He kicked my feet apart before striking me again. And again. The snap of his wrist jetted into my ears, mirroring the sounds of traffic. The moment was strangely alluring, pulling me into the beginnings of nirvana.

  “I love the way you wear my marks,” he said almost casually, his fingers swiping across my bottom. “You need more.” He delivered four more brutal smacks, one coming after the other.

  “Oh!” I rose onto my tiptoes, swaying back and forth, clenching my fists.

  There was no rest for the wicked, the belt slicing against my bottom and upper thighs, the pain exploding into anguish. I felt the pressure of his hand between my legs, his fingers dancing over my clit. “Oh, Jesus. Yes.” Slumping forward, my breaths became shallow as he fingered me, my clit swelling almost immediately.

  “Keep those legs apart, my little princess.” He raked his wet finger up and along the crack of my ass, his fingers smacking my flesh.

  The cracking sound continued, even more pronounced and I couldn’t hold back the ragged moans. I no longer cared who was watching. In fact, I longed for someone to be standing in the shadows, drinking in the round of discipline. The thought brought me a smile as the next few strikes were even more painful. “Oh, God. Oh...” Goosebumps covered my arms and legs, forcing me to shiver.

  “You’re doing so well,” he muttered in a husky fashion before sliding the strap between my legs. The next few snaps of his wrist pounded the belt against my pussy.

  There was no way to describe the dazzling sensations, a moment of rocket fuel igniting every cell in my body. I tilted my head, issuing a silent scream then gazing at the emerging stars. Nothing could ever feel so right.

  Michael continued the punishment for a few minutes, but I was lost in the intensity of raw ecstasy consuming every inch of my body. I wasn’t even aware that he’d undressed or that he was now standing behind me, grinding his hips against mine. “Fuck me,” I dared to whisper.

  “Yes, I will.” He rubbed the tips of his fingers down my spine, wiggling them between the cleft of my bruised ass until he slid one then another inside. That’s the very moment I felt the thickness of his cock sliding past my swollen pussy lips, going in inch after inch until he was fully seated inside. “Damn, you feel so good.”

  I arched my back, undulating my hips in a brazen offer, giving him all of myself. My body. My soul.

  And my heart.

  Michael nipped my shoulder as he pulled his cock until only the tip was inside. Teasing me.

  Taunting me.

  “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.” I jutted my hips as far back as my restraints would allow, my body begging him for relief.

  “Never, my sweet. I’ll never stop.” He impaled me with the entire length of his cock, holding his throbbing shaft inside as my muscles relaxed, accepting his thick girth. “And now, you’re all mine.”

  I was used to his hard fucking, the way he took total command, but tonight was different. He was christening me into his dark needs, awakening every synapse between us. We were becoming one. The iron posts creaked from his brutal thrusts, but all I could think about was harder. Faster. I wanted all of him.

  He became a crazed man, plunging in a savage manner, as if he couldn’t get deep enough inside. I moved with him, powering my hips to meet every hard drive, my breath stolen. Lights flashed in front of my eyes and I could almost hear exclamations of people enjoying the view.

  The only thing I could do was smile.

  My entire body ached, the electricity pounding into me until the climax raced from my toes, dragging me into the very depths of ecstasy. “Oh, God. I’m going to...”

  He bit down on my shoulder, his growl even more barbaric.

  Then I lost it, the orgasm ripping through me. “Yes. Yes. Yes!”

  “That’s it. Come for me. Come on my cock.”

  I tossed my head from side to side, no longer able to see anything but the haze of pure lust. I could hear his breathing change, ragged and scattered and nothing gave me any more pleasure than to squeeze my pussy muscles.

  As the warm gush of his cum filled me so completely, I slowly eased my head back, savoring the warmth of his body. I should be ecstatic, ready to enjoy the rest of my life, but a nagging remained, furrowing inside.

  Michael’s life remained in jeopardy.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Michael

  Family.

  Asking Francesca to marry me hadn’t been on the initial agenda. I had been determined to push her away, setting her free from a life that would forever entail danger and difficulties. Besides, I was no prince. I chuckled at the thought as I gripped the steering wheel. We were only a few miles away from her father’s estate. I’d called ahead, not requesting but demanding an audience with Antonio. He certainly hadn’t seemed surprised. I hadn’t mentioned that she would be accompanying me.

  She was my weakness, but also an extension of my soul. I’d never considered myself the marrying type, but the very moment I’d heard the gun going off, ending a man’s life that I had trusted, I knew life was far too short. The ring on her finger had belonged to my mother, one of the few pieces of jewelry my father had given her that she’d cared about. I knew she would approve of Francesca.

  Karma had a way of catching up to people. I’d learned that the hard way. I’d also come to realize that the past will always have a way of highlighting every damning decision. Every mistake. Every evil deed. Confronting Francesca’s father was important for both of us.

  This wasn’t about money. I couldn’t give a shit. This was about peace of mind, a letting go of the past instead of attempting to erase it.

  Making love with her had been an incredible experience, beautiful in every manner. We’d remained in each other’s arms, even though the Glock was never far from my fingertips.

  A heightened level of knowing had shifted into my mind as we stood in the darkness on that balcony, wrapping around my brain like voracious tentacles.

  We were being watched.

  I didn’t tell her about my worries or my gut instinct, and quite frankly it didn’t make sense. Dante Massimo was dead, having died from a heart attack. From everything I’d learned about the Massimo organization, there was no immediate contract that had been placed on my life or that of my father’s. However, everything was far too quiet. Perhaps that was the crux of my concerns. Caution would remain a top priority.

  I felt her hand slide onto my thigh, her fingers resting without tension until the turnoff was merely a mile away. Even her breathing changed, becoming shallower.

  “We don’t have to do this,” I offered as I slowed down.

  “Yes, we do.” Her conviction was strong, another trait I admired about her. We’d begun this journey with a series of lies and a criminal act.

  We’d end it with the truth.

  One way or the other.

  The estate was magnificent, the two-story Mediterranean-style home several hundred feet in length. The grounds were meticulous and majestic, reminiscent of a tropical island. Flowers were everywhere in vibrant colors, the other aspects of landscaping lush. I could see acres of land; vines growing on perfectly constructed trellis, covered in massive clumps of grapes. I could only imagine growing up here.

  She seemed disinterested as her door was opened by one of the two servants waiting on the vestibule. Even as they greeted her with fondness, she merely patted one then the other on the shoulder and headed directly inside.

  I followed her in a more casual manner, studying the impressive architecture as I walked through the oversized entrance. Everything was pristine, expensive art covering the walls, and beautifully carved statues housed on gilded columns. Her father had spared no expense in decorating.

  I trailed behind her, keeping my distance and counting the number of employees who hovered close by. Their attempt at hiding in plain sight, dressed as household staff, failed miserably. I counted at least eight carrying weapons, and another two that were more like guard dogs than pool boys.

  Antonio was nervous.

  Francesca didn’t bother knocking on the set of carved doors. She merely walked inside, holding her head high as the heels of her boots clipped against the terracotta floor. She’d elected to wear jeans and cowboy boots, a far cry from what I was used to seeing her in. Somehow the attire suited her more so than glamorous frocks.

  Her father seemed frail, unsteady as he rose to his feet, remaining behind an ornate and very large desk. They stood staring at each other for a few seconds until he offered a smile.

  I heard the sound of four others behind me, all waiting in the wings in case of trouble. Her father darted his eyes in my direction, acknowledging my presence. He was no fool. He’d been told of the various details of a meltdown of the Massimo empire and my participation in helping that along.

  “Francesca,” he said almost meekly. For a rich and powerful man, he seemed resigned that he’d lost the favor of his only child.

  “Father,” she said with almost no emotion. “You’re looking well.”

  Antonio sighed and walked around the corner of his desk, moving in my direction. “I see we have a guest.”

  “And you know exactly who Michael is, Father. I’m certain you had a significant part in attempting to assassinate both him and his father.” Her words were frank, but I felt the anger creeping in.

  “Michael Cappalini,” Antonio said as he closed the distance, holding out his hand. “How is your father?”

  I shook his hand, eyeing the sadness in his eyes. The man had been under significant duress. “Ricardo is well. I wasn’t aware that you knew him.”

  He chuckled and studied me for some time. “You look very much like your mother. I know your father well, Michael. He and I were very good friends many years ago. We might have lived on different continents, but we managed to spend some time together. After all, we were the sons of great leaders. I understand he is recuperating.”

  The irony that he’d connected with my father, another mafia heir was fascinating, a foreshadowing of the Sons of Darkness. Words my father said clicked. “You have connections.”

  “Of course I do, son. They’re essential to my business, one I hoped she would embrace one day. I understand now that is never going to happen.” Antonio walked toward a bank of windows, giving his daughter a heartfelt look.

  “How could I ever trust you again, Father? Did you sell me off to Franco, hiding behind this ridiculous marriage to Vincenzo?” she snapped.

  He didn’t respond and within seconds, she’d grabbed his arm, yanking him to the point of almost stumbling. As soon as I walked closer, he held up his hand, shaking his head. “My daughter deserves an answer. I assume that’s what you came for.”

  She laughed, her hand raised as if she was going to slap him.

  “Don’t,” I said quietly.

  Francesca pulled back, exhaling. “You’re right. He’s not worth it.”

  I knew there was more to her father’s despair and the decision he’d made. “You knew my father had fallen in love with Sophia Massimo.”

  Antonio seemed surprised, almost pleasantly so, as if one weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “Yes. I introduced them. You see, there was a time that I was interested in Sophia, but we were distant cousins. When she went to America in order to become an actress, I followed her career, even visiting her from time to time when I was there on business. I’d already begun the takeover from my father, so my services were required from time to time.”

  “I wasn’t aware that you had any business in the States,” I commented, becoming more curious.

  “How do you think your grandfather obtained seed money, becoming powerful as well as notorious?” Antonio sighed. “Your grandfather was a brutal man, much like mine was. The old ways. Ricardo and I wanted to do things differently. One day, I introduced your father to the woman I still had significant feelings for.”

  “You never told me this,” Francesca half whispered.

  He shook his head. “Water under the bridge, my dear. Sophia made her choice and I moved on. Was I resentful? For a time. But Ricardo was fascinating and debonair. He had connections to powerful people in Hollywood. And they loved each other almost instantly.”

  “Dante Massimo never forgave you for the introduction.” My words seemed to hang in the room.

  Francesca groaned. “Did he force you to convince me to marry Vincenzo?”

  “That was one reason. Yes. Dante is a man who holds a grudge for a long time and he never forgives,” Antonio mused. “He wanted to make certain that he had control over your father’s organization, and he was uncertain whether I was still friends with Ricardo.”

  “But that’s not all,” I suggested, walking closer. The pieces were beginning to fall together.

  He slumped, unable to look either Francesca or me in the eyes. “No. As I said, he was very powerful. Dante was also aware of the horrible things his son had done over the years. Franco was... pure evil. Dante was forced to cover up for several indiscretions.”

  “Including my sister’s death.” Francesca folded her arms, a defiant look remaining on her face. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth? That son of a bitch pressured you. Why didn’t you go to the authorities and have the bastard locked up? Both of them. And why would you go along with it? They had nothing on you but some old friendship.”

  “Because your father couldn’t. Could you, Antonio?” I hated even asking the question.

  He finally locked eyes with mine, giving me another respectful nod. “No.”

  “Why? What the hell is going on, Father?”

  Antonio walked toward his daughter, reaching out his hand then pulling back. He seemed willing to talk to her, but I could tell the man was going to hold back. What secret was he hiding?

  “That’s it. You were ready to sell off your daughter because of an old friendship with Ricardo Cappalini,” Francesca laughed, her eyes flashing.

  “What I did was wrong, but I felt I had no choice.” Antonio’s voice was strangled.

  Francesca turned her head toward me, her expression forlorn. “Well, Father, the Massimo family has been destroyed. You are no longer prisoner of some wretched, sick game. But you need to know this. I will never take over the family operation. I don’t want your money. You can keep my trust. Maybe give it to charity. I am going back to the United States where I’m going to live the rest of my life in peace surrounded by love. Thank you for at least telling me the truth.” She turned sharply, walking toward the door.

  I studied Antonio. He was a broken man, much like my father had been after my mother’s death. Secrets and lies had a way of finding destruction along every path.

  “I’ll be right there, Francesca. I need to speak with your father for just a few moments.” My eyes never left Antonio as I said the words. I could tell she was surprised but didn’t challenge me. I glanced over my shoulder until she was out of earshot. Then I took long strides, coming within two inches of the man.

  Antonio opened his eyes wide, but there was no fear in them. “You love my daughter.”

  “Yes, I do. With all my heart.”

  “And you really think she’s going to live a better life with you?”

  “I guess we shall see.”

  He eyed me warily. “I wanted more for her. I wanted her to be a regular girl living and working in the United States. I wanted so many wonderful things for her life, not to be stuck living in sheer hell as I did, as your father did, and I suspect as you did as well.”

  His words were frank and biting. “I will do everything in my power to protect her, but I’m not forcing her to marry me. That’s her choice, much like it was for you not to tell her the truth. We can’t change the past. Or can we, Antonio? There’s still another card to play. Isn’t there?”

  “I don’t understand what you mean,” he said, trying to look away.

  I grabbed his chin, forcing his head straight forward, my nails digging in. “You are going to do the right thing, including signing the paperwork releasing her trust. Whether she gives it to charity or keeps it for our children, that is her choice. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes. Yes, I do.”

  I dug my nails in deeper for a few seconds, angry for far too many reasons and only some of them having to do with the old man who’d cared very much for his two daughters. I released him, hissing and walking away.

  He hesitated then walked back to his desk, unlocking a drawer and pulling out a file. I watched as he found a pen, testing the ink before signing his name on several pages. “Here. Take this.”

  I stormed forward, grabbing the papers and folding them, shoving them into my jacket pocket.

  Antonio stared me straight in the eyes, a genuine smile crossing his face. “You are doing this to protect her. You know what’s in the trust. Don’t you? Given the way it’s set up, you can never have access to her money because you aren’t married yet. You do love my daughter.”

  “I don’t want blood money, Antonio. I did learn many things from my mother, but my father taught me about loyalty and respect. I plan on staying an honorable man.” I turned on my heel, at least satisfied with a portion of the outcome.

  “Wait. Please just wait,” he beckoned.

  I stopped short, weary of additional bullshit. “What is it?”

  “I need to tell you the truth. What you do with it is your choice. I’ve lost my daughter, but at some point, she deserves to know the truth. Honor. You are right.”

  Sighing, I debated simply leaving then walked back to the desk. As he told me a story, a series of images rushed into my mind. Love. Honor. Sacrifice.

  Family.

  As I walked out of his office, my hands were shaking. What a fucking mess.

  * * *

  Monte Carlo

  On a beautiful sunny afternoon, we graced the red carpets of my movie premiere. The crowds were there in the thousands, all to catch a glimpse of a mafia king portrayed as a hero. This was the stuff movie legends were made of and something I wanted nothing to do with.