Page 8 of Lust and Honor

“What?” he frowns. “Who was she?”

I sigh. “That’s the fucking million-dollar question. I have no idea. The guards said she was looking for me. They thought she was a new girl applying for a job, so they sent her to Elen. But she didn’t go to her, she came straight to me. I was so distracted by her beauty it didn’t even register. And now…”

“Now I think I misread everything. I thought her pain was part of some act, but... Carlo, I think I might’ve hurt her. I think I might’ve—” I swallow hard. “Forced her.”

“Maxim, you’re overthinking it. If she didn’t want to be there, she would’ve said something. Screamed. Fought back. Anything.”

“That’s the problem,” I mutter, rubbing my temples. “I didn’t give her the chance. Before she could say anything, I was in her pussy to the hilt. And the way she moved, I—” I exhaled sharply. “I don’t know, Carlo. I think she was a virgin.”

He tries to stifle a laugh but fails miserably. “A virgin? In a whorehouse? Come on, Maxim. That’s insane.”

“Do you think this is funny?” I snap.

“Alright, alright. Look, no way in hell would some innocent virgin willingly walk into Bruni territory, let alone one of our clubs. She probably saw an opportunity and took it. Trust me. If she didn’t want to be there, you’d have known.”

I lean back, still not convinced. “You really think so?”

“I know so. She’s probably out there right now counting the cash you left and thinking about her next client. Don’t lose sleep over it. If she comes back, clear the air. If not, let it go.”

It makes sense. Or maybe I just need it to make sense. I nod slowly. “I hope you’re right.”

Emily walks in, carrying Gabriel’s first birthday cake, cutting the conversation short.

But my mind stays with the girl whose memory and scent still cling to me, though the guilt is starting to fade. I’ve made peace with the idea she was just another working girl.

And deep down, I’m still hoping I’ll get one more taste.

Three

Maxim

Three years later

Carlo’s sitting behind his desk, intently studying photos on his iPad. He’s wearing a pair of dark blue jeans and a V-neck T-shirt that reveals part of the armor tattoo running down to his elbow. His shoulder muscles and thick biceps look stronger and more defined than ever, making me wonder how the hell he stays in shape with all the big and small jobs piling up as the capo of a criminal empire, his legit business ventures, two devil-spawn kids, and a firecracker wife like Emily who wants sex around the clock.

“This plot’s perfect for our construction deal, Maxim,” he says without looking up from the iPad. Then he sets it down and smirks. “Can’t believe Rosa actually helped you win the bid. Especially after you had her son fucked up the ass by some chick.”

The corner of my mouth lifts into a smirk at the memory. “It’s been three years, and neither Rosa nor Albergini has shown the slightest sign of knowing. They still stroll into Heaven in full womanizer mode. My guess is those two little punks never told their daddies what I did to them.”

Carlo leans back in his chair, one brow arched, smirk deepening. “Yeah. Makes sense.”

“Albergini’s son’s a fucking nobody. Far as I know, he hightailed it to the U.S. that same year and never came back. But the other one... looks like he wants to follow in Daddy’s footsteps and get into politics.”

His voice drawls out. “Amen to that. With the dirt we’ve got on him, the day he makes a name for himself, we’ll ride his ass all the way to wherever the hell we want.”

Maybe we’ve got different parents, but sometimes it feels like Carlo and I grew in the same damn womb.

He gets up from behind the desk and heads toward the door. “Come on. The kids have probably driven Matias up the wall by now.”

I set my glass down and rise to my feet. As we walk down the hallway, I ask, “When’s that nanny of theirs going to be back on her feet? If those hyperactive little brats stay home a few more days, they’ll drive every soldier we’ve got fucking insane.”

Carlo’s sons, Gabriel and Luca, are four and two, respectively.

Since Emily insisted on keeping her job as manager of one of the Bruni hotels, Carlo finally gave in last year and agreed to hire a nanny for his precious offspring, but not without a set of seriously bizarre conditions. Because Emily spends most of her day at the hotel, the nanny had to live there too, full-time. And she wasn’t allowed to leave the building under any circumstances.

Carlo, paranoid that the nanny might conspire with one of our enemies and plot something against his family, basically turned her into a prisoner. Of course, not before digging into her background, checking seven generations to make sure she was exactly who she claimed to be: a 25-year-old single mom with a two-year-old daughter, no family, and a squeaky-clean past.

Now, after a full year, this is the first time she’s stepped outside the hotel and only because she had to have surgery.