83

Summer
I weave through the crowd of drunken college students at the nightclub in the city. There’s a large group of business students hereat least a dozen. Coming out sounded good at the time, but it feels hollow now.
I got dolled up, dressing skimpy for attention. I suppose I have an exhibitionist streak. Or maybe it just makes up for all the times John lifted a critical eyebrow and told me what was unflattering about my outfit or which body part looked fat.
I might’ve seen the light and left him sooner if I hadn’t also had my dance career destroyed by the broken foot. I jumped down from the stage into the orchestra pit after a student performance one night. The pit was lower than I expected and the impact broke five bones in my foot. Now I have a little metal plate holding together the pivotal cuboid bone, and even after months of physical therapy, I haven’t recovered the flexibility or strength.
I have to face the fact that I will never perform professionallymy dream since I was eight years old. My mom pushed the business degree, saying when I recover, I’ll have the know-how to run my own dance company or studio, but I don’t even know if that will be possible.
Plus, I hate business classes. Truly hate them. I have zero interest in business management. But it probably doesn’t matter because at the rate I’m going this semester, I’ll fail out, anyway. Which would kill my mom.
I wonder what my dad would think. He said very little about the whole thing. Sometimes I speculate whether he’d back me up if I set against my mother. But they’ve always been such a unified front-it’s hard to say. And yeah, I’m a little old to let my parents run my life, but when they’re paying for everything, they sort of retain that right.
“Come on, Summer, we’re getting shots.” One of my new friends tugs me toward the bar.
I follow, taking my turn with one shot of tequila then another. It slides down my belly like fire and hits me fast, reminding me that I haven’t had much to eat today. The gaggle of business students head back to the dance floor, and I join them.
A good-looking guy sidles up, giving me an appreciative sweep of his eyes. He works his way into the circle my friends made, and they allow him. After a couple dances, he offers to buy me another drink.
I definitely don’t need one, but what the hell? He’s buying. I trail him to the bar and order a Cosmo. Only then do I get the creepo vibe.
Carlo
Sonny and Vince count the take for the night-twenty large. Not bad for a night’s work. I pay them both their shares and lay out stacks of bills for the soldiers who worked security.
My phone vibrates, and I tilt the screen to see who’s calling. Frowning, I swipe the screen. “Hey doll.” I purposely don’t call her by name, so the guys won’t pay attention. Why is Summer calling at one a. m.?
“Hey Carlo, I need a favor.” Her words sound slightly slurred.
Fear spikes in my chest. Cops showing up and Russians with happy trigger fingers never ruffle me, but thinking about Summer in danger turns me cold.
“Pay the guys out,” I say to Vince, pushing the piles of cash in his direction and standing up. To the phone, I say, “Anything, babe. Where are you?”
“I’m at a club. II don’t think I can drive, and this creepy guy is stalking me. I’m in the bathroom.”
I grab my jacket and slide it on. In a low voice, I say to Sonny, “I need you to get the feed from the front door over to Joey to ID the guy with Gio.”
“You bet, boss.”
“Which club?” I ask Summer, stepping out the door.
“Five-oh-four.”
“I’ll be right there. You just stay put, do you hear me?” I stride to my Mercedes SUV and get in, slamming the door.
“Okay.”
“I’m serious, do not leave the bathroom.” I jam the key in the ignition and start the car.
She lets out a drunken giggle. “Yes, sir.”
Gesu Cristo. If I weren’t so nerved up about her well-being, those two words would make me rock hard. Summer La Torre playing submissive to me. Is that why she called me? I shake my head to push away the thoughts crowding my brain.
“Summer, I’m going to hang up now. Do not come out of there until I call you back. When I do, I’ll be standing right outside the door, capisce?”
“Yep, got it.”
I end the call and screech through the streets to reach Summer, ready to kill the asshole who has her hiding in the bathroom.
An agonizing thirty minutes later, I arrive, hand my keys to the valet parking attendant and pay a ridiculous cover charge to get into a club that will be closing in thirty minutes.
I push my way toward the back, looking for the bathrooms, eyeing every male who comes between me and that door. No one appears to be loitering around.
Too impatient to call her, I tap on the door and push it open. My heart stops when I see Summer-my girl-sitting slumped against a wall, her head leaning back, her eyes closed.
“Hey,” a girl shrieks.
Summer’s eyes flutter open, and her face breaks into the delayed grin of inebriation.
“Get out of here,” the offended customer squeals. “I’m getting a bouncer.”
“Summer.” It comes out like an exhale. I take two steps into the room and hold out my hand to haul her to her feet. She’s wearing a body-hugging dress so short it barely covers her ass and shows every curve. She looks gorgeous, but I want to kill every man who saw her in it tonight. And she definitely isn’t wearing a bra or panties underneath. I scowl. “Let’s go.”
A bouncer heads toward us as we emerge, but I narrow my eyes, giving him a deadly look. The guy stops his advance. Smart man.
“Where is the guy?” I demand. I’m going to shove his balls down his throat for messing with my girl.
Summer twists around, scanning the club with an unfocused sweep. “I don’t know.”
It doesn’t matter-I’m being stupid. I’m not going to knock out a guy’s teeth in front of her, no matter how much I might want to. That lacks class. Getting Summer out of here is priority number one.
“Never mind.” I grit my teeth and lead her out of the club, where I hand my number to the valet guy.
Summer shivers as we wait for the car, the crisp autumn air far too cold for her outfit. I shuck my jacket, draping it around her shoulders. The valet driver pulls up and gets out. I beat him to open the passenger side car door and help Summer inside. Reaching across her, I buckle her seat belt.
“You’re sweet.” She rolls her head to the side and smiles at me.
“You might not think so when I’m through with you.” I wink to soften the warning.
I don’t mean it. I would never touch Summer without her consent. I would certainly never bully her. But she opened the door to my domination, so now I can’t help the dom-talk from tumbling out of my mouth.
She makes a show of sitting up taller and folding her fingers in her lap. “Uh oh. I think I’m in trou-ble.” She sings the last word, which is absolutely adorable. It also tells me she’s into it.
I slam her door and walk around to my side.
When I climb in, she leans her beautiful face close to me. “Are you going to spank me again?”
“I’m not sure you’d even register it right now.” I try to keep the amusement from my tone.
She sits back in her seat and folds her hands in her lap again. “Thanks for coming to get me.” She sounds a little defeated, and now I wish I hadn’t played hardball.
I expected more drunken sass. My chest tightens to hear the raw vulnerability in her voice. I reach out and brush my knuckles along her jaw. “I’m glad you called me, bambina.”
She looks over, her eyes still not focusing. “Are you going to punish me?”
“We’ll discuss it when we get home.”
“Which home? Can we go to your place this time?”
I furrow my brows. “Why?”
“I don’t like living alone.” It comes as no more than a whisper, and it wrenches my heart. My baby doll is lonely.
I don’t want to be the random guy she stuffs into her life to fill a hole, but I don’t trust anyone else to be that guy, either. “Yeah, we can go to my place.”
It’s wrong. I’m going to get myself killed if I’m not careful. But how can I refuse her? I’m not made of stone.
We drive in silence, and she sobers by the time we arrive.
I unbuckle her belt and reach across her to push open her door. She climbs out. At first, I think she’s stumbling on her heels because she’s drunk, until I realize she’s limping.
“Is your foot bothering you?”
She tosses me a rueful look and reaches down to take off her high-heeled sandals. “Yes.”
“Why do you wear those things?” I swing her up into my arms where she seems to fit. She smells like cranberries and liquor and her own tantalizing scent, sweet and intoxicating.
She lets out a surprised breathy laugh and tucks her head into my shoulder as I carry her up the stairs and into my apartment. Her weight bothers me-she’s too light in my arms. She’s never been anything but slender, but she can’t weigh much more than a hundred pounds now.
I reach the living room and deposit her on her feet. She looks around my apartment with a curious glint in her eye. Sitting on my leather sofa, I pat my lap.
She comes over, a flirtatious smirk around her lips. “Am I sitting or lying down?”
The corners of my mouth kick up, and I pull her over my lap. “Definitely lying down.”
This is how I wanted her the first time-stretched out over my legs, her punishment intimate. I slide her minuscule dress up and discover I was right-she isn’t wearing anything underneath. “Where in the fuck are your panties?” I growl. Was she trolling at the club and just caught a bad one? The thought makes me grit my teeth. I want to go back and gouge the eyes out of every man who even looked at her.
I bring my hand down on one of her cheeks with a loud slap.
“I didn’t like the way the lines showed.”
“That’s because this dress is too damn tight.” I know I’m being a dick. A woman should be able to wear whatever the hell she wants. But I can’t think rationally when it comes to Summer.
“The answer is not to go without panties, it’s to pick a new outfit.”
I know, total stronzo.
I slap the other side, then repeat the action. “Or, if you have to wear that dress, bring a bodyguard. Me.”
Apparently, the alcohol hasn’t numbed her ass because she wriggles, gasping and jerking. I find a rhythm, loving the feel of her gorgeous ass under my hand.
“Carlo!” she squeals.
I stop and rub her ass. “Summer, you called me to pick you up. You must have wanted this punishment. Am I right?”
She doesn’t answer.
I continue rubbing away the sting. “You didn’t call Maggie or your dad to come and get you. You didn’t call an Uber or a cab. You called me. I think you want me to take you in hand.”
She rolls her hips on my lap, making my dick even harder.
“Listen, piccolina. If you tell me no, I won’t touch you, and I won’t say another word about it. But I think you want this. Am I right?”
For a moment, I think she’s going to say no, which means I’ve read this whole situation wrong. Which means I’ve degraded the don’s daughter.
I’m definitely a dead man.
But then she makes my year. “Yes.”
Triumph floods my veins. “Good girl.”