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EMMY

I know I’m playing a dangerous game, but at this point, I’m addicted to it.

I should be terrified. A freaking car bomb exploded ten feet away from me a few days ago! But compared to the things that have happened between me and Alessandro, the car bomb feels like nothing.

It’s making me foolish. Fooling around with the boss in any capacity is a recipe for disaster, but Alessandro might be the most dangerous man I’ve ever met. For some reason, though, I’m not afraid of him. He makes me feel safe, secure…

And way, way too turned on.

I haven't seen him in two days. There are meetings and dinners and late nights, and we've hardly crossed paths. It's driving me crazy. All I can think about is him. The way his hands felt on my skin, his fingers deep inside me. The way he growled my name. The way he demanded I call him Daddy.

I'm not going to lie. When he told me what he wanted, I was more than a little taken aback. But it only took a few seconds of thinking about him ordering me around, dominating me, taking care of me, to make it obvious why he likes the name. It fits him perfectly.

And now all I want is for him to make good on his promises. To care for me like he’s sworn he will. I shouldn’t want it, but damn, he’s under my skin.

So when he finally comes into Bellissimo a few days later, dressed in an immaculate suit, his eyes burning into me from across the room, it's a shock to realize that I'm actually nervous.

"Hello, Emilia."

I'm sitting in a back booth, working on my laptop. Sandro sits next to me, close enough for our knees to touch, and the proximity has me sweating.

"Hi, Sandro. How are you?"

"Better now." His eyes scan the room, looking for someone, but he also focuses on me, a smile tugging at his lips. "Did you miss me?"

I can't help myself. "Of course."

Alessandro's smile widens, and he looks genuinely pleased. He moves his hand, resting it on my thigh. I suck in a breath, and he looks over, his dark gaze piercing mine. Just his touch is enough to have my panties dampening.

Focus, Emmy. Work first, pleasure later.

I clear my throat and turn my laptop so he can see the screen, exiting out of the budget spreadsheet and instead pulling up a list of names and notes. Sandro locks in immediately, playfulness fading, replaced by the cold, calculating Boss everyone else in the DeLuca family knows so well.

"I've been keeping an eye on things, just like you asked," I start. "This is everyone who has come to Bellissimo in the last two days. There were thirty-two civilians whose names I didn't get, of course, but everyone else is in the organization or at least affiliated."

Alessandro nods. "Good. Any suspicious behavior?"

I shake my head. "Nothing too substantial, but I did notice something odd. These last five names on the list are members who left town after the explosion. I don't know why any of them would have left, but it just seemed like something you'd want to know."

"You're right, Emilia. Thank you."

"Of course. There's also this." I click into the browser, bringing up a website. It's an article from the local paper. "This woman was found murdered yesterday. It doesn't look like a mob murder, but she's a stripper and her death is being treated as suspicious."

Alessandro frowns. "Do you have any idea why she would have been killed?"

I hesitate, not sure how much information I should be giving out, but ultimately, the truth wins. Enzo is dead, and Alessandro is the Boss now. My old boss doesn't have any secrets to keep anymore. "She was Enzo's mistress years ago. They kept seeing each other after his wife left him, but I hadn't heard him mention her in years. I just assumed he'd had enough of her. It could just be a coincidence."

Alessandro is quiet for a minute. "Why haven't I heard about this before?"

"Enzo kept it a secret."

"Who else knows?"

"I don't know. Not many. Maybe Marco. But Enzo kept it hushed up pretty tightly."

"Hm." Alessandro is staring at the screen, reading the article. I can tell he's not paying attention, though, because his hand keeps squeezing my thigh, his fingers drawing little circles over the fabric of my dress. "Good work, Emilia. This is very helpful."

"Of course. Anything you need."

"Anything?"

My mouth goes dry. "Um, yeah. Anything."

"Come upstairs with me."

He stands and adjusts his suit jacket. "Follow me up in a few minutes. We don't want any unnecessary attention."

I try not to show my disappointment. I get the reasoning, but I’m also hungry for everyone to know that the new Boss favors me. "I'll get drinks from the bar, then."

"Be there in fifteen minutes."

The old bartender, Mick, gives me a nod as I lean up against the bar, tapping my fingers on the worn wood as I wait for him to make his way over. My thoughts are elsewhere, namely upstairs with Alessandro, when a DeLuca associate sidles up next to me. I barely recognize him—someone we hire to do menial jobs—but apparently, he recognizes me. And he reeks of cheap liquor.

"Hey there, beautiful,"

I bristle, but choose to ignore him. If he keeps this up, I'll just leave.

"Can I buy you a drink, baby?"

"I'm good, thanks."

"Aw, come on. Let me get you a little somethin'."

I grit my teeth, looking him dead in the eye. "I said no. Now fuck off."

His hand comes down, groping at my ass. My breath hisses out through my teeth, and I'm just about to slap the hell out of him when a shadow appears behind us. Before I can say a word, Alessandro is there, the man's hand clenched in his fist.

"What the fuck?"

Alessandro doesn't answer. With his face contorted in rage, he raises the man's hand up, breaking his middle and index finger simultaneously. He cries out, the sound drowned out by the loud music, but he's silenced quickly as Alessandro breaks his ring finger, too.

Bellissimo is eerily quiet, even though most of the booths are full.

"If you ever put your hands on her again, I'll fucking kill you."

He lets go, and the man falls to the floor, cradling his injured hand. He's pale, his eyes wide with terror. "S-sorry, Boss. I'm sorry?—"

"Get out."

I'm frozen. My heart is racing, and my eyes are locked on Alessandro. The other man stumbles to his feet and runs, but I don't even watch him leave. My attention is fully on Alessandro.

"Sandro…" His name is a whisper, and his eyes find mine. He's still in fight mode, but I know the violence isn't directed at me. "Sandro, please." My hand reaches out, touching his arm. He's stiff, but when I slide my fingers down, finding his, he takes it. "Let's go."

"Emilia—”

"Please, Sandro. Let's just go."

He looks at me for a long moment, and I can see him coming back down. His grip on me loosens, and I turn, tugging him after me.

"No one touches what's mine."

His words make my heart stutter, but I don't turn around. I keep walking, leading him out of the bar and up the back stairs to his office. The room is dark and cool, and he closes the door behind us, locking it.

"Emilia..."

"You don't need to apologize. I should have handled it before he had the chance to touch me. I just?—"

He turns me, his hands coming down to grip my waist, and kisses me. I'm caught off guard, but his touch makes me moan, my mouth opening under his. Sandro is everywhere, his hands roaming up and down my body, his tongue claiming mine, our teeth clicking together from the force of the kiss.

"You're mine, Emilia. My girl. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good," he growls, biting my bottom lip. "Now get naked for me, and show me what's mine."

The words make my blood run hot. I reach down, finding the hem of my dress and tugging it up, but Sandro stops me. "Slowly."

I nod, moving more slowly. The material slides up, inch by inch, and his eyes are glued to my legs. When the dress is bunched up at my hips, I slide it the rest of the way off, pulling it over my head and leaving me in only a bra and panties.

"Jesus, Emilia."

I'm emboldened by his reaction, and I reach around, unhooking the bra and tossing it aside. Sandro watches my every move, and his eyes lock onto my nipples as they harden, my breasts jiggling slightly with my movements.

"Keep going."

I push my panties down, kicking them aside. He watches me like a lion watches a gazelle, and I can see the bulge pressing against his slacks. Sandro wants me, and the realization makes me wet.

"Lie back."

He points at the desk, and I hop up, lying back on the cool wood. His hand comes between my thighs, his palm grinding into my pussy, and I moan, arching up. "Oh, fuck, Daddy."

His fingers tease me, sliding through the moisture, and then they're gone. "Open your mouth, Emmy."

I obey, and a second later, two wet fingers slide over my tongue.

"Suck."

I suck, tasting myself on him, and I can feel my arousal soaking the wood underneath me.

"Fuck, baby. I can't wait. I need to fuck you, Emilia."

"Yes, Daddy, please." Thoughts of my virginity, how fast everything is going, and how crazy of an idea this is are long gone. All I can think about is Sandro, Sandro, Sandro.

He tears at his belt, yanking his pants down, and a second later, he holds his cock in his hand. Oh my God. He's enormous. I feel a flutter of fear in my belly looking at his manhood, long and thick, as he pumps his fist. How in the world will that ever fit inside of me?

He must be able to see the concern on my face, "Don't worry, Emilia. I'll take care of you."

"Okay, Daddy."

He stands at the edge of the desk, holding his cock steady. I watch as he moves his hips forward, the blunt head of his cock sliding through the moisture dripping from my pussy.

"Oh, God."

"That's right, Emilia. You're so wet for me, baby."

He eases into me, the head parting my folds, and I whimper. He’s making me feel so full, impossibly so. I'm stretched, but Sandro takes his time, rocking into me a little at a time, hands holding my hips hard. He grits his teeth, the muscle in his jaw ticking, but he keeps pushing forward.

"Fuck, you're so tight."

It feels like I'm being split open, and tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but no part of me wants him to stop. I want all of Sandro, anything he’ll give me.

"Look at me, baby."

I meet his gaze, and there is concern in his eyes beneath the haze of arousal. "You okay?"

"Y-yeah, I'm okay."

"Take a deep breath. Try to relax. Daddy's going to take care of you."

I nod, closing my eyes. His cock slides further, and the pain starts to recede, leaving nothing but fullness. A few seconds later, he's buried to the hilt, and my eyes fly open.

"Oh God. Oh God, Daddy,”

Sandro leans over me, bracing himself on his hands. He kisses me, his tongue pushing into my mouth, mimicking his cock between my legs, and then he moves. He's fucking me, the motion making his hips roll, and soon enough, my body is lighting up with pleasure. I can't help it, and the cries escape my lips as he moves, stroking over my G-spot with each piston of his hips.

"Yes, baby, let me hear how good it feels."

"So good, Daddy."

His pace picks up, his thrusts speeding up. Sandro is fucking me with abandon, his cock filling me over and over. He grabs one of my legs, hitching it over his shoulder, and the new angle has his cock sliding deeper.

When he starts to stroke my clit with the pad of his thumb, the threads holding me together start to fray. The muscles in my stomach tighten, and I feel my orgasm building, building…

"I'm gonna come, Daddy, please?—"

"Come, tesoro . Come all over my cock."

The orgasm crashes into me, the never-ending movements of his cock deep in my pussy driving it on and on. My back arches, and I scream his name, my vision blurring. Sandro slams into me, and a second later, he swears, his cock pulsing as he slams into me one last time before a wave of wet warmth fills me.

"Jesus Christ, Emilia. You're fucking amazing."

"Thanks, Daddy." I love the way my full name sounds in his lust-rough voice. "That was … wow."

His chuckle is warm and deep, all of the rage in him now long gone. I know it's always there, simmering beneath the surface for anyone who crosses him, but not me. Never me. "I had different plans for your first time, sweetheart, but I'll make it up to you."

"How?"

He stands up, his cock slipping out of me, and reaches down to lift me up. My body is liquid, and I'm grateful for his strong arms holding me up. Sandro leads me to the bathroom attached to his office, turning on the water in the massive shower stall.

"Get cleaned up. We're going out."

"Out?"

"On a date.”

"A date," I repeat, stunned.

"Is that a problem?"

"No! No, not at all, it's just, um..." It's stupid. He just fucked me senseless, and here I am all flustered and lost for words about a date. "It's very sweet, is all."

He smiles, kissing me softly. "I'm a lot of things, Emilia, but sweet isn't usually one of them. You're special, though. Now, hurry up. I’ve worked up an appetite.” He gives me a smack on the ass, and I squeal with laughter, doing as I'm told.

A date. With Alessandro DeLuca. Sometimes my new reality really does feel like a dream.