Negotiation: A Mafia Romance Read online

  Her heart was racing in her ears when she wrapped her arms around him and struggled to draw in a deep breath. She was starting to feel sleepy, and she cautioned herself against dozing off. That wasn’t the kind of behavior he expected from her. As if to confirm that, he rolled away from her a moment later, ostensibly to deal with the condom, but it seemed like he made a pointed effort not to return to the bed.

  Instead, Dante shrugged on a robe that had been hanging from a hook on the wall near the bed. “Feel free to have a shower or bath before you leave, if you’d like. And are you all right to drive? Or do you need a ride home? I can call my driver if you need it.”

  She shook her head. “I only had two glasses of wine. Well, maybe three, but that was a while ago, and I’m sure I burned it all off. I’m perfectly sober now.” She kept a calm smile in place, proud of the way her voice emerged coolly, almost distantly.

  She shouldn’t feel hurt by his subtle, or not-so-subtle, means of letting her know she wasn’t invited to stay the night. She hadn’t planned to anyway. Still, it was a bit insulting, or maybe hurtful was a better word, to have it so blatantly thrust in her face that she was there for one purpose and one purpose only. Now that she had fulfilled it, it was time for her to get the hell out. Understanding it on an intellectual level was a little bit different than experiencing such treatment on a personal level.

  She slid from the bed and padded to the bathroom, quickly washing in his huge shower and successfully avoiding the temptation of the large bath across the room. It would have easily held her and him both, plus room for three of their closest friends, but she didn’t want to impose on him that long.

  Now that he’d fucked her, he was clearly done with her, and the only question was for how long? Was tonight a singular occurrence only? Had he been unsatisfied? She didn’t think so and expected he would request her again in a few days or weeks. She couldn’t be sure though, and she’d have to get used to not knowing. This was her new reality—at least until he released her from it, and she would have to adapt to living in a state of being on call for the Mafia man.

  He watched her leave from the upstairs window on the second floor, having made a point of not following her from the room or seeing her out of the house. Those were the kind of gentlemanly gestures one extended to a lover, not a mistress. He had to starkly reinforce for both of them what their negotiation entailed, and what kind of deal they had structured.

  Making love to her so tenderly had definitely been a mistake. He didn’t regret not hurting her, and he was certain she’d had a very fulfilling experience and would have good memories of her first time, but it had wreaked havoc on him. He hadn’t expected to get emotional about anything.

  Sex was usually compartmentalized, going strictly into the pleasure category, where it stayed, and then he moved on to other business. After a woman left his bed, he didn’t stand around staring at her car disappearing into the distance while she drove away, mooning over the fact she was gone and wishing he had invited her to stay the night instead. It would have been his prerogative to do so, since she had technically agreed to do anything and everything he wanted, as long as it was stipulated in the contract.

  Hell, the truth of the matter was, he could lock her away in a cell or one of the lavish rooms of the home, and no one would do a thing about it. People went missing every day, even innocent, alluring nurses. She might spark more interest than most, but he was confident he could still get away with stealing her and keeping her, if he chose. That he had even briefly entertained the thought was what had spurred him to become so distant with her afterward. It wasn’t just to remind Lily that their arrangement was sex and nothing more. He’d unexpectedly needed the reminder himself.

  Fuck, she got to him in a way no woman ever had. He didn’t like the way he questioned his own judgment, or how she left him feeling indecisive and aching with some unknown emotion in the wake of her absence. He’d survive just fine for thirty-one years without her, and having had her for just a little over two hours one night shouldn’t leave him feeling so melancholy about watching her leave. Who was he, the hero in some Gothic Dantece?

  Dante laughed aloud at the idea. He was no hero at all under any circumstances. He was firmly and completely the villain, and he liked it that way. He loved having power and influence, and though there were parts of his position that he didn’t enjoy, he didn’t hate anything about being the underboss, even when it came to murdering people. He’d never killed anyone who hadn’t deserved to die, and he considered it the cost of doing business.

  He didn’t think after that evening, especially if he continued to clearly draw lines between them, that he’d have anything to fear about Lily developing deeper feelings for him. He’d already warned her not to fall in love with him, and it was on her if she did. As he turned away, abruptly realizing he was still watching the road leading from the house, though her car had been gone for several minutes, he had the appalling thought that maybe he should remind himself of that.

  He’d have to be on his guard with Lily Thompson, because there was no way he was going to turn into some pussy-whipped pansy, always at her command. That was the exact antithesis of their agreement. Lily was there for his pleasure and nothing more. It was a nice benefit if she got off on what they did too, but it had to remain strictly physical. What other reality could there be? Sweet, innocent nurses didn’t have happily-ever-afters with Mafioso underbosses.

  The idea was absolutely laughable. So why did he feel more morose than ever as he put distance between himself and the window and forced himself to forget about the sweet blonde who had graced his bed earlier in the evening?

  As he got into bed—wincing at the slight streak of blood on the white sheets, but making the irrational decision not to have the maid change the bed that night, because the sheets smelled like her—he very sternly told himself he wouldn’t send for Lily for at least another week. The key to controlling this…whatever it was…that was forming had to be rationing. He had to ration his exposure to her and only savor her upon occasion. That was the only sensible course.

  Chapter Four

  He sent for her two days later, and he sounded angry with her on the phone. In person, he was clearly annoyed about something. His housekeeper had let Lily in, and she had gone to his bedroom, as directed. She stumbled to a halt when she saw the way he scowled at her. Had she done something to enrage him? She racked her brain trying to think of what, but found no reasonable explanation. Perhaps he’d just had a bad day.

  Did he intend to take it out on her? Fear sent a shiver down her spine, but she couldn’t deny an ache of dark curiosity also throbbed through her core at the idea. How would he proceed? He had been so tender and gentle the other night, though emotionally withdrawn, and she was intrigued, if a bit fearful, to see the other side of him.

  “I see you dressed up for tonight,” he said sardonically.

  She glanced down at the sundress that touched her knees, paired with silver sandals. The early summer temperature made it tempting to dress lightly, and she was modestly and adequately covered. “I didn’t have time to change. I got your text while I was driving home from work, and you made it clear you wanted me right away.”

  Dante continue glaring at her for a moment. “Next time, feel free to change into something sexier and less frumpy.”

  She glared at him, knowing she didn’t look frumpy. She looked like a nurse, which was what she was, even though she was also the lover of a mobster. No, not lover. She was simply the sex toy, and he was making that obvious. She could have told him to ease off on reinforcing the lesson, but she wasn’t going to tell him anything. Her role in the agreement was to comply, so she would do that and give him only the bare minimum, but nothing more. That was the fastest way to end their agreement, wasn’t it?

  “Take off that ridiculous dress. You look far too much like a teenager in it. With what I have in mind for you, you don’t want to be sweet and innocent tonight.”

  She
shivered at the hint of warning, but stuck with her determination to obey him even if it practically killed her. She took a deep breath and yanked the dress over her head, neatly folding it and putting it on a chair near the door. When she stood in just the sandals, simple white panties, and a sturdy bra, she stared at him with a hint of challenge. “Now what?”

  “Get rid of all of it. Even the sandals.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat and quickly complied with his demands, doing her best to hide her shaking fingers. She shouldn’t feel so nervous to be taking off her clothes in front of him, at least not after the other night. He had seen everything before, had also touched and tasted it, but it felt different tonight.

  When she was completely bare, she stood in front of him with her arms extended as though displaying the entire package. “What would you like now, Dante?” she asked with a hint of sarcasm.

  “Get on the floor and crawl to me.”

  “No.” There went her determination to obey his commands.

  Dante’s hands folded at his sides. “Our agreement is whatever I ask, you deliver. Now crawl to me.”

  Tears of humiliation burned her eyes as she got on the floor, wincing at the cold marble pressing into her kneecaps. At least it was highly polished, making it easy to slide across the floor, ending her humiliating ordeal quickly. When she knelt in front of him, she glared up at him. “Now what?”

  “Beg for my cock.”

  She gritted her teeth, certain he could tell her heart wasn’t in it when she asked, “Please may I have your cock, Dante?”

  He looked like he was going to reach for her, but at the last moment his hand dropped to his side again. “Like you mean it, Lily.”

  She took a deep breath, trying to remember how she’d felt the other day, when she had wanted him so desperately. That was when he was being tender and gentle, not this domineering bastard. Still, she wasn’t going to make it believable if she couldn’t channel the first time they had fucked. She allowed the need to flow through her, and she was certain her expression and voice were much more sincere when she said, “Please give me your cock, Dante. I need it. Please.”

  He inclined his head once. “Undo my zipper and take him out. Show your appreciation with your mouth.”

  She was still angry and annoyed with his behavior, and the hard marble pressed uncomfortably into her kneecaps, but she didn’t have to feign enthusiasm when it came to freeing his cock from his pants. As much as she didn’t like Dante himself at the moment, she was still pleased to see his cock. Her pussy dripped with anticipation of having it inside her, and she was glad he had given her two days to recover from the last time they’d had sex. She had been sore and tender most of yesterday, but had woken up just fine today.

  She focused on the task at hand, wrapping her mouth around him and her hand around the base as she twisted and bobbed her head.

  “Do you like that? I bet you love being on your knees sucking me off like a whore.”

  She stiffened, glaring up at him. Lily let his cock fall from her mouth. “You didn’t specify name-calling in the contract, and I won’t put up with that.”

  He seemed to mull over her words for a moment before nodding. “If that’s what you prefer. It’s just part of the game, but I’ll rein in the filthy talk.”

  Before returning to the task of licking his cock, she said, “I don’t mind dirty talk. I just don’t like to be called a whore, or a slut, or a bitch.”

  After a moment, in which he seemed to debate with himself, he grabbed a handful of her hair and jerked her head back, away from his cock. His eyes were dark with passion and evident anger when he glared down at her. “You may not like the terms, and I’ll try to remember not to use them, but we both know you’re my dirty slut. I can make you do anything I want, and not because I have a contract. You want to be doing this. You want to be at my mercy and under my command. You want to be my whore.”

  She curled her nose up at him, letting her gaze show her anger as she defiantly lifted his cock and wrapped her mouth around it, sucking him with determination. She wasn’t entirely certain what battle they were engaged in, but she wasn’t going to blink. She didn’t like his words, and mostly she didn’t like the fact that he was right.

  This was humiliating, but part of her still liked being at his command. If circumstances had been different, and they had met in another way, she wasn’t convinced she still wouldn’t have ended up serving him this way, at least upon occasion. She couldn’t do it all the time, but there was something fun, if unsettling, playing the role of his submissive fuck toy.

  He didn’t touch her except his hand in her hair, and his hold tightened as he began to thrust against her face, their gazes locked the entire time. Anger sizzled in the air, but there was something underlying it that she couldn’t quite identify. It was the thing that kept her mouth fastened around his cock and kept him hammering into her before he let out a small gasp as his cock twitched. A moment later, his release filled her mouth, and she swallowed it with a hint of pride that she was able to accomplish the task without losing any.

  As soon as he had regained his composure, he released his hold on her hair and stepped back, casually tucking himself into his pants again. It seemed to indicate he was done, and she stared up at him in puzzlement.

  “You may go now.”

  She glared at him, true anger sizzling in her. With this behavior, she truly did feel like his whore, paid to accomplish a task and then made to disappear until the next time he beckoned for her to perform. She made a production of wiping her mouth as she got to her feet, not speaking to him when she crossed the floor toward her clothes.

  She had slipped on her sandals again when his voice came from behind her, much closer than she had realized, and made her jump. She looked over her shoulder at him, doing her best to hide anything besides the anger sizzling through her. He didn’t deserve or care to know that he had hurt her with his callous disregard. “What?” she asked in reply to him calling her name.

  “I want one more thing from you. Sit down in that chair and spread your legs, one thigh on each arm.”

  She really wanted to tell him to go to hell, and she probably could. As long as Shawn stayed out of trouble and kept his head down, Dante was unlikely to pursue him. If he did, he might have a difficult time finding her brother, since he was currently holed up in a tiny town at the border between Texas and Mexico.

  There would be no consequences for refusing him, unless he decided to turn his anger on her instead. She didn’t think he would actually physically harm her, but she couldn’t be certain. Reluctantly, she set aside her clothes, laying them on the table by the chair this time, before sitting down on the ivory wingback in the position he had instructed. It opened her completely to him, and she was embarrassingly aware of how wet she was in spite of his callous treatment. She didn’t like that she still wanted him, but she couldn’t hide the evidence that she did despite his attitude that evening.

  “Touch yourself.”

  She frowned at him, shaking her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “Touch yourself,” he said more slowly, drawing out the words as though she hadn’t comprehended their meaning the first time. Surely, he knew what she really meant.

  “But why?”

  “Because I’m not going to touch you tonight, but I want to see you come.”

  She was feeling completely bewildered as she stroked herself, her gaze remaining on him while his was fastened securely between her legs. Her vision grew blurrier as she became more excited, aware of her juices flowing onto the white upholstery as she fingered herself under his gaze.

  If he had remained cool or unaffected, she probably couldn’t have actually gotten into the role she was performing. She would have simply faked it, but it was clear he was enjoying every moment. When her breathing turned shallow and raspy, his deepened and grew ragged. He licked his lips periodically, and though he had tucked away his cock, it was clearly pressing against his pa
nts again with incessant need. When she suddenly came with a small cry that morphed into a moan on her lips, Dante groaned deep in his throat.

  Afterward, she lay back against the chair for a moment, allowing the wave of release to crest and fade away as she stared up at him. His eyes hadn’t returned to hers, and his expression was unreadable again. He was the most confusing bastard, and though she wanted to probe for an explanation, she also found herself wanting to take a breather. Her voice was raspy when she asked, “Are we done here?”

  Dante inclined his head, waving to the door. “You can leave until the next time.”

  She quickly dressed, not bothering with her panties or bra in her rush to escape him. She wanted to insist there wouldn’t be a next time and tell him to go fuck himself, but she knew she couldn’t. The contract between them had left her in a precarious position, but more than that, there was a needy, and previously unknown, part of her that craved his domination and this strange deal they had negotiated.

  She didn’t speak to him as she slipped away, and she was proud of the cold demeanor she maintained until she had driven several miles from his house. Then, overwhelmed by an influx of emotions she couldn’t separate and identify, she pulled over to the side of the road and sobbed for a few moments before wiping her face and proceeding onward.

  What else could she do besides regroup and keep going? She was at his mercy, if he had any, until his interest waned. She could only hope that after tonight’s odd, humiliating, and strangely exhilarating experience that his interest was already fading. That idea should fill her with hope, not make her feel achy or send a hollow pang through her chest.