81

Carlo
The cold metal of a gun muzzle presses against my temple.
“You fucked her, didn’t you?”
I blink up at my brother in the dim room, cold sweat trickling down my ribs. “Who?”
“My girl. Summer. You fucked her.”
I move to sit up, but Mario pushes the gun against my head with bruising force, pinning me in place. “I didn’t,” I croak. “I didn’t mean to…” I reach out to touch the gun, and then I’m grabbing it away, pointing it at a terrified Ferdi, whose face I already bloodied.
“I was just following orders, kid.” Ferdi has the gall to call me kid. Well, he had the gall to attempt to kill his own cousin, too.
“Whose orders?”
“Mario’s.”
I shoot up out of bed, the gun I keep beside the bed already in my hand. I peer into the darkness, my shirt drenched in sweat.
Gesu Cristo.
Four years, and the dreams still haunt me. Not that I had any doubt about what inspired this one.
I betrayed Don Alberto by fooling around with Summer. No matter how I try to frame it that I was doing her a favor, I debased her. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I walk to the shower and turn the water on cold. I’ll be taking cold showers from now on until I get the image of Summer LaTorre’s face during orgasm out of my head. Which may be never.
I towel off and dress in a pair of jeans and black t-shirt. Picking up my phone, I call Sonny. “I need you to meet me at Summer’s.”
“No problem, boss.”
“I’ll text you the address when I’m ready, and then I’ll expect you there in twenty minutes. Got it?”
“Sure thing.”
“Listen, Sonny. You tell anyone who we saw last night?”
“Absolutely not, boss.”
“Keep it that way. You hear? Not a word to anyone, not even in the Family, capisce?”
“Loud and clear.”
“Thanks, Sonny. I’ll see you in a bit.” I hang up and text Summer. On my way.
She doesn’t reply. Well, if she’s still asleep, I can always wake her when I get there. I head out of my brownstone and get into Summer’s BMW. The car smells like her-a rich, vanilla scent, exotic and feminine. Unbidden, images of Summer bent over the arm of the couch flood my brain. The memory of the way she squirmed, moaning in my arms as I plunged my fingers in and out of her makes my cock harden, so I have to adjust myself in my seat.
Stop thinking about her.
But that seems to be an impossibility. The harder I try, the more she infiltrates my every pore until I breathe her in with each inhalation. I grind my molars and park the car, glancing up toward her window. At the front door, I push the button for her apartment.
“Carlo?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
The door buzzes, and I swing it open. I remember Don Al having a fit over the fact that she didn’t have a live door person for security here, but Summer insisted on this place because her best friend Maggie lives in the same complex. In the end, Summer won out, mostly because Don Al liked her being close to her friend. What he didn’t like was knowing her boyfriend at the time would be spending the night.
Thinking about her douchebag ex makes my fists clench. I offered to teach the guy a lesson when Don Al had told me what happened, but Al refused. “Believe me, I’m thinking the same thing, but no. Carmen would kill me for interfering that way. She wants our kid to be normal-not part of the Family business. It was one of her stipulations when we married. So I’m gonna let it lie. Unless he shows up in her life again. Then I’ll kill the coglione myself.”
“I can hassle him a little-you know, let the air out of his tires or key his paint job.”
Don Al grinned. “I’m supposed to be letting her grow up and solve her own problems. But if his car got towed or something, it wouldn’t be any sweat off my back.”
So I had the stronzo’s car towed. Not that it taught Douchebag any lessons, since I didn’t get to claim responsibility. Still, I liked giving the coglione a headache.
Summer opens her door wearing a minuscule pink cami and boy shorts.
My cock hardens at the sight of her breasts shifting beneath the thin fabric.
She catches me looking, and her nipples pop out, as if eager for my touch. My fingers itch to touch them, squeezing and pinching them until she writhes for more. I wonder if she’s the sort of girl who could come from breast play alone.
Stop. Now. I shake my head to clear it.
“Come on in.” Her gaze dances across my face like she’s nervous. “I made you some coffee.”
So she did know I was coming. She made me coffee but didn’t put any clothes on. Which meant she wanted me to see her that way. My hard-on worsens. I purposely avoid glancing at the sofa where I bent her over last night.
She didn’t just make coffee, she brewed a caffe latte with her own fancy espresso machine. Something warm fills my chest. Does she remember that I hate American coffee? Or is this just the way she likes it?
She offers the cup. Once more, she fails to meet my eye.
I close my hand around hers, trapping it around the warm mug. “Summer.”
She swallows and lifts her gaze.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed. Not with me.” I pull her closer, keeping her hand prisoner as I take a sip of the frothy milk-topped liquid.
Her lips part. Glossy lips. She put on makeup for me. The urge to throw her over my shoulder and carry her off to her bedroom comes on fast and hard. I’d rip her clothes off and spread her legs…
I shove my dirty thoughts away.
“You promise you’re not going to tell my dad?”
“Cross my heart, bambina. You promise you’re not going back?”
She nods.
“You’re going to get yourself back on track?”
Her gaze slides away, and my heart squeezes for her. Where in the hell has all her confidence gone? I want to kill her ex all over again. Maybe have a few words with her parents, too, for shoving the business degree thing down her throat after her injury sidelined her dance career. I want to take her back to my place and help her sort out her shit. But none of those things are going to happen.
She pulls her fingers out from under mine. “Look… I’m not even going to try to explain to you why I started stripping because you’re not going to understand.”
Her words lance me through the chest. “Try me.”
She shakes her head, a stubborn set coming to her shoulders. “I’m not going to do it again, so don’t worry. You did your job.”
Fuck. Did I inadvertently hurt her? Made her think I was only doing it for Al?
Setting down my coffee mug, I cage her against the counter, resting one hand on either side of her. “Piccolina, I work for your father, yes. We’re like family, you and I. But…” I swallow, unsure what exactly I mean to tell her. That I’ve always had a place-holder in my heart for her?
Her breasts shift, begging to be licked, teased, tortured. Punished.
“I know I should stay away from you…” my voice sounds hoarse. Did I say that out loud?
She draws in a sharp breath.
I brush the backs of my knuckles along her arm, exploring the smoothness of her skin. “Would you believe me if I told you-” I stop. This time, I can’t meet her eyes. I swallow and look to the side.
Somehow caution returns. Reason returns. Now is not the time to seduce Summer LaTorre. She’s on the rebound. I want to win her fair and square.
I force myself to take my hands off her and step back. “I’d better go.” I hold her keys up and set them on the table, not even trusting myself to hand them to her. “Call me if you need me, okay?”
Yeah, I’m running like a nancy right now. Scared of a beautiful, off-limits girl and my overwhelming desire to take her in every manner of speaking.