldn’t allow it to become her. When had she ever lost her head over a guy?
Never. And she couldn’t start now.
She picked up her overnight bag and headed down the stairs. Tense voices growled at each other from her father’s study. Normally, that would be her cue to find something else to do somewhere on the property. But her curiosity piqued, and she edged closer to her father’s study.
“…Don’t care what you think, Tony. With the Don gone, I’m in charge. So you’ll think what I tell you to.”
“But if the boss—” Tony started.
“The boss isn’t here. I am.”
The voice of her father’s Capo made her shiver. His vile attitude, and the leer he saved for her when her father wasn’t looking, had always made Biagio her least favorite person. She’d never mentioned it to her father, of course. But he’d always made her skin crawl. Just the sound of his voice almost made her turn around and head back to her room. But what they were saying clicked together in her mind.
The boss was gone?
What the fuck were they talking about?
Unable to wait another instant to find out for herself, she opened the door to the study without knocking and walked in. She kept her chin up and her back straight.
Show no weakness, mia figlia. Her father’s voice echoed in her mind.
“What’s going on here?” she asked.
Behind her father’s desk, Biagio stood from the chair—unfolding himself limb by limb in such a manner it made him look more insect than man. And he greeted her with a slimy smile.
“Domenica, my dear. How beautiful you look today.” Like his hair, his voice sounded as if it was coated in some kind of greasy, oily substance. The man was tall—maybe even as tall as Giancarlo. But unlike Gian’s muscular build, Biagio was thin as a reed. And he always wore too much cologne.
“Where’s my father?” she said again, putting every bit of authority she could into her voice. She was a woman, which meant these men would never take her as seriously as a man. But she was also the daughter of the Don. And she would have her answer.
“That’s a good question,” Tony said. He glanced at Biagio. “She should know. She could be of some help.”
Biagio gave Tony a look that clearly said he’d pay for his interference later, but Tony was unruffled. Biagio technically outranked Tony, but Tony was a powerhouse unto himself. And not far down the ladder from the Capo. And he was a lot more popular with her father’s men, she knew that. It hadn’t escaped her notice that she wasn’t the only one who found Biagio creepy and off-putting.
“Your father is missing,” Biagio said, no longer acknowledging Tony. “I don’t suppose you know anything?”
Ugh. The patronizing smile he gave her was almost as annoying as the gross leer he’d shot her when she walked into the room.
Before she could answer, he glanced at Tony. “Leave us a moment, Tony.”
Tony didn’t move. Instead, he looked at her. She nodded. Even though the idea of being alone with Biagio was revolting. What would Biagio do with Tony out of the room? Not much. Even if her father was missing, she was still the Don’s daughter. Besides, Tony wouldn’t go far.
Like a snake, Biagio slid toward her. The second the door shut behind Tony, he crossed into her personal space.
Her foot almost slid backward of its own accord, but she held herself firm. No way was she backing down before this creep. She’d choke on his cologne first.
“Did your father say anything, my dear?” Biagio took her hand in his and pressed a kiss against the top of her fingers. Just barely, she managed not to shudder with revulsion. “About leaving?”
Her father. Shit. Her father was missing. Gone.
How was that possible?
She looked up and met Biagio’s gaze, and he gave her that slippery smile.
Surely, he couldn’t have—he was her father’s Capo. His right-hand man. Her father trusted him above all others to keep his business running smoothly. Especially with the particularly messy sides of the business. That was something she wasn’t supposed to know. But she’d always been a nosy child.
Hell, she was still nosy.
“Where’s my father?” She kept her voice low. But even with all her effort in it, she couldn’t keep the rage in her voice from showing.
“My dear,” he said, his smile widening, “how would I know that?”
He still held her hand that he’d kissed, and she yanked it away. But she still didn’t back down.
Back down in this world, and you die. Fatherly advice that Don Todaro had never given her. But she’d overheard him give it to Tony when was a young man.
Besides, Biagio had always backed down. He wasn’t the kind of man who could stand up to her father.
Biagio reached for her, moving quickly. And she still couldn’t believe he was doing it even as she saw. He grabbed the back of her neck and held her firm. Then he lowered his mouth to hers.
“What the hell are you—” Her mind still denied that this was even a possibility as his lips touched hers. Finally, she cracked. She shoved him, slapping her hands against his chest as hard as she could.
To her shock, Biagio not only moved, but he also flew a good three feet back, saved only from landing on his ass by her father’s desk.
Eyes wide, he stared at her.
“Stay away from me,” she said, her voice carrying confidence she didn’t feel.
His eyes narrowed. “You might want to think about your place now that your father’s gone, little one. You might want to think hard. As my wife, you’d inherit a similar place to what you have now. A… respect.” He spat out the word like it tasted foul. “As an ex-Don’s daughter, there’s no one to keep you safe.”
Before she could formulate a response, before she could even comprehend his words, he called for Tony.
The big man entered the room, giving her a questioning glance.
“Please escort Miss Todaro to her room, Tony.” Biagio wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “I believe she may know where her father is.”
She looked at Tony, but his gaze was shuttered off. He escorted her back to her room, not saying a word.
The door shut behind Tony. Then locked.
She sat heavily on her bed, suddenly drained both of energy and ideas. No matter how she and her father disappointed each other, he had always been there for her. Really, more so than she wanted him to be. But no matter how she rallied against him and his rest
rictions to her freedom, she’d always known in the back of her mind that he kept her safe.
And he was gone.
Where could the powerful Don be? He wouldn’t have just taken off, not of his own accord. Sure, it was his right to do so. And it was his men’s obligation to keep things running smoothly while he was gone. She’d heard of Dons— other Dons—taking advantage of that right. Although none without some sort of word to their men. But her father… He was too much of a control freak. The man wouldn’t just leave his businesses to his Capo to manage, not without setting things up first. And certainly not without checking in.
Then where could he be?
Her mind shied away from answering the thought. If her father hadn’t left of his own accord, that meant someone else had forced him to leave. That’s the word she would stick with. Her father had left. Perhaps someone had taken him. But he was still out there, somewhere.
She had to believe that.
But Biagio, the man who should be scouring heaven and earth for his Don, seemed happier to simply step into his shoes. Take over his empire. And without her father to step in, no one would stop him. Some, like Tony, wouldn’t like it. But they wouldn’t argue with it—not without someone else to follow. The mob rankings were sacrosanct.
If she were a son… Well, a lot of things in her life would’ve been different if she’d been born a boy.
But woman or not, she couldn’t just sit here. She had to do something. She glanced at the window and narrowed her eyes.
Step one, she had to get the fuck out of here.
4
Goddammit, Gian couldn't just forget Domenica. Nor could he replace her. Even now, working out of an office in his favorite club, he couldn’t get her out of his head. Granted, he’d picked the club where he’d almost fucked her to work, which didn’t help. He swore he could still smell her in the back room. He picked up the phone, hit a number, and ordered his car be brought around. The second he set the phone back in the cradle, a sharp knock came at the door.
Dragon Mob: A Powyrworld Urban Fantasy Romance (The Lost Dragon Princes Book 3) Page 3