Corey

I stand in one of my red dresses, shuffling cards, waiting for the party to start. We’re in one of the conference rooms on the third floor, but it’s been set up as a private lounge tonight, with couches and tables. A buffet table of party food is set up against one wall and a bartender stands at attention behind a bar.

Nico called me last night, after Stefano and I finished moving all my clothes and personal items into one of the penthouse suites.

“I need you to do something for me,” he said, without any preamble. Stefano was out on the floor, working and I was still unpacking and arranging things. Nico hadn’t called me before, except when Sondra broke up with him and went home to Michigan. Then he rode my ass non-stop trying to get me to tell him where she was.

“Okay. What is it?”

“I need you to deal for a private gig tomorrow night. A bachelor party.”

“Your bachelor party?”

“Yes.” He sounded exasperated, but I didn’t think with me.

“Well, you’re the boss. Tell me when and where and I’ll be there.”

“I’ll text you the details. I haven’t told Stefano yet, but I need you to be there.”

I try to read between the lines. Why does he need me? Oh. That’s freaking sweet.

“To put Sondra’s mind at ease?” I asked.

“Right. It won’t be pretty: strippers and prostitutes and cigars. I don’t want her worrying. Capiche?”

“No problem. I will be her eyes and ears. She can count on me.”

“Atta girl. Now just don’t let Stefano change your orders. I need you there, I don’t give a shit if he objects.”

He hung up before I could question why Stefano would object. It better not be because he wanted to party with strippers.

An uneasy sensation twisted through my belly because I could picture it all too easily. Stefano with an arm around a bimbo on each side. Stefano getting his dick sucked by one while he slapped the other’s ass.

But no. He was anything but excited about this bachelor party. And a man with his looks and personality wouldn’t ever have to pay for sex.

Nico was right, though. Stefano was pissed when he found out I’m dealing for tonight. Even now, as he walks briskly around, barking orders and getting things settled, I can see he’s uptight. He comes off as angry with me, but I’m trying not to take it personally.

I know how it is with family.

I’m never Miss Sunshine around my dad. Or my mom for that matter, even though I love her. Maybe I resent her for being a doormat to my dad—for marrying him in the first place. I don’t know what it is, but she drives me freaking bonkers, too.

The door bursts open and Nico comes in first, followed by a stream of Italian men—dozens of them. Most look older than Nico and Stefano, but there are some younger guys, too. They’ve been drinking already. Maybe they started at a bar downstairs.

“Stefano, where are the girls?” a guy about ten years older than Nico demands. He pronounces Stefano’s name with an Italian accent, so it’s STAY-fano instead of STEH-fano.

“Ten minutes, Junior,” Stefano calls back, his affable smile in place, even though I can tell it’s fake. He cranks up the music, lowers the lights and flicks his gaze to me. He’s been almost curt all evening, and now he scowls.

I give him a what? shrug and he shakes his head.

Two hours later, the party is totally out of hand. Topless girls in nothing more than G-strings straddle laps on the sofas and chairs. One of them got fucked right in front of the entire group.

“You put your dick in a girl, you’re paying extra,” Stefano shouted to raucous laughter. “I’m only paying for the strip tease.”

Sondra will be relieved to know Nico hasn’t even looked at a girl. She’s not the jealous type, but she has a history with men who cheat, and then Nico failed to mention he had a marriage contract to another woman when they started dating, so it’s a sore spot.

The visitors are all having a grand old time. The guys I recognize from the casino—the ones who live here in Vegas—they’re unimpressed by the whole affair. They all appear to be working tonight rather than enjoying the event.

Nico’s big bodyguard, Tony, stands at attention the door, stepping up to interfere every time a guy gets too rough or handsy with a girl. I notice nobody gives him any shit back. Of course, he is monster huge. Considering how protective he is of the women, I’m guessing he’s actually a big softy. I’ve talked to him a couple times and he seemed like a stand-up guy.

I’ve been dealing for two hours straight and I’m ready for a break, but I don’t think anyone’s going to relieve me soon.

The guy at my right gets louder and handsier with each new drink, each passing moment.

“Hit me again, beautiful,” he slurs, and palms my ass. His groping is nothing new and I step back out of his reach. This time, though, he gets aggressive and lunges forward to slap my ass. “Don’t move away when I’m talking to you.”

I’m annoyed but not too worried. All I have to do is get Tony’s attention if the problem continues.

Fortunately, Nico appears behind the guy and grabs his shoulder. “Hey, hands off this one; she’s not a stripper.”

“Aw, come on. She’s perfect!” The jackass stands up and comes at me, grabbing both my breasts.

Nico pulls back on the guy’s collar, but Stefano arrives like a tornado, jerking the guy back and punching him with a wicked right hook.

I dodge his toppling body and he crashes into my side of the table.

“Whoa, whoa.” Nico throws an arm around Stefano’s chest and yanks him back. “Take it easy.” Stefano’s expression is a dark storm. His black gaze is laser-focused on my groper. He is nowhere near finished.

“Stefano!” I snap, hoping to bring him back.

He continues to fight for his freedom.

“Enough!” Nico counsels. “He didn’t know she belongs to you. Now he knows. Take a fucking breath.”

Belongs to you. That’s the way these guys think. Like a woman is a piece of property.

“This is your girl?” the guy sneers, pointing from me to Stefano. “Why in the hell would you have her as entertainment at a fucking bachelor party? She’s a whore?”

Stefano goes crazy again and Nico releases him. Stefano decks the guy, knocking him into the table again, then he holds his shirt and punches his jaw again. I swear Nico takes his time before he and Tony pull him off.

“Really, Bobby? That’s what you want to say to my brother when he already wants to shove your balls up your ass?” Nico says. He’s all calm and in control while Stefano’s a raging bull.

The guys all laugh.

“Apologize to her.” Spit flies from Stefano’s mouth.

The guy wipes blood with a stupid grin on his face.

Stefano lunges again. “I said—”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you. I’m sorry, Miss—”

“Simonson,” Nico provides.

“Simonson,” Tony repeats it like the idiot should recognize the name. I mean, he should, but clearly he’s drunk and probably stupid to begin with, so I don’t think he’s going to. “She’s the bride’s fucking cousin, and now you know why she’s in here, coglione.” Tony fills in. “She’s spying on Nico. So put your dick away and act like a fucking gentleman.”

“Get her out of here,” Nico says, finally releasing Stefano.

Fury still knotting his expression, he reaches out a hand.

I take it and allow him to lead me out of the room.

Stefano

I’m too pissed to see straight. That testa di cazzo had his fucking paws all over Corey, and I still want to kill him.

And I’m pissed at myself for losing my shit.

I didn’t want Corey to see me like this. Ever.

This is a side of myself I’d prefer didn’t exist—the Tacone temper. An inheritance from my father’s side, or perhaps simply nurtured into me through exposure to violence from a young age.

I’ve been trying to make Corey believe I’m something else. Something beyond a shady mafioso. Something sophisticated and trustworthy and fucking upstanding.

But Junior had to roll into town with the whole pack of guidos and expose me for what I am.

One of them.

Chauvinistic, paternalistic, low-class seedy bastards who grope prostitutes and act like assholes.

“Hey,” Corey says softly when we get in the elevator.

I can’t even look at her. I’m so goddamn ashamed. Ashamed and angry. I pace around the small elevator, stabbing my fingers through my hair.

“Hey,” she repeats, grabbing the lapels of my jacket and stepping into my space. She drops her hand down to cup my balls and suddenly it’s on.

Fighting already gives me a cockstand, so it’s easy to switch gears from fight to fuck. My dick lurches into her hand and I spin her around and pin her against the elevator wall. The doors ding and open at our floor, but I hit the button for the rooftop, and they close again.

“Get those long fucking legs up around my waist,” I growl like she’s in deep trouble, when really, I’m the guy who ought to be on his knees right now.

She complies and I thrust into the notch between her legs, the damp heat of her pussy providing the beacon for my aching cock.

The elevator doors open and I carry her out, right onto the roof. The Bellissimo has a rooftop restaurant a few stories below, but this roof is utilitarian, with HVAC, mechanical systems and other equipment. I push her up against the HVAC unit and work my zipper open to free my erection.

I tear her panties off with a tug that makes her squeal and then I’m in her, sinking into her heat.

I’m mindless with need, thrusting like my life depends on it. Like if I just get deep enough, I can erase every hurt and anger I’ve ever suffered. Like her pussy is home base and if I can just get deeper, just claim it completely, I’ll have won.

Corey wraps her arms around my neck, hangs on and rides me, her hips tilted to take me deeper, her little moans and cries the soundtrack to my lust.

“I need you, baby,” I mutter, frantic to just fuck her harder, just get deeper.

“I know, I know,” she pants.

I lean in and bite her neck, hang on with my teeth, making her whimper on the next thrust.

And then I’m gone.

Heat flashes at the base of my spine, my balls tighten up.

I lose my vision—or maybe I close my eyes, I can’t tell—but everything goes black, stars burst from the periphery as I roar loud enough for all of fucking Las Vegas to hear.

Corey screams, too and I come, emptying into her, her pussy milking—

Oh fuck.

I yank out, coming on the wall between her thighs, on her dress, on my hand. Her feet drop abruptly to the ground

“Fuck, baby. I didn’t protect you. I’m so sorry. I lost my head.”

“It’s fine; we’re fine. I got on the pill last week.”

I sag in relief. “I’m clean. I swear to you.”

“I am, too. I just got checked.”

“Grazie Dio.” I lean my forehead against hers. For a moment I stay there, just breathing her breath, keeping our connection. “I’m sorry you saw me like that. I’m embarrassed, Corey.”

She wraps her arms around the back of my head, burrowing her fingers into my hair. “Are you kidding?” She massages my scalp, gazes up at me with her electric blue eyes. “No one’s ever defended me before. I’m not the kind of girl who plays damsel in distress, in fact, part of me wants to tell you off for assuming I couldn’t handle it myself. But, Stefano, I’m pretty much swooning right now. You’re a knight in fucking shining armor.”

I stroke the sides of her waist, trying to contain my anger over her first words—no one’s ever defended her before. How can that be? Not a parent? A friend? “I guess people usually assume you can handle things on your own. Hell, I know you can. But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna go in swinging for you every fucking time.”

She traces her fingernails down the sides of my neck. “Swoon,” she murmurs.

“Yeah, baby, I’ll make you swoon.” I curl my forearm under her knees and sweep her into the air, damsel style. “Let me take you back to my bed.”

She laughs—a husky sound—and kisses my neck.

I carry her to the elevator, and refuse to put her down. Even when we get into our suite, I keep holding her, bringing her to the balcony, where I sit on the wicker loveseat and arrange her on my lap.

I stroke her back, dismayed to discover it’s covered in tiny scrapes from the wall of the HVAC.

“No one ever defended you?” I ask. “Even when you were little?”

She sighs. “My mom’s a doormat. That’s why she married my asshole dad, I guess. Sondra’s parents stayed out of it. I think my dad intimidated them, too. Sondra would’ve stuck up for me, but I’m a year older, so I was always the know-it-all. I didn’t let her nurture me much. It was always the other way around.”

I kiss her shoulder.

“Who was that guy, anyway? Anyone you need to worry about pissing off?”

I scoff. “No. He’s some cousin. Nobody important. That’s why Nico let me get a few swings in.” Speaking of Nico, I’m an asshole to make him break up shit at his own bachelor’s party. I pull out my phone and text an apology.

Corey watches me. “You and Nico are close.”

“Yeah. Way closer than we are to our older brothers. Nico was my defender growing up. He protected me. We’re different from the rest of them, at least I like to think so. We didn’t take to family business, even though it was shoved down our throats. Honestly, I think Nico started hatching the plan for the Bellissimo way back in high school. Trying to scheme his way into a different future. And I’m lucky he took me with him.”

“Were you here from the beginning?”

I nod. I still remember breaking ground on this project—Nico and I showing up to supervise the contractors. “I got pulled back into family shit two years ago and had to go to Chicago. Then Sicily.”

“And are you back to stay now?” She shifts on my lap to catch my eyes.

Is she asking about our future?

Can we even have one?

“Yeah. If Nico needs help, no one else in the family can pull me away. Nico’s profits trump all else, so he can demand the soldiers he requires.”

My phone buzzes and I check the message. It’s from Nico. I’m leaving. They’re too shit-faced to notice. Tony’s staying to keep an eye on things.

I’m relieved he didn’t demand I come back. I should offer, but I don’t want to. I just want to hold Corey. Share secrets with her. Break in our new bed.

Corey climbs off my lap. “Do you have to go back down there?”

I stand and wrap my arm around her waist from behind, pull her back against me. “Nope. I’m staying right here with you, bella.”

“Good,” she murmurs. “Let’s go to bed.”