Fabiano’s bruises and cuts had healed. Roger’s Arena had been renovated, but I was no longer working for him. Fabiano didn’t want me to. After all, now I was officially his girl. Even my mother had finally stopped selling her body because she didn’t have to do it anymore. She got her crystal from Fabiano. The Camorra had more than enough of the toxic stuff. It wasn’t what I’d wanted for her. I still wished she’d stop taking the shit altogether, but it was all I could do for her. The rest was her choice.
Suddenly people treated me differently. With respect, not because of who I was but because of who I belonged to: The Enforcer of the Camorra.
It was nice in some regard, but I’d have still preferred if people would respect me for my own accomplishments. One day perhaps.
I sat quietly beside Fabiano, watching Nino Falcone destroy his opponent in the fighting cage. Remo sat at the same table but I preferred to ignore him. He was being civil toward me since the fight to the death. And I in turn treated him with the respect he expected as Capo. I did it for Fabiano, and because I wasn’t suicidal. But I’d never like him. Too little humanness was left in him, if it had ever been there in the first place. His two brothers were at the table too. Savio, who whistled whenever his brother landed a hit, and Adamo, who seemed sunken into himself, not once glancing toward the cage.
Fabiano traced a hand up my thigh, startling me. My eyes met his, then quickly did a scan of our surroundings. People were mesmerized by the fight and didn’t pay attention to what was going on beneath our table.
Fabiano turned his attention back to the fighting as well but kept stroking the inside of my thigh. Nino threw his opponent into the cage and the room exploded with applause. Fabiano slipped his hand beneath my panties, finding me aroused as usual when he touched me. He leaned over, his breath hot against my ear. “I hope this isn’t because of Nino,” he said huskily.
I rolled my eyes.
“Tonight I’m going to fuck you in that cage.”
He dipped a finger between my folds and I had to stifle a groan. Remo’s eyes slid over to me and I quickly closed my legs, forcing Fabiano to pull his hand away. He smirked, then commented on a move Nino did with his leg as if nothing had happened.
With an audible crack, Nino broke his opponent’s arm. Adamo jerked back his chair and stood, eyes wild, then he turned and hurried off toward the exit. I wasn’t sure why but I pushed my own chair back and followed him. He was a Falcone. Remo’s brother, but he was also only thirteen. And he was obviously dealing badly with what happened the last couple of weeks. I caught up with him in the parking lot, his hand on the door of a sleek red Ford Mustang.
“Your car?” I asked jokingly.
“Remo’s,” Adamo said, twisting car keys between his fingers.
“He lets you drive it?” I doubted anyone would let a thirteen-year-old drive a car around Vegas, but Remo didn’t exactly play by the rules.
Adamo turned angry eyes toward me. “No, he’ll probably kick my ass. I stole the key.”
“Oh.” He was still watching me, still twisting the key as if he needed the smallest reason to stay. I took a step closer. “I don’t enjoy the cage fighting. Too brutal.”
“Not as brutal as real life.”
Mob life. His life, and now mine as well. “I dream about the attack.” And about the hours before it, the fear of the death match.
He looked down at the key in his hand. “I shot someone.”
“I know,” I said quietly and took another step forward. I put my hand on his forearm lightly. His eyes rose. Only thirteen and they looked already jaded. “It was self-defense.”
“It won’t always be. I’m a Falcone. Soon I’ll be a Camorrista.”
“True. But who says you’ll have to hurt people. You could do street races. It’s a big part of the business, right? So it would be good to have a Falcone showing off what he can do. I hear you are quite good already.”
His lips twitched. “Yeah. But Remo thinks I’m too young.”
“Once you’ll be inducted, I’m sure he’ll change his mind. If you can handle a gun, you can race a car, don’t you think?”
He shook his head slowly. “Remo will attack the Outfit in retribution. He will need a fighter, not a race driver.”
I’d figured as much from Fabiano’s cryptic comments in the last few days. Things would get rough pretty soon. “Why don’t you come back inside? Stealing your brother’s car won’t get you any favors.”
His eyes shifted between the car and the bar, then he closed the door. We turned and headed back toward the entrance – where Fabiano was waiting with his arms crossed over his chest.
Adamo winced.
“Have you been spying on us?” I asked.
He pushed off the wall. “You both have a penchant for getting into trouble.”
I huffed.
Fabiano caught Adamo’s gaze and put a hand on his shoulder. “Running won’t help.” He tipped his index finger against Adamo’s forehead. “Can’t run from what’s in there. Regret and guilt, they follow.” Fabiano touched Adamo’s wrist and the boy gave a small nod as if he understood.
Fabiano tousled his hair. Adamo pulled back in protest, then Fabiano feigned an attack and a grappling match ensued. After a moment, Fabiano pushed a smiling Adamo toward the door. “Inside.”
Adamo entered the bar and we followed. Remo’s eyes zoomed in on us at once. His brother put the key down in front of him, then slumped back in his chair.
Fabiano and I took our seats, and he took my hand under the table, linking our fingers.
Remo leaned over to me and I tensed. Fabiano squeezed my hand in support but his eyes were on the fight. “What did you do to stop him from driving off?”
It took effort to hold Remo’s fierce dark eyes. “Tried to make him see light in the dark.”
“Like you did for him,” he said with a tilt of his head. It wasn’t a question.
I glanced at Fabiano but his eyes followed Nino’s movements in the cage – at least it appeared that way. Before Remo turned away, a flicker of acknowledgement passed over his expression.
I didn’t think he’d been serious but Fabiano and I were the last guests in the bar. Cheryl cleaned the counter, eying us wearily. “We should leave too.”
“I told you I’d have you against that cage tonight.” He turned to Cheryl and raised his voice. “You can leave. I have the keys. I will lock up later.”
Cheryl put down the cloth, picked up her purse and walked past us. She’d been distant since I was officially at Fabiano’s side.
He took my hand and pulled me to my feet, then led me toward the cage in the center. My core tightened in anticipation as he leaped onto the platform and pulled me along. I climbed into the cage, then heard the familiar click of the door closing. A pleasant shiver raced down my spine. Fabiano pressed up against my body from behind, his erection digging into my lower back. I arched my butt against him, needing his hands on me. After his short teasing during the fight, it had been difficult to grasp a straight thought. He pulled my dress over my head and dropped it to the ground, then pulled down my panties.
Fabiano urged me forward with his body until I had no choice but to brace myself against the cage. He ran his hands over my shoulders and down my arms, then gripped my hands and lifted them above my head. I linked my fingers in the mesh of the cage as Fabiano pressed my body against the cold metal. My nipples hardened immediately. The feel of the unrelenting steel against my breasts and Fabiano’s equally unrelenting muscles was oddly erotic. He stepped back and I huffed in protest, but when I looked over my shoulder I saw him pull down his briefs. His cock was already hard for me. I shivered in anticipation. There was hunger in his eyes and the warmer emotion he didn’t try to hide anymore. His movements were lithe and dangerous as he stalked toward me. Fighter and killer, and mine. I turned back to the cage and leaned my forehead against it. Not seeing his approach heightened my senses, made me even more aroused.
He slid a hand between my thighs and urged them apart. I complied eagerly, then waited for his fingers to send me to heaven. Instead I felt his tip press against my opening. Surprise filled me, but then I arched my butt to show him I didn’t mind him skipping foreplay. Being in a cage with him was all the foreplay I needed. But he didn’t push into me. Instead he ran his tip up from my opening to my clit and back again. I moaned, arching against him for more friction. My nipples rubbed against the metal deliciously.
And then he pushed into me in one hard thrust. I cried out, my fingers clinging painfully to the mesh. He slid in and out. His hand glided over my stomach, and lower until his fingers brushed my clit. I cried out again and he thrust even harder into me. His fingers established a slow rhythm while he fucked me fast. My fingers on the mesh tightened painfully as a wave of pleasure swept through me. I cried out his name, half delirious from the force of my orgasm. I had trouble staying upright. My fingers loosened on the mesh, and Fabiano’s hands covered mine, linking our fingers and holding me up.
His pelvis hit my butt again. I whimpered. The sensations were almost too much, but Fabiano knew no mercy. His pelvis slapped against my butt over and over again as he drove himself even deeper into me. Dots danced before my vision. “Oh god,” I gasped. His next thrust catapulted me into a sweet oblivion, a darkness of heightened sense and overwhelming pleasure. He turned me around and lowered me to the ground, then lifted my feet to his shoulders and raised my butt. His tip rested against my sensitive flesh. His blue eyes looked unhinged. Out of control. For once. He slid into me slowly, then back out. The way he was holding my hips up I could see his erection sliding between my folds as I felt my walls yielding to him. Fabiano’s muscles flexed as he took his time sliding in and out of me. I didn’t think I was capable of another orgasm after my last but seeing Fabiano’s cock bury itself in me aroused me even more.
I began quivering. Fabiano smiled darkly and parted my folds with his thumbs, revealing my clit. If he touched me there, I’d fall apart. But he didn’t. He only watched his cock slide in and out, his thumbs so very close to where I needed his touch the most.
I reached out, too desperate for my next release to wait for him to make a move, but he caught my wrist. He raised my palm to his mouth and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to my flesh, his tongue darting out and licking off sweat. I groaned at the sensation as it traveled all the way down to my clit. “Fabiano,” I begged. “Stop torturing me.”
The predator grin. “But it’s what I do best.”
Good god. There was no way I wasn’t going to hell for this. And I couldn’t even pretend I cared. He slid into me again and then mercifully he captured my clit between his fingers and twirled it between them. I came apart. My shoulder blades arched painfully against the floor, my nails searching for leverage. And then Fabiano followed after me with a curse and groan. I forced my eyes open, needing to see him. He had his head thrown back, eyes closed. The most amazing sight ever.
Slowly he lowered his head and looked at me, lips twisting wryly. “I truly corrupted you. You weren’t even worried someone could walk in on us.”
I turned my head to the side. The bar was deserted but of course he had a point. We hadn’t locked the doors, and it wouldn’t be the first time Roger spent the night in his office.
I covered my eyes with my hand, trying to catch my breath. Fabiano took my wrist and pulled my shield away, then pulled me up, so I straddled his legs. I wrapped my arms around his neck, searching his eyes for confirmation that he was okay with me enjoying this so much. “You were worth it, you know?” He nuzzled my neck and I smiled to myself. “What exactly?” I whispered.
“The pain, the wait, Remo’s wrath. Everything.”
This was where it all started. Where my dreams of an ordinary life ended and something other, something equally good I realized now, had begun.
“I love you,” I breathed.
“And I love you,” he said, and the words still sounded foreign from his lips.
I touched the tattoo on his wrist. “More than this.”
“More than this.” But because I knew he loved the Camorra, loved Remo as a brother for whatever inexplicable reason, I would never ask him to choose.
He brushed my hair back from my sweaty forehead. “You should start looking into application forms for college. University of Nevada is a good place to start.”
I pulled back. “I don’t have the money.”
Fabiano smiled. “I might as well put all the blood money in my account to good use. The Camorra still needs a good lawyer. Why not you?”
I couldn’t believe it. “You mean it?” I didn’t dare hope I’d understood him right.
He nodded. “But I have to tell you that it has to be in Vegas. I can’t let you go, being a possessive bastard and all.”
I kissed him, excitement surging through me.
“My possessiveness never excited you that much before,” he said wryly.
I shook my head, having a hard time forming words to express my gratitude. “I don’t want to leave Las Vegas. Because Las Vegas is your home, and you are mine.”
He pulled me into a painful embrace and I sunk into him. My protector.
