The Daddy and the Dom (Mafia Menage Trilogy 2)

Marco took another step toward me, moving with slow, easy grace that was entirely at odds with the pure menace that’d rolled off him in waves only seconds ago. He’d stormed in here and rushed to my defense after hearing me scream.

I noticed the dent in the wall behind him, where he’d flung open the door with enough force that the brass handle had damaged the plaster. All that strength, all that ferocity…

For me. He’d come running to protect me the moment he’d thought I was in danger.

My stomach did a funny flip, and a small shiver raced over my skin. I wasn’t scared of Marco. Not at all. But this display of his brute strength and intense protectiveness made me quake for darker, more feminine reasons.

Joseph misinterpreted my trembling and rubbed his hands over my pebbled flesh. My cheeks burned as I realized I was ogling Marco while clinging to Joseph. I tucked my face closer to his chest, hiding my confusing response to his best friend’s powerful presence.

“I’ve got this, Marco.” Joseph’s warning words rumbled through the room.

Marco’s low grunt snagged my attention, and my eyes were immediately drawn to him once again. He’d stopped dead in his tracks, still as a granite statue. His jaw ticked, and his black eyes raked over my trembling body before returning to my face. He studied me with that unwavering, penetrating stare for several unnerving seconds.

His fists flexed at his sides just once before he gave Joseph a curt nod and turned on his heel.

“Wait!” I called out, the plea bursting from my aching chest before I could think better of it. Less than a minute ago, Marco had been all softness and concern when he’d asked about my nightmare. Now, he was stiff and cold again. Aloof after Joseph’s sharp dismissal.

Joseph thought he was sheltering me from further distress, but Marco was the one who was upset.

Something tugged at my heart when his hulking body jerked to a halt, and he turned back to face me. His dark brows were drawn low over his eyes, the glower shielding him from me.

But that glower didn’t frighten me anymore. I’d seen him turn the same ferocious expression on Joseph when he was upset, not enraged.

“Thank you,” I said softly, compelled to convey my gratitude and my newfound trust in him. My belief that he wasn’t an evil criminal.

I’d been so blind to his better nature, simmering in resentment over his decision to kidnap me. But when he’d comforted me in the car last night, letting me cry against him as he held me with aching gentleness, I’d finally understood why Joseph cared so much about his intimidating friend.

Fine lines appeared around Marco’s mouth on a small frown, and he cocked his head at me.

“Thank you for coming to check on me,” I explained. “And for getting me away from…that man.” I shuddered at the memory of their enemy’s knuckles raking down my cheek in a perversion of intimacy.

Joseph’s long, sure fingers trailed through my hair in comforting strokes, and I relaxed into his arms as the last of my residual terror drained from my system. Suddenly, exhaustion sank into my bones, and my head felt too heavy to stir.

The warmth returned to Marco’s eyes, and he relaxed, too. “Go back to sleep, princess. I’m right down the hall if you need me. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“I know,” I murmured, my eyelids growing heavier with each stroke of Joseph’s fingers through my hair. “Thank you.”

His answering, low hum followed me down into warm darkness, and I slept peacefully through the night.

Chapter Two

Joseph

“I’m going into the city to see my father tonight,” I told Marco over breakfast. “I need to talk to him about the threat to Ashlyn. They must’ve been watching the estate this whole time.”

Ashlyn was still sleeping upstairs, likely exhausted from the trauma she’d faced last night.

The memory of her scream tore through my brain. When I’d found that fucker intimidating her in the ladies’ room at the restaurant, she’d barely gasped my name. She’d been too frightened to call for my help then, but terror had followed her into her dreams, her nightmares.

If I hadn’t gotten worried about her extended absence from our table, if I hadn’t gone to check on her…

Rage rushed through me at the thought of that bastard threatening her, touching her. Ricky Bianchi was easily recognizable by the scar on his cheek. Now, he’d have a broken nose to make him look even uglier.

The fact that I’d bloodied him could cause problems for my father—fighting within the family was forbidden. But Ricky had threatened Ashlyn, so I hoped that balanced out my actions. I didn’t want to be the one who instigated war. The threat to Ashlyn had been an intimidation tactic, a power play.