Ruthless: Mob Boss Book One (18 page)

“You belong to me now,” he said fiercely. “I won’t put you in harm’s way.”

“So you won’t let me go?” she asked quietly.

“You stay with me, where I know I can protect you until this is over.” There was no room for argument in his voice.

She shook him off her, and headed for the stairs.

29

She would hate him now. That was inevitable. He glanced over at her as they drove, drinking in the long line of her neck, the slender arms that had only hours ago been wrapped around his naked body as he joined it to hers.

He’d called Ed after their argument, and the old man had picked them up in the boat a couple of hours later. Nico had stood in the doorway of the house a little longer than usual, wondering if he and Angel would ever be here together again. He would never be able to stand in the living room without picturing her naked in the light of the fire. Would never walk the beaches alone without wanting her with him. It had been a necessary escape, but now it was time to figure out what the fuck was going on.

She’d said less than ten words to him in the four hours they’d been on the road. It was fine with him. He had business to think about anyway. Namely, how to flush out Carlo Rossi so he could put his parent’s murder to rest once and for all. He just wanted enough evidence to force the Syndicate to act. And then there was the issue of Angel. There was no future with this between them, and now he knew that he wanted one. He didn’t know if they would be able to move past it once he proved her father was the person responsible for his parent’s murder, but they would have to deal with that when the time came.

Just do the right thing, Nico. Nothing else is your business.

His father’s words echoed in Nico’s mind. This was the right thing. Justice. Not just for his parents, but for the rest of the Syndicate, too. Until Carlo murdered Nico’s parents, there had been a kind of order to their world. Rules you could count on. Trust. All of that would be gone if this was allowed to stand. They couldn’t go around killing each other, trying to take each other’s territories by force. It would be a return to the gang wars that had seen hundreds of men killed by members of their own families. Worse, the violence had bled onto the streets, hurting innocent people who got in the way.

He couldn’t afford to let this go. Not even for Angel. It wouldn’t be the right thing in the long run. Angel would just have to understand that.

He replayed his conversation with Luca on the phone last night. Headquarters had been locked down, and there hadn’t been any more trouble. But both Angel and Nico were wanted for different reasons by Carlo Rossi. They wouldn’t be truly safe until the Syndicate dealt with him. Staying out of sight was the best they could do. Nico would have preferred to stay in Maine, but he needed access to his men. Carmine had put the word out that Nico was in hiding out of country, and only Nico’s most trusted guards had been dispatched to his side as security.

The sun had sunk below the horizon by the time they reached the New York state line. Nico merged onto the Thruway heading north, away from the city.

“Where are we going?” Angel asked.

“Somewhere safe.”

She returned her gaze to the window without saying anything.

They continued an hour north of the city, then got off the highway and headed toward the Hudson. The river glimmered beneath the Mid-Hudson Bridge, disappearing into inky darkness beyond the lights. He felt a fresh swell of guilt when he realized they weren’t far from the town where Angel had been living when Luca and Dante had taken her. He pushed it aside. This was for her own good. Obviously she couldn’t trust anybody on her father’s side.

Nico steered the car into the foothills next to the river and came to a stop at an iron gate. A moment later, it swung smoothly and silently open.

“What is this place?” Angel asked.

“My home,” he said.

“I thought you lived in the city.”

“I have lots of homes.”
Or none
, he thought.
Not without you. Not anymore.

She glanced out the window, watching as they wound their way up the drive, sheltered on both sides by thick stands of trees. They emerged into a gravel courtyard outside the stone house that had been in his family since Roman, his great- great-grandfather, had emigrated to the US from Italy in the late 1800s.

The house rose three stories tall, the facade made of granite that had mellowed to a soft ivory. A portico stood to one side, overlooking the river, and the house was fronted with a small porch under the library’s balcony. Four men lined the gravel driveway, all of them with weapons in their hands.

Good.

He parked the car and stepped out onto the courtyard, then walked around to open Angel’s door. When he turned to face the house, he saw Luca coming down the porch’s stairs.

“You made it,” Luca said.

Nico reached out to clasp the other man on the shoulder. “We did.”

“Good.” Luca’s eyes slid to Angel. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she said.

“How are you? How was… wherever you were?”

“It was fine.” Nico clapped Luca on the back and guided him toward the house. His time with Angel in Maine had already taken on the quality of something sacred. He didn’t want to talk about it. “Tell me how things are here.”

He sensed Angel’s absence and looked back to find her standing by the car.

“Our bags?” she asked.

“Someone will bring them in,” Nico said.

He waited while she caught up, then headed inside with Luca.

“Security detail is in place, all vetted,” Luca said.

“How well vetted?” Nico asked.

Luca held open the door. “Triple-checked. Don’t worry. Word is you’re out of the country. The only people who know you’re here are the ones securing the property, and they’re all under a communications embargo.”

“Make sure to rotate them out,” Nico said. “We can’t keep them out of touch with their families indefinitely.”

“Will do.”

“I’m going to get Angel settled. I’ll be down shortly.”

“Where should we bring her bags?” Luca asked.

“My suite.” A flicker of surprise passed over Luca’s face. Nico turned to Angel, not wanting to give weight to Luca’s reaction. He didn’t owe anyone an explanation for anything he did. “Ready?”

She nodded, but she didn’t look happy about it.

He ran his hand along banister, relishing the smoothness of the mahogany under his palm, as he led her up the stairs. He had memories of his parents here. Good ones. He wondered what they would have thought of Angel. If they could have welcomed her even though she was Carlo Rossi’s daughter. He liked to think they would, that in some alternate universe his mother had gotten to cook with Angel in the big kitchen, that Angel had walked the manicured grounds while his father told her stories about the house when he was a boy.

They continued up the stairs to the second floor landing. The hall was carpeted with elaborate rugs from all over the world, the walls papered with a rich antique stripe chosen by his mother. She’d never wanted a decorator. Everything in the house was hand-picked by her, and he never felt her presence more strongly than he did here.

He stopped at a door near the end of the hall and removed a ring of keys from his pocket. He waved Angel in ahead of him. “Please.”

She stepped inside, her arms crossed in front of her in a gesture he’d come to recognize as defensive. He shut the door while she looked around, her eyes coming to rest on the giant canopied bed in the center of the room.

“I can’t stay here,” she said.

He walked past her and dropped his keys on the nightstand. “The hell you can’t.”

“You can’t just… order me around,” she said. “Just because we slept together doesn’t mean you own me.”

Possessiveness took hold of him, and he stalked across the room and lowered his mouth to hers. At first, her lips were unyielding, but it only lasted a split second. Then she was opening herself to him, her hands grabbing the hair at the back of his head while her tongue ravished his mouth.

He waited to pull away until she was moaning in his mouth. He looked down at her, his cock hardening at the sight of her parted lips, her breasts rising in time with her breath. He could take her now and she wouldn’t protest, could lift her into his arms and carry her to the bed, strip off her clothes, run his tongue over every inch of her perfect body before driving into her.

The only thing he wanted more was to make one thing clear.

“I do own you, Angel, whether you realize it or not.” He paused. “But you own me, too.” He lowered his mouth to hers again, kissing her tenderly this time, letting his tongue glide gently over hers while he held her face in his hands. When he pulled back, he looked at her a long time before speaking. “Take a bath. Sleep. I’ll see you downstairs at nine for dinner.”

He had his hand on the door when she spoke behind him. “My things are still in the car.”

“I’ll have them sent up,” he said without turning around. “But I think you’ll find plenty to work with in the closet and bureaus.”

He stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind him, pausing to catch his breath. He needed to get his head together before this woman quite literally became the death of him.

30

Angel stared at the door, her heart thrashing in her chest. She wanted to deny that it was desire. Nico was still keeping her prisoner. She was back in another room, back under lock and key. Well, not technically. She hadn’t heard Nico lock the door behind him, and he had told her to meet him downstairs for dinner. But the armed guards around the property said everything there was to say.

She wasn’t supposed to leave. And she was staying with Nico in his room.

I do own you, Angel… but you own me, too.

This was the twenty-first century, dammit. People didn’t own people anymore. But even as she tried to muster some indignation, she thrilled at the possessiveness she’d heard in his voice, his words hitting a primal nerve deep inside her.

She took a deep breath, trying to clear her head. When her heart was beating less erratically than a wounded bird trapped in a cage, she looked more closely at the room.

The bed was enormous, right in the middle of the room. Canopied with navy silk draperies, it was a bed you could sink into, a bed you could lose yourself in. An image of Nico, his magnificent body naked over her, flashed in her mind. She shook her head and continued her inventory of the room.

The room was at the back of the house, and the bed faced a picture window that looked out over a dark expanse that must have been the Hudson. In the distance, she could make out the bridge they’d passed on the way in, and across the darkness, more lights.

She poked her head into an adjacent room and found an extravagant bathroom, all of it tastefully designed to match the historical details of the home. The tub was deep and wide, with elaborate claw feet and a big bronze faucet.

She left the bathroom and spotted two large dressers across the room. What had Nico said? That there was plenty to work with in the bureaus?

She crossed the expansive room and opened the top drawer on one of the dressers. It was filled with rows of navy and black socks. A look at the second drawer revealed stacks of plain white T-shirts.

Nico’s things.

She closed the drawer quickly and went to the other bureau, bracing for more of the same. But this time when she opened the top drawer, she was confronted with piles of silk and lace; pale pink, forest green, shimmering black, midnight blue…. panties and bras and bustiers and stockings and garters. She checked the tags, not as surprised as she should have been that they were all her size.

She closed the drawer, her face flushed, and opened the rest. There were silk pajamas and delicate nightgowns, lounge pants so soft she wanted to burrow her face in them, sweaters of every conceivable color and style.

How had he managed to purchase it all while they were in Maine? How had he known her size?

She thought she should be disturbed by the idea. Isn’t that what the feminists at school would have said? That Nico had crossed boundaries? That his buying her clothes was creepy and controlling?

But that’s not at all how she felt. Instead she imagined Nico ordering one of his men—or maybe a female friend? She had to quash the jealousy that rose in her at the thought—to purchase these things for her. To make sure she had enough, that she would be comfortable.

She ran her hands over the comfortable lounge clothes. Of course, she couldn’t lose sight of the fact that she wouldn’t need any of it if Nico let her go. She shouldn’t be grateful now that he’d bought her clothes. Still, she couldn’t deny that this was infinitely more personal than the stuff Luca had handed her in shopping bags in the basement room. This felt like something Nico had done for her, and she was quickly beginning to realize that things weren’t as black and white as she’d once believed. He was a complex alchemy of criminal and gentleman, animal and man.

She ran a bath in the enormous tub and stripped off her clothes. The water was hot, and she let it loosen the knots that had developed in the long car ride from Maine. Her mind tried to turn to the things Nico had said about her father, but she forced it back to emptiness. She was on overload. She needed to let it go for now. To regroup and reboot. She would face the future tomorrow.

She let her thoughts drift to Nico instead. To the Nico she’d known in Maine. She remembered the way his mouth, hot and urgent, had felt between her legs, the way his fingers had slid inside her while he tongued her clit. All of which was a very close second to the feel of him driving into her. She ran her hands over her body, imagining they were Nico’s, then sunk lower into the tub with a groan.

The water was cooling off by the time she stepped from the tub. She dried off with one of the ultra-thick towels stacked in the bathroom and made her way into the bedroom where her bag had been set discreetly near the door.

The tension had been thick in the car, and she hadn’t slept at all on the way back to New York. Now her eyelids were starting to feel heavy, her muscles languid from the bath. She was hoping for a nap, but a look at the old fashioned clock on the mantle told her it was eight-thirty. Plus, she was hungry. She needed food before she passed out anyway.