God, she was so close. How the hell had this happened? One second she’d been dancing with Anna and enjoying a bit of pseudo-freedom while giving her dad the middle finger, and the next she felt like her body was on fire. And the man dancing with her—the stranger dancing with her—was the only one who could quench her flames.

And what a man he was.

Tall—ridiculously so—and dressed like a well-off gangster. His thick, dark hair reached his shoulders. And he looked like he could lift her with one arm without breaking a sweat.

And his eyes… Damn. A woman could get lost in their dark depths. Hell, a woman had.

A loud crash, the door from the club slamming against the wall. The mysterious man who seemed vaguely familiar reacted. He stepped out of her arms and pushed her behind him. He looked ready for a fight.

A large man stepped to the door. Bald and at least six foot six and made of pure muscle.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath. She straightened her dress and smoothed her hair, then tried to push her way past the mysterious stranger who she’d been ready to fuck only a moment earlier, but he blocked her path with his arm.

He was nearly as large as the hulk coming through the door, but that hulk—Tony—was no threat to her. But he might very well be a threat to her mysterious stranger. And if he wasn’t, the man who followed him into the room definitely would be. Then, there he was. Passing by Tony while straightening his jacket.

“Domenica. Come here,” her father ordered. His knowing eyes scanned the room before locking firmly on the man she had just been about to fuck.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Outrage laced her tone, and she knew it would piss her father off, but she didn’t care. “I know you think you run my life. But you don’t run my sex life.”

A muscle in her father’s jaw twitched at the mention of her sex life. Like any father, he preferred to pretend she didn’t have one. Sadly, that was practically true lately. All the more reason she wished her father had never walked through that door.

“Unfortunately, you have made this…” He gestured toward them with just taste. “Situation my business.”

Another large frame entered the doorway, and Tony pulled his gun. The other man in the doorway held his ground. Eyes flashing dangerously across the room. “Sorry, boss.”

Her gaze moved to her date. His eyes were still locked on her father. Was the new man his bodyguard? It certainly seemed so. Which probably meant…

“This isn’t about my sex life, is it?” She pitched her voice low. Her father heard.

“This is about Giancarlo Spadaro getting far too close to my daughter.” The words he spat out with anger weren’t directed to her, even though he replied to her question. Her father looked like he wanted to take Giancarlo apart.

Giancarlo Spadaro. Holy shit. Her father’s biggest rival in the city, or given his age, the rival’s son

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Talk about stepping in it. “I didn’t know. I’m sure he didn’t know either. Look—”

“He knew.”

She recognized that dead look in her father’s eyes. This wouldn’t end well. She might pretend to not know what her father did, at least in the light of day. To not understand how he did it. But she knew. Most of the time it was okay. It was professional. Gangsters fighting fucking gangsters. But in this case…

Careful not to touch the hot Italian man who’d set her blood on fire, she walked around him. This time, he didn’t make a move to stop her. But his eyes flashed to hers when she joined her father on the other side of the room.

“You didn’t know, right? Tell him you didn’t know,” she said as she settled in behind her father.

Giancarlo abruptly relaxed, and he crossed his arms and gave her a lazy smile. “Of course, I knew. A man doesn’t forget a face like yours. A woman like you.” He winked.

Motherfucker. She wanted to wipe that sexy grin off his face. The arrogant son of a bitch was the son of a mobster. They bred that kind of arrogance.

And she had gravitated toward him like a moth to a flame.

Her gaze shifted frantically to her father, but he made no move to gesture for his man to shoot Giancarlo. Whether it was because he feared the man standing in the doorway behind them would draw his weapon, or because his daughter’s honor wasn’t worth starting a war with his main rival, she wasn’t sure.

“You will stay away from my daughter.” Her father’s words weren’t a question, nor a request. An order from a man who was quite used to giving them.

Her father turned from Giancarlo and headed toward the door.

Giancarlo nodded to his man at the door, and he stepped back, allowing her father through. Before Domenica could follow him, Giancarlo closed the distance between them in two long steps. He kissed her hard. And abruptly, the spark that had been snuffed out by her father’s arrival, flared to life again.

“I will find you. You won’t get away.” He uttered the words with such conviction, and she stared at him, dazed for a long moment.

“Domenica,” her father said from the door. His tone brooked no argument.

She turned on her heel and headed out the door toward her father. Behind her, her father’s man followed.

Unable to help herself, she touched her lips as she trailed her father through the club.

He said he’d find her. But she already knew that would be impossible. A relationship with one of her father’s rivals bordered on traitorous. And she was a lot of things, but she wasn’t disloyal to her family. She might push her father’s buttons, might wish hopelessly for more freedom. But she wouldn’t cause him to go to war for it. And she was certain Giancarlo would feel the same about his own family.

She’d hoped that her father would take her home. To her shiny little apartment where she could at least pretend that the choices she made in life were solely at her own discretion. But he didn’t, of course. Next to her in the back of the town car, he remained silent, his anger simmering beneath the surface. They arrived at her childhood home, and, still silent, they exited the car together. Tony walked ahead, then opened the front door for them. They stepped inside, and the door shut behind them. Tony remained outside.

This wouldn’t be good. Dread swirled in her stomach. Her father gestured, a quick nod to the side. And she followed him to his study.

“Do you have any idea what you did tonight? What you could have done?” Inside the study, her father poured himself a scotch, neat.

“I didn’t know who he—”

Her father made a slashing motion in the air, silencing her. “It does not matter. You are reckless. Foolish. Practically fucking a stranger in a club. Even if he hadn’t been a Spadaro, that action alone would’ve brought shame on our family. You know better.”

He turned to face her, his eyes hard.

Frustration rolled through her, and she wanted to throw something just to watch it break. “For crying out loud, I’m not a fucking teenager. I run my own businesses. I run my own life. And that includes my sex life.”

“You could have started a war tonight,” her father roared, his icy exterior finally cracking. “You have no idea how dangerous that Spadaro boy is. How dangerous to me. How dangerous to you.”

She flinched. Enraging her father was something of a talent of hers. But she’d never pushed him to this level before. She’d never done something so stupid. Guilt wracked her, swirling inside her chest to settle as a hard lump in her stomach.

She could have started a war.

People would’ve been killed. Good people.

“Is your freedom so important to you? That you will risk not only dishonoring your father but costing lives as well?”

“I—” She didn’t know what to say. Her hands clenched at her sides, and she searched for a way to try to explain herself in a way that this man would understand. Father and daughter, yet so different sometimes, she felt like she was trying to talk to an alien.

Maybe if her mother hadn’t died when she was so young. Maybe she could’ve bridged the distance between them. Domenica wasn’t sure, but somehow it felt like she would have more success trying to communicate with her dead mother than with the man standing in front of her.

“You will be leaving the city in the morning,” he said, rage draining from his voice, replaced by finality that chilled her to the bone.

“No,” she said, the word coming out more of a gasp then a real word.

“Yes.” Her father’s face was serious, brooked no argument. He’d made up his mind.

“But my life is here. My businesses—”

“You won’t be gone forever. Just long enough for this Spadaro boy to forget about you. Be happy I’m sending you on an extended vacation instead of confining you to your room like the petulant child you’re being.”

It was silly. She barely knew Giancarlo—okay, didn’t know him at all, really. And yet she felt like he wouldn’t forget her so easily. At least, she wasn’t sure she could forget him.

“Unless you want a war on your conscience,” her father warned.

Desire and guilt twirled within her. She wanted freedom so badly she could taste it. And damn her if Giancarlo hadn’t tasted like freedom.

And yet… The hard lump of guilt in her stomach remained. She wasn’t selfless. But she wasn’t selfish enough to cause men to go to war on her behalf.

“Fine,” she said, forcing the word past her pursed lips.

Her father nodded, satisfied. “Good. You may retire to your room here for the night. Tony will take you to your apartment tomorrow to pack.” And with that pronouncement, he turned away from her and went to pour another scotch. She’d been dismissed.

Anger and frustration roiled through her as she walked into her old room and slipped into her childhood bed. The hours passed slowly, and she tossed and turned.

Giancarlo.

She could practically taste his name on her lips.

Sleep refused to come, and she stared into the darkness, picturing his face. He was good looking—okay, he was ridiculously sexy. But so many of the macho Italian men she was around on nearly a daily basis were. There was something else about him. Something that called to her. A deep place he touched that she hadn’t even known she had.

It wasn’t only freedom she’d tasted on his lips.

God, she was horny. Her whole body ached with need. Mere minutes she’d been held in the man’s arms, yet she could almost feel him, even now. Rough hands against her skin. Wet tongue slipping between her lips.

She groaned at the thought of what else might those lips have done.

She slipped a hand down into her underwear, pressing softly against her clit. Her hips arched.

She needed release. She imagined what it would feel like if his tongue slipped inside her. His teeth lightly scraped against her clit.

She bit back a gasp, as moisture pooled between her legs. Readying herself. For him.

He’d been hard against her, huge, thick against her stomach as he pulled her close. Their dance had been like sex, two bodies writhing in their own rhythm.

She rubbed her clit harder, then slipped a single, slender finger inside of her pussy. It was a poor substitute for the thick dick Giancarlo had rubbed against her, but it was all she had. She moaned in pleasure and frustration, a mix that said just as much about her life as it did about her sex life. Giancarlo had been forbidden. Just like the freedom she so craved.

If only they’d had a bit longer. If only he’d pushed her over that desk in that back room, shoved her skirt up over her ass, and plunged inside of her.

She could almost feel him. Almost feel his thick cock thrusting inside of her, forcing her to take every inch. Could almost feel his teeth at her neck, his guttural cry of abandon when he came. Shooting his seed inside of her.

The orgasm flashed, hitting her suddenly and hard. A spark of lights and pleasure. Her whole body shivered from it, and when it was over, she rolled to her side and let out a long sigh. She’d needed the release, yet somehow she was hungrier than before. Hungry for Giancarlo. Hungry for the passion she’d felt when she was with him. Hungry for freedom.

* * *

He must have been out of his damn mind. Pursuing Domenica Todaro was out of the question. She wasn’t just the daughter of his father’s biggest rival, she was as untouchable as a woman could be.

Yet, she’d let him touch her. And he’d fucking loved it.

With the light of the new day cresting beyond the city, Gian grappled with the memory of the night before. He leaned against his balcony railing and watched the sun rise, inch by inch.

He hadn’t been able to sleep the night before. His inexplicable erection had disappeared with Domenica, and sexual frustration intermingled with guilt and his sense of duty in his brain, making sleep impossible.

Even now, with the insanity of the night behind him, he couldn’t think of anything but her. Her touch. Her smell. Her fire.

Only a glimpse of that fire, and yet he couldn’t seem to get it out of his head.

Forbidden fruit, she was as delectable as she was beautiful. As fiery and intelligent as she was sensual and sexy. The woman had been intriguing before he’d met her. And now that he tasted her… All he wanted was more.

“Fuck,” he muttered, then pushed away from the railing. His first duty was to his family. To their empire. He wasn’t about to throw all that away for a goddamn woman. Even one as unique as Domenica Todaro.

Even one who finally woke his cock.

All day long, Giancarlo tried to lose himself in his work. It was usually easy to do—especially on a day packed like this one. Meetings with accountants, attorneys, and his father’s Capo. Yet still, the feel of her body, soft against his, the twinkle in her eye and the teasing spark on her lips refused to leave him. By the end of the day, he was half ready to march up to Don Todaro’s mansion and fight his way to his daughter.

It was fucking ridiculous.

He needed a distraction.

Not bothering to change from the suit he’d worn through the day, Gian grabbed his car keys and headed for one of his clubs. The inside of the club thrummed with energy when he stepped through the doors. It didn’t matter that it was a weekday—his family owned the hottest strip club in town. It was busy every day. The only difference was on the weekdays, there wasn’t a line extending far beyond the door.

All eyes were on him when he walked into the main room of the strip club. Some assessing. Some full of lust. Some fearful. Rightfully.

He didn’t give a fuck. Then again, he didn’t give a fuck about much of anything.

Which made him the perfect successor to his father’s empire.

He thought so, anyway. His father disagreed on occasion. Don spoke of things like passion as if such an emotion was necessary to run a business empire like this one. Gian had always considered it a hindrance, himself. More than once, he’d seen his father make a decision Gian considered poor, all in the name of passion.

Gian would never be accused of feeling too much passion.

Until last night.

In all ways but one, he fit exactly what his father wanted him to be. He pushed for his own power but didn’t try to dominate. He understood the necessity of the violence within their world and didn’t cringe from it, but he didn’t get off on it, either. If his father needed a mess to be cleaned up, he one hundred percent relied on Gian to do it.

The only problem was, he knew something his father didn’t. He would never provide his father an heir.

No one would call Gian a pussy and live to tell the tale. But if news of his impotence got out into the mafia world, it would take an awful lot of violence to maintain the respect he’d gained during the years of working for his father.

He loved women. Loved taking them, with his hand in his mouth.

The look on their faces, their silky, beautiful bodies. The way they moaned and moved under his hand and mouth. The desire to fuck was within him, but his dick didn’t cooperate.

He long ago decided that it was irrelevant. He found no attraction toward men, no matter how deeply inside himself he looked. And he appreciated making any woman who caught his eye orgasm repeatedly. But it wasn’t something he’d ever experienced himself.

But last night, on the dance floor, he’d almost fucking come in his pants.

Mind churning, Gian sat at the table reserved for his family and glared into the club. His favorite drink appeared by his right hand, delivered by a cocktail waitress who skittered away quickly. His dark mood apparently obvious.

He needed another woman. Someone to take his mind off what happened the night before with Don Todaro’s daughter. Yes, he’d gotten the first hard on of his life. That could’ve just been a coincidence. Circumstance. If nothing else, he’d take out the inexplicable need inside him by making one of his favorite strippers come, over and over again. Until she begged him to stop.

“Who peed in your Cheerios?” a jovial voice asked.

He didn’t spare Marco, his father’s Capo, a glance. “The fuck you want?”

Marco sat in a seat next to him. “Just looking for some entertainment tonight, same as you.”

Bullshit. Marco was a family man—one faithful to his wife. He didn’t turn to strip clubs for the pleasure of it. Gian had a pretty good idea why he was here. “My business is my business.”

“Don Todaro seems to think that your business is now his business.” Marco waved at one of the cocktail waitresses, and she nodded, then disappeared to grab his drink.

“That fucker won’t get between me and what is mine,” he growled, then very nearly started. The fuck was he saying? Sure, he wanted Domenica in a way that he’d never wanted anyone else. Hell, he could still smell her sweet scent, like she’d been branded into his skin. The desire to find her was strong, almost overpowering. If only to confirm that what he’d felt the night before hadn’t been real. He knew logically it was nonsense, and yet he couldn’t get the fucking hunger for her out of his system.

“War is a serious thing,” Marco said, and Gian knew that was the closest his father’s Capo would get to a warning. Gian wasn’t prone to fits of passionate rage, but he also didn’t stand for someone of lower rank telling him what to do.

“Noted,” he said, but when he reached for his glass, his hand shook, ever so slightly. He fisted it then grabbed the drink. The fuck was wrong with him?

“Let me buy you a lap dance.” Marco slapped him on the back, then got up and walked away. Marco’s drink remained untouched

Gian snorted. As if he had to pay for a lap dance of his own club. But sure enough, Mindy—one of the hottest strippers the club had ever seen, and one that Gian hadn’t yet tasted—swaggered up only moments after Marco disappeared into the dark.

She had a come-hither smile on her face, and she strutted like a woman who knew how to fuck. “Hey, sexy.”

Gian managed to grunt as he looked her up and down. She was beautiful. Stunning, even. Yet not one twinge of lust touched his body. His dick remained flaccid. His mouth didn’t even water at the idea of tasting her pussy.

She began her lap dance. Grinding and squirming to the music in a way that would make nearly any man ready to pounce.

But his mind drifted. To the perfect shape of Domenica’s ass. The secret little grin she’d shot him when he first began dancing with her without asking permission.

In his pants, his cock twitched.

He stood, pushing Mindy away gently.

“I’ve got an appointment,” he said. He tossed a couple hundred-dollar bills for her on the table, then turned and walked out the door.