Page 18

CHAPTER

EIGHTEEN

ADALYN

R estless from the events of the previous night, the next day I found a quiet spot on the terrace and logged in to my laptop to catch up on some work from the casino.

My emails were a complete mess, so I’d spent the better half of the morning responding to colleagues and sorting out the most important admin bits I hadn’t managed to get around to before leaving for Sicily.

Thankfully, Jesse had joined me for lunch, but his mood was more serious than normal, and he was vague when I asked what was bothering him. He mentioned something evasive about a deal falling through, which they were currently trying to ‘handle’ and said that he didn’t know if he’d be around for dinner. He didn’t sit with me long after that.

Trying my best to ignore the knot in my stomach that had formed since last night, I threw myself back into my work with renewed vigor. I checked through the interdepartmental dockets and finalized some of the blueprints for a newly re-developed second floor.

I was sifting through the company expenses when a loud BANG echoed through the halls and jolted me from my work.

But it wasn’t a bang at all—it was a gunshot.

A wave of sheer horror hit me like a ton of bricks.

I was on my feet and running before I even realized I was out of my chair.

I sprinted through the halls, my sandals slapping against the marble as I took turn after turn toward the sound. As I got closer, another bang blasted through the halls.

No, no, no. NO! This cannot be happening.

Panicking, I picked up the pace and ran as fast as I could down the final hallway.

Without a thought for what I was getting myself into, I crashed through the double doors into Marco’s study. The moment I did, I noticed two things simultaneously.

The first: The heads of Jesse, Benny and the security team all swinging around in shock at my entrance.

The second, and perhaps the most unmistakable: Marco with a gun in his hand, looking down at two lifeless bodies.

The Don’s expression wasn’t one of anger, frustration or even remorse. He simply looked bored. Like the life he’d extinguished and blood pooling on the floor meant nothing to him. And while that menacing coldness should have repelled me, the only thought that registered in my head was: He’s okay.

Then the room dropped to black.

When I came around, I was in my room and lying in the center of the bed. I tried to remember how I had got there, given the sunlight still shining through the open windows, but my mind just drew a blank.

I pulled myself upright and was surprised when my head started throbbing with pain.

The second my hand touched the sore spot on my scalp, the memory of two men lying unconscious flashed across my eyes.

Marco had killed them. I had fainted.

“Move slowly. You hit your head pretty bad.” My head swung around to the occupied seat in the corner of the room. Marco’s hooded eyes met mine instantly. “The doctor said you’ll be fine. No concussion.”

I studied him as he rose to his feet, taking a few slow steps toward me. Just like one might do when walking toward a wild animal.

He thinks I’m afraid of him, I realized. Was I afraid of him?

I was more afraid of myself when I found that the only answer I had was no .

“You can stop that. I’m not scared of you.” I threw myself back on the bed and he let out a dark chuckle.

“Are you sure? You did just see two dead men in my study.” He asked sternly, though there was an edge of humor to his voice that I didn’t miss.

“Big deal. My father shot the boy I was seeing in my bed. I’ve seen worse.” I blanched at myself.

Why the hell did I just tell him that?

I’d never told anyone that before.

He let out a low whistle, “Intense.” I could feel his weight compress the bed as he took a seat beside me. “What happened to the other?”

“The other what?” I asked not understanding.

“The other man you were seeing.”

I choked on my own breath. Fear suddenly constricting my throat and anxiety crippling my tongue.

“Surely it can’t be that bad.” He prompted after a moment, misinterpreting my silence for something else.

“Last I checked Jason was very much alive and kicking…though I’m still contemplating rectifying that.” He added the last bit with an amused chuckle, but I was too lost in thought to respond.

I sat upright and turned my back to him. “I wasn’t seeing Jason or anyone else,” I muttered.

“You told me there were two men you’d been with.”

I shook my head not knowing where to start…or if I could even start.

“Ada.” Marco reached across the bed and touched my hand gently. “What’s going on?”

“I-I don’t… I don’t want to talk about him .” I got up and walked to the window, anxiety making my feet feel unstable and my head pounding with each step.

I felt his warm presence against my back after a moment, an arm wrapping protectively around my waist.

“What are you not telling me?” He asked, his cheek resting gently against the side of my head.

“Can we just drop it? My head hurts.”

He agreed to drop it for now, but something in my mind told me it wouldn’t be long before he started digging for information again.

Marco was not a man to let things go.

He’ll find out eventually.

God knows what would happen when he did.

I was invited to attend dinner on the terrace with Marco that evening. It was our first formal meal together since arriving in Sicily, and for some reason, it sent a wave of shyness through me.

After everything that had transpired in the last seventy-two hours…I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect from the evening.

When I exited the patio, I was convinced my concussion was worse than the doctor had diagnosed, and I was seeing double. The table Marco was seated at was overflowing with an assortment of bruschetta, arancini, lasagna, risotto and everything in between, his usual wait staff notably absent.

“What the hell?” I asked, not understanding the scene before me as I took a seat.

Even on a nearby side table, I could see cannelloni, gelato, and what looked to be tiramisu.

There was enough food to feed maybe fifteen or twenty people.

“I didn’t know what you’d like.” His hand grazed his mouth to hide a smile.

“And you thought this…” I gestured to the freshly boiled lobster before me, complete with a mini chef hat, apron, and small bunch of rosemary wedged in its claw. “Was what I’d like?”

Our eyes met over the table, and I couldn’t help but break into a laugh at the intricate absurdity of the lobster.

Marco released a deep chuckle and the charming boyish smile I’d come to love resurfaced.

“Just for the record, I’m a risotto kind of girl. And you?” I asked, realizing that I didn’t even know what his favorite food was.

“If we’re talking Italian, then I’d have to say ossobuco. Back home though, it’s steak.”

“How surprising,” I drawled and he smiled. I helped myself to some white wine.

“Did you come to Italy a lot when you were younger?” He asked, serving himself a bit of everything.

“We visited Rome a few times because we have family there, but only every few years,” I answered around a mouthful of spinach and mushroom risotto. “Did you come to Sicily a lot?”

“Yeah. My Nonni were always out here so we would stay with them for three months every year.” I recognized the Italian word for Grandparents.

“Must have been lovely growing up and coming home so much,” I murmured, popping another piece of food into my mouth.

“It was alright.” I heard the reservation in his tone though. “When my father died my mother came home for good. She lives in her childhood home now with my aunt.”

“Do you come to visit her often?” I asked, wanting to pull him away from the darkening expression coating his face.

“Not as often as I would like.” He took a swig from his tumbler and looked away.

“Well, we should make a habit of coming here, then,” I said with an enthusiastic smile that faltered the second I realized what I’d said. I blushed and looked away.

In my periphery I could see Marco’s expression fall from humor to unreadable in a flash. Whatever he was thinking, he seemed to recover after another moment.

A smile pulling at the edges of his lips. “You’ll see her at the wedding tomorrow. She’s excited to meet you.”

I stopped mid chew and felt my brows raise.

She must hate my guts.

The sad thing was I didn’t blame her. What my father had done to her husband went against everything that the Cosa Nostra stood for.

“What’s wrong, Ada?” Marco immediately asked, picking up the shift in my mood.

“Nothing. I just…You’d tell me if she was going to kill me, right?”

The belly laugh that erupted from him made me jolt in surprise.

“I’m glad my imminent death amuses you so much,” I muttered, scowling at his reaction having asked the question without an ounce of humor.

He sobered up quickly with that. “On the contrary. I find it amusing that you believe my mother capable of killing you.”

I rolled my eyes. “I can’t say I blame her for hating me.”

I also hated myself for having Mannino blood in my veins. Even if that wasn’t exactly something I could control.

“My mother does not hate you.” His words were confident and final. Truthful . “She is…curious about you actually.”

“Curious?” I asked. What the hell is there to be curious about?

“I’m sure she’ll tell you about it tomorrow.” He said dismissively, grabbing a lobster tail and pulling the steaming meat out from its shell.

I had no idea what he meant, but I suddenly felt nervous at what tomorrow might hold. We ate in silence for a few minutes before he spoke again.

“How are you enjoying Diamond City?”

“I’m loving it.” A genuine smile pulled at my lips. “There’s still loads for me to learn, but I think I’m getting there. I get on with all my colleagues, and Keeley, my assistant, is great.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it. I’ve heard nothing but good things about you.” That took me by surprise a bit.

I smiled at the compliment and finished the last bite of my food.

Seeing I was finished, Marco got up and approached the side table laden with different desserts. He looked somewhat uncomfortable as he clapped his hands together and turned to face me.

"What would you like?”

Hell had officially frozen over and turned into a cotton candy flavored snow cone.

When he picked up a plate and a spatula my mouth fell ungracefully agape.

Was he going to…serve me?

I didn’t think Marco was the type of man that served anybody .

His attempt to be gentlemanly released a swarm of butterflies in my stomach and my heart stuttered momentarily.

“Marco…you’re fucking freaking me out. Are you having some kind of stroke?” My words came out a little harsher than I intended them.

His jaw twitched. “I was getting you dessert,” He said, instantly angered, tossing the spatula back on the table before turning to lean against it. “But now that you’re being difficult, you can serve me .”

I gave him a look that said you’ve got to be joking, but he only held the plate in my general direction. He then nodded very obviously between it and the platter of desserts.

This man!

I wanted to laugh at his audaciousness, but after a few seconds of silent stand-off, I relented.

Heaving out a sigh, I got to my feet. If he wants me to humor him, fine, I’ll humor him.

I took the plate from his outstretched hand but leaned in close to look up at him through my lashes.

“What would you like, Marco?” I asked, making myself sound intentionally breathless.

“Tiramisu.” He answered like the oversized stroppy teenager he was.

I bit back a laugh and fought against the smile threatening to pull at my lips.

Moving to the table I bent over, unnecessarily arching my back and ass high in the air to retrieve a portion of the decadent smelling dessert. I could feel my dress rise, giving him a flash of my lacey black panties and I smirked in satisfaction.

He stirred beside me, and I knew his restraint would be wavering by this point. After another second, I straightened and turned on my heel to lay the plate back down on the table by his seat. I then served myself some cannelloni and sat back down.

Marco stayed standing another few seconds and then, with a small laugh of disbelief, he meandered back to his seat.

“You’re a pain in the ass you know.” He muttered.

“You’re not exactly sunshine and butterflies either.”

But you goddamn love it, don’t you Ada?

He smirked, looking every bit as charming as the devil himself.

After a few moments, comfortable silence lapsed between us and something I had been meaning to ask for some time came to mind. It probably wasn’t the best time to bring up the topic, but I needed to know for my own sanity the answer.

“So, what happens now?” I asked, looking anywhere but at the eyes I knew were scrutinizing my face.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean when we get back to Chicago.” I picked up my glass, refusing to meet his gaze. “You can’t really intend for me to live in your house forever, Marco. What’s the plan?”

“Is there something wrong with my house?” His voice sounded irritated. I dared to glance up and wished I hadn’t.

Yup, definitely irritated.

“Of course not. I just… I can’t be your ward for the rest of my life. I might not be a part of my own family anymore because of all this.” I waved my hand vaguely in the air before looking down at my lap. “But that’s not your fault and it certainly isn’t your responsibility to take care of me. You’ve set me up with this amazing job, bought me a car. Maybe in the next few months we should look at finding someone to marry me off to.” I looked over at him, but he was already looking into the distance. His jaw clenched.

“Is that what you want?” His quiet voice was filled with something I couldn’t place.

At first, I thought it was anger, but it felt like something softer.

Is it what I wanted ? No.

Was it the best I could hope for? Yes.

The longer I stayed at the mansion, the more I was surrendering myself to torment, especially if I gave into him like I knew eventually I would. I would be forced to watch as his life marched on irrevocably without me. I’d have to watch as he brought home whatever woman he wanted each night. Watch as he fell in love. Got married. Became a father. Grew old.All of it both with and without me.

My only options were to move out or be married off, and frankly marriage was my best option. At least that way I could have a house of my own, a family…

“It’s not about what I want. You’re not going to want me around forever and if you marry me off then you know I can’t go back. My presence in your home is only going to make your life harder.”

He remained silent a moment, swiping a hand across his face. “So let it. The answer is no.”

A flash of disappointment stirred within me, though it was eclipsed entirely by the spark of hope that I let ignite in my chest. Did that mean he wanted to keep me around?

Either way it didn’t matter—not really.

“Your future wife isn’t going to be happy with another female being in the house. Especially one you’ve done stuff with and have refused to marry off.” I reluctantly pointed out, pushing the matter further.

“Do you really think I give a shit about what anyone else thinks? The answer is no.” His words were biting, resilient and immutable. “Why are you so insistent on removing yourself from my house, Ada?”

“Why are you so insistent on keeping me in your house, Marco? You think I am not good enough to marry into your family, don’t you?” I shouted, my temper flaring in response to his.

Not that I wanted to marry just anyone in his family if given the choice. Deep down I knew that the man I found myself wanting to marry would never and could never want me the same way. I was the daughter of his sworn enemy. His ward. His hostage.

He slammed a palm down on the table, “Answer my fucking question, Ada.”

“Not until you answer any of mine.” I threw my napkin down on the table too, pissed off with the turn our conversation had taken.

He lent back in his chair, holding his glass tightly in one hand. Silence hung between us as the minutes ebbed away.

“I will not marry you off.”

“Then I’ll move out and find somew?—"

“No!” He refused. “Now answer my fucking question.” A frown contorted his features, etching deeper with every passing second.

“What question?” I played dumb.

As planned, it only aggravated him more. His teeth snapping together with an audible click.

“Why do you want to leave, Ada?” His eyes were vigilant, scanning to see my reaction. I looked away.

“I can’t be your hostage fore?—"

“You’re a terrible liar.”

I pursed my lips, not sure on how to answer without sacrificing my heart in the process.

“Truth, Ada. Now.”

Maybe it was the demanding tone to his voice or the roughness of his words, but I suddenly didn’t care if it made my feelings obvious—I wanted to tell him the reason. Maybe then he would finally understand and agree with me that an arranged marriage was the best outcome. That it wasn’t a case of me running away from the La Torre’s, it was a case of me running away from the heartache that would inevitably follow having found myself infatuated with their Don.

“I don’t want to see it,” I said softly, voice barely above a whisper.

Confusion lined his face, “See what?”

I let out a heavy breath.

Let the chips fall where they may.

“I don’t want to see you bring someone else home. I don’t want to see you meet someone, fall in love and get married. To see your life move on without me. I don’t want to watch it happening right in front of me and know that there is nothing I can do to change it. Wishing every day of my goddamn, shitty little life, that we stood a chance under different circumstances. Wishing even just for a moment that I could ever be enough for someone like you.” My fingers trembled and my heart leapt into my throat, unsure how he was going to take what I’d said.

I stared at my lap, unable to meet the gaze I felt burning into me, setting me on fire.

My chest smoldered with embarrassment as he remained silent for a solid minute, and then another. The blush that had started at my chest, swept up to my face as humiliation and regret hit me. I couldn’t bare it any longer.

I leapt to my feet and half-walked, half-ran through the halls to the safety of my room, throwing open the door and pulling it shut roughly.

I swung back around again when the door slammed open behind me.

I only had a second to process what was happening before Marco tore across the space, grabbing my face in his hands as his lips crushed mine with a ferocity that made my heart splutter.

My tense shoulders instantly molded against him and my stomach pooled with arousal. My mouth opening against his as his tongue swept inside. Sweeping away the last of my humiliation into pure bliss with a moan.

One of his hands immediately tangled in the hair at the nape of my neck as the other simultaneously found my waist. He walked me backward across the room until the bedframe hit my knees.

The second I stopped, his hands found the tops of my arms and spun me away from him. I felt the material of my dress fall as he made quick work of the zip, not missing how his fingers lingered on the bare skin of my spine. Less than a second after his touch disappeared, I was pulled back around to face him and once again our lips collided in a mess of wetness, skin, and teeth. Desire and need flooded through me, engulfing me in an aching heat that seared and begged for more.

Gone were all my reservations, doubts and fears about what could come next. It didn’t matter.

I wanted this. Needed this.

I moved backward onto the bed and kicked my heels off with Marco following me, never breaking our kiss. His strong knees rested on the outside of my thighs as he leaned upright, pulling at his tie and discarding it. His head descended to my neck, and I felt the warmth of his tongue as he lapped at my skin. My hands trailed around his shoulders, coming to rest at the buttons of his shirt.

I managed to undo a few of them before he grew impatient and pulled the dark material up over his head instead, with a growl. As if he couldn’t stand it being between us any longer.

When his muscled chest pressed against my bare skin, a satisfied sigh escaped my lips. It quickly turned into a moan when his kisses trailed across my collarbone and chest, settling on my nipple as my hands threaded into his hair. He sucked one of the firm peaks into his mouth, rubbing the other between his fingers. His tongue swirled against the tight bud over and over, before he moved to the other. Nipping and sucking until I was breathless and disorientated.

My insides ached for more and the emptiness became so much I started panting.

When his mouth didn’t move, I yanked on his hair until his lips sealed to mine once again. My hips rolled against the firmness between his thighs desperately.

I felt a rumble emanate from deep in his chest and it spurred me on.

My hands ran down his sides until I found the waistband of his suit trousers. I didn’t hesitate as I pulled at the buckle of his belt and undid the button beneath. I could feel his hard bulge scarcely trapped behind the fabric as my hands skimmed along the edge of the material. He moaned and took over, pulling the trousers over his toned thighs and throwing them to the floor with the rest of our discarded clothes. His erection stood proud against his boxers, and my body responded with a carnal shiver, moisture leaking into my panties.

Marco’s hands traced the outside of my thighs until they found the thin strip of material either side of my hip. He slipped my panties off in one go and tossed them to the floor before he shifted and his mouth descended on my wet slit.

When his tongue touched my sensitive spot, I let out a whimper. My hands immediately weaved back through his soft hair, pulling him closer. His hands gripped my ass and suddenly he tilted my hips up, allowing his tongue to reach places I’d never been touched before by a man. He groaned.

An eruption of tingles raced along my spine and a flush ran straight to my cheeks. It was so obscene, so erotic . A deep moan resonated from my throat as I danced scarily close to the edge. Tingles dancing on every nerve.

“So fucking sweet,” he commented, his tongue tauntingly tracing the path over and over.

It was too much.

I screamed as I came. Hard .

My head flew back against the sheets, and my vision faded to darkness as euphoria and bliss descended like night onto day. My hips rolled and jerked, my body instantly flushing with the climax.

Marco’s licks became gentler and slower as my body started to cool, and the tremors died away.

The release didn’t last long though, with the warmth of him still pressed to my sensitive slit. My body was aching even more than before, desperate to feel his length inside me.

His tongue moved to tracing my entrance, lapping at my wetness and an animalistic rumble echoed from his chest. “Fuck.”

A second later a finger pushed inside, and I gasped suddenly at the fulness. Another finger joined the first and my hips rocked in response, desperate to feel more of him.

He moved languidly, rubbing against my sensitive inner walls in a way that had my breathy moans filling the room all over again.

“You’re ready for me, aren’t you baby?” I could hear the roughness in his voice, and it made me even wetter.

His mouth found mine and I slipped my tongue between his lips, grinding against his fingers. He groaned but moved away, and I scowled impatiently as he got off the bed to retrieve something from his discarded trousers. He came back a moment later, slipping off his boxers and emptying the small square packet into his hand.

“Have you ever had sex without one?” I asked inquisitively, watching him put the condom on expertly.

“No.” He pulled his face in a half-smile when he saw me watching.

Two seconds later, Marco reappeared above me and positioned himself back between my thighs.

“Look at me,” Marco rasped.

I obeyed him immediately, looking up into his warm eyes.

When our gaze locked, he pushed himself inside me with a deliberate slowness.

My eyes fluttered shut and I tensed. I could feel my body burning as it stretched to accommodate his large length. He stopped halfway, allowing me to adjust for a second as my breath caught in my throat. When my eyes re-opened and met his once more, he pressed himself in all the way until I was so full I could barely breathe.

His face flushed and his eyes glazed above me in the most erotic display of arousal I had ever seen. A groan escaped him, and I felt myself clench around his cock in response. My own arousal becoming too much, just at the sight and feel of him.

“Your so fucking tight, Ada.” He gritted out.

He retreated slightly, only to drive his length back into me with increasing conviction a moment later. I whimpered and his lips came back to mine. His thrusts growing harder and faster as my body became increasingly pliable to his immense strength.

“Good girl,” he muttered when my insides relaxed, allowing him to thrust deeper.

The fact that Marco was a talker in bed was turning me on so much I couldn’t think straight.

My hips began meeting his, thrust for thrust as we moved in agonizing synchronicity. I moaned into his neck, gripped his hair and kissed whatever skin I could get to.

With that, his movements became rougher, his hips rushing into me with a force that had my insides trembling. I could feel the scorching, irresistible burn of orgasm starting to smolder at my nerves, and I ran my hands to his ass, pulling him into me even harder.

Just when I thought I was going to be engulfed by the fire, Marco retreated, flipping me onto my front and pulling me up onto all fours before slamming back into me. I choked on the fullness. His length filling me deeper than ever before.

Pleasure and pain consumed me, and my eyes rolled with the sensation. The scorching bliss of orgasm drew so close I was no longer in control of my body.

“Come for me, I want to feel it,” Marco demanded.

The possessiveness in his voice had me flying over the edge and I screamed as pleasure seared every nerve. I pulsed against him as my climax took over. My legs trembled. My body flushed violently.

I heard him suck in a breath and then a powerful growl erupted from him as he too reached his release.

We collapsed on the bed in a heap.

Our panting was the only noise filling the otherwise silent room.

I stared soundlessly at the heavy-lidded and exhausted man beside me as he laid on his back. His fingers trailing along my skin, drawing lazy patterns.

When he noticed me watching, a heavily tattooed arm encircled me gently and he pulled me against his chest. Holding me with surprising intimacy.

I didn’t resist and laid my cheek against his bare skin, hearing his heart beating steadily beneath me.

I wish I could stay in this moment forever.

We stayed like that for what seemed like hours. Until his breaths had grown even and deep.

I lifted my chin to look up at the peaceful expression on his now sleeping face. He looked more boyish in his sleep, happy even.

Even if it’s just for now.

With that thought, a cool sense of dread and premeditated rejection sunk beneath my skin, permeating my bones.

I was in too deep—cared too much.

Whether it felt right or not, it was a path that would inevitably lead to pain.

Yet, I couldn’t quite bring myself to regret the choices I had made that led me to this moment. I knew that the odds of escaping this situation with my heart intact were slim to none—I just didn’t care anymore.

I pressed my lips to his chest and closed my eyes, trying to dispel the impending sense of helplessness consuming me. I refused to fall asleep, trying to live the moment with everything I had.

I knew that one day I would most likely give anything in the world to have it back.