Emilia: Part 2 (Trassato Crime Family Book 4) Page 8

  Even as I uttered the statement, something in the back of my mind prodded me to think harder. Images of playing on a sandy beach on the Jersey Shore floated through my mind, my mom and aunt wading calf-deep in the ocean, and me digging in the sand with two older kids—a boy and a girl. My head snapped up, and my mouth parted into an “o.”

  “I see you do recall something.”

  “A little.” I squinted, trying to remember more about those kids. “Was that Mila and you on the beach?”

  He nodded as though he were hesitant to say anything further. I needed more. I needed everything. Living in the darkness was no longer an option.

  “What happened? Why did the trips stop?”

  Consternation transformed his sharp face into a mask of regret. He sucked in a deep breath before answering. “I convinced my dad to show up unannounced one year. I overheard Ava complaining about her life with your dad to Helena. Not old enough to judge if they were normal marital complaints, I told my dad Ava wanted out.”

  “Oh shit,” I whispered.

  “Oh shit is right. Your dad got wind of his arrival, and the whole thing went to hell. The Trassatos and the Masciantonios were back at war. After a nightmare summer, too many deaths, and more negotiations, things went back to normal except the annual summer vacations were canceled indefinitely. You were only six or so when this happened, and we didn’t have any contact until that night outside your dad’s study.”

  I paid no attention to the weird sensation bubbling up in my gut and the urge to over analyze his revelation. I had a few blurry memories of those trips, and later when I had time to reflect, I would likely feel some resentment that circumstances robbed me of the opportunity to know Marcello before my father thrust the whole marriage in my face, making me dread Marcello and my fate.

  “I see.” Unable to meet Marcello’s weighted stare, I stared at the wall behind him.

  “Things didn’t stop there. Ava covertly contacted my father, telling him she regretted marrying your dad, claiming she wanted out. Before she died, they met in secret a few times. My father claimed it was to foster the reintroduction of the two of us. That may have been part of it, but I doubt that was the entire story.”

  “What? Why would she do that? That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Did she want to incite another war between our families?”

  He clutched the back of his neck. “I don’t have a clue what she was thinking. Maybe she really wanted out and didn’t care how it happened. Maybe she liked the attention or the drama. I don’t think we’ll ever know. My father and Ava are dead, and your dad wasn’t in their head, so all he can offer is his perspective.”

  I rubbed my temples, trying to ward off the creeping headache, which was likely a combination of alcohol and all of the lies and secrets Marcello dumped into my lap. His story made sense. My mother disappeared more than once in the months before she killed herself, and when she returned, it always spawned a huge fight with my father.

  My dad throwing Sal in my path to thwart my marriage to Marcello despite the fact that he outwardly supported it made more sense now. He didn’t want me marrying into his enemy’s family. While I understood that, I wished he had trusted me enough to confide in me and maybe we could have avoided the shit show that followed, including Gavin’s death.

  It didn’t fully explain Marcello’s actions. Most likely he was motivated by the money like Sal had suggested, but I needed to hear him admit it. I squared my shoulders and kept my battle mask firmly in place. I wouldn’t settle for half-truths and secrets any longer. The cycle stopped now! Sal confessed his role in the whole disaster. Marcello had to do the same.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “That brings us back to my original question. What did you want to gain from this whole mess? Why didn’t you walk away? We didn’t need to go through with the bullshit deal. Nobody would’ve forced us down the aisle. Not my dad, and not my mom’s family in Italy who I hadn’t met until recently.”

  “Look at me.” He tipped up my chin, forcing me to look at him, and the sight nearly knocked me to the ground. He was painfully beautiful. “Unlike some people, I’m a man of my word. I made a promise to my father, your mother, and your grandfather, who happens to be my godfather, that I’d take care of you.”

  “Oh please. You showed up at our engagement party and spent weeks pressuring me. Our marriage was about more than honoring your word. You seduced me so you could get what you wanted.”

  “I never forced you to do anything.”

  “No, but you knew what you were doing. I was the young, stupid, impressionable lamb, and you were the wolf, leading me to my slaughter. Seduction, or whatever you want to call it.”

  His brows lowered, shadowing his sky blue eyes. “You didn’t resist me,” he said quietly, dangerously.

  One of his hands looped around my waist, dipping under the hem of my shirt. He moved his thumb in tiny circles, and I couldn’t stop a tremble of awareness. Even when I hardly knew him, my body had responded to his touch without exception, and now was no different. My body warmed from the simple contact, and my heart drummed turbulently in anticipation of something that wouldn’t happen.

  “Don’t try to rewrite history, little Emilia. There were two willing people in your room that night. You wanted me as much as I wanted you, and I think you still do.”

  Heat rushed to my cheeks both from the memory of that night and the embarrassing reality that he could still read me like a book. If only he would take his hands off me and give me some space, his stupid addictive scent wouldn’t trigger any memories. Then I’d have the willpower to resist him or, at the very least, deny he affected me.

  “No.” Panic inched up my throat, inducing a landslide of verbal vomit. “That night was a mistake. I don’t know what I was thinking. You were right to stop anything from happening between us on the plane. We need to move on. We’re different people now. I don’t want you, and you don’t want me. You honored your word. You did everything to fulfill your end of the marriage contract. You shouldn’t even be here. I’m sure you have better things to do than babysit an ex.”

  His gaze slid to my heaving chest, and he said, “Nice try, but I still don’t believe you.” Like a predator, his expression morphed into something I could only describe as lust. “Your eyes are dilated. Your breathing is shallow. Your nipples are hard, and I’ve barely touched you.”

  He was right. My breasts were heavy, and the feel of my nipples rubbing against my soft bra was driving me insane. Rattled, I gawked at him helplessly, not sure if I wanted to slap him across the face for noticing or yank him closer to me.

  His tongue darted out of his mouth, and his breathing verged on labored. “Emilia,” he murmured.

  Tension filled the air, making it sticky and heavy—a vortex of sin and lust, spiraling us away from reality. Scared I was on the verge of losing control of the situation, I smacked my hands against the firm planes of his chest and pushed, only it fueled the growing fire instead of reversing it.

  “This can’t happen,” I whispered, my tone lacking any strength. “Not here. This is Gavin’s office. It’s disrespectful.”

  “Gavin’s gone,” he responded, saying my dead husband’s name for the first time, and I flinched.

  “Please, Marcello.”

  He didn’t back off, and I wasn’t certain I wanted to him anyway. His eyes lasered in on my lips. “Please what?”

  He seemed torn as he slanted toward me. His entire body hummed with doubt and that unhinged attraction that had sunken its claws into us years ago. While I tried to think of anything else, the all-too-familiar dark pull summoned me closer. I leaned in, and he wrapped me up in his arms, pulling me flush against him. The second our bodies collided, a runaway moan fell from my mouth, and he devoured the sound with his lips.

  A soft brush first, then the kiss exploded. Liquid flames zipped through my blood, and the pressure between my legs was already agonizing. Refusing to let him retreat, I clasped fistfuls of his sh
irt. He deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue into my mouth. I missed this. Missed him. It was like I’d spent the last years of my life in absolute darkness and Marcello had finally switched on the light, reminding me why I fell under his spell so completely before I ran away.

  He wedged his slim hips between my legs, and his erection throbbed against my core. He stared at me, so possessive and hungry, it made me crave him even more. With one teasing flex of his hips, the blooming desire burst into a wildfire, and I disappeared into that distantly familiar place where no reality existed outside of us and that flicker in time.

  Seconds, minutes, or an hour later, he ripped his mouth from mine and muttered, “Madone.” His warm breath teased the side of my neck, causing a skittering of goose bumps on my arms. Roughly, he hiked the hem of my skirt up around my waist. The desk was cold against my bare thighs, but I forgot the mild discomfort the instant his hand skated up the inside of my thigh and slipped inside my panties.

  A warning rang out inside my head, cautioning me that I was playing with fire. That he could destroy me. I immediately dismissed it because this kind of self-destruction called to me, pleading with me to let the chips fall where they may. I’d plotted and planned for so long. Right then, I wanted to get swept up in a moment, untethered from logic, responsibility, and my future.

  I arched against him, and his hand slid between my soft folds in restrained circles, testing my willingness. His skilled movements set off spasms of devastating pleasure that made me shudder and whimper. I tugged at the button of his jeans, not wanting to give common sense a second to squeak back in and stop me.

  “Fuck, Emilia, this is a bad idea,” Marcello groaned, pushing my hands away only to pop open his button himself and shove his pants over his hips. The sounds of his zipper cut through the thick air like a whip.

  I pushed out a diaphanous stream of air from my lungs, not sure whether from relief or nervousness. “I don’t care.”

  “I don’t want you to regret—” I pressed my fingers to his lips and shook my head. “Let’s save the regrets for when they’re real.”

  He stared down at me through hooded lids, his Caribbean blue eyes simmering with enough heat to light up a city. I waited while he processed and debated his next move. Stop. Go. Run.

  Tick, tock. Tock, tock.

  The sound roamed through my brain, ominous and haunting. Fuck, I didn’t want to think, and I sure as hell didn’t want him to either. Rash and reckless. That’s what I wanted. No, craved.

  Perhaps sensing my desperation or giving into his own needs, his lips crashed against mine again. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he somehow moved his boxer briefs out of the way, guided the tip of his erection to my entrance, pausing there for a fraction of a second, searching my face one more time. He must have found what he was looking for because he pushed inside of me in one, slow, teasing stroke, accompanied by a slight pinch, which wasn’t altogether surprising.

  It had been so long since Gavin and I had been intimate, and even when we tried to make our relationship work, we never clicked in bed. We made awesome friends and terrible lovers. In reflection, maybe we weren’t such good friends. I pushed away my frenetic thoughts. Reflection was the last thing I wanted to do right now.

  I snuck a peek at the sight of him sliding in and out of me. Pleasure built with every thrust, spiraling and sweeping me away from the misery of my life and all my regrets and hesitancy with it. Groaning, I dug my nails into his shoulders.

  He rubbed the pad of his thumb over my clit, his eyes glued to the scene, making it all the more intimate. Somehow, I felt like I was simultaneously in and out of my body, and as strange as that sounded, this was exactly what I needed to get out of my head. My muscles tightened, ripples of indescribable sensation rushing through me.

  And then everything came to together. An orgasm swept through me like a spark in dry tinder, leaving no cell or nerve in my body unaffected. Marcello yanked my hips flush against him, riding me through my climax and prolonging it with perfectly timed thrusts that grew tauter and tauter with every domineering flex. And then he followed me over the edge.

  He brushed his fingers along my jawline, and the look on his face scared the crap out of me. Words like reverence and adore popped into mind. His care, his attention, caused my heart to squeeze. I shook my head. I didn’t want him to feel anything like that, not right now when my world was unraveling thread by thread. This was about distraction, that was it. That was all I could handle, right? Yet something inside me whispered that I wanted more with him and I should hold onto him with both hands this time and never let go. Holy shit, I couldn’t deny it. This wasn’t about distraction. I wanted Marcello for keeps this time.

  He pulled back, fixing his pants and rearranging my clothes. I sat like a block of ice, the momentary release and satisfaction slipping through my fingers like sand.

  “Hey,” he murmured, nuzzling his mouth into the side of my neck. “What’s going on in your head right now? Don’t overthink this.”

  “Overthink?” I curled my hands around the ledge of the desk with enough force I was surprised my knuckles didn’t snap. Did he want this to be a one-time thing? I didn’t get a chance to ask, though, because the door to the office flew open, the squeaky hinges wailing in protest.

  Marcello’s head jerked up. “The fuck? What are you doing here, Sal?”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “The better question is what are you doing?”

  Sal’s voice boomed through me, making my limbs tremor with guilt and embarrassment, and that pissed me off. I hadn’t made any promises to Sal. I didn’t owe him a damn thing. Regardless of the way he sugarcoated his role in my life years ago, he screwed me over. No pretty words from him would change how or why our relationship began, or ended for that matter.

  Instead of being wishy-washy, I should have rejected him flat out the minute he said he wanted a second chance. Not being assertive was part of the reason I had found myself in some weird love triangle with Sal and Marcello all those years ago. I could blame my character flaws on my father. He dominated me in every way, making my gut reaction to give in and appease, but I was done with that.

  I had to stop dragging out the inevitable. My heart wanted Marcello. Tonight would not have happened if deep down I didn’t want it. Maybe I always did, and I was too stubborn to admit it. I invested so much energy in defying my father’s wishes and my relationship with Sal, I couldn’t see past the end of my nose. I just hoped Marcello was all in as well.

  My confidence restored, I pushed Marcello back and jumped off the desk. “Get out of here, Sal. This is none of your business. The choices I make don’t concern you.”

  “Not my business?” Sal rocked back on his heels. “You promised me a second chance. You owe me—”

  “I don’t owe you a damn thing.”

  He focused his hardened stare on Marcello as if I didn’t exist and slid a gun from his waistband. “I always knew you were a backstabbing sneaky piece shit, but taking advantage of Emilia like this is a new low even for trash like you. Get outta here before I change my mind and wipe that smug look off your face.”

  “Salvatore D’Amico!” I screamed. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Who the hell are you to give me orders?” Marcello yelled.

  “No, Marcello, let me handle this.”

  He swatted me behind him. “Watch out or I’ll kick your Sicilian ass right back to New York. Last I checked, you were just some lowly, ass-kissing punk on Gian’s crew. What are you gonna do? Instigate a war between the Trassatos and the Masciantonios because your pride is wounded?”

  “I don’t need to. You’ve already done it. Wait ‘til Dominick hears about you taking advantage of his daughter.”

  Marcello barked out a cynical laugh. “Seriously? You’re gonna tell Dominick what exactly? And what the fuck can he do about it?”

  “He gave me permission to marry Emilia. The deal you had is dead. Everyone knows it. So the way I
see it, you dishonored my future wife.”

  “Are you fuckin’ serious?” I pushed forward again, sidestepping Marcello’s attempts to keep me behind him. “Future wife? I never agreed to anything, and I won’t. Especially now. I can’t believe you and my father actually had the nerve to make plans for my future without consulting me yet again.”

  “I’m not letting you fuck up your life again, Emilia. Last time I let you go, and look what that got you. A cheating husband in the middle of nowhere, and the kicker is that there’s not even a piano anywhere in your home. This place isn’t you. You don’t belong here, and you sure as fuck don’t belong with him.” Sal flicked his gun in Marcello’s direction. “Stop running. We can be together. No need to fight the inevitable.”

  “I’m not fighting anything. I’m exactly where I want to be.”

  “You’re confused. Overwhelmed. I don’t know how to explain it, but I know for damn sure you never wanted Marcello before. Why would you want him now?”

  My mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. I didn’t know what to say without confessing a whole lot of stuff I didn’t think needed to come to light. Nothing good would come of throwing the past in his face. The future was all that mattered.

  One glance at Marcello and I knew without a doubt he didn’t embrace the same philosophy. He wanted to rub Sal’s face in the mud. He looked down his long Roman nose at Sal, and a shiver darted down my spine. I knew what was coming. I lashed out, sinking my fingers into his forearm in warning, or perhaps it was a plea. A smirk completely lacking humor curled up the corners of his lips. He looked formidable and cruel.

  “Tell me somethin’, Sal. If she wanted to be with you so bad, why was I the one to take her virginity all those years ago instead of you?”

  “What?” Sal’s outstretched arm sagged, and the gun brushed the side of his thigh, confusion etched into his face. It didn’t take more than a few seconds for Marcello’s announcement to sink in. Sal’s body tensed, and he pinned me with a stare that was as angry as the fires of Hades. Amber, olive, and chestnut irises swirled with hatred and betrayal.