“My heart is going crazy,” she admits, and I silently fist pump the air. “You make me feel things I’ve never felt before, and I’m so freaking scared.”
“Ditto, sweetheart, and I would never do anything to hurt you or rush you into something you aren’t ready for.”
“I know that.” She audibly gulps as she moves her hand slowly up my chest and around my neck. “I think I…” She swallows and her anxiety is palpable. I wish I could eradicate it all, but she’s the only one who can control her reactions to others. Steely determination appears in her eyes, and she tips her beautiful face up. “I would like you to hold me. I’d like that a lot.”
Taking her other hand, I place it on my free shoulder before slowly reeling her into my body. Then I slide my arms around her waist and pull her in close. “Is this okay?” I ask, resting my cold cheek against hers.
“Yes,” she rasps, in a breathy voice, while I silently caution my dick to stay down because he’s excited to finally be close to her again. I’m terrified of getting hard and frightening her. I rub one out daily in the shower—to thoughts of the beauty in my arms—and that’s the only reason I can control my body’s natural reaction. It’s been months since I got laid, and my dick yearns to bury itself inside her warmth.
I bite back a sigh of contentment when she rests her head on my shoulder, and her warm breath ghosts over the skin on my neck. Closing my eyes, I savor the feel of her in my arms, and that same intense, protective instinct washes over me. I want to bundle her up. Elisa and Romeo too, and keep them safe so nothing or no one ever hurts them again. The sentiment goes against everything I believe I wanted for my future, and I can’t make sense of it, but I know what I’m feeling in my heart.
Conflicting emotions flow through my veins as I hold Serena close against the dark backdrop of a wintry Connecticut night, but there is nowhere else I would rather be. Holding her like this just feels soright. Like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
After a couple of minutes, she pulls back, her red cheeks matching her rose-tipped nose. “Thank you,” she whispers.
“You don’t have to thank me. I wanted to hold you.” Gingerly, I reach out, casually cupping one side of her face. “You are beautiful, Serena, and I love being with you.” My tongue darts out, wetting my lips, and I’m veering into dangerous territory. “I care about you. Elisa and Romeo too. And I feel extremely protective toward all of you.” It’s way more than that, but that’s as much as she can hear now. “Which is why you need to be honest with me. At all times. I can’t help if you don’t confide in me.”
“It’s hard for me to trust, Alesso.” She removes her hands from my grip and wraps her arms around her torso. “But if I could trust anyone, it would be you.”
“So, tell me what happened today.”
Air whooshes out of her mouth, and I can visibly see her withdrawing. “It was nothing. Just my paranoia.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
She stares at me for another few seconds before she relents. “I couldn’t shake the feeling I was being watched, and it’s freaked me out a little.”
I nod slowly. “I felt apprehension too,” I admit. “It’s why I called one of the guys and had them come downtown to sweep the area.”
“That’s what you were doing on your phone?”
“Yeah, but it was a false alarm. They didn’t find anyone or any evidence someone was following us.”
At the time, I believed I was overreacting.
But now I’m not so sure.
8
ALESSO
“Fuck, no,” Ben hisses, between gritted teeth, the following morning as we step out of our car and spot Anais waiting on the doorstep.
Anais is Salerno’s almost eighteen-year-old daughter, and she is the personification of trouble. The spoiledmafiosoprincipessabelieved she would marry Ben at some point, and she delighted in rubbing Sierra’s face in it. Though she knows Ben is married with a son, and he has no interest in her, Anais doesn’t stop throwing herself at him any chance she gets. “I do not have the patience to deal with her today,” Ben grumbles, motioning for Ciro to stay in the car.
“What the hell is she wearing?” I mutter under my breath as we approach. Anais is a beautiful girl—until she opens her mouth—but someone needs to tell her less is more. Her large tits are spilling out of a low-cut, red silk top that also ends high on her belly, showcasing a lot of toned skin. Her tiny silk shorts barely cover her ass, and I purposely avert my eyes. If she was my teenage daughter, I’d lock her in her room rather than have her shamelessly parading her nubile body around men who are mostly double or triple her age.
“She’s a knockout, but no made man with any shred of sanity would ever marry her. Salerno has his work cut out for him with that one,” Leo adds, grinning.
“As soon as things have blown over and Vegas is his again, I doubt he’ll have too much trouble finding a match for her,” Ben says. “She’ll hoodwink some poor sucker, and he’ll only realize what he’s gotten into after the wedding. Good luck to any man taming that brat.”
We walk side by side toward the door as Anais preens in Ben’s direction, thrusting her chest out and pouting her full lips. It’s part comical, part sad, and I wonder how much of her behavior is due to having no mother growing up. Apparently, Salerno got rid of her mother when she was very young, and he’s raised her alone ever since.
It definitely shows.
Leo and Ben helped Salerno purchase this property after he fled Vegas. The large two-story mansion straddles the borders between New York and Connecticut, and it’s prime real estate. The old stables were converted to apartments by the previous owner, which came in handy. We arranged for the remaining members of Salerno’s men to be flown here, and the grounds are teeming with made men. The last thing Anais should be doing is flaunting her body in front of them.
Like I said. She’s trouble with a capital T.
