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ALESSANDRO

T wo weeks into my new position as the Boss of the Chicago arm of the DeLuca family, I'm finally starting to make a dent in all of the shit Enzo left behind for me to fix. The members of the family here are older and a lot more set in their ways than I expected, but thankfully, I have an ace up my sleeve feeding me information—Emmy Moretti.

Even if I weren't fucking obsessed with her, I'd still appreciate her talents, but I made the stupid decision of kissing her last week and now I'm hard as hell every time I lay eyes on her. It's not like she's dressing provocatively or even trying to flirt, but the possession I feel toward her combined with the memory of how her mouth tastes has me in a constant state of semi-hardness.

And it's making it difficult to concentrate.

We're having a meeting today where I plan to promote a few associates to soldier status, and I've just sent Emmy away to pick up some food for us after the meeting. I'm hoping that adding some new blood that is unwaveringly loyal to me to the higher ranks will help cement my leadership, but I also needed an excuse to get Emmy the hell away from me long enough to clear my head.

I gave her the keys to my SUV, blacked out with bulletproof glass, figuring she'd appreciate the extra safety.

I never thought the danger would come before she even reached the vehicle.

It's a sound I'll never forget, an explosive crackle and roar of a car exploding. I'm in my office on the second floor, and I jump to my feet, running for the window.

My worst fear is confirmed.

My SUV, parked just outside the front doors, is on fire. The entire thing is engulfed in flames, and there's a giant hole where the hood used to be. I'm running before I can even think about what I'm doing. The door to my office slams against the wall as I throw it open and bolt down the stairs.

My blood is pounding and my hands are shaking. The only thing on my mind is the image of Emilia Moretti's body in the flames.

It's not a long distance from the office to the entrance of the building, but it feels like forever. I'm shouting orders at the people around me, demanding a medic and a firefighter, but no one can answer me.

"Emilia!"

I'm the first one to reach the wreckage, and the heat from the flames is already intense. I'm not thinking rationally. My hands reach for the driver's side door, which has been blown off its hinges and lies a few feet away from the burning wreckage.

"Emilia!"

There's no sign of her. I shout her name again, circling the burning vehicle, my heart sinking in my chest.

"Alessandro,"

Her voice is faint, but it's her. Relief crashes through me like a tidal wave. There she is, leaning against the wall of the restaurant, her hands clutched to her chest. She's covered in soot, and there are tear tracks through the smudges of black.

"Oh, Jesus." I cross the space between us, pulling her against my chest. She’s shaking like a leaf. "Are you okay?”

She nods, wrapping her arms around me. "I went back in to get my water bottle." Her voice shakes, and I stroke her hair, holding her tight. "Sandro, if I hadn’t forgotten it?—”

"I know, tesoro . I know."

"It's a warning."

She's right, and I know it. We haven't found the person responsible for killing Enzo yet, and whoever killed him is sending a message that they aren't backing down.

They should have fucking killed me, because now I’ll exhaust every bit of my power to get back at them for this.

"It's not going to happen again," I tell her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Her hair smells like smoke, and her skin is hot from the blast. "No one will touch you."

Emilia pulls away, her eyes meeting mine. They're wet with tears, but there's no fear there. Only the same stubborn determination I've come to admire. "People are looking at us."

"Let them." All I want is to kiss her, to remind myself she’s okay, that she's unharmed. Instead, I lead her back inside the restaurant, keeping a hand on the small of her back as we navigate our way through the now-panicked crowd.

I spot Marco, white-faced and shocked, and pause long enough to tell him, "Get this shit cleaned up. I'm taking her home."

Something that looks like annoyance flashes over my second's face, but it's gone in an instant. "Yes, boss."

I can already hear sirens, but I ignore them. They're Marco's problem now. I have something more important to tend to.

I take her out the back door while Emmy fishes her keys out of her bag, handing them to me without a word. She doesn't want to drive, which is understandable, and with the truck destroyed, we're stuck with her Honda for the moment. Emilia is silent the whole ride home, staring out the window as we weave through the city streets. She's a quiet person by nature, but something about this is different.

"Talk to me," I tell her. "That's an order."

She looks surprised, but then a bit of amusement filters in. "I'm fine, Sandro. Really. I'm more worried about you. That bomb was obviously meant for you and not me."

I'm not so sure, but I don't tell her that out loud. It would make more sense for Enzo's killer to go after me directly, but it also wouldn't surprise me if Emmy was targeted because I've been keeping her so close. It's a bad fucking idea for a Boss to show affection in public, because it paints target on the back of the person they care for. And I just made the rookie mistake of doing exactly that in the wake of the bombing. Fuck. If Emmy hadn't been targeted before, she definitely could be now.

"Don't worry about me, tesoro.”

"Easier said than done." She sighs, looking out the window. “What does that mean, anyway? Tesoro?”

“It’s Italian for treasure.”

Emmy blinks in surprise, but simply says, “Oh.”

We don't speak anymore, and I resist the urge to look at her, the soot smeared on her face driving me into a blind rage every time I see it. I won't be content until I have her clean and safe.

I throw the valet the keys as soon as we pull up, ignoring the odd look he gives Emmy's car. Without even giving her time to open the door, I help her out, fighting the urge to carry her all the way up to my penthouse.

It's a short ride to the top, and when the doors open, Emilia walks out onto the marble floors, her heels clicking loudly. She stops and stares around, taking in the opulent apartment. "Wow."

"Make yourself at home."

I've only lived here a couple of weeks, but I'm sure it's night and day since the last time she saw the place when it was still Enzo's.

"Let me run you a bath."

She smiles, a small, tired little expression. "I'm a big girl, Sandro. I can handle it. Why don't you call the guys, find out what happened?"

I already forgot about the phone in my pocket. "I'll do both. Sit."

After making sure she's settled at the dining room table with a chilled Perrier, I step into the next room, dialing Marco's number. He picks up on the first ring.

"Boss, we're trying to run the cops off right now."

"Good. Keep me updated. I'll be back tonight."

When I return to the living room, Emilia has moved and is standing at the glass wall of windows, looking out at the city skyline. I approach her from behind, resting a hand on her shoulder. "I called Marco. He's handling things."

"Good. Sandro, you know this was a warning shot, right?"

"I do."

"It could have killed you."

I turn her, gripping her arms. "But it didn't. Now let's get you cleaned up."

Her cheeks flush, and she looks away. "I, um, can handle it?—"

"No."

She's looking at me strangely. I've been firm and commanding with her since the first time I met her, but now my tone borders on outright possessive. I can't help it. The sight of her covered in soot and ash and tear tracks makes me feel violent, and the only thing I can think to do is clean her up.

Plus, the idea of having her naked in my bathtub is a huge perk.

Emilia swallows, nodding once. "Okay."

I lead her down the hall, turning lights on as we go. The master bathroom is all white tile and gray marble, and it's big enough to hold an entire army, but all I care about is the sunken tub tucked into the corner. I start the water, letting the tub fill.

She's unsure, I can read it in her body language, but Emmy is also curious. She's watching me with those big blue eyes, waiting for my next move. The situation is already painfully intimate, and it will only take one more move for it to become something more.

So I move.

I'm slow, more gentle than my instincts push me to be, cupping her jaw with one hand and tilting her face to slant my mouth over hers. She whimpers, but doesn't pull away, opening her lips and returning the kiss with an enthusiasm that makes me hard in seconds.

I've never wanted anything more than I want this girl.

I'm still kissing her, sliding my tongue into her mouth, as my hands wander down her back, cupping her ass. She's in a knee-length sheath dress, and I find the zipper easily, pulling it down and helping her shimmy out of the garment. Her hands are already busy with the buttons on my shirt, and when I break the kiss, she yanks the fabric off my shoulders.

Emilia is beautiful, and her body is no exception. She's wearing a simple white bra and panty set, and the lace does little to conceal the hard nipples poking against the material. Her stomach is soft, her hips flaring out from her waist, and her ass deliciously round. My cock twitches, and I reach around her to unhook the clasp. The lace falls away, and her full, perfect breasts are bared for me, her nipples a dusky pink.

I kiss her again, lifting her easily into my arms and carrying her to the edge of the tub. Emmy kicks off her shoes and pulls her panties down her legs, and as soon as she's completely naked, I ease her into the steaming water.

"Oh god," she groans, laying her head against the back of the tub and closing her eyes. "This feels so good."

I kneel beside her, coaxing her to lean forward so I can wash her perfect body with soft, teasing strokes. When the water goes gray from soot, I drain it, filling it again and continuing to touch her. This time my fingers linger on her nipples, running circles around the sensitive buds, the other hand drifting down her stomach to her pussy. Her soft sounds of pleasure fill the steamy bathroom, and every one of them makes me want to fuck her more.

This isn't about me. This is about making Emilia Moretti feel good and erasing the trauma of the explosion.

"Sandro..."

Her eyes are closed and her lips are parted, and the way she's saying my name, the low moan, is going to haunt me for the rest of my life. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you."

Her answer is immediate, and so is the growl that escapes me. "You have me."

"Touch me," she begs, her hips moving against my hand. I can make her come right here in the bath, but there are better ways.

She's surprised when I scoop her up out of the water, uncaring that the water is soaking my pants as I wrap her in a towel and carry her to my bed. The sheets are dark, the room dim, and she's a vision lying on my bedspread, her damp skin and pink-tipped nipples the only thing that's visible.

I kiss her, long and deep, my hand sliding down her body to part her thighs. I can feel how wet she is, the moisture coating her thighs, and I slide one finger over her clit. She goes stiff, gasping, and then arches up, her head thrown back against the pillows.

"Oh, Sandro..."

The words are out of my mouth before I can give them a second thought. I know what I want from her, from this hot-as-fuck, brave woman I’ve chosen. "Call me Daddy, Emilia."

There's a moment of surprised silence, but her trust in me is absolute, even if I don't deserve it. "Okay … Daddy."

I want to reward her for how good she's being for me, so I spread her thighs wide. Her pussy is beautiful, pink and shining with wetness, and I slide my finger over her clit again, watching as her mouth opens and a cry leaves her lips. I dip my head, sucking one nipple into my mouth and circling the nub of nerves with the pad of my thumb.

When she's nearly shaking from need, I trail my mouth down her body until I reach my prize. My tongue slides over her pussy, tasting her sweetness, and her taste is everything I knew it would be. I lap at her clit, my fingers digging into her thighs as I spread them wider, and Emilia's hands come down to tangle in my hair.

"Please, please,"

I lick and suck, teasing her with the tip of my tongue, and her body is strung tight like a bowstring, ready to snap. I tease her entrance with one finger, but when I move to slide it in, hungry to feel how hot and tight she is, Emmy freezes.

"Sandro, wait."

I do, even though it takes every ounce of my willpower. "What's wrong?"

I look up and see her raised on her elbows, working her bottom lip between her teeth. "Sandro, I'm. Um. Well, I'm a virgin..."

Her words hit me like a freight train, and my heart hammers. The only thought in my head is that she's mine. Mine to have, mine to protect. Only mine. "Do you want me to stop?"

She shakes her head, her damp, dark hair flying. "No, I just wanted to tell you?—"

My mouth is back on her before she can finish the sentence. If I was hungry before, now I'm ravenous, devouring her cunt like it's the only thing that will keep me alive. I work a finger into her slowly, hesitating when I reach the barrier inside of her, but when Emmy rolls her hips towards me, wanting more, I push forward. She squeaks, the tiny bite of pain driven away as I lathe her clit with my tongue and work a second finger inside, curling them upwards.

Her body tenses and her pussy grips my fingers tight. Oh, she's close. I double my efforts, wanting to give her everything she's ever dreamed of, and soon enough, the orgasm rips through her. Emmy screams, her pussy spasming around my fingers, her thighs closing around my head. She's beautiful, coming hard for me, and when her body finally relaxes, I move up her body and let her taste herself on my lips.

"You're mine," I growl, and before she can say anything, I kiss her hard. I stroke her soft skin, holding her as aftershocks wear off.

"Yours, Daddy," she pants. "Yours."

It's ridiculous and indulgent and the exact opposite of what I should be doing with the smoking heap of my vehicle still outside Bellissimo, but I don't give a fuck. With Emmy safe and warm in my arms, we both doze off, leaving the hellish world behind us at least for a few hours.