Stefano
I order room service for breakfast and call down to the front desk to have work out clothes delivered in her size. It’s one of the perks offered at the Bellissimo. I also call the clothing shop in the casino and ask for a fashion consultant to pick out a variety of red dresses to replace the one I cut and other clothing and to deliver them to the room.
Then I get with Al Sampson, the detective who does background checks on people for the casino and ask for everything on Corey Simonson.
“I already have a partial file on her,” he tells me, “from when I ran her cousin, Sondra Simonson. I’ll send over what I have and keep digging.”
“You sending it electronically?”
“Yeah, you’ll have it in two minutes.”
“Thanks, Al. Appreciate it.” I pocket my phone and straighten my tie.
I’ve ignored the naked redhead tied to my bed since my shower, which is pissing her off. I’ll untie her when the food gets here, but for now she can stew.
I don’t know why I’m pissed at her calling out the things that make me a Family man. It’s like I’m that kid in Catholic school again. The one the others are afraid of. The one they whisper about when I’m not there and go dead silent when I ask what’s up.
I never wanted to be that kid. I didn’t get into fist fights-not unless really provoked. As the youngest of five Tacone boys, proving myself was never necessary. And really, it’s not my style. I was more of the class clown. The smart aleck who got sent to the principal’s with a smirk on his face. I generally like people.
And Corey’s like Tosha Davis. The one I wanted to entertain but was never good enough for.
Because her dad was a politician and mine-a mobster.
So now I have the daughter of a fed tied to my bed. One who saw me kill a man last night. It’s not something I’m proud of, but I had no choice. And I want her to see me as something beyond a well-suited mafia man.
Which is stupid.
I shouldn’t give a shit what she thinks anyway, and I’m not entering a relationship with her.
I mean, why would I even think this way?
Except I’m not willing to untie her and let her walk out of my room, either. And if I were totally honest, I’d have to admit only a small part of my reasoning for that has to do with her watching me pull that trigger last night.
I’m usually done with a woman the moment I come. I mean, I don’t mind giving her a little cuddle afterward, but I definitely don’t want to hang around and eat breakfast with her.
So why am I still in this suite? It’s not like I don’t have a shit ton to do out in the Bellissimo.
Jesus, it’s like Nico’s sudden attachment to a woman has me suddenly starting one, too.
Maybe it’s catching. Heh. Maybe it’s some biological attraction. Like the Simonson genes match well with the Tacones’.
Okay, I’m off my fucking rocker now.
“Room service.” A tap sounds at the front door. I point in warning at Corey. “Not a word, amore.” I shut the door to the bedroom to block any view of her.
Once the server is gone, I set her free and give her one of my t-shirts to wear. “I’m having workout clothes sent up and we’ll work on replacing that dress this afternoon. Come on, I ordered us some food.”
I actually hadn’t planned on staying to eat with her, but it’s like there’s this magnetic pull, keeping me here in the suite with her.
She’s unusually quiet as she eats.
“You okay?” I find myself asking as I sip my coffee and observe her.
She raises her brows. “Hmm, am I okay? I got some guy’s blood splattered on me last night, witnessed a murder and now am some kind of prisoner to my boss, who happens to be the guy who pulled the trigger and is also into kinky games. I don’t even know what okay is in this situation.”
It’s my fucking fault for asking. What did I think she would say? But her assessment-accurate though it may be-puts my hackles up. And rather than be an asshole, I decide it’s time to leave.
“I gotta work. You’ll stay here. I’m keeping you close until I figure out what to do with you.”
She shoots to her feet. “What’s to figure out?” She spreads her hands. “I promise I won’t say a word.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your word for it.” I say as I walk to the bedroom and grab the phone out of the drawer where I stashed it. “As soon as I’m sure of it, I’ll let you go.”
She looks at the phone in my hand, wariness clouding her features. “Are you going to tie me up again?”
I arch a brow. “Do I need to?”
“Uh, no. Nope. Huh uh.”
I’m pretty sure she thinks she’s going to walk right out of here as soon as I leave. What she doesn’t know is that I put a security guy on the door. She won’t be going anywhere. Not unless I want her to.
“Good. Watch some TV. Relax. I’ll be back to check on you.”
She sucks on her lower lip as she watches me leave. I throw a wink from the door, but I’m not feeling as jaunty as it probably looks.
In fact, I’m uneasy about the whole thing. About leaving Corey prisoner. And also about letting her go. And I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with me, but I think I’m actually concerned about her state of mind-her happiness.
No, it’s more than that.
I’m fucking worried she’ll never forgive me for this.
And that is downright unlike me.
* * *
Corey
First thing I do after Stefano leaves is get in the shower and turn the water on hot. I need time to think.
Do I just leave? Is he testing me here? It seems like a mafia thing to test people. He’s deciding if I’m trustworthy based on whether I follow his directions and stay put?
On the other hand, I’m his fucking prisoner! And if I have a chance to get away I should, right?
Only what then? I’m not going to the cops. I meant what I told him. I would never in a million years get on a witness stand against a Tacone. That’s suicide. I don’t care if there is a witness relocation program. Besides, Sondra’s marrying his brother. These guys really are about to become family by marriage. I’m not going to snitch on my family.
And yeah, Sondra’s boyfriend would be more family to me than my own dad. Easily.
So yeah, let’s say I bolt. Then what? I want to keep my job here. I have no desire to go to the cops. I also have no desire to have Stefano Tacone put me on his wanted list.
Sort of seems like I stay put. Besides my lack of freedom, I’m not suffering here. I’ve been fed. He said he’s sending clothing. I’ve had my sexual needs tended in a blow-my-mind kinda way.
I shampoo and condition my hair. Unfortunately, there’s no razor. I’m sure if I asked him for one, he’d bring it.
Which is sort of fun.
When I get over being freaked out about what’s happening, it’s actually quite fun. Thrilling, even.
I turn off the water and grab a towel.
A tap sounds at the door.
Shit. Must be the clothes. I wrap the towel under my armpits and open the front door a crack.
“Oh, sorry, ma’am.” A security guard turns red in the face as he thrusts a Bellissimo bag toward me. “They brought this for you.” He averts his gaze, staring past my shoulder instead of looking at me.
“Are you guarding this door?” I demand, suddenly outraged. I spent all that time deciding not to leave and it turns out I had no choice, anyway.
Fucking Tacone.
The guard turns even redder. “Mr. Tacone’s orders, ma’am. I’m sorry.” He drops the bag inside the suite and pulls the door shut in my face.
Harumph.
I pick up the bag and rummage through it. It’s a tank top and yoga pants. No panties. It will have to do. I get dressed and make the bed, for lack of anything better to do. And because I’m one of those neat freaks who prefers things to be in their place.
Then I set back and do as Stefano suggested-watch TV. What the hell, there’s nothing better to do.
At 1:00 p. m., room service arrives with a variety of lunch options. At 3:00 p. m., Stefano finally returns.
I bite back the “it took you long enough” in favor of something more amicable. “How are things out there?”
“Fine.” He looks around the room as if for clues for what I’ve been up to. “What do you need here? Anything?”
Oh shit. He’s just stopping in. Ready to head back out any minute. I don’t want to stay cooped up here all day alone.
I clear my throat. “I, uh, could use some exercise. You know-I’m in the outfit, but nowhere to work out.”
Stefano frowns and glances toward the door. Then he shakes his head.
“What?”
“Fine.” A note of annoyance clips the word. “I’ll take you to the fitness center.” He stalks to the bedroom. When he returns, he’s changed from his thousand-dollar gunmetal gray pinstriped suit into a soft hunter green t-shirt and black workout shorts. The worn t-shirt stretches around the muscles of his chest.
I resist the urge to paw the air.
“Come on, princess. I don’t have all day.”
I walk to the door. “Is it princess now? Funny, I’m not feeling much like a princess.”
He pops my ass. “Stop sulking. Walk.”
I flip him the bird over my shoulder, pushing my luck.
I push open the door and the guard steps out of the way, nodding to Stefano.
“Take a break. I’ll message you on the comms when I need you again.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, Mr. Tacone.”
Stefano answers his phone, responding to some casino business with short, decisive answers, then switches to a comms device, giving more orders as we step toward the elevator. He reaches past me and hits the elevator button for up instead of down.
“Where are we going?” I ask. The fitness center is on the tenth floor, below us.
“Private gym.” Stefano flashes me a model-worthy grin and holds an arm out to usher me into the elevator.
“Oh. I didn’t know there was a private gym here.”
“There are lots of things you don’t know about the Bellissimo,” he says, circling an arm behind my back like we’re on a date.
We get off on the 18th floor and Stefano leads me to a small but beautifully appointed, air-conditioned gym. Mirrors cover every wall and the floor is springy gym mat material. The smell of eucalyptus and pine lightly tickle my nose. I look around and zero in on the treadmill. The truth is, I’m not actually your work-out-at-the-gym type. I was just trying to get Stefano to let me out of the room. I don’t even know how to use anything here besides the stationary bike and the treadmill.
I climb on and hit the buttons until it turns on.
Stefano gets on the rowing machine and rows like he means business.
Oh damn-those muscles, flexing. Sheer beauty. Something flutters deep in my belly. Seeing the power in that body, the ease with which he uses it makes me remember every time he’s touched me. How gentle he’s been considering what that body’s capable of. I relive every moment of struggling with him in the elevator in the parking garage. The first spanking. The second.
The orgasms he’s delivered.
My nipples chafe against the inside of the tank top’s shelf bra, hard as diamonds.
I don’t know what it is about Stefano Tacone, but the raw animal attraction can’t be denied.
So yeah, I guess he can keep me tied up in his room. For at least another day.
He finishes with the rowing machine and works his way around each weight-training station until I’m damp between the thighs and drooling for him. The last station is behind me, but I watch him in the mirror, closing my lips around the sighs that keep trying to slip out.
He finishes and walks right up behind me, stepping on the edges of the treadmill and reaching past me to turn it off. His body is flush against mine, the bulge of his cock hitting my lower back, his beefy arms caging me.
“Think you can just eye-fuck me for an hour without repercussions, bella?” He reaches around and cups my mons, pressing the heel of his hand against my clit the same way I do when I’m masturbating. Apparently not satisfied with the full handful he just took, he shifts to slip his hand inside my yoga pants. “Fanculo, baby. You’re so ripe for me.”
I catch sight of my face in the mirror, mouth open, abandon already creeping over my expression. When I realize he’s looking, too, I snap my jaw shut, but he plunges a finger inside me.
“Stefano,” I pant.
He dips two more fingers in, and I’m already on the edge, about to come. “What, baby?”
“Someone could come in.”
“Nah, I locked the doors, beautiful. I’d never let you be seen like that.” He pulls his fingers out and yanks my tank top off. “That is, unless you’re into being seen. But I don’t think you are. Take those pants off.”
I obey. Apparently I’m getting used to being stripped naked for him. “What makes you so sure?”
He fishes a condom out of his gym shorts pocket-which means he planned this from the start-and rips it open. Without dropping his shorts, he pulls out his dick and rolls it on, then twirls his finger to tell me to turn back around. “You’re proud but you don’t seek attention. You like to control how you’re seen and when. You’re not a submissive.” He bends both my arms behind my back and pushes my chest down on the controls for the treadmill. He leans over, lips at my ear. “But you do like to be tied up and taken hard.”
“No, I don’t,” I insist but he’s inching into me. My mouth opens wide again, like a porn star. He retreats, inches in again-taking his sweet time. “Jesus, Stefano, are you ever going to start?”
He chuckles as he pushes in, but then he doesn’t move, just reaches around and diddles my clit. His other hand still loosely holds my forearms together at my back.
I arch back against him, desperate to take him deeper, to get satisfaction.
“You know why a woman like you wants to be tied up?”
“Fuck you, Stefano.”
“You mean fuck me, don’t you? Do you need another lesson in begging?”
“No,” I pant, need burning into anger, the fever licking between my thighs, up my neck, across my breasts.
He doesn’t move.
“Oh God,” I moan, already conceding defeat. “Please fuck me. Hard.”
“Of course, bella. Who would refuse you that?” He palms my breast and pinches my nipple. “Especially when you look so beautiful taking my cock.” He draws back and drills into me, hard.
I sigh in relief.
Using my elbows for leverage, he withdraws and slams in, again and again.
“You haven’t answered me.” Another brutal thrust. My inner thighs quiver. I go up on my tiptoes, thrust my ass back at him. “Do you know why you like to be restrained? And don’t say you don’t, because I’m inside your sopping pussy right now, baby. I know you’re three strokes from an orgasm.”
“Ugn.” I make an unintelligible sound and then whimper, closing my lids.
“Open your eyes, Corey. I want to see those baby blues in the mirror when I make you come. When I own you so completely you forget your name.”