Page 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Dasha

I hadn’t expected Santo’s brother to engage me immediately upon coming inside.

But he rose from his chair, making his way to the counter. “Excuse me, could you give me progress on my car?” he asked.

“Of course,” I said. I was glad to delay going into the back. “Mr…”

“Grant,” he said. His lips twitched, but I found myself fascinated by his eyes. They were each different colors. One was a honey brown and the other a blue-gray.

Other than that, he looked a lot like Santo. Both were tall with swimmer’s builds, great bone structure, dark hair, and amazing eyelashes.

“Grant,” I repeated. “Of course.”

“I’ll be here all day,” Massimo said, pitching his voice lower. “If anything feels weird when you go back there, just call for me; I’ll be listening.”

“Thank you,” I said, making a show of looking through the paperwork that had already stacked up since the day before.

“Everything’s gonna be alright.” To that, I nodded.

“Do you see anything on my face?”

“Am I supposed to?” he asked, brows knitting.

“Just checking,” I said. Sucking in a deep breath, I slowly released it. “Help yourself to some coffee,” I told him, waving over to the coffee station I’d set up.

“Find reasons to come out here if you’re feeling anxious.”

“I will. Thank you.” I gave him a grateful smile before squaring my shoulders and making my way into the garage.

Some part of me expected it to play out like some music. For all the noise to fade away, for everyone to stop what they were doing and stare at me.

But, well, it was all really anticlimactic.

Everyone kept working.

And if someone looked over at me, I didn’t even really notice.

Still, by the time I got to my desk, my stomach was in knots and my heart was threatening to break out of my chest.

“Okay. Alright. You got through it,” I murmured to myself as I looked around my desk.

My uncle’s paperweight was situated in the wrong spot and I reached immediately to set it to rights before I sat down.

Santo wanted me to bring all my notes home that I’d jotted down about the books. And, if possible, all the actual proof—receipts—from the work that had been done that didn’t make any sense.

So I spent the morning and early afternoon taking what I could or snapping pictures of things I didn’t want to remove from work.

I made four trips out to the waiting room: two times to use the bathroom, two more for coffee.

It was a normal enough number of times that no one seemed to notice anything weird.

As for me, I tried to glance over at them, to see if anyone was watching me, trying to figure out why there were no bruises under my eyes or around my throat.

But everyone ignored me as usual.

Maybe the attack had truly been random?

Or, barring that, from some shady character my uncle had been connected to that I didn’t even know.

Or, I guess, both things could be true.

Like he promised, Massimo sat in the waiting room the whole day. I’d even heard a couple of the guys commenting that the guy was crazy for being willing to wait all day.

Eventually, his car was done. And I pretended to fiddle with mine—as if I had any idea at all what to do with a car that wasn’t working—climbed in, and headed to Santo’s house.

I don’t think I even realized how incredibly tense I was all day until I walked in the back door and into Santo’s arms.

“Did something happen?” Santo asked when I just stood there holding onto him, letting the day of anxiety and uncertainty melt away.

“No. Everything was alright. I mean… nothing happened. I was just anxious about being there. But I’m glad I went. I think if I waited to go back, it would have been a lot harder. Plus, I got everything we needed from my files there. I went back three years.”

“Why three?” Santo asked, releasing me enough to let me move back to look at him.

“I wanted to check something.”

“Want wine for this conversation?”

“If ever a day called for it…” I said, getting a little smile from him as he turned to pour the wine that had already been breathing on the island. “Thanks,” I said, accepting the glass. “So, I knew that the shipping container orders from Mexico went back just about two years. I wanted to see if the discrepancies in receipts went back further.”

“Did they?”

My gaze cut to his. “No.” I took a sip of my wine, the sweetness teasing across my taste buds. “But I don’t know what that means.”

“I think I do,” Santo said. He reached for his own wine and took a sip. “He’s moving drugs through the shop.”

“Oh,” I said, brows raising. That would be easy, wouldn’t it? The cars roll in, the drugs could be stashed inside of them, and then the owner could pay the shop and have it all look above-board.

“I always thought that shop was a lot busier than seemed normal.”

That was fair. Cars were constantly coming in and going out. “But… why would someone pay for an oil change if they just want drugs?”

“My best guess is that they aren’t. You’ve been poring over the books, right?”

“Endlessly,” I told him. I was pretty sure I was going to need glasses from straining my eyes looking at all the disorganized paperwork.

“How is the business doing? Are you in the red? In the black?”

“Hanging on by the skin of our teeth.”

“Right. And with all that traffic in and out of the place, you shouldn’t be just hanging on.”

I didn’t know enough about business to be so sure of that. But, I figured, the Grassi Family would know, since they did have so many legitimate businesses.

“Are you planning on going back tomorrow?” he asked.

“Um, I hadn’t really given it much thought. Why?”

“I’m curious if my hunch is right. If every car that is coming in there is actually getting work done.”

“I think I have to figure that out. One way or another. Just to be sure.”

“I know you don’t usually babysit the mechanics, so maybe I can have Dante or Dom stick a hidden camera in before work opens up tomorrow.”

“Is that, like, legal?”

“Does it matter? I don’t care what they are saying, just what they’re doing.”

“True,” I agreed.

“We just need to know what is going down under that roof. I can’t keep you safe if I don’t know exactly what I am up against.”

My heart tightened at that, at how willing he was to step into the role of protector, how much he seemed to want to take care of me.

“Okay. So… a hidden camera.”

“And all the answers that will come with it,” Santo said. He placed his wineglass down, then reached for me. He watched me drain my glass, then took it and placed it next to his. “Now, on to more important things…”

His free hand went behind my neck, holding me as his lips lowered to mine. He was soft at first, but it wasn’t long before the kiss was warming, deepening, stirring up heat that spread through every inch of me.

It didn’t take long for hands to start drifting, sparking little fires that caught, spread, became an inferno.

My hands slipped between us, pushing his jacket off his shoulders, working the buttons free from his wrists, then up the center of his chest.

Santo’s hands roamed down my back, sank into my ass, and pulled me more firmly against him.

His cock strained, pressing against my stomach, making liquid heat pool in my core.

Santo’s hands shifted, sliding under my skirt, finding the waistband of my panties, and pulling them down.

I stepped out of the material.

Then he was turning me, pushing me against the island, then reaching down to grab me under the knees, and lifting up.

No one had ever even tried to lift me before. And there was a second of panic that he might not be able to.

But then I was up on the island, he was spreading my thighs, and lowering himself down between them.

There wasn’t even time to be excited that I’d been lifted up on the counter because his tongue was tracing up my cleft to circle my clit.

My hands slipped into his silky hair, holding him against me as he worked me with his mouth, driving me up, up, up.

But before I could feel the orgasm course through me, he was pulling against my hold.

“No,” I cried out, reaching for him.

But it was too late; he was already standing there, watching me with molten eyes.

His hands moved out, sliding my straps off my shoulders, then yanking the material down over my breasts. There wasn’t even a pause before he was working the clasps of my strapless bra free, then tossing it carelessly to the ground, his hungry gaze on my chest.

“Fucking love these,” he said, his hands softly cupping my breasts, making a little whimper escape me at his reverence.

It wasn’t long, though, before his hands were squeezing, his fingers rolling and twisting.

His lips went to mine again as one of his hands disappeared. I heard the metal of his belt buckle clanging as he worked it free.

I reached into his back pocket for his wallet, fishing in it for a condom as he freed his cock.

He took the condom foil from me as I reached to close my hand around his length, stroking him. I needed to press my thighs tightly together to ease the ache at the memory of him inside me.

Santo gently pushed me away, protected us, then reached to press me flat across the island.

A groan escaped him as he looked down at me. Then he was sliding my skirt up my thighs, exposing me. I shamelessly spread my thighs, a silent invitation—one he was all too happy to accept.

Santo slid into me with one long, thick thrust, and my walls tightened around him greedily.

“Fuck, baby,” he moaned, pausing deep inside me to take a slow, steadying breath, trying to find some control.

But I didn’t want him controlled.

I hooked my legs around him, digging my heels into his ass and rocking my hips restlessly against him.

“Fuck me, Santo,” I demanded, making his eyes go molten.

Then he was giving me exactly what I asked for.

He grabbed my thighs, pulling me closer to the edge of the counter, and holding my legs up and wide for him as he fucked me.

Hard and deep.

The only thing keeping me from flying across the island with the force of his thrusts was the hold he had on me.

And my body responded to his fierceness, my sex getting tighter and tighter as he drove me right to that edge then sending me flying over.

“Not done,” he said as little aftershocks racked my system.

Then just as easily as he’d lifted me up, he pulled me back down, grabbed me, turned me, and bent me over the island.

Despite just being satisfied, my next orgasm ratcheted up at his lack of control, at the way he was taking me exactly how he wanted.

He surged back inside of me, making my moan fill the kitchen.

His hands slid around me, cupping my breasts as he fucked me.

Fast—so fast—that he stole my breath as the sounds of our fucking filled the kitchen.

“That’s it. Squeeze my cock,” he demanded.

I came hard, crying out with Santo fucking me through it before he settled deep inside me with a curse.

We stayed just like that for a long moment, both searching for calm in our chaotic bodies.

It was Santo who spoke first. “I was supposed to feed you before that.”

“Well, if it helps, I’m hungrier now,” I said.

He chuckled at that as he moved away.

I tried to tuck my boobs back into my dress. But without the minimizing of my bra, it was a futile task.

I held the material against my front as I turned.

Santo stood there with my bra and panties in his hand, giving me a satisfied smile. “How about you slip into something that doesn’t require these while I get dinner started?”

I certainly wasn’t going to turn that offer down.

I snatched my underwear back, then moved to walk past him.

Santo landed a hard slap to my ass, making me yelp and turn back with a faux-scandalized smile.

“Keep giving me those needy eyes and we’re never gonna eat,” he warned.

And while I wouldn’t mind that, I also really wanted the experience of a man cooking for me, so I rushed upstairs to find Santo had not only brought my bags in, but had taken my clothes out and hung the dresses in the closet.

My casual clothes were still in the duffle bag, so I dug around in there to find one of my ‘fancy’ sleep sets.

Since I mostly slept alone, I just wore a comfy tee and panties. But I had a bit of a shopping problem when it came to pretty nightgowns and matching robes.

I was glad to put one to use.

I picked out a baby pink nightgown with white lace trim that fell about mid-thigh. I slid that on—without any of the undergarments Santo didn’t want—and put the matching robe on top, but chose to leave it uncinched, so he could see the nightie beneath.

I took myself to the bathroom, fixing my hair, but decided to leave the makeup on for the time being. I knew Santo had seen what was beneath, but I wanted to look my best for him. At least until bed.

With that, I made my way back downstairs to already smell garlic and onion filling the house.

“Mmm, what are you making?” I asked as I moved into the kitchen to find him at the island, his shirtsleeves rolled up, cutting up greens on a fancy wooden cutting board.

“Right now? Sauce,” he said, focusing on his knife skills. Which shouldn’t have been as sexy as they were. But, damn, the man knew what he was doing. And the motions totally made the muscles in his forearms tense in all sorts of appealing ways.

Finished chopping the greens, his gaze lifted.

With that, he was straightening, knife still in his hand, his greedy gaze sliding over me.

“Tell me you wear that all the time at home.”

“I can if you want,” I said, belly cartwheeling at the need in his eyes and voice.

“I want.”

“Good. Because I have bought an ungodly number of these,” I said, waving down at myself. “But I’ve never had a reason to wear them.”

“You got a reason now. Lots of reasons, if you want me to list them,” he said, lips twitching.

“So, you make sauce from scratch?”

“Pretty sure my ma would disown me if I used a jar. A basic marinara is easy,” he explained. “Just need tomatoes, garlic, parsley, basil, olive oil, and salt.”

“And yet I bet it will be the best sauce I’ve ever had.” I looked at his gathered ingredients. “Can I do anything?”

“Hang with me and look pretty. Shouldn’t be too hard,” he said with another warm gaze.

God, this man almost seemed too good to be true.

He was gorgeous, protective, successful, skilled with cooking, and absolutely adored the body I had worked so hard to learn to love myself.

Eventually, I linked my phone to his wireless speaker, letting music fill the room as I poured us some more wine, then sipped and sang and swayed my hips as I watched Santo take charge of the kitchen.

It was practically porn, to be honest, to see him moving around. Chopping this, mixing that, sticking his finger into the sauce, and then dipping it into his mouth.

“I’m gonna say Fuck it and let all this burn if you keep looking at me like that,” he said. He shot me a raised brow look.

“It’s not my fault that you look so hot when you’re cooking. Out of curiosity, would you be against doing all this,” I said, waving at him, “wearing nothing but your boxer briefs and an apron?”

I got a chuckle in response to that before he turned and walked over to me, stealing a quick kiss. “If you’d be willing to scrub the floor in one of your sundresses for me, I’ll cook just about naked for you.”

“It’s a deal,” I agreed, offering him my hand, making his smile spread wide enough to make his eyes crinkle. “Now get over there and finish my dinner,” I demanded.