Okay, no. That’s not why I’m mad, but I’m actually kinda softened by the fact that he thinks that’s it. It means he did listen.
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m not mad at you. I just don’t want to go.”
“Bullshit.”
Damn. Alex’s way of calling bullshit probably scares grown men into peeing themselves. There’s so much force and anger behind the word, it’s a wonder I don’t flinch. Or maybe I do, I’m not sure. I’m trying too hard not to cry.
But there’s no way I’m going to confess to him my real woes here. He has an inflated enough ego—he doesn’t need to know that I fell head over heels for him and I’m crushed to be reminded that he’s here because my father sent him, not for anything more.
“Just leave me alone.” I start marching back to the hotel again.
“Jenna, hold up.” He arrives by my side, matching my swift pace. “I’m sorry. I’ll help you out when we’re back in Chicago—set you up with your own place—anything you need. Just because you’re going back doesn’t mean you have to live at home or give up on your dreams.”
I stop, because his gesture is unbelievably sweet, even though it’s not the one I wanted. My nose burns, but I manage to hold back my tears. “Thanks, Alex. That’s kind of you.”
“Yeah?” He ducks his head, trying to peer in my face. It’s dark, though, and the moon is just a sliver.
“Yeah, thanks. I’m sorry I got mad. This isn’t your fault. It never was.”
He slips an arm around my waist, but I dance away again. When we get to my suite and he follows me in, his brows are down, eyes troubled.
Well, too bad. I’m the mystery he’s not going to solve tonight.
Or any other night. I had a nice hookup with Alex. He was the perfect guy to lose my virginity with, but if I want to keep my heart from getting crushed any further, I’d better keep my distance.
Chapter Six
Alex
It’s the longest fucking plane trip in the history of the universe. Or maybe just the most miserable. Jenna won’t talk. She’s not giving me the silent treatment—no, she’s quite polite. But there’s no friendly chatter. No making conversation.
And she definitely doesn’t want to be touched. She skitters away from me every time I lay a hand on her waist or touch her hand.
My stomach churns on the flight home, trying to figure out what I missed. Is Jenna really afraid of her father? I don’t think so. But what, then?
We finally land in O’Hare and Don G, himself, picks us up. He acts like he didn’t just bust my balls and slaps me on the back, thanking me for bringing his baby home.
I’m relieved to see Jenna’s affectionate with him, and he with her, so nothing seems amiss there.
“Well, I’ll just get a cab,” I tell Don G.
“You sure? I got no problem taking you home.”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” I cut my glance to Jenna. She’s sick of me trailing her by now, and could probably use some space.
Oddly, she doesn’t looked relieved.
In fact, she looks like she wants to cry. I touch her elbow. “Hey. Take care of yourself, okay?”
She blinks rapidly on her way in for a hug. “You too.” She sounds choked up.
Her dad takes her bag and puts his arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him as they walk away. For some reason, I feel like I’m bleeding out of a giant, gutting wound.
And that’s when it hits me like a bullet between the eyes—Jenna’s heart was in play.
And I fucking crushed it.
I’m so sick I want to throw up. Somehow my feet still move me to the line of cabs and I make it home, where I throw myself on the bed and stare at the ceiling.
I’m tired and jet-lagged and I can’t even trust my own head. All I know is what’s in my gut, which feels like a knife twisting and spinning.
Did I read the signs right? Does Jenna care about me? If so, what I did was unconscionable. I took the girl’s virginity and walked away, for Christ’s sake. What must she think about me?
But what fucking choice did I have? Don Giuseppe told me to keep my hands off her. If he finds out what I’ve done, there’ll be hell to pay.
Since sleep seems impossible, I get up and stagger to the bathroom to splash water on my face. I can’t stand the guy I see looking back at me in the mirror. The guy who hurt Jenna Pachino.
How could I?
And I have no fucking clue how to fix this. Truthfully, she’s better off without me. I don’t want her to live a life like my mom, always afraid of losing the man she loves. It’s not fair to her. She should have her chance to get out of La Cosa Nostra.
So just letting the cards lie seems like the best option, if I truly care for her.
Why then, do I still feel like someone’s screwing a giant bolt right through the center of me?
* * *
Jenna
Three days and I still can’t stop moping around the house. I won’t even let my mom coax me out for retail therapy. She’s in my bedroom for the umpteenth time, trying to get me to talk.
“Baby, please. Tell me what’s wrong. Did something happen to you in Spain? Something bad?”
I shake my head. “No, Mom. I just didn’t want to come back. I want some time alone.”
Downstairs I hear the sound of masculine voices. I don’t even realize my instantaneous reaction of going still, listening for the deep familiar baritone. But it’s not him. It’s not Alex.
Unfortunately, my interest wasn’t missed. My mom gives me a penetrating look. “Something happened with Alex.” She says it like a statement, not a question.
My flush gives me away.
She scoots closer to me on the bed. “Did you and he…?”
I swallow and nod.
Her mouth drops open. Then she draws herself up, squares her shoulders. “Well, where is he, then? He hasn’t called or stopped by—”
“Dad forbade him to touch me.” I don’t know why I’m defending him. I had all the same thoughts as my mother. I just can’t stand to have anyone think anything bad about—Christ, it’s true—the man I love.
My mother’s lips press together. “That’s ridiculous,” she says primly.
“And he’s just Dad’s puppet, I guess. So that’s that.”
My mother mutters something in Italian, then stands up and folds her arms across her chest. “No,” she says. “Your father doesn’t get to decide this for you. Not after he hamstrung you all these years with that farce of a marriage contract. No, he gets absolutely no say in who his daughter dates or doesn’t date.”
I’m not sure whether to throw up or hug her. “What do you mean, farce of a marriage contract?” Because it sure as hell felt real to me.
My mother makes a scoffing sound. “I knew he would never make you go through with it in the end. It was to keep pressure on the Tacones—it wasn’t real.”
The stone in my stomach grows heavier. “It was real. My whole life you told me I had to marry him. Why would you say that if it wasn’t real?”
Suddenly, unexpectedly, my mother bursts into tears.
I stand up, bewildered. She throws her arms around my neck and hugs me tight. “Oh, Jenna. I’m so sorry. It was so wrong, so unfair. I couldn’t get your father to end it. He let it go way too far. Until we lost you.”
I pat her back, holding back my own tears. Of course my mother suffered as much as I did. She’s dedicated her life to me. I’m her only child.
“Jenna!” Alex’s voice booms from downstairs. “Jenna?” He repeats my name, but it’s closer now, like he’s coming up here.
My mom hurriedly pulls away from me and we stare at each other.
“What the fuck is going on?” My dad sounds pissed.
“I need to talk to Jenna.” Alex is right outside my door now.
I throw it open. Alex looks terrible—dark circles under his eyes, his hair unkempt, like he’s been shoving his fingers through it.
“Anything you need to say to h
er, you can say to me first.” My dad’s right behind Alex.
Alex’s lips tighten. He stops and pivots to face my father. “Okay.” He drags out the second syllable. “Don Giuseppe. I love your daughter—always have. And I think she cares about me, too.”
My dad’s eyes narrow.
I’m frozen, my legs rooted where I stand.
“My daughter’s not dating a soldier,” my father says flatly.
“I agree,” Alex says.
I can’t breathe.
“That’s why I’m going into investing. See, there’s this great fashion styling plan your daughter came up with, and I’d like to fund it.”
“Alex,” I croak, forcing my body to move forward. I fall into his arms, my cheek pressing up against his hard muscled chest.
“You let them go,” my mother demands, poking my father in the chest. “Both of them. Set them free from La Cosa Nostra. I don’t want my grandchildren living this way.”
My father’s breathing hard through his nose, so heavy I start to worry he’s having a heart attack. I wouldn’t be surprised if the cigars and bourbon finally did him in. He lifts a finger and points it at Alex.
Alex doesn’t flinch. I’m not surprised, because he is a badass in his own right now, too, but it still takes palle.
“You ever hurt her, you cheat on her, I’ll cut your motherfucking balls off.” My dad sounds so mean, it takes us all a moment to realize he’s just conceded.
“Dad,” I choke, tears spearing my eyes. I leave Alex’s arms to hug him. “I love you,” I say to his collar as he squeezes me tight.
“Go on,” he grouches, pushing me back in Alex’s direction.
“Lo prometto,” Alex vows, his face as serious as I’ve ever seen it. He and my father shake hands and my father pulls him in for double cheek kisses.
“Go on,” he repeats, slapping Alex’s back.
Alex takes my hand. “Come on, baby.” He leads me down the stairs.
I’m wearing yoga pants and a thin t-shirt, and no makeup. “Where are we going?”
“I don’t know. Anywhere you wanna go,” he says, leading me out the front door. We get to his car and he pushes me up against the door, slamming his lips down on mine. The kiss has traces of desperation—desire so demanding I’m sure he’ll devour me.
When he breaks it off, his eyes are haunted. “Is this what you want? Or did you just get pushed into another future you didn’t choose for yourself?”
My lashes moisten. “It’s what I want, stupid.”
Alex captures the back of my head, his tongue sweeping into my mouth. “Careful, bambina,” he says when he pulls back. “Or Daddy’s going to spank that delicious ass of yours.” He claims my mouth again, lips twisting over mine.
“I’m counting on it,” I murmur.
Epilogue
Alex
“Angel?” I loosen my tie as I walk in the door of the apartment Jenna and I share.
“In here, Daddy,” she calls from the bedroom.
I’m not out of the family business. It’s never that easy. Once you’re in La Famiglia, the only way out is a box. That’s what they say, anyway. But Don G and I have an agreement. I got moved to peripheral operations. Nothing too dangerous. Nothing too risky. Following Nico Tacone’s example of taking things legal.
In the meantime, I set up an office for Jenna and hired a marketing manager to help her grow her business. She already has three hundred clients from her Facebook ads, and we’re working on strategies to get more profit out of the business. Basically, her business model needs to be scaled for mass delivery. She’s going to put together set clothing wardrobes for each of the twelve waist placements in three different budgets for each season, and then we’ll mass market it that way.
It’s a learning and growth process but always fun.
I push open the bedroom door and my breath catches.
Jenna’s naked, kneeling in the center of the bed, waiting for me—just like I instructed her.
It’s almost too much.
She’s so fucking beautiful. So receptive. So obedient.
Which doesn’t mean I don’t find every excuse in the book to spank her ass cherry red. She loves it as much as I do.
“Good girl,” I praise as I walk toward her, pulling the necktie off. “Have you been good all day?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Well, that deserves a reward.” I take her wrists and wind the tie around them, then climb over her, pushing her to her back. I secure the tie to the bedpost.
For a moment I just look at the picture she makes—so beautiful, her chest moving up and down with her rapid breath, her naked body trussed up and ready for me.
I’m definitely going to take care of her. She’s my girl. The only person in this world who really knows me. Who I can be myself with. Soon I’m going to ask her to marry me. I already bought the ring. But tonight—tonight is for pleasure.
“Spread your knees, piccolina.” I tell her, letting every wicked thought I’m having show on my face. “Daddy’s going to make you scream.”
* * *
Thank you for reading Mafia Daddy, a book in the Vegas Underground series.
I am so grateful to you! If you enjoyed this Vegas Underground story, please check out the full-length books in the series, KING OF DIAMONDS.
“Dark, dirty, and perfect—Renee Rose has mastered this genre.”
~USA Today Bestselling Author Alta Hensley
I WARNED HER.
I told her not to set foot in my casino again. I told her to stay away. Because if I see those hips swinging around my suite, I’ll pin her against the wall and take her hard. And once I make her mine, I’m not gonna set her free. I’m king of the Vegas underground and I take what I want.
So she’d better run. Stay the hell away from my casino. Or I’ll tie her to my bed. Put her on your knees. Break her.
ONE CLICK KING OF DIAMONDS NOW >
RENATA VITALI
PARKER S. HUNTINGTON
For Chloe.
I miss you.
Life hurts without you.
The devil doesn’t come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns. He comes as everything you’ve ever wished for. Pray for wisdom and discernment.
– Tucker Max, Assholes Finish First
Trust
trəst/
Noun
Firm belief in the reliability, truth, ability, or strength of someone or something.
Trust is a series of decisions. It’s your choice to give it, and the people you give it to have the choice to prove you right. One day, the time will come when it’s you you’ll have to decide to trust. When that time comes, trust yourself. Then, let your heart prove you right.
Prologue
“Trusting you is my decision. Proving me right is your choice.”
– Unknown
Damiano De Luca
They say, one day, it will hurt less. The distance will stop seizing my throat and let me breathe. It’ll feel okay to wake up, pat the space beside me, and not feel her there. It’ll be easier to tell a joke and realize the only person who can understand it isn’t there to hear it. They say, one day, you’ll find someone else, and you’ll feel these same things for her.
They say these things, but not a night passes where she doesn’t cross my mind.
She’s either my curse or my angel.
* * *
Renata Vitali
Damiano De Luca is the hardest challenge I’ve ever faced. He is my only leap of faith. My I fell fast, I fell hard, I jumped first and asked later, and only he can pick me back up first love. He’s my think of you every night. My wake up reaching for you. My never be the same goodbye. My heart’s biggest enemy.
And me? I am his first love.
But I don’t want to be his first love. I want to be his last love.
The truth is, this story is not a love story.
Chapter One
“Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none.”
– Will
iam Shakespeare
Renata Vitali
My fingers gripped the leather armrest as the plane skidded across the tarmac at Devil’s Landing. I supposed most small Texas towns didn’t have the luxury of a private airstrip, but Devils Ridge wasn’t a typical small town.
With cute lighthouses scattered across its coastal edges, Devils Ridge would have been quaint and scenic—had there not been a cumbersome mafia presence. It was the second oldest city in Texas, with its first colonial settlement dating back to the 1700s. A couple of hundred years later, a new devil settled in Devils Ridge—Ludovico De Luca, the first De Luca to taint the town.
In the Vitali archives, there were books documenting Ludovico’s descent into madness. After his son’s wife had given birth, he slaughtered them both and raised his grandchild to be crazier than him. The De Lucas bred each generation with no moral code, and I was entering the lion’s den.
I traced my fingers along the wood-trimmed table in front of me. My last name, Vitali, laid etched in the center, along with our centuries-old coat of arms. Laurel leaves. Lion. Torch. Purple. Peace. Courage. Intelligence. Royalty.
There were Italian mafia syndicates all over the world, but the major syndicates were the five American syndicates—Romano, Andretti, De Luca, Camerino, and Rossi. Hundreds of years ago, ruthless wars broke out across the globe. Syndicates fought other syndicates for territories and honor. Two syndicates in Europe wiped out. Thousands dead. Millions wasted. Only then did every syndicate agree to gather for peace talks in Italy.
My family—the Vitali—ran the peace talks. Since then, my family has governed the syndicates, making sure no syndicate crossed the line. The Vitali had our own armies. We had our own deep coffers. And we had our own hierarchy, where my father—il condottiero—was the boss who sat at the top, and I was the lone mafia princess.
Mafia Romance Page 110