Mafia Casanova

“Th-thank you.” It hurt to get the phrase out. Pride bruised, mind confused, I was beyond embarrassed and angry. At least he hadn’t ripped my dress and hit my bare ass.

My skin buzzed where he’d hit.

“See?” He leaned over until his breath hit my ear. “It wasn’t that hard, was it?”

It was on the tip of my tongue to snap at him that someone was hard, and it wasn’t me. His length pressed up against my stomach, long, protruding, pulsing.

I tried to wiggle away, but he kept me there against his lap; his hand moved back to my ass as he rubbed up and down, up and down like he was comforting me.

After a few seconds of silence, I finally relaxed against him while he continued his sweet torture until his hands were in my hair, playing, twisting, tugging.

I frowned as the pull on my hair grew harder and then realized in shock that the monster had braided my hair. In my peripheral vision, I caught the movement as he reached for a rubber band I’d left on my dresser and wrapped it around the end, only to gently lift me off his lap and set me on the bed.

He got up, and that was it.

Or so I thought.

Instead of leaving the room, he went into the adjoining bathroom and turned on the water.

Minutes later, he was back with a steaming washcloth and some of my makeup remover.

What the hell was happening?

“Close your eyes,” he whispered.

I was too exhausted at that point to argue; I did exactly what he said.

He rubbed the makeup remover on my face, following with the steaming wet cloth.

My shoulders immediately went lax with the rest of my body; he rubbed the sadness of the day away from my skin in an act so gentle that had I not known it was Romeo, I would have assumed I was getting a facial.

“Open.” He leaned down, inspected my face, and then rubbed the cloth below my eyes in slow, gentle swipes.

His eyes darted to my mouth several times before he jerked back, only to return from the bathroom with moisturizer.

Seriously?

“Stop frowning,” he rasped, digging into the moisturizer with his fingertips and dabbing it onto my cheeks. His fingers massaged the lotion all over my face and down my neck, then moved to my arms as he helped me stand and spun me around.

The sound of my zipper going down, the feel of his warm hands against my back, the cold air biting each inch of exposed skin was almost painful to endure.

What was happening?

The dress pooled at my feet.

I stepped out of it, wearing nothing but a black lacy bra and matching panties. He moved next to me, pulling all of the pillows from the bed and tossing them to the floor, then fluffed mine like a freaking maid.

“Sleep,” he ordered, gently pushing me toward the bed.

I didn’t argue.

The sheets were cold as I crawled in and drew them up.

Seemingly satisfied, Romeo gave me a curt nod then went back to the bathroom. The hell was he doing now?

The door shut.

Was he using the restroom?

I grimaced at the subtle hiss coming through the door.

Was that water turning on?

He was in there maybe ten minutes when the light turned off.

I threw my body against the bed, pulled the covers up, and squeezed my eyes shut.

The bedroom light flickered off.

I sighed in relief.

Then nearly choked on my tongue when the other side of the bed dipped.

He wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

“I can hear you thinking,” he rasped. “I’m too tired to argue, and I’ll just end up spanking you again. Sleep, Eden.”

“You can’t sleep with me!”

“First off, I never sleep with women, ever, you know unless I’m slitting their throats. You’re the one exception. You always have been. And I’ll sleep by your side until I know you’re safe. Fucking deal with it. I have cameras hooked up to Naz’s room.”

“When did you do that?”

“Don’t worry about it. He’s safe; my men are watching over him. Now go to sleep.”

“But—”

“Eden, keep arguing, and it’s gonna be your bare ass up in the air.”

With a heavy sigh, I hugged my pillow and said nothing only to have him lean over, the heat from his body pressed against mine, as he murmured, “Good choice.”

Although I was exhausted beyond belief, it took me forever to fall asleep.

Because less than forty-eight hours ago, I’d committed the greatest sin of all.

I’d been angry with Tristian.

I’d coveted his brother.

I’d imagined him in my bed.

I’d remembered our hateful night.

And I’d dreamt of Romeo Sinacore, falling asleep with me in his arms.

Now there we were, a dream come true…

But why did it feel like a nightmare instead?CHAPTER THIRTEEN“The more successful the villain, the more successful the picture.” —Alfred Hitchcock

Romeo

Then: Nine months later“It’s a boy,” I read in a flat tone the banner hanging across the living room.