Page 16 of Caruso (Vegas Mafia #3)

Chapter Sixteen

Matteo

M y brothers are antsy—hell, I’m antsy. What happened back there shook us to the core.

The whiskey bottle is the only sustenance we need right now, and as we knock back shots, like me they are struggling to understand what just happened.

“Just saying, I’m in love. I’m putting that out there before anyone makes a decision.”

Giorgio’s tone is teasing, but I detect the statement in his sentence.

Tommaso growls, “I told you this was a bad idea. We should never have got involved.”

“Why?” I shrug as I splash some more liquor into the glass.

“Because we don’t have time for this—for her.”

He shakes his head before downing a large shot and refilling his glass with another.

The flight attendant’s obviously off the hook because Tommaso is more interested in the bottle than his usual inflight experience.

That tells me everything I need to know.

“We must set some rules.”

“Fuck!” Tommaso expels a deep breath, and Giorgio leans forward.

“Go on.”

“I get her virginity. It was her request.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

Giorgio huffs with disappointment, and Tommaso says through gritted teeth. “He’s right. Matteo found her. It was their agreement.”

“Can I watch?”

Giorgio’s eyes light up.

“NO!”

I warn him off with a dark glare, causing him to chuckle. “Spoilsport.”

“And don’t even try.” I warn him, and he sighs heavily as he slumps back in his seat.

“Then what?”

“You tell me.”

I regard my brothers with interest because we are in an unusual situation.

We all want the same woman, and this has never happened before.

As soon as Taylor stepped in front of her stepfather and sliced his cock clean off, we all fell in love.

That one act of cool brutality sealed her fate, and that was the moment she became our queen, and she doesn’t even realize that.

Taylor was made for us. She is one of us; her actions determined that.

Her cool disposition, her calculating mind, and the way she carries herself, unemotional, unafraid and so goddamn sexy, I must remind myself to tuck my tongue in my mouth and stop panting.

She is ours, and now we must work out the complexities of that.

“I’m not interested.”

I exchange a look with Giorgio as Tommaso lies to himself.

Giorgio rolls his eyes, and yet his voice is measured as he replies. “Then she’s shared equally between Matteo and me.”

Tommaso hisses, a hint of irritability in his eyes, and Giorgio grins. Hell, we both do because Tommaso is in denial, and we all know it.

“Who is going to tell her?” Giorgio asks, his eyes lighting up at the prospect of being the chosen one.

“We don’t.” I shrug. “Ultimately, it must be her choice. It’s up to us to make sure she doesn’t want to leave.”

“But she won’t—leave, that is.”

Giorgio’s voice is sharper than the blade Taylor used to stab her way into our life.

“No,” I reassure him. “She won’t, but she must believe it’s her choice.”

Tommaso huffs with frustration. “This guy—Jason. What are we going to do about him?”

“Why, are you hoping he charges in on a white horse and carries your problem away?”

Giorgio rolls his eyes, earning him a sharp glare from our surly brother.

“That’s not what I meant. What if she wants to be with him and we do her a favor and give her a reason to leave?”

“Which you would be happy about.” I remind him, and he shakes his head.

“I didn’t say that. I merely stated I’m not interested, but you obviously are.”

“Then we find him and kill him; she need never find out.”

Giorgio grins like the maniac he is, and I shake my head slowly.

“No. We owe it to Taylor to be honest with her. If this is going to work, we must start as we mean to go on. There will be no secrets; they destroy, and you know it. Taylor deserves the same rules if she’s becoming one of us.”

Tommaso groans and leans back in his seat, and Giorgio nods, a thoughtful gleam in his eye.

“Tommaso can discover the guy’s whereabouts and what happened to him. If he’s dead, we will soon know about it, and if he’s alive, well, we’ll pay him a visit.”

“It’s settled then.”

They nod, and as we refill our glasses, it’s as if life has taken on a new meaning. We have Taylor now—she’s one of us, and it will be up to me to make certain she stays.

Thirty minutes before landing, I head to the bedroom to rouse Sleeping Beauty, and when I enter the room, I’m surprised to find her sitting straight-backed on the edge of the perfectly made bed.

“Did you even sleep?” I ask as I lean against the wall, and she nods.

“I got an hour. Thank you for the opportunity.”

“What in sleeping, or murdering your stepfather?”

“Both.”

She grins, and my heart jerks inside me because she is so beautiful it almost hurts to look at her.

“How do you feel about what happened?”

“Happy.” She shrugs. “He deserved a bitter, brutal ending because that is exactly how he lived his life.”

“So, now you are free.”

I dance with the devil, testing her response, and she fixes me with a slight shrug. “Am I?”

“Do you want to be?”

“Not right now, but maybe one day, sure, doesn’t everybody want freedom?”

“What is freedom to you?”

Her smile darts straight to my heart, and I check my reaction. I will not become a pussy around this woman, so now is the perfect time to lay down the rules.

“To be free of him. Not to dread the bedroom door opening and wondering if I’ll survive the night. Food available to eat without worrying when my next meal will be. To have a purpose, to be happy and to be safe. That is freedom to me.”

“Not money?” I raise my eyes, and she shakes her head.

“Money can be the chains that bind you. What is free about that? Animals exist without worrying about money as long as they have the ability to eat and drink. Have somewhere to call home and to go about their business without the threat of harm. That is freedom, Matteo, and sure money helps with that, but can you honestly say your money has given you freedom?”

“Yes.” I shrug off her words, and yet they hit home. I have never been free, always peering over my shoulder for the next bullet to hit. I am always one step ahead of my enemies; it’s kill or be killed. That isn’t freedom, but I’m not going to admit that to her.

“We’re about to land. Follow me.”

I don’t hang around, no matter how I physically ache to pull her into my arms and hold her there. Keeping her safe—with me—mine.

She follows me to the main cabin, and as she takes her seat, my brother’s eyes bore into her, their interest hidden by a mask of indifference.

Taylor says nothing and merely stares out of the window, only her foot tapping on the floor revealing how uncomfortable she is.

“You’re nervous.” Tommaso snaps, causing us all to stare at him in surprise.

“I’m not.”

Taylor replies with a roll of her eyes, and Tommaso hisses, “You give yourself away by your nervous habit of tapping your foot. An enemy would be all over that and use it against you.”

Her eyes widen as he snarls, “Do not show weakness in any form. No expression, no movement, and no shit. Deal with it. Do better.”

I hide my smile because if Tommaso is already lecturing Taylor on her habits, he’s in deeper than we first thought.

“Thank you for the lesson.”

She smiles, and it’s like a blow to the fucking heart. She may as well have stabbed us all because it has earned her total surrender. One smile is all it takes for this woman to command our full attention.

Tommaso is a master of disguise, but I understand how his mind works, and the flicker of warmth in his dark, dispassionate eyes, coupled with the way he shifts to disguise the growing bulge in his pants, tells me everything I need to know.

He turns away at the same time Taylor breaks eye contact, and as she turns her attention to the clouds outside, I wonder how long Tommaso will resist her. I may even raise a bet with Giorgio because my guess is, he won’t last a week.

It’s dusk when we land, and the lights on the strip illuminate the skyline as we head to The Artemis in convoy. Taylor is silent beside me, and I’m guessing she’s nervous about tonight. Giorgio and Tommaso have already made plans, which I’m glad about because I have too.

We reach the apartment, having spoken no words since the bedroom on the plane, and as we head up to the penthouse, alone in the elevator, she leans against the wall and says softly, “What are my instructions?”

“Shower and meet me in the living area in thirty minutes. We eat first.”

“First?”

My eyes flash, and my tone is brutal as I say roughly, “Then I honor our agreement.”

She shifts and, for once, appears vulnerable as she whispers, “I heard it hurts.”

“It may.” I raise my eyes. “Is that a problem?”

She shrugs. “I’m guessing nothing really good comes without a little pain. Perhaps it was God’s way of controlling the situation.”

“God’s way?” I shake my head. “If you believe in God, baby girl, you are in the wrong place. Nothing that God stands for applies in our code of conduct, so yes, pain is pleasure in our world, and you had better get used to that.”

She nods, with a small smile on her lips. “Then bring on the pain.”

Thankfully, the elevator reaches the destination before I rip her fucking clothes off right here.

Why is she so perfect for me—for us? I’ve never met a woman like her in my life, and I’ve met thousands.

She is unique, an unpolished diamond, so rare she is priceless.

The best even and I am almost tempted to cancel dinner and go straight for dessert because, fuck me, I have never wanted anyone so much in my life.