Junior

“You call Nico?” Paolo stands beside me as we watch Desiree work on Gio.

It’s 3:00 a.m., and she’s already disinfected, stitched and packed both wounds.

“No,” I bristle. You’d think fucking Nico ran this family now the way everyone looks to him. Yeah, he’s the one who made the Tacones hundreds of millions. He made us legit, took us away from illegal activities just by bringing the old gambling business to a state where everything’s legal.

He also had nothing to lose. He’s the fourth son of Santo Tacone. He slipped away with no big expectations on his head. Very little blood on his hands. He didn’t have the pressure to emulate my father’s vicious ways and keep order in Chicago. Didn’t have to hold La Famiglia and the old neighborhoods together after our father went to prison.

“We should call him.”

“Why?” I snap.

Paolo shakes his head. “What if this is a big fucking mistake? Madonna, Junior, if Gio dies—”

“He’s not going to fucking die!” I snap.

Desiree whirls at the same time and glares at Paolo. “Nobody’s dying on my watch.” She rubs alcohol over Gio’s forearm for the IV. “If you’re going to be bringing my patient down with your bad attitude, you should leave.”

Cristo, I love the piss and vinegar in her. It makes my cock so hard when she picks that chin up and flashes defiance right in my face. Considering her rebellion doesn’t stem from ignorance, I’d say the girl had balls of steel. If she had balls, of course.

Paolo scowls and pulls me back into the hallway, out of earshot. “Okay, I get that she knows what she’s doing, but what the fuck, Junior? Did you seriously think this through?”

I gnash my teeth and don’t give him an answer.

“Tell me you weren’t thinking with your dick when you asked me to bring her here.”

I wrap my fist in his shirt and slam Paolo up against the wall, my fear for Gio making my normally low patience level non-existent. “Shut your fucking mouth. She’s here because she’s good, that’s it.”

“Right.” He’s breathing hard, probably working to keep his own temper in check. “And what happens to her when this is over, huh? You gonna get rid of her?”

I pull him away from the wall and slam him back, because I don’t like him threatening her life, even in a secondhand, vague way. “No, stronzo. I’m gonna pay her off. Money or fear will keep her quiet. Or a combination of the two. I’ll handle it.”

Paolo doesn’t quite meet my eye, but his jaw is set at a sullen angle. “Someone ought to call Nico.”

I release him and throw my hands out, Italian style. “Be my guest.” I stalk away, down the stairs to the kitchen. I can’t eat, but I pour a couple fingers of scotch for myself and throw it back.

I listen for Paolo’s voice on the phone with Nico, but it doesn’t come. Instead, the front door slams.

My skin pricks with irritation, but I pour another finger of scotch and swallow it down. Send a text to Mario and tell him I want a glass repair company at Caffè Milano first thing in the morning. I never intended to burn that business with Family shit. I will stop by there personally to repay them for damages and make sure no one there’s going to squeal as soon as I can get away. And after the dust has settled.

I don’t know how long I stand there with the empty glass in my hand, but eventually I hear light footsteps coming down the stairs.

Desiree comes into the kitchen. Exhaustion shows in the circles under her eyes, the weariness around her mouth.

I pull out a fresh glass, pour another couple ounces of scotch and hold it out to her.

She stares at it for a moment, then takes it wordlessly and tosses it back. Her shudder as it goes down confirms my suspicion that she’s not much of a drinker.

“Hungry?” I ask.

“Yeah, but I don’t think I’ll eat.” She pats her hips. “Not good for the girlish figure to eat before bedtime.”

“Fuck that. You worked your ass off today. Your body needs fuel.”

I’m not the daddying type. Not in the least. I don’t even know what makes me insist. Maybe I’m just offended by her suggestion that her curvy body isn’t the most perfect figure ever made.

I walk to the refrigerator and pull it open. It’s mostly full of take out boxes and ready made food like that. “You want a sandwich?” I ask. “Or there’s half a calzone in here.”

“You have any ice cream?” Her soft voice is right behind me, and I register it with distinct pleasure.

I throw open the freezer, happy because I know I do. I pull out a full pint of Ben & Jerry’s mint chocolate cookie. I’m not big on sweets, but I bought it the other day on some weird impulse.

“Ohmygod, that’s my favorite.” She literally snatches the carton out of my hand and tears the top off.

My lips twist in an uncharacteristic smile as I pull open the silverware drawer and grab two spoons.

I hand her one “I like your enthusiasm, doll.”

She wrinkles her nose, holding the carton of ice cream right against her chest as she digs the spoon in. She flops down in one of the kitchen chairs.

I don’t have people over to my house, and when I do, I make it a practice not to make them feel at home. So it shouldn’t please me that it’s so easy for her to get comfortable.

But again, this is the same character trait that won my ma over. She didn’t tiptoe around the house and act stiff and formal. She ruled the roost while she was there, bossing my ma around, all the while doing an irreproachable job.

I sit down in the chair beside her and try to stick my spoon in the ice cream.

“No way.” She jerks it away, angling her body to shield it from me.

I chuckle. “One spoonful. Give me a taste.”

My last words hang in the air between us, taking on an erotic undercurrent. Desiree blushes a bit when she offers the carton.

I take one spoonful, savor the rich treat, and then put my spoon down.

Desiree digs into the carton like it might be taken from her at any minute and she needs to get as much in her before that happens. I watch as she mmms and groans in pleasure, my dick getting hard. Every time those full lips mold around the spoon I get jealous. I vow to buy a fucking crate of this ice cream to have on hand while she’s staying here.

She doesn’t stop until her spoon scrapes the bottom and then she blushes again. “Dang. This is why I shouldn’t be allowed to eat before bedtime.”

“You deserved it.” My voice sounds rusty, which seems about right, since it’s unlike me to throw out compliments or praise. Ever.

She flushes deeper, looking distinctly guilty. “I have a tendency to stress eat.” She sets the carton down with one large spoonful left in it.

“I enjoyed the show.” I didn’t mean to say it, but it’s the truth. Watching her wolf down the ice cream was damn cute. I relished her enthusiasm and clear pleasure of the dessert.

Maybe in my head I’m thinking the hedonism she displayed over the ice cream translates to the bedroom.

Not that I’m going to fuck her.

I’m definitely not going to fuck her.

It’s bad enough I dragged her into this shit storm. I don’t need to further taint her with me.

La Madonna knows, I ruin everything I come close to.

I scoop out the last bite with her spoon and hold it out to her. It’s weirdly intimate and as soon as I do it, I realize it’s too much.

“No.” She shakes her head and turns her face away.

“You sure? All right.” I put the bite in my mouth instead and her gaze tracks to my lips, like she enjoys watching me eat as much as I loved watching her.

She stands up, running her palms down her scrubs like they’re sweaty. “So. I’m spending the night, huh?”

Right. She’s not a guest, she’s a prisoner. I need to make sure she understands that.

I stand, too. “You’ll stay in Gio’s room,” I say. “That way if he needs you, you’ll hear him.”

Her eyebrows shoot up and I can tell she doesn’t like it, but she doesn’t say anything. I would put her in another guest room, but I don’t trust myself with her. Lord knows I want to get my hands all over her sassy curves. Want to find out what she tastes like. What it’s like to pound between her legs and make her scream.

But none of that is going to happen.

So putting her in Gio’s room is definitely the best plan.

We walk up the stairs to the landing. “You got a toothbrush I can use?”

Cristo. It’s like an overnight without the sex. Not something I ever do—overnights, that is.

“Uh, yeah, I think I do.” I head into my en suite bathroom and dig out an unopened toothbrush head for my sonic toothbrush. I hand it to her with the toothpaste and point to the guest bath.

“Thanks. I’ll be right back with this.”

She disappears into the bathroom and I close my eyes and lean against the wall.

Maybe Paolo was right.

Maybe I was thinking with my dick when I had her dragged here.

Maybe my dick is an opportunistic fuck who doesn’t give a shit who I ruin.

Desiree

I sleep maybe three hours, which is no surprise. I put codeine in Gio’s drip, but he still wakes every thirty minutes groaning.

And even though I’m dead tired, I’m too keyed up about being Junior Tacone’s prisoner to be able to rest. I get up when the clock reads 6:34 a.m. and slip into the bathroom to pee.

Gio’s asleep, and a peek in Junior’s cracked door tells me he is, too.

It’s my chance to leave. I should take it. Because even though Junior promised me a big payout for staying, I’m not sure his word is good. That might just be what he’s telling me to make sure I do a good job. And when Gio doesn’t need me anymore, I end up in Lake Michigan with cement shoes.

I didn’t miss the threat he made if I told my mom. He’d have to get rid of her. So why would he keep me around?

He wouldn’t.

No, I can’t let my attraction to dangerous men keep me in danger. If I have a chance to run, I should run right now.

Gio jerks in his sleep and moans.

Shit. Maybe I should wait until his condition is more stable. What will they do without me?

No, fuck that.

It’s not my problem.

I didn’t volunteer for this job. They need to figure it out on their own.

I slip on my shoes and coat and hunt for my purse, which they took from me when they grabbed me at the hospital.

I search downstairs, checking closets. I even step into Junior’s room and do a cursory sweep. When he snorts and rolls over, I dart back out of the room.

Screw the purse. My life isn’t worth risking on the stuff in my purse.

I head back down the stairs and crack the front door. I stop at the bite of cold wind and the stare out at the graying dark.

Fuck. Should I leave?

If I do, then what? Go to the cops?

Maybe I’m nuts, but I don’t have any desire to throw Junior or Gio to the authorities, even though they’re surely involved in something very illegal. Probably deadly.

But if I don’t go to the cops, what stops Junior from just grabbing my ass off the streets again and dragging me back here? And then I’m sure I’ll forfeit the money he promised, which I desperately need.

To add to my dilemma, if I walk out this door, I don’t even know where to go. I don’t have a car or a phone. It’s freaking freezing out and who knows how far we are from public transportation. The neighborhood looks ritzy—like Oak Park or some other neighborhood named after a tree.

“Shut the door.”

I jump and gasp at Junior’s angry voice coming down the stairs. I freeze, unable to make myself bolt out the door, or obey him and shut it. The indecision that kept me there for the last eighty seconds still has me paralyzed.

“I said, shut it.” His hand slaps against the door, slamming it.

I still don’t move. Don’t turn to look at him. Don’t try to run. I guess this is what they mean by “petrified.”

Tacone grabs the sleeve of my jacket and tugs it off me, tossing it onto the floor. “Where in the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Oh shit. He has the most effective angry voice I’ve ever heard. I’m surprised I don’t piss myself.

I still don’t turn around—just stand facing the door like it somehow makes me safe if I can’t see him.

His hand crashes down on my ass.

I gasp in surprise, but honestly, the spank is welcome.

It’s not a gun. Not a wire around my neck. It’s not even a backhand. It’s a slap. On my ass. Simple and sexual.

He slaps me again, hard.

I bring my hands to the door to brace myself, spread my fingers, push my ass out.

I hear Junior’s breath rasp out in a rush. He grunts and reaches up to capture my hands, stacking one wrist over the other and pinning them above my head as he rains stinging smacks all over my ass and the backs of my legs.

My heart pounds against my chest. It hurts and I’m still frightened, but I’m getting more and more turned on by the second.

This is like a scene out of my fantasies. Okay, they never involved spanking, but they totally involved Junior dominating me. Bending me over the couch and forcing me to have sex, or shoving me to my knees and making me suck his cock.

Being on the receiving end of a spanking at his hands definitely fits in the same category.

He stops spanking, his breath at my ear. We both pant like we ran a lap around the block. He hasn’t released my wrists and I love how it feels to be captured by him. My body reacts to it before I can stop myself. I toss my head back, push my ass against his body.

To my disappointment, he releases me and steps back. “Go upstairs to my room.”

Ms. Bluster makes a full appearance. I whirl and put my hands on my hips. “What for?”

His gaze is heavy-lidded. He’s standing there in a white undershirt and his boxer briefs, which doesn’t make him seem the slightest bit vulnerable. No, the way he fills them out—chest and shoulder muscles stretching the cotton shirt, cock tenting the briefs—he’s as commanding as he is in a suit. “I’m not done punishing you.” He jerks his chin toward the stairs, in a silent repetition of his command.

My pussy clenches but I can’t seem to drop the attitude. I cock a hip. “What does the punishment entail?”

He moves quicker than I would think possible for such a big guy. One second I’m standing there, facing off to him, the next I’m over his shoulder being carried swiftly upstairs. His hand claps down on my ass. I kick my legs and squirm because resistance is part of my fantasy.

He brings me into his bedroom and kicks the door shut, then tosses me to the middle of the bed.

I’m out of breath, mostly excited, a little scared. So far he hasn’t hurt me, unless you count slapping my ass, which I don’t. Yeah, it still stings, but I remember from spankings as a kid, that will go away in less than a half hour.

I watch, fascinated, as he pulls off my shoes, then yanks my scrubs down my hips and off my legs.

I automatically move to tug my top off and toss it on the floor with the rest of my stuff. I may appear a little too eager. I haven’t had sex in over three years. I’m just thanking God I’m wearing matching bra and panties—a red satin and lace set that look great against my caramel skin.

“Cristo,” he mutters, eyes black, nostrils flaring. He stares at my body with hunger. “You always wear these sexy little lace numbers under your scrubs?” He climbs over me, pushing me to my back and pinning my wrists above my head. “It’s a good thing I didn’t know that when you were working at my ma’s.” He straddles my hips, the savage lines of his face hovering over mine.

“Now listen carefully, little girl. You got one chance to say no if you don’t want your punishment to involve me shoving my cock into one of your sexy-as-fuck holes.”

His words shock me and my body jerks beneath his, but it’s not with fear. It’s from a kick of lust.

Still, I’m a fighter. Always have to show resistance. I lick my lips. “What’s my punishment if I say no?”

He pulls back slightly and I’m almost sorry I asked. “I put my dick away, spank your ass some more and send you back to Gio’s room to do what you’re told.”

Do what I’m told. I’m sure on some level that offends me. It’s just not making it through to my brain at the moment.

“And if I say yes?”

A devilish glint lights up his eyes. “You’re gonna end up with me pounding into you until you’re good and sorry. And then I’ll spank your ass and send you back to Gio’s room to do what you’re told.”

I wriggle on the bed, rolling my hips beneath his, desperate for some friction on my clit. My entire body is lit up with need. Soaked with desire. “I’ll take the second option.” I hardly recognize my breathy voice.

His eyes gleam with what looks like satisfaction. “Yeah?”

“Do I get to pick which hole?”

His lips twist into a wicked smirk. “Oh no, baby.” He flips me over to my belly. “This is punishment. That means it’s my choice.”

Again, rockets of desire shoot through me. This is exactly what I wanted. The fodder of all my fantasies.

He unhooks my bra in the back and pulls it off me, then pulls my wrists behind my back and ties them with it. My panties come off next, and he pulls my hips up until I’m resting on my knees with my face and shoulders still mashed into the bedcovers. He runs a hand over my ass. “You look so good in my handprints.” He smacks my ass, then rubs. His fingers dip between my legs and he makes a rumble of satisfaction at what he finds there.

“Now tell me, baby.” He circles my clit. “What made you so wet? Your spanking? Or knowing you’re about to get fucked?” He slaps my pussy. “Or is being tied up and at my mercy?”

I don’t answer. I’m actually not sure I’m capable of speech. Plus, it seems like a rhetorical question.

It earns me a flurry of hard spanks. “I asked you a question, doll.”

“Ohh-oh,” I moan as he returns to rubbing my clit. He’s rougher this time and I’m already starting to get close to climax, just from a few spanks and rubs.

“Hmm?” He slaps me five times in the same exact spot and I yelp and list away.

“All of it,” I mumble into the covers.

“All of it,” he muses. “Let’s test that.” He starts spanking, hard and fast. Just spanking. No rubbing. No fondling. It gets intense and I start to twist and whimper a little.

He slaps between my legs.

I cry out.

He rubs over my slit. “Mmm. Yeah. Spanking definitely makes you wet, doesn’t it, doll?” He slaps my pussy again.

It feels so good—even though it startles me. Even though it stings and sends nervous flutters to my belly. I want more of it. Need more of it.

I spread my knees wider, sink into the position, offering it to him.

He curses in Italian and spanks me light and fast between the legs. Slap-slap-slap-slap.

I cry out.

He pinches my clit. “Don’t come, baby. This is punishment, remember?”

Best. Punishment. Ever.

I’m halfway to an orgasm already. Maybe even closer. My body’s feverish, desperate.

Junior grips my thighs and pulls my ass cheeks apart, licking me from clit to anus.

I shriek at the sensation. At the taboo of having my anus licked.

Junior chuckles at my reaction. “I should fuck your ass, shouldn’t I?” He pushes against the tight ring of muscles, massaging my back hole. I tighten against the intrusion, squeezing my eyes shut. “I think your disobedience merits a good ass fucking.”

I shake my head, rubbing my face in the bedspread. “No, please.” I don’t know if I’m damning myself further by letting him know I don’t want it, but I am a total anal virgin. And I’m dying to feel him between my legs. “My pussy. Please. I haven’t had sex in so long.” I know it sounds pathetic, and it hurts my pride to admit it, but maybe he’ll take mercy on me and give me what I need.

“Is that right?” Junior yanks the binding off my wrists and flips me over onto my back. “You need my cock in here?” He plunges his thumb into my pussy, grinding into my clit with his palm.

I arch, thrusting my hard nipples toward the ceiling. “Yes. Please, Junior.”

Still pumping his thumb in and out, he grips his cock with the other hand and pulls it from his boxer briefs.

I prop myself up on my elbows to see better.

His grin is feral. “You’re so fucking beautiful, doll.”

Beautiful.

Huh.

I haven’t felt beautiful in a long time. I’ve got this extra twenty pounds I can never get off, and I’m always stressed out of my mind with worry over finding Jasper. But Junior doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who says stuff just to be nice. And the way he’s looking at me, I actually think he means it.

“Do you have a condom?” I’m surprised at how shy I sound. It’s not like me at all.

His answer is soft, his gaze indulgent. “Yeah.” He keeps stroking his cock and me at the same time. “I’ll find one.” He pulls his thumb out of me like it kills him and pads to the en suite bathroom. He returns with a fistful of condoms. I guess he really does plan on pounding me until I’m good and sorry.

He tosses them on the bed and rips one open with his teeth. I watch, fascinated, as he peels his shirt off over his head. He’s all burly man—hairy chest, a tattoo covering his right pectoral and shoulder. He shoves his briefs off, too, and rolls the condom over his impressive manhood.

“Spread those legs for me, baby. Spread ‘em wide and hold them there.”

I open my legs spread-eagle, feet pointed toward the ceiling.

“That’s it.” He lines the head of his sheathed cock up with my entrance. “You hold them there until I say. Capiche?”

I rack my brain to remember the right answer. “Capito!” I blurt and his eyes light up, a shadow of a smile appears on his face. He collects my wrists and pins them above my head again, then pushes into me.

I groan at the sensation of him filling me, shoving inside. It’s been way too long since I’ve had sex, and I don’t remember it feeling this good. I rock my hips up to meet his thrusts, careful to hold the spread-eagle position. It’s sort of ridiculous and I feel like some kind of sex doll, but that’s exactly what works for me. I love the degradation of it, the suggestion that this might be arduous, rather than pleasurable for me.

I start making all kinds of sounds. I’ve never understood how people can have sex and not shout at the top of their lungs. I can’t help all the noise that comes out of my throat—the cries, the moans, the unintelligible words. I beg, plead, coax. I show my appreciation with every honest sound.

“Fanculo,” Junior mutters, pounding harder, sweat beading at his hairline.

True to his promise, he fucks hard. Each thrust rams deeper. If he didn’t keep yanking me back, my head would smash into the headboard.

His hand flashes out and slaps my right breast.

I squeal in offended surprise, but he squeezes it, leans over and flicks his tongue over my nipple, all the while riding me like we’re in a horse race.

“Junior,” I gasp.

The strain of holding back shows on his face, but he still manages to cock a brow. “You feeling good and sorry?”

I let out a hysterical laugh. “So sorry. So damn sorry. Please, Junior.”

Instead of bringing us to a finish, he pulls out.

“No!” I protest.

He rolls me to my belly. “Spread, baby.”

I spread my legs. He grips the back of my neck, like he’s holding me down, and enters me from behind.

It’s so good, I swear I nearly pass out. Every stroke is heaven on wheels.

I turn my face to keep from suffocating in the blankets, and he rides me hard from behind, his loins against my ass, as he thrusts in so deep.

“Junior!”

“Fuck, yeah, baby. Come all over my dick now. Squeeze me tight, doll.”

I clench my muscles around his cock and he shouts something in Italian, slams in with enough force to bang the bed against the wall once, twice, three times. On the fourth, he stays deep inside me and comes.

My internal muscles flutter around his cock, squeezing and releasing as I come, too. I’m lightheaded. I’m lost.

And then, for some unknown reason, I’m crying.

Junior

Sonofabitch.

Desiree’s beautiful back shakes with sobs and I nearly lose my shit. I roll her over, doing my best to keep my hands gentle when urgency makes me want to yank and tear.

“Desiree. Baby. Fuck.” I gather her into my arms as she tries to hide her face in her hands.

Merde.

“I didn’t mean to break you, doll. I really didn’t.”

It’s exactly what I was trying not to do. It’s why I went in hot and fucked her instead of turning on the ice and scaring the shit out of her with threats or force.

What am I saying? I didn’t even mean to fuck her. I didn’t know what to do—all I knew was that the usual shit I spew to people when I’m threatening the lives of the people they love wouldn’t come out. So I smacked her ass.

And then she spread her palms out on the door and thrust her hips back like she liked it, and I was a goner.

But I must’ve misread her cues.

Something went terribly wrong because now she’s hiccupping and mopping up tears like she can’t stop.

She struggles to sit up. “It’s good. I’m good.” She wipes her tears with both fingers. “I don’t even know why I cried. Just the release, you know? I’m overtired, and this has been stressful and”—she waves her hand, a rueful twist of her full lips—“it all came out. I’m sorry, this is so embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing? Fuck that.” I won’t let her go even though she’s fighting for sovereignty. Instead, I pull her around to straddle my lap, hold her tight against my chest. “You’re really okay?” I stroke up and down her bare back.

She gives a watery laugh. “Yes. Can we please forget this happened?”

“Stop,” I command. “I don’t give a shit if you bawl your eyes out every time you come. Hell, I don’t care if you puke. As long as I know it was good for you.”

She laughs against my neck, still hiding her face there. “It was good.”

“Too rough?” I’m still shell-shocked from thinking I hurt or scared her.

“No.” Her lips move against my neck. Is she kissing me? “I liked it.”

I keep holding her tight, partly because I love the feel of so much soft skin up against mine. But also because I figure she needs to be held even if she’s trying to pull her shit together and pretend nothing happened. And I’m not oblivious to the fact that I caused the stress she had to release through her tears.

“I had this fantasy…” I hear her say in a very small voice. Like she’s telling me a secret, here in the dark. “Back when I worked for your mom. I used to imagine you forcing me to have sex.”

I somehow manage to not stiffen. She’s talking about a fantasy. It doesn’t mean she believes I would actually force a woman to have sex with me.

“You get hot for a little violence in the bedroom, doll?”

She leans her chin on my shoulder. Her bare breasts push against my chest. “I don’t know. Yeah, I guess so. I mean, just a fantasy, right? Of course I would never want to be forced in real life. And any guy who did that—”

“Yeah, yeah,” I interrupt. I’d rather stick with her fantasies than discuss rape. I pull her hips against mine. Her cunt is still slick with her juices and it rubs over my cock, getting me semi-hard again.

Her lips find the place where my shoulder meets my neck again. This time I’m sure it’s a kiss or love bite or whatever.

“I can’t even believe I’m telling you. It’s just that you kinda just made it all come true. In a good way,” she rushes to add. “I don’t mean I really felt forced.”

My dick lengthens. “Well—” I keep stroking her back, palming her ass, consuming her. “I’m happy to act that fantasy out with you over and over again.” I squeeze both her ass cheeks roughly, lifting and lowering her slowly over my cock. “Let’s just say while you’re in this house, you might be subject to forced fucking any time I feel like it.”

Her breath catches and she goes still, like she’s thinking it over.

“We’ll need some kind of signal, I guess,” I suggest. “So I know if you really don’t want it.”

“You mean like a safe word?” Her warble is small again, and it kinda kills me to hear her that way, because she’s usually so full of confidence.

“Safe word. Right. I guess so.” I don’t know shit about BDSM, but a safe word makes sense.

“How about if I say…peanut butter if I want it to stop?”

I smile. “Peanut butter. Got it. You gonna remember that, doll? If I have you pinned down and nervous?”

“I’ll remember. Will you?” she demands, her sassy attitude returning.

“Yep. Did you just agree to be my on-demand pussy for the rest of the time you’re here?”

She bites my shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark. “No. You just agreed to be my gigolo.”

I chuckle, stroking her soft skin. I’m not sure when I’ve last smiled or chuckled. But then again, I haven’t had sex like that in...well, maybe ever.

Even with Gio in critical condition in the next room, the heaviness that usually hangs over my head seems temporarily lifted.

And I hate to end it, but Gio’s waiting. And I need to get things straightened out with his nurse.

I ease back so I can see Desiree’s face and catch her jaw in an overhand hold. “Okay, doll. We still have serious shit to talk about.”

Her eyes widen.

“Why were you leaving?”

Desiree sags a bit. “I didn’t leave,” she insists. “I was considering it.”

I force myself not to smile. It’s so cute how she always argues with me.

“Okay. Why?”

She shrugs, a slightly mulish expression settling over her. “I’m not really sure I’m going to walk out of here alive.” She lifts her chin, a direct challenge flashing in her big brown eyes.

Now it’s my turn to sag. As much as her fear pisses me off, she’s right to worry. She’s gonna be a loose end, and if I were smart, if I were ruthless, I would make sure she didn’t walk out of here and talk.

“Oh, baby.” I release her jaw and let my grip trail down her throat. It’s not a threat, but she swallows convulsively beneath my hand. “I don’t off innocent women.” I trace her jaw. “Especially not ones who work their asses off to save my brother’s life.” I cup behind her nape and pull her toward me to kiss her neck. “Especially not ones with little freckles on their upturned noses.” I tap her nose. “I promise you’ll walk away from this with the rewards you deserve. I know how to show my appreciation to the people who prove their loyalty. I’m going to take care of you, Desiree.”

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll talk? I mean, there’s a reason Gio’s not at the hospital, right?”

Regret washes through me. I wish she wasn’t pressing me on this. “Oh, baby, I have hundreds of ways to keep you from talking, and none of them involve putting you six feet under. But I don’t want to make threats. Not with the taste of you still on my tongue. Not when you just made me come harder than I have in years.”

I watch the veil of lust drop back down over her face and she writhes over my lap in an intoxicating swivel.

“So I’m gonna say this, and I’m only gonna say it once. I need you to stay here and take care of Gio. I need you to promise you won’t tell anyone where you are, or who you’re with. Not now or ever. And I need you to know that if you disobey me again, there will be serious consequences. Capiche?”

Her face goes pale and I detect a little pissed-off in her expression, but mostly she keeps it hidden. She pushes off my lap, and this time, I let her leave. “Yeah, I got it.” Definitely a sullen ring to her voice.

Well, that’s good. She needs to be scared of me.

I can’t just fuck her into compliance, as much as I’m gonna try.