“Ai tuoi ordini, cara.” He cupped her ass and lifted her to his hot, wet mouth. The first stroke of his tongue made her shudder, and when he pushed two fingers deep inside her, she let out a guttural moan. He licked and sucked, his tongue teasing around her clit as he pumped his fingers, all while murmuring in Italian, beautiful words that she didn’t understand.

  Gabrielle tilted her hips, ground against his soft lips, totally uninhibited in her desire for release. When she thought she couldn’t take any more, when her head fell back and she clutched his head, he added a third finger, stretching her, filling her as he swept his tongue closer and closer to her swollen clit. “Come for me, dirty girl,” he said, switching to English. “I want you to come in my mouth. I want to hear you scream.”

  He drove his fingers deep inside her as he sucked her clit into her mouth. Her climax pummeled her body, making her thrash and twist under the relentless stream of water as it washed her pain away until she could see a future, glistening and bright. A future with this man. A man who had made her see her own strength, who showed her that she wasn’t defined by her pain, and that there was no obstacle she could not overcome. She wanted that future. Wanted him. She stretched out her hand, reached for it, found his heart beating strong beneath his chest. “Luca. O God. Yes.”

  * * *

  There was nothing like watching Gabrielle cry out his name in the throes of an orgasm he had given her.

  Nothing.

  He withdrew his fingers and stood, hands braced against the shower wall as he took her mouth in a demanding kiss. He wanted her so badly he could barely think for the ache in his cock, but more than that, he wanted this to be about her.

  His thoughts scattered when she dropped to her knees in front of him and licked those very same lips that had just screamed his name.

  “Your turn.”

  “You don’t need…” But his protests died in his throat when she leaned forward kissed the head of his cock.

  “Cristo Mio.” His hand dropped to her head. “I don’t do this easy, cara. I’m rough and I’m hard and I take what I need.”

  “Sounds perfect for a dirty girl like me.” She ran her tongue along the underside of his shaft and then flicked her tongue over the crown.

  Luca was a visual man, a sexual man. And the sight of his beautiful angel on her knees, water streaming over her lush body, her mouth swollen from his kisses, was too much to bear. With a low growl, he dragged the head of his arousal over her wet lips. “Open for me.”

  She parted her lips, and he pushed inside with a groan.

  “I run this show. You understand?” He twisted his hand through her hair, jerking her head back. She nodded, and her hands slid up his hips, curling around his ass. Fuck, that felt good. He rolled his hips forward, pushing his dick to the back of her throat. She gagged, and he pulled back, giving her a moment before he pushed forward again.

  “Dirty girl giving me her dirty mouth.” He yanked on her hair, forced her to look up at him, her eyelashes glittering with water drops. So beautiful. Too beautiful. He couldn’t take her like this, even if she wanted it, even though he was desperate to fuck her sweet mouth and he’d never seen a more erotic sight. He didn’t want to dirty his angel. Not tonight.

  Without warning, he released her. Shock, then surprise flickered across her face, but before she could speak, he pulled her up, spun her around and pressed her against the glass. “I want you like this.” He kicked her legs apart, covering her with his body, his hardness against her softness, her cool skin against his heat. “I want you to feel me.” He grabbed his cock, eased it into her deliciously wet pussy. “Feel my strength, my power. Know you are safe with me. Even when you are at your most vulnerable, you are safe with me.” He thrust inside her hard and fast, one hand dropping to her soft, slick breast, the other braced against the wall.

  Gabrielle moaned. “God, that feels good.”

  “Fuck. You have the sweetest, tightest, wettest pussy.” Unable to hold back any longer, he pounded into her, his back bowing with the effort, hips rocking, muscles straining. He dropped one hand and rubbed the pad of his thumb over her clit, fast and rough, until her body tensed and she climaxed with a groan, her cunt clenching and tightening around him.

  “Luca.”

  “Say it again,” he growled. “That’s the only name you’re going to say when you come. Because you’re mine. Mine to hold. Mine to pleasure. Mine to protect.”

  “Luca,” she whispered.

  With a low growl, he leaned down and pressed his teeth against her soft, warm flesh, his control replaced with a primal urge to mark her. He licked the wound then drilled into her, rocking her body against the glass until his balls lifted, tightened.

  “Fuck. What you do to me.” His muscles locked and pleasure shot down his spine, erupting from his cock in wave after wave of ecstasy.

  With his heart still pounding, he pressed a soft kiss to her nape.

  Gabrielle looked over her shoulder, her lips tipped up at the corners in a satisfied smile. “I think I’m clean. Let’s go to bed.”

  * * *

  “What the fuck, Gina?” Luca threw the packages of white powder across the room. “What the fuck is going on? How long has Matteo been in his crib? He’s soaked and covered in shit and it’s leaking down his fucking legs. He was starving, and so desperate for something to drink, when I walked into his room all he could do was point at his empty bottle and cry.”

  Gina leaned, languid, against the pillows in the huge bed she’d insisted they needed when they furnished the house. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?” His voice rose to a shout. “I come home to spend some time with my son, and discover he’s been abandoned by my wife so she can fuck her lover in our bed. Not only that, you’re doing fucking drugs in my house. And all I get is ‘I don’t know.’ You can do better than that.” He kicked the body at his feet, his vision still hazy with rage. He had no idea who her lover was or how he had wound up battered and unconscious on the floor, the world having turned red the minute he opened the bedroom door.

  “You’re over-reacting.” She sighed and wrapped her silk bathrobe around her slim frame. Why hadn’t he noticed how thin she’d gotten? Or the dark circles under her eyes? Or the constant sniffing and reddened nostrils? How had he not known she’d been with another man?

  “Over-reacting?” He grabbed a vase from the dresser and smashed it against the wall. “I gave you fucking everything. Everything you asked for. And all I wanted in return was for you to raise our son and do what a wiseguy’s wife is supposed to do.“

  “You didn’t give me love.” Her bottom lip quivered. “You didn’t love me.”

  “Jesus Christ.” He grabbed the faux-Baroque clock—a gift from her mother that he had never liked—and threw it across the room, feeling nothing when it smashed against the wall. “I thought we had an understanding. I never lied to you, Gina. When you told me you were pregnant, I laid it all out on the line. I gave you a choice. If you didn’t want this kind of marriage, I would have supported you and Matteo. Love wasn’t part of the equation. We both got what we wanted out of it. This is how our world works. You knew I’d have a goomah. You knew why. And you knew that taking a lover would be unacceptable for you.”

  She leaned back on the pillows, curiously unmoved by his anger or the fact her lover was now unconscious on the floor. “As unacceptable as raising another man’s child?”

  The world slowed, narrowed, his lungs constricting until he could barely take a breath. “What did you say?”

  Gina gave him a cruel smile. “Matteo’s not yours. I was sleeping with other men before we had our night together. Many men. When I got pregnant, I figured you could give us the best life so I told you the baby was yours. I thought we’d grow to love each other. But you didn’t love me. You spent every Friday with Marta and the rest of the week you didn’t come home, and when you did, it was only for Matteo.” She held up a packet of white powder. “I needed something to make it bearable, but I couldn’t let you find out. You are so strict with the money. So I found another way to pay the dealers.”

  With nothing left to throw and an unbreakable rule about hitting women drilled into him since birth, he smashed his fist into the family picture that they’d had taken shortly after Matteo was born. The glass shattered and the picture tumbled to the floor. “Get out.”

  “You just need some time to cool off. I’ll take Matteo—”

  “You’re fucking high, Gina. You abandoned him all day. It makes me sick to think about how many other days he spent crying, dirty, hungry, and alone in his crib. He might not have my blood, but my name is on his birth certificate and I’ve been part of his life since the minute he was born. Until you clean yourself up, and I know he’ll be safe with you, you can’t have him. Pack up your own stuff and get the hell out.”

  She gave a bitter laugh. “Are you going to look after him? By yourself?” She leered, swayed on her feet as she stood. “He’s not your son, Luca. You’ve been raising another man’s child.”

  He took a deep breath and then another. In his entire life, he’d never felt rage like this, never felt so totally and utterly betrayed. “Five minutes. If you’re not out of here, I’ll throw you out. And consider yourself divorced.”

  “You can’t divorce me.” She smirked. “Cosa Nostra won’t allow it. We’re together for life, Luca, darling.”

  “Gina, for fuck’s sake. Do you really think they’ll hold me to a marriage after what you’ve done? There is nothing more important in our family than a son. The family business is handed down from father to son. It’s our name. It’s our bloodline. It’s what a father can give to his boy. I’m calling Charlie Nails as soon as you’re out the door.” Charlie Nails was the Toscani crime family’s attorney, a legitimate lawyer who had no issues working for the mob.

  Her face fell, and for the first time since he’d burst into the room, he saw a hint of emotion. She’d played her best hand and lost because she didn’t understand the rules of the game. “Don’t be rash, Luca.” She dropped her voice to a soft, soothing tone. “We have a good thing going here. Look at our beautiful house, our nice cars, the shows we attend, the parties we throw. No one will know you’re not Matteo’s father. And if you’ve got a problem with the drugs, I can stop any time. I won’t say anything about Marta.” Her gaze flicked to the man on the floor. “And I guess he’s not an issue anymore. Please don’t take it all away. I made a mistake. Forgive me, caro.”

  Jesus Christ, he’d married a cold-hearted bitch. She didn’t even seem sad that her lover might be dead. She wasn’t sorry for neglecting their son. Only the thought of losing the lifestyle he’d given her made her beg.

  “Out.” He roared so loudly that the window shook. “Mike will come and get you. I don’t want to see you ever again.”

  Unable to be in the room with her one second longer, he headed down to the kitchen and called Mike, instructing him to make sure she had somewhere safe to go. Then he called Frankie to deal with the trash on the bedroom floor. The only reason he hadn’t killed the bastard then and there was because he didn’t want Gina to witness the crime. She was no longer trustworthy, and given her vindictive nature, he wouldn’t put it past her to go to the police. Frankie would handle it. Drug dealers were his special treat.

  Luca opened a bottle of whiskey, and did shot after shot, barely tasting the bitter liquid as it burned its way to his gut.

  He heard the wheels of Gina’s suitcase squeaking over the tiled floor. She paused by the kitchen, but he didn’t look up until he heard the front door close.

  Even if he’d known what she was going to do later that night, he wouldn’t have said good-bye.

  * * *

  Luca startled awake, his heart pounding. Instinctively, he reached for his nightstand. Ever since the Toscani civil war had started, he never slept without his gun. But the room was still and quiet. Gabrielle slept peacefully beside him, her golden lashes fanned out over her creamy cheeks. Her hand rested on his chest just below the wings of his tattoo of a crowned skull and roses. He’d been inked when he became a made man and the world was full of hope and promise.

  His tension eased and he lowered his arm. It was the nightmare that had woken him—the last night with Gina that haunted his dreams. The taste of guilt lingered on his tongue, washing away the sweetness of Gabrielle’s kisses. He couldn’t go through that again, wouldn’t survive that kind of betrayal. Maybe the dream was a warning, that he had let her get too close.

  Carefully, he pulled away. Matteo was sleeping in the guest room. He could go and lie with him, get some distance as he figured out a way to put the brakes on the runaway train that had stolen his heart.

  “Luca?” Half asleep, Gabrielle reached for him. “Are you okay?”

  Are you okay?

  He froze, half in and half out of bed. Women didn’t ask if he was okay. Gina had never asked about his silences on the days he lost a friend, never patched his cuts and bruises, never understood that he felt regret every time he had to pull the trigger. And the women who came after her wanted only his money or his cock or the illicit thrill of sleeping with a man who shared nothing about his life.

  “Baby?” Her eyes fluttered open, and his heart squeezed in his chest.

  Baby. Although he was anything but, the term of endearment touched him deeply—a balm for a soul he thought forever tainted by his choices in life.

  “Shhh.” He eased back down on the bed, and rubbed his knuckles over her cheek. “Turn over, bella. Go back to sleep.”

  She turned, sighed softly when he curled his body around her, threaded his fingers through hers, and held her tight.

  Warmth suffused his body, and he was swept up in a fierce wave of emotion like nothing he’d felt since the day he first held Matteo in his arms.

  Love.

  This was love.

  He closed his eyes and gave himself over to the rush, letting it flow through his body, filling the emptiness inside him, turning the darkness to light, making him strong again—strong enough to envision a future where a devil and an angel could make a life together.

  Love had found him worthy.

  But was he worthy of love?

  SEVENTEEN

  “Are you getting up?”

  Gabrielle woke to find Max licking her cheek and the curious face of Luca’s mini-me only inches away.

  “Yes.” Her stomach tightened and she felt the familiar pang of longing as she studied the little boy who would be about five years older than her child if she had lived.

  “When?”

  “Um…” She glanced at the clock. 9 A.M. When had she ever slept in so late on the weekend? David had been an early riser, and she’d gotten used to early starts and early finishes. “Now.”

  “Papa says we can’t eat until you get up. He says you need to sleep, but I don’t like cold pancakes.”

  “Neither do I.” She gave Max a pat. “How about you take Max out, and I’ll get dressed so your pancakes don’t get cold.”

  He clutched Max’s collar and turned, his face intense. Were children his age always so serious?

  “Hurry.”

  Gabrielle turned in the bed, resting her hand on her elbow as the soft morning light flickered through the window blinds. Her night with Luca hadn’t ended in the shower, and she felt deliciously sore. She was also naked and had to wait until Matteo was gone before she could slip out of the sheets.

  She felt lighter this morning, unburdened. The darkness had retreated, and in its place was a curious shade of gray.

  After showering and dressing, she finger-combed her hair and made her way to the kitchen where Luca and Matteo were talking over a glossy gray-and-white granite breakfast bar.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting.” She moved toward the kitchen, and Luca’s arm shot out.

  “Guests on that side. Cooks on this side.”

  “I can help out,” she protested.

  “I’m sure you can.” A smile tugged at his lips. “But I do have some experience in the kitchen.”

  “I thought you just ran the restaurant. I didn’t know you also cooked.” She took a seat on the bar stool while he dished out plates of pancakes and bacon along with a fresh fruit salad and steaming mugs of coffee.

  Luca snorted. “You can’t run a restaurant if you don’t know how to cook. And I learned from the best. Our family practically lives in the kitchen, and my mother teaches as she cooks.”

  “I need to feed Max, too.”

  He glanced over at Max, sitting beside Matteo’s stool like he belonged there. “Max has been fed and walked. He and Matteo had a great time together.”

  “I told Papa I want a dog just like him,” Matteo said. “He likes to run, and I like to run. We could run in the park together.”

  “You have to discuss the dog with your nonna,” Luca said gently. “She’s the one who would have to look after it.”

  “Why can’t I live with you, Papa? Then we could have a dog and look after it ourselves.” Matteo’s lips turned down at the corners, and Luca’s face tightened.

  “We’ve discussed this before. I’m never home, so I can’t look after you the way your nonna does.”

  “But why?”

  Tension thickened the air between them, and Gabrielle picked up her fork, thinking frantically of a way to avert what looked like an oncoming storm. “This looks so good, I don’t know where to start. What do you think, Matteo? What’s best?”

  “Start with the pancakes,” Matteo said. “Papa makes them special for guests.”

  Gabrielle tamped down an unexpected surge of jealousy. Of course, Luca would have had other women over for the night. She’d met one of his exes at the restaurant, and she was sure there were others. How could there not be? He oozed sex appeal.

  “I’m sure they’re very good.” She focused on her pancake, not wanting to look up and see the truth in Luca’s eyes while she tried to get a handle on her emotions. But dammit, he was hers.

  “Best pancakes ever.” She savored the sweetness of pure maple syrup soaked into the light fluffy pancakes.

 

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