He took a sip of his drink. “You want me to punish you?”
“Every minute of my life with you is a punishment.”
His eyes glittered with knowing before he had a deep drink. “Even the orgasms?”
Her pelvis contracting, sick, sick desire thrumming, she jutted her chin even higher. “Them especially.”
He drained his whisky and leaned back. Unzipping his flies, he beckoned her to him and thickly said, “Then come here and take some more punishment.”
Tommaso kept a proprietorial hand on Gabriella’s lower back as he steered her up the stairs of Naples’ most exclusive – and secretive – nightclub, Gino’s. Tonight, Gino Vicario, the club’s owner, would be making one of his rare appearances.
With the ground floor for dining, it was the first floor that was always busiest… at least until enough alcohol and narcotics had been consumed to lower inhibitions enough to venture to the second and third floors. Narcotics were not Tommaso’s thing and never had been. It was no secret that his father had once been a major drug dealer. By the time he was old enough to startdabbling in the white stuff himself, Tommaso had seen enough collapsed septa and witnessed enough psychotic episodes to know it was a mug’s game. That his father never touched the stuff other than to dab samples of fresh consignments on his gums had reinforced this notion. By the time Tommaso joined the family empire, his father had been well on the way to becoming the media magnate adored by the Italian public as much for his philanthropy as his charisma, the narcotics side of the business relegated to folklore. Or so it was believed. The Espositos were meticulous in ensuring the folklore remained a myth and that what went on in the shadows stayed in the shadows.
The circular bar on the first floor was in the centre of a vast room pumping with loud music. Various doors led to private rooms where members could conduct private business. Tommaso wasn’t there to do business that night. He was there to be seen, and so he led Gabriella to a booth that gave him the perfect view of everyone coming in and out, and ordered a bottle of champagne.
Being one of Naples’ most well-known faces, it took seconds for them to be joined by a variety of people passing on their condolences for the death of his father and offering their congratulations for his marriage. Tommaso waited until he had word Gino Vicario was on route before ordering champagne for everyone, then waited until Gino had swept into the room with his entourage before making his move. Gino might own the nightclub, but Tommaso’s family owned Naples, and so when he indicated to a member of the bar team to turn the music down, his order was immediately complied with.
Used to commanding a room, Tommaso got to his feet. “My thanks for all your thoughts and good wishes. Many of you knew my father. You all knew of him. Let us all raise a glass to his memory. To Lorenzo.”
A chorus of “To Lorenzo” echoed through the room. Giving his audience no time to tune out, Tommaso spoke again. This time, he zoomed his stare onto Gino. “I give my thanks, too, for your generosity in celebrating my marriage. Gabba has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. While many of you here are too young to remember her father, Fabio, he was my father’s right-hand man. Gabba stepped into her father’s shoes with my father, and now, as my wife, she becomes my right-hand woman. Between the two of us and my siblings, the Esposito empire will continue to thrive, ready for the next generation. Enjoy your champagne – all drinks for the rest of the night are on me.”
If they were in a less monied establishment, this announcement would have been received with rapt cheers. As the buy-in for membership at Gino’s was the cost of a small apartment, Tommaso’s announcement was received with raised glasses and wryly smiling nods. In his considerable experience, it didn’t matter how rich someone was; people still liked free things.
“Who was that aimed at?” Gabriella whispered when he sat back down.
“Everyone.” But especially Gino Vicario, whose secretive nightclub empire sprawled the major cities of Europe. Many of Europe’s richest and most powerful people frequented his establishments, and it was no secret that Gino wanted a heavier cut of the shadowy trade negotiated within his nightclubs’ walls. Of all the circling sharks, Gino was the one with the sharpest teeth. If he thought the death of Tommaso’s father had weakened the Espositos, Tommaso had just told him loud and clear that he was mistaken and that if he made a move, they would be ready for him.
The Milan native joined them.
“My congratulations to you both,” he said smoothly as he slid into the booth next to Gabriella. His eyes on Tommaso, he took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Your taste in women is as exquisite as your taste in champagne.”
Feeling the tension in Gabriella’s hot little body and noting the way she quickly pulled her hand from Gino’s hold as if his touch was repellent, Tommaso smiled with his teeth. “My thanks for the flowers you sent to my mother – she was very touched to receive them.”
“A pleasure. Your father will be missed. He was a gentleman to do business with.”
“Then it must please you to know nothing has changed.”
Gino simply smiled before he dipped a lascivious gaze to Gabriella’s breasts. “I had the pleasure of attending many of your father’s private parties. Is that another aspect of the business that will be continued?”
Tightening his grip on his champagne flute, Tommaso smoothly replied, “Those private parties were unconnected to the business. If ever I’m inclined to host one, yours will be the first name on the guest list.”
“Excellent.” Gino gave Gabriella another lingering look before rising to his feet. “Your father really was exceedingly generous with what he was willing to share at those parties…and who.”
Tommaso didn’t drop his smile. “While I share many of my father’s traits, I’m incredibly possessive about what belongs to me – call it middle son syndrome.” Laughing, he added, “Those who try to take what’s mine always live to regret it.”
While Gino’s smile didn’t drop either, the slight narrowing of his eyes showed Tommaso’s message had landed exactly as intended. “I must circulate. Enjoy your evening.”
Gabriella watched Gino disappear into one of the private rooms. When the door closed behind him, the tightness in her chest loosened. She hadn’t liked the way he’d looked at her, and especially hadn’t liked the feel of his lips on her fingers.
“You didn’t like him.”
It took her a moment to register that Tommaso’s murmured observation was for her ears only and that she was leaning into him, and not because of the role of besotted wife she’d been tasked to play. Moving closer had been an instinctive thing she’d had no control over, which only proved how screwed up her world had become. Tommaso hadn’t warned Gino off her because his feelings made him possessive of her, but because shewashis possession, bought and paid for with an unfired gun.
Would he have pulled the trigger, she wondered for the first time as she straightened and reached for her champagne. “He made my skin crawl,” she responded before taking a large drink.
“I know a lot of women who would be more than happy to have him crawl over their skin,” he commented.
She shuddered at the thought, but then all thoughts about Gino were cast aside for a group of Tommaso’s friends and their partners were making a beeline to them and in moments she was in the midst of a raucous party where she was the brightly smiling centre of attention.
