Angelo (The Marchesi Family 2)

“I answered your questions.”

“By telling me everything had to be done your way.”

“You’re the one in trouble here, the one who can’t pay what he owes. Would a bank let you make the rules?”

A bank wouldn’t make me want to betray everything I believed in. “A bank wouldn’t threaten me.”

“No, but they wouldn’t give you options either. You want this bakery. It matters to you.”

I should have tried to hide how much it meant, but I’d been stupid enough to let that show. I’d laid all my cards out and he would use them any way he could. “I do.”

“Then give in to the inevitable. The sooner you surrender to me, the sooner you’ll really own this place.”

My chest felt tight, my breathing labored, but I tried to stand up straighter. I didn’t want him to think I was as weak as I felt. I tried to sort through my options once more, but I couldn’t get a handle on the swirl of thoughts and emotions that were making me dizzy.

“You want this,” Angelo said, leaning close once more. My gaze dropped to his full lips. What would it be like for him to kiss me? No. There was no need for that kind of intimacy. “You want to know what it would be like to give in. No games. No rules to keep things safe. Just rough, controlling desire.”

Fuck, that sounded so good. I didn’t have to like him to enjoy fucking him. I’d hooked up with plenty of men I wouldn’t want to spend time with out of bed. I’d take every bit of pleasure from him I could. I’d give him my body, but never let him have more, never let him own me no matter what he thought. Then he’d be out of my life.

“This is going to be so fun.” Angelo’s breath warmed my neck. He ran his tongue down to the curve of my shoulder, making me suck in a breath. “See? Your body knows the right choice.”

“I hate you.” I used those words like a shield. I had to keep fighting him because I could easily get lost in his dark eyes.

“I know. I hate you too, but I’m the only one who can give you what you want.”

Was he talking about the bakery or… I sure as fuck wasn’t going to ask. God help me, right or wrong, I was going to take his offer. All my instincts told me running the bakery was the new start I was meant to have. I busted my ass to get through school and to do the best job I could afterwards, but I had a feeling I’d never been as challenged as I would be for the next three months.

“Fine. You win. But I want a contract. I need to see our agreement in writing.” Even as I said the words, I knew how foolish they were. What difference did it make? It wasn’t like I could take the Marchesis to court over it. None of this was fucking legal. But for some reason, I believed Angelo and his family would stick by their word. Honorable mobsters? I sure as hell hoped so.

8

Angelo

I smiled as I stepped back from Cameron and gave him a careful once-over, letting my gaze linger on the erection that still pressed against his jeans. He was angry and scared, but he wanted me—or at least his body did. When I’d felt that hard ridge pressed against me, I’d decided he didn’t have a choice anymore. He was going to be mine.

When I’d first made my proposal, I thought I could be happy taking his legacy from him. Once his bakery was mine, I could have gone to celebrate by sinking my dick into some willing twink who’d give me whatever I asked for. At first, I’d more or less been joking about letting him pay me with his body. All his options forced him to acknowledge my power over him in one way or another.

Now I was serious as fuck about having him. I’d spent most of the night before contemplating how far I could push him before pleasure/pain became true torture. I thought up a whole list of things I could do to make him fight me, to make him disobey so I could punish him. I’d promised not to damage him, and I wouldn’t, but that gave me a lot of leeway for torment. I wanted fear. I wanted him to acknowledge just how dark his desire could be. I’d felt how he responded when I threatened him, how his breath caught when I said he’d obey me. He might protest; I was sure he thought he had to, but I would break him.

Lucien thought I didn’t know how to be serious, how to focus on something and make a plan. But I had a plan for Cameron. Maybe the plan was based on what my dick wanted, but I was going to follow through. I would carry out every single step until Cameron surrendered to me completely—until he admitted I wasn’t trash, wasn’t beneath him, wasn’t some boy who could just be a dirty secret. I was going to be his everything, and when I was done, I was going to walk away and leave him with his bakery and the knowledge that he’d given every piece of himself to me.