"That's my girl," Camila chimed in. "She will make you work for it."
Danny groaned. "Where is she? In her room?" he finally asked, unable to resist.
Camila's eyes flew open. "You don't know where Lucia is?" she asked.
"Not here," Luca told him, smirking a bit. "As her mother so saliently pointed out, you're going to have to work harder at this."
Danny shook his head. "Not here?" he asked, trying not to roar. "Where did she go?"
"You should probably work on that," Luca observed. He was too calm. Danny stood, trying to intimidate Luca by his very size, but Luca just raised a brow. "I shot three men less than six hours ago with a tiny-ass pistol. You're not scaring me."
Danny didn't laugh. He was too busy trying to figure out what stunt Lucia was now pulling. After a brief farewell, he stomped down his future in-laws' front steps and debated what to do. Along with hacking his future mother-in-law's phone, he was going to have Max hack his wife's phone and put a fucking tracking app on it.
The thought stopped him cold. Taking a deep breath of the cold air, he forced himself to calm, got in the car, and withdrew his phone. Lucia hadn't tried to call or text, but he had her number from when he'd put it in her phone and sent himself a brief text message.
Her voicemail picked up. He listened to it, forced himself to calm, and left a message. "Call me back, Lucia. I need to know where you are." He disconnected and thought, remembered that Lucia didn't have a car. That meant she was in his SUV and Christian was driving.
Christian answered his phone, which was good because Danny probably would have fired him otherwise. Before Danny could even ask, Christian said, "We're at the clinic by the hospital. She made me stay with the SUV, but I am parked where I can see the doors and she hasn't come out."
"The –" Danny stopped himself, remembering the conversation they'd had about birth control. He'd told her that he'd take her to get birth control and tested, reassuring her that he was clean. He groaned inwardly. He had been an ass. "Fine, I'm on my way," he snapped.
"Yes, sir."
His phone beeped halfway to the clinic, but he didn't look at it until he parked. Texting and driving was no joke, especially on winter streets. The text message was from Lucia. Finished here, need to finish my Christmas shopping. See you tonight!
Danny slammed his hand on the steering wheel. He knew what her message meant. She wasn't going to sit around and wait for him to run her life. "Fuck," he said aloud. To Lucia, he typed I'll be home for dinner at six. Will you come? To Christian, he texted a somewhat different message.
Her only answer had been Yes, I'll come.
She came through the garage door with two shopping bags at half-past five. He met her, dressed in nothing more than a pair of pajama pants and a hard-on the size of Lake Ontario. Danny fucked her before she made it into the next room, then stripped her and carried her through the house to the master bedroom, where he spanked her and eventually permitted her to shower. At well past seven o'clock, he served them dinner in the glass-enclosed breakfast room that looked out over a dark landscape. She'd lost her pink boots and accompanying clothes, and wore nothing but a red cotton t-shirt of his that he'd slipped on her after she'd showered. She'd had a pedicure and her toenails were a bright red, too.
After she tasted the first bite and moaned happily, and he'd admitted that the housekeeper had made the meal, she pointed her fork at him and said, "There was no need to send half your employees to follow me around today."
Danny looked at her innocently. "You didn't invite me along, and that was your choice, so I wanted to make sure you were safe and protected. They didn't get in your way, did they?"
"I'm sure they took photos of me that they sent you, and they cleared out any store I went into to ensure my privacy, and paid off the store staff to focus solely on me, and somehow all of my purchases ended up on your credit card instead of mine, even when I gave my card to the clerk."
"I pay them to be efficient," Danny murmured.
Lucia sighed. "Is it always going to be like this?"
"You mean, the two guards, the driver, and a personal assistant?"
She rolled her eyes. "Yes."
"If I'm not with you and you're out in public, probably," he admitted. "We're interviewing candidates next week for a permanent position as your personal assistant. I'm looking for someone interested in art history and restoration, so they can attend classes with you." He shrugged. "We were already looking for a PA for Rosalia, so we've just added a few more interviews."
"How do you think that will work?" Lucia asked, her voice deceptively mild.
Danny raised a brow. "I suppose that will depend on whether you want to go back to NYU or if you'd be willing to compromise and go to Queen's in Kingston. I'm fairly certain I can get you in – not for the January quarter but the one after that."
"It's still a good 2 hours, even if I have a personal ferry, and a car at the other side," she reminded him.
Danny shrugged. "We don't have a large operation in Kingston, but there's a bit of family and corporate presence there. I figured I'd get an apartment nearby for emergencies or a few nights a week, and we have a helicopter that can take you over and back faster than a boat. We'll work it out."
"I'm not ready to have a baby," she said. "I got the shot today at the clinic."
A sharp sting of disappointment stabbed Danny through the stomach. He wanted to see her – keep her – rounded with babies inside her. She was a sexy angel now, but he'd be permanently hard if she was pregnant. He grunted, not trusting himself to say anything helpful for his cause.
Her hand clasped his arm. He stopped eating, sat his fork down. She looked straight at him and said, "I want to have babies, but I want to finish my degree first. I'm only twenty. I know you're thirty-eight. Are you willing to wait three years, to have babies with me?"
Danny listened to his heart pound in his head, emotion rushing through him with the dizzy speed he hadn't felt since the day his father died. This reaction wasn't grief, though. It was a fierce pleasure. "I'd wait until the last day of my life if you asked me to, florhinza," he said honestly.
"I suspect we should get married before we start that, too," she suggested, not breaking eye contact.
Danny narrowed his eyes and glared at her. "Damn straight, and if I have any input into that decision, the wedding will be much sooner than the babies. Three years sooner." He paused. "Do I have any input into the timing?"
Lucia leaned back, letting the change in position display her breasts in the low-cut cotton. "How much input do you want?" she asked.
"Christmas Day," he said honestly. "Margot – that's Jimmy's executive assistant – has designer dresses lined up for you to review, a seamstress to make adjustments, a florist on speed dial, and knows every decent musician north of Philadelphia. We can put together caterers and a guest list within 3 days. Say the word and you'll be my wife before the year turns."
Lucia caught her breath, but didn't look away. "Did you already –"
"No," he reassured her. "Nothing's finalized. Just pre-planning. I can't go away on a honeymoon until later in the spring, but the corporation and family will be mostly quiet between Christmas and New Year's."
She nodded. "Christmas Eve," she whispered. "Let's get married Christmas Eve, and have a proper Christmas morning alone, the two of us, with presents and stockings before my parents come for lunch and Jimmy and Rosalia have us come over for Christmas dinner."
Danny blinked. "Christmas Eve," he repeated. Realization burst through him, that she had just agreed. "Christmas Eve." He slid back his chair and slid to the floor at Lucia's feet, as she stared down at him in surprise. "Lucy-girl, are you really going to marry me?" He buried his face in her thighs just above her knees, rubbing his face on that delicious stretch of sensitive skin.
"Is that a proposal?" she asked back.
"No," he answered. "I'm terrified of proposing. You'd say no, and then what would we do? Besides, you proposed to m
e. I accept."
Lucia wrapped her hands around his head, holding him. She bent forward and kissed him. "Okay, I proposed, but you have to pick out the ring."
"No problem," he mumbled. He already had the damn ring anyway. He'd gone and bought it after he'd left the clinic earlier. "Do me a favor, would you?"
"What's that?" A small gasp left her as he slid his hands under her bottom and pressed his chin down, forcing her thighs apart. He positioned himself closer, opening her up.
"Wear pink boots under your wedding dress. Please," he asked, his mouth so close to the liquid forming for him on her labia that he could reach out his tongue and taste it. "Promise me."
"Yes," she gasped. When his mouth reached her pink flesh and he kissed, she repeated her agreement. "Yes."
ABOUT ELLE Q. SABINE
Elle is an author of erotic romance, or romance that contains erotic content. The romance – the falling in love – is the beautiful part of the story. The erotic content is the interesting part. Elle lives in the great state of California with a devoted Mr. Sabine and a golden-haired daughter. If she had spare time, she'd like to sleep at night, visit museums, and spend more time with the Pacific Ocean.
Elle is a feminist, a LGBTQIA ally and a charitable giver. She donates a portion of her very small writing income to charities that support human beings, the environment, science and health, including the ACLU, Planned Parenthood and local arts education. She believes science and evolution are real, that God exists, and that these beliefs are not mutually exclusive. She knows that Americans have been to the moon, that September 11 was not a conspiracy, the Holocaust happened and Nazis in America are a scourge on our national identity. Elle's daughter has been vaccinated and Elle survived her birth because of twenty-first century modern medicine. Elle buys organic groceries and lusts after Sweet Tarts, tortilla chips, blended salsa and avocadoes made into guacamole. She has her family's addiction to cheese and watches college football whenever possible on Saturdays. She's in awe of Hamilton and worshipped at one of its temples, but fell in love with her first musical, Annie, at six years old. Elle is from a family of German immigrants who displaced Native Americans in pre-Civil War America to establish farms with federal land grants and found a town in the rural Midwest. She's been privileged to grow up in an iconic middle-class Midwestern ranch style home with two parents, a dog and a younger brother. Someday Elle will spend a summer in Europe. Until then, she will dream of Italy, Spain, Switzerland, Austria, Germany, France, Belgium, the Netherlands, Hungary, Norway, Sweden, Finland, England, Scotland, Ireland and other countries she'd like to visit.
To meet Elle or learn more about her, visit her on Twitter at @elleqsabine or at her blog at http://elleqsabine.wordpress.com.
EXCERPT FROM The Don's Rose, Mafia Mate Book One.
ONE
"I want to know every fucking thing about that one," Jimmy demanded, not looking away from the devastating raven-haired stunner across the room. She was wearing an understated green turtleneck sweater and black pants with leather high-heeled boots that stopped below her knee, a far cry from how he'd have dressed her.
For this, the company holiday party, she ought to be wrapped in red silk with a plunging neckline and silver Christian Louboutin pumps with red satin ankle ties. Her hair would be draped over her shoulders in a glistening black crown, instead of pinned in a conservative knot on the back of her head. Her lips would be highlighted with a glossy red lipstick that would come off as she sucked his cock after the party – or, better yet, during the party when he took her into the private VIP lounge reserved for Jimmy and his immediate circle. She'd transform from glamorous to disheveled and needy as he broke her down into –
"Boss, she's off the market," Margot murmured, from her spot one step from his left side and one step behind. Margot was the ultra-organized admin and angel who kept his life in order, but he almost snapped at her to make her explain. She went on before he could get out any intelligible words. "That's Ricardo Dinapoli's wife, the one he married this summer. She's from Chicago, second generation Martelluci, Sicilian but legit. Plenty of relatives, but no known connection to the family, here or in Sicily. At least not until she married Dinapoli."
"Why the hell is she with that one?" Jimmy demanded, silently resolving to end that atrocity as soon as possible. It was a damn good thing he was the don, since he'd forbidden the men of the family from poaching each other's spouses.
As a young man, Ricardo Dinapoli had been an acceptable soldier in the family that Jimmy had spent the last twenty years quietly building in Oswego and Syracuse, then expanding west toward Rochester and north to Watertown. Now Ricardo was a subpar employee for the holding corporation that he, Danny and Max had formed to manage the family's network of small businesses and financial assets operated by his capos and their crews. Ricardo also lacked any connection, past or present, to the Savaggio famiglia. Jimmy had taken Ricardo into the fold as a favor to Ricardo's uncle, when Ricardo had needed out of Italy as a young man. In those days, Jimmy had traded favors to further his own family. But now, at thirty-two, Ricardo had outlived his usefulness. In the family, he was a recruiter – a scout. In the corporation, he was part of the acquisitions team that brought existing businesses in under the company umbrella. He hadn't done much of either for at least two years now.
No, Ricardo wouldn't be going any further in Jimmy's organization.
Jimmy's family was a newer, better version of the stiff-rumped old Cosa Nostra that had been prosecuted out of existence in upper New York. Jimmy wouldn't make the same errors the old-timers had. Even though Dinapoli was made for his early recruitment work – he'd brought in two tour boat companies to the corporation that were immensely profitable as well as several restaurants and bars early on in his career – he was not indispensable. Jimmy couldn't care less if his soldiers and capos were native Italian. As long as they could speak or learn the language, or were married to it, they could prove their worth and join the ranks. He required hard work, the code of silence, the keeping of family secrets, prohibited adultery with the family's wives, and considered fighting among members without Jimmy's approval a capital offense. Everything else was negotiable.
Ricardo Dinapoli was not a hard worker, at least not for the family.
A grim smile touched Jimmy's face. Losing his head would definitely put a cramp in Ricardo's future prospects in the family, or out of it.
"I'll find out, sir," Margot said. It was an emotionless answer. "Want me to bring him in for a consult?"
Jimmy wasn't sure that was a good idea, not if Dinapoli was going to walk out of the meeting. "Why don't you bring her in for an interview instead? She doesn't already work for me, does she?" He didn't even turn his head to check Margot's expression, at least not until she answered. Her voice was tight with some suppressed emotion that caught his immediate attention.
"No, sir, she doesn't work for us in any capacity. I suggested Dinapoli have her apply for the analyst job you've been trying to fill but he told me to bugger off, that he could support her without charity from a freaky fish."
"He didn't?" Jimmy's anger went up a notch. "Why the hell didn't you tell me that when it happened?"
Margot shrugged. "It was August when he brought her here. You were in New York, then Boston, then London and Rome on your annual networking meets. By the time you returned in September, I decided there was no reason to call it to your attention."
Jimmy raised his brows but saved his irritation at her reticence for a more appropriate time and place. But he still wanted his curiosity about the woman appeased immediately. "What makes you think she'd make a good fit for the job? You know what I expect in work ethic and productivity."
Margot looked uncomfortable, then grimaced. "I thought it might be advantageous to have someone from the family, or at least an associate, who would know the rules. She married into us, so Max had done a background on her, just like everyone else and that ended on my desk to review in case you had a need to know. Sh
e earned an undergrad from London School of Economics, an MBA from the University of Chicago and a graduate degree from the University of Geneva, all by the age of twenty-six. From all accounts, she's fluent in English, Italian, and French, and competent in Spanish and German. But she married Ricardo almost immediately when she returned from Switzerland. She clearly intended to do something with her life, and now she's a housewife to a –" Margot stopped abruptly, flushing slightly.
"A self-righteous, pompous asshole bigot whose head has swollen out of proportion to his micro-penis?" Jimmy suggested. He didn't hold to the old family ways of driving out anyone who didn't fit with traditional missionary-position sexuality.
Perhaps it was growing up as a boy in Catholic school, he thought, but he quite enjoyed the sudden thought he had of Rosalia in missionary position. But then again, he also would appreciate her bent over, dress pulled to her hips, and Jimmy behind her with his dick deep in her ass.
A couple of the bodyguards who were close enough to Jimmy choked back their laughter, but he saw the flash of appreciation in Margot's gaze. He knew Margot, who had transitioned from Marcus in the summer between graduating from Boston University and arriving to work as Jimmy's salvation in the guise of executive assistant, never whined about how life was unfair or that his soldiers were navel-gazing sexually repressed dickheads. Margot kept her sex life private, and Jimmy respected her for that.
Right at the moment he wanted his sex life to be sacrosanct, too, but he knew quite well that as soon as he made a move on Rosalia, they'd be the whispered topic of every discussion from now until Independence Day – among the men and the women. Gossip was vicious, and his sex life was about to become family business. If anyone else blindly broke one of the guiding principles of the family, he could demand expulsion or even a trip to the bottom of Lake Ontario in response. Jimmy's only saving grace was that he owned the family. Danny, Max and Mario – his underbosses but also the men who had been his best friends since childhood – would forgive him the sin. At least, he hoped they would.
The Don's Enforcer Page 6