The boss a dark mafia ro.., p.14
The Boss: A Dark Mafia Romance, page 14
“You didn’t kill us,” I told him.
“I don’t plan on allowing that to happen. You just don’t know all my skills either. Now, do you?”
Touché. He had me there.
I didn’t know squat about him other than what I remembered from so many years before. Maybe that’s what this was all about. Or maybe he’d brought me here to grill me on my knowledge of my brother. Either way, the change of scenery would be welcome.
“When do the guards arrive?” I asked as he rolled into a hangar.
“I was serious. There won’t be any.”
“But what if…” I couldn’t finish my sentence. That had occurred too many times over the last few days.
“Tight security and plenty of weapons.”
“I asked you this before.” I noticed men coming toward the plane, but they looked like workers. “How can you stand to live that way? I bet you keep a gun under your pillow.”
“Those days are mostly gone, Willow. My father did. He didn’t go anywhere without his weapon. But we’re not in a war.” He unfastened his seatbelt, doing mine next as if I couldn’t do that for myself.
“Are you certain of that?”
He laughed in response. “If we are, then I have enough men and firepower to handle it.”
“But the way you’re forced to live is terrifying to me. I bet you look over your shoulder every time you go out.”
“You get used to it, but certainly we’re not always in danger. Besides, this life is all I’ve ever known. Come on. I’ll take you on a nice calm ride.”
“I doubt anything around you is calm.”
Still wearing a grin, he grabbed our things, guiding me down the same set of stairs.
A man spoke Greek to him and I didn’t bother asking what was said. I honestly didn’t want to know at this point. I felt the more I learned the more dangerous it would seem to me. He took me by the hand as lovers would do, walking quickly toward a door on the side of the hangar.
When he opened it, I felt a sense of relief. “A sports car.” The bright yellow beauty inspired all things wicked within me.
“A convertible. This girl is my baby,” he said as he pulled a key fob from his pocket, pressing until the lights flashed.
“Italian, I presume.”
His grin was infectious. “Not even close. American. A Pontiac, no less.”
“Really?” I was in honest to God shock.
“I don’t lie, princess. A Solstice.”
The car wasn’t very expensive. Was he doing this to impress me? No, that couldn’t be the case. “Interesting color for a man such as yourself.”
“Were you thinking blood red?”
I gave him a lust-filled look. “Why, yes. It suits you.”
“Then you don’t know me that well. It’s called mean yellow.” He studied me as he removed the convertible top, tossing it along with our things in the very tiny trunk.
“Maybe it does fit you perfectly.”
“I’ll have you know I bought this at a car auction. Less than ten grand. I had it shipped all the way from Philadelphia.” After dumping the things in the small trunk, he opened the passenger door for me.
“You’re being a gentleman and I adore the color name.”
“Did you doubt it? I do have a mother. She taught me manners. If I was rude to anyone, she’d tweak my ear and let me tell you, it hurt like hell.” He closed the door, bending down to wink at me before walking to the other side.
He could surprise me with silly quips and kind words. He could also terrify me with the looks he gave. Once inside, he started and revved the engine. The garage-style door magically opened and he floored the car out into the open, spinning it around, the tires screeching. It was a five speed and I had a feeling he knew how to drive this baby.
I was proven right as he zoomed out of the small parking lot, hitting the road at forty-five miles per hour. The bastard was doing this on purpose. Little did he know I might hate planes, but I adored fast cars.
As he drove, I finally relaxed, savoring every inch of the beautiful scenery.
The road was curved and he took every one with tight precision. I was laughing as I enjoyed the ride more than he thought I would. His constant looks were almost endearing, but it was the thick bulge between his legs that set my soul on fire.
My body as well.
I could no longer call her a betraying bitch. My mind was now in agreement. As we rolled through a quaint town, he was forced to slow, highlighting the tiny shops and festive-looking restaurants.
“The best ice cream in Greece,” he pointed out, smiling when I said a single word.
“Yum.”
“An ice cream girl. Yes?”
“You don’t remember?” I taunted him. “Think about the last time I was here. I begged you for ice cream and you finally relented.”
He shook his head. “Pistachio. Right?”
“You remember.” How was that possible?
“How could I possibly forget? You were a little adorable pain in the ass that entire trip.”
I smacked him on the arm. “You will always be a bastard.”
“Yes, I will be. I kind of think you like that about me.”
“You think wrong.” At least I could laugh easily, maybe forgetting for a little while the horror we’d both been through. The guilt was still there, but my parents would want me to live.
If you could call this living.
I felt like I was floating at this point. A private plane. A massive estate. Another on an island. This was what all little girls dreamed of in finding their Prince Charming.
The inner voice told me I had to stop thinking that way.
Only a few minutes later, he pulled down a more private street and I remembered the gorgeous crape myrtles I’d loved so much. They were in full bloom, spreading a flowery display of petals across the road. It reminded me of a wedding.
Oh, God. I was getting married.
I’d agreed to it. No one could ever accuse him of forcing me. Not really anyway.
He roared into a driveway and I suddenly couldn’t wait to see the gorgeous setting all over again. There were happy memories that I refused to lose, no matter who he really was.
Or the violence he’d perfected.
Seeing the way he’d been with one of his own men was a clear indication of how he’d be with any enemy.
Including my brother.
The deal I’d made with him would be laced with blood.
I shoved the thought from my mind as the house came into view. While it appeared similar to the smaller Greek homes and businesses I’d seen throughout Athens, there was a special more Mediterranean flair that provided a lush look about every detail. From the arched windows and doors, to the vines with shades of crimson and violet draped halfway down to the mermaid fountain in the driveway, the several-story buildings and grounds were exquisite.
Even the iron gates allowing admittance to the grand entrance were spectacular, not suffocating. The house was on a private cliff overlooking the Ionian Sea, winding steps leading down to the soft white sands of the beach. And unless the entire interior had been renovated, every room offered vibrant comfort, with accent walls and vividly colored paintings adorning them.
I was still leaning forward as he pulled the car directly in front of the main doors. I remembered several separate buildings including a six-car garage, a maintenance shed, and an outdoor kitchen that would rival any fancy restaurant. There was also an office-studio combination.
“Is the ballet room still here?” I asked, feeling instant tension crawling inside the man.
“How do you remember that?” He turned off the motor, remaining exactly where he was.
“I wasn’t a good girl back then. Don’t you remember? You found me dancing in the room. You were so angry.”
“I didn’t scold you,” he said. His voice was also entirely different.
“Your eyes did. You know they’re reflections of your soul. Yours were screaming pain and hatred. But even as a little girl, I knew you weren’t really angry with me. Who were you angry at?”
When he didn’t answer right away, I turned my head, noticing his jaw was clenched, one hand wrapped around the steering wheel with tremendous pressure.
“Listen to me, Willow. This house is now your house. You will be free to come and go within the noted guidelines, but you may not enter that room again.”
His mandate surprised me. “Why?”
“Because I said so. There are some things meant to be left in the past. Remember that.” As he finally turned his head in my direction, I sensed I’d crossed some invisible line. One of sorrow and self-loathing.
He held his own terrible secrets. How soon would they come back to bite him?
And his soon to be wife?
CHAPTER 16
“We do not have to rely on memories to recapture the spirit of those we have loved and lost—they live within our souls in some perfect sanctuary which even death cannot destroy.”
—Nan Witcomb
Dimitrios
Seeing Willow’s face as she explored a house that remained in her memories was both fascinating and disturbing. I hadn’t understood that bringing her into my home would dredge up so many memories that I’d fought to keep locked away. Her face still held the sense of innocence and wonder she’d had at a young age. I found that beautiful and refreshing.
And damning.
It had been far too long since I’d been to the house, mired in business activities and trips to Italy, Spain, and even New Zealand. At least half my clothes were now located in the walk-in closet at my parents’ estate, but this was home. This was the one place where my heart remained.
Although there were those who would swear I had no heart, no ability to grow a new one. Or that I’d lost it years before just outside that dance studio. In spending time with Willow, I’d wondered if they were right. Caring for her was possible; love was something else.
With the security cameras checked denoting there’d been no unauthorized entries, I closed the door behind us, placing the bags near the door.
Willow took her time stepping up into the main room, slowly scanning every inch as she walked closer to the bank of glass doors. It was easy to tell she was remembering the times before, much like I found myself doing. Fate was a prickly bitch and I was still reeling from accepting just how much I craved being in her company.
And driving my cock inside her sweet pussy.
“This is… amazing,” Willow said without looking at me. I’d sensed her surprise and immediate discomfort as soon as I’d given her another rule to follow.
At least I’d controlled my usual tendency to overblow the moment.
“I enjoy being here.”
“Just enjoy? This is where your heart is.” She wrinkled her nose as if trying to remember something. “To spíti eínai to móno méros ópou boreíte na eíste o eaftós sas.”
The Greek saying flowed from her mouth, although with somewhat broken inflection, twisting the blade in my heart. “Home is the one place where you can be yourself. Where did you learn that?”
“Mother told me she learned it from your mother. Mama said it was a touching moment shared between them and something she would never forgot. She used to tell me that when I’d talk about getting my own place.” She laughed and shook her head as the memory continued. “Would you believe she made me learn and recite the quote over the years starting as soon as we returned from that last trip? God, I felt like I was in school, forced to memorize a Dickens poem, but as I got older, I realized how valuable the words truly were.” She unlocked the set of back doors, using all her arm muscles to push the all-glass doors along the tracks. Immediately, the ocean breeze wafted in, a scent I’d taken for granted all these years.
I walked closer, enjoying the way it took her three tries to wrangle her hair behind both ears. She looked so young, so fresh and alive that I was struck even more by her beauty. “How so?”
“Well,” she said as she glanced over her shoulder and backed out onto one of several decks. Of course, I followed her. “You can have all the money in the world, the finest houses and artwork that costs millions of dollars, but if you feel like you can’t relax then it’s not home. Home is where you can laugh at silly things, forget to pick up dishes from the coffee table, and where books remain on the nightstand for months at a time. It’s where you can simply tune out the rest of the world, all the horrors and concerns, lock your doors and refuse to answer your phone and emails.”
“My philosophical fiancée.” I joined her on the deck, taking a few seconds to scan the cliff. Coming here without guards was risky, but I needed time alone for myself.
And with the incredible woman.
Things had gotten out of control, so much so I couldn’t think or process. At least her reflective demeanor kept me sane.
“I think it’s something important to remember. I love this place, but if it doesn’t make you happy then you should get rid of it.”
“It’s been in the family for two generations.”
“But is the house a home for you, Dimitrios? Do you understand what I mean?”
Watching her nose as it scrunched up while she was trying to find words to get through to me was as entertaining as everything else about here. But she was real. Most individuals told me what they thought I wanted to hear. With her, it was exactly what she thought no matter the consequences.
In my mind, that was priceless.
“As much of one as I know, Willow.” I was being truthful with her. Maybe the pain of losing my brother had blocked out recent inspiring memories.
“No soldiers while we’re here?”
“No,” I told her. “Why would I need them? No one knows we’re here except for Nico and my brothers. By all appearances, I’m still handling business in Athens.”
“What if I try and escape?”
I removed my sunglasses, sliding one earpiece into my shirt and turned toward her. As I moved closer, her breathing became shallow. Using just a single finger, I traced down from her forehead to her nose, ending by running the tip across the seam of her pursed lips. “If you do, I’ll find you. No matter where you land or how long it takes. Enjoy the view while I get us both something to drink.”
She leaned into me, keeping her hands from touching any part of my body although I could sense she hungered to do so. When she backed away, taking purposeful steps, my cock twitched just like it had been doing for hours.
Willow was right in that with money and good looks, you could get just about anything you wanted in life. It helped when you had a dangerous persona to back the other two. However, what the attributes couldn’t do was buy happiness or contentment. I’d been taught by my father about entitlement. He’d tried to ensure his children didn’t act as if they were owed anything, but his business tactics had rubbed off on all four of us.
Every child within the Nomikos household had learned most people were sheep, following anyone who gave them direction. We’d been raised as wolves and we were damn good at it. However, that didn’t mean we couldn’t succumb to the horrors that life seemed to drop on you when you least expected. That’s why our parents had kept this home, lovingly restoring every room to its original glory. My mother had called it a sanctuary and for a long time, that’s exactly what the place had become to all of us.
I did love this house. I’d spent more time here than anywhere, even healing here when most people would have stayed away. Memories were funny things. They could either bring joy and satisfaction or sadness. When the images and thoughts parading in your head brought both, the best thing to do was to confront the emotions.
The unlucky locked them down.
That was exactly what I’d done in order to get through every day.
I backed away, still enjoying the picturesque view captured by the bright blue sky illuminating her soft hair.
The kitchen was spotless, yet fresh flowers and fruit had been brought in at my direction. I’d wanted to make certain Willow felt comfortable here.
My parents had hired an excellent household staff, most of which remained in the Nomikos employ. While there was a bar in the living room, another in the media room upstairs, and one located in the outdoor kitchen, I’d always preferred keeping a stash of gin in the kitchen. I’d snuck drinks before I was legally able to do so, only caught once. Or so I believed.
I grabbed the bottle and a glass, opening the freezer door to check on the ice maker. Everything appeared in order. Sadly, my instinct wouldn’t rest. Neither would the ugliness from what the house represented.
The place was quiet, too much so for my tastes. It had been a long time since I’d enjoyed hearing music of any kind. As I headed into the kitchen, harsh memories brought me to a halt.
“You do know I love you. Right?” I asked as I leaned against the doorframe of the room.
She didn’t respond at first, twirling several times, her long legs even longer in her toe shoes. The music flowed and she danced to the rhythm, her arms flowing to the beat. As she danced around me, she stopped her routine to blow me a kiss, taking a grand leap almost immediately.
While I had no idea what her ballet moves were called, the beauty and grace she represented with her routine took my breath away. Remaining mesmerized was easy around her. Every move she made pulled at my heartstrings. Every whisper from her soft lips ignited the passion, the hunger that never left.
When I was with her.
I snapped a picture, hoping it would keep my mind off the anger I felt. I loathed her father. The man was a pig.
Unfortunately, our beautiful trip alone had to come to an end. I glanced at my watch before walking further into the room. “Baby, we need to go.”
“Pfft. I never want to leave.”
Even when she pouted, she was adorable. “Yeah, but I’m expected back.”
“Just play hooky.”
“If only I could.” The meeting was mandated, several recent difficulties creating issues for both our family and the business operations. My father was livid.
