Relentless: A Bad Boy Romance (Bertoli Crime Family #1) (12 page)

I
woke
up in the morning, immediately feeling like I was missing something. I reached out with my arm, pushing the blanket on top of me aside, and realized what it was. Daniel. Where was he?

“Daniel?” I said, keeping my voice down to avoid being overheard. I opened my eyes and looked around, trying not to be sad but failing when I found that I was alone.

Had it all been a dream, a morphing of my nightmare into a fantasy? I closed my eyes and knew by the pleasant ache down below that it couldn't have been. Even the smell in the air of the small room wasn't that of a wet dream or a masturbatory fantasy. There was the distinct smell of male sweat and sex in the air, and I knew it had all been real. The kiss, the tasting, the mind blowing sex, all of it.

Getting out of bed, I found my pajamas still lying where I'd left them, except for my t-shirt, of course, and I picked everything up and put it in my laundry bag. The motion must have created some noise outside the door, because seconds later, I heard a knock. “Adriana?”

It was Daniel. “Daniel?”

“Are you dressed?” he asked, his voice professional and lacking any of the passion or tenderness he'd shown me last night. Swallowing my sudden tears, I grabbed my bathrobe off the hook next to the door and pulled it on, belting it quickly. “I am now. Come in.”

He opened the door, looking in with the friendly but not enamored look that he'd had the night before. “Hey, glad you're up. We're running a bit late this morning, so I asked one of the other guys to take you to breakfast while I run and grab a shower and change. I'll see you in the car.”

“Dan . . .” I started, but his eyes silenced me, and he gave me a shake of his head that could have been measured in millimeters. “Later.”

“At school,” he said and turned, leaving. Julius waited for me in the hallway, looking tired but not overly concerned. He'd been on outdoor patrol and probably had a very boring night.

“Good morning, Julius. Shouldn't you be heading home now?”

“Eh, I'll do that in about a half-hour or so. Just going to take you to breakfast, then grab my things and go. How'd you sleep?”

“It was . . . different,” I said, sighing. There was no other way to describe it without giving myself away. “Anyway, let me grab my shower and then you can take me to breakfast. Give me ten minutes?”

“No problem.”

The entire drive to school, Daniel was reluctant to talk, at least about what I wanted to talk about. Instead, he insisted on talking about the weather, the people driving by, the song on the radio, the normal chit-chat that I thought we'd worked past. When we pulled into the parking lot at school, I didn't even give him a chance to open my door before I was out and slamming it, nearly catching his fingers in the process.

“Can we talk now?” I seethed, angry but not really knowing why. “Or do you want to discuss if Icon for Hire is going to be putting out another new single in the next few weeks or not?”

Daniel glanced at his watch, a cheap little G-shock knockoff that he'd picked up from the campus bookstore, then pointed at the student union. “Study booth,” he said, his voice both soft and hard at the same time. He could tell I was pissed, but there was no room for argument in his voice. It wasn't a request. It was a command. “We've got ten, fifteen minutes at most.”

Thankfully, the early morning meant few people were using the booths, and as Daniel closed the door and locked it behind him, I turned, trying not to yell. “What the hell? I knew you were the type for casual sex, but I hoped after what you said last night . . . I didn't think that's all it was. I hoped . . .”

Daniel cut my words off, pulling me to him and kissing me hard, his hands crushing our bodies together as he pushed me against the wall. His tongue was electric, leaving my lips to trace around my ear again, lighting me up in ways that, until the night before, I didn't even know existed. In fewer than ten seconds, I'd gone from pissed to so aroused that I'd have had sex with him right there, regardless of the fact that I knew the booths were monitored by security cameras for preventing that exact thing.

“Dan . . .” I sighed, wrapping my arms around his neck and holding him gently as he let me go, his hands still resting on my hips, his eyes full of tenderness. “Why?”

“Why did I kiss you right now, or why did I leave you this morning to wake up alone?” he asked softly, his eyes warm and his voice tender.

“How about both?” I replied, enjoying the feeling of being forehead to forehead like this, like a couple dancing without moving. “You pissed me off.”

“I know, and I'm sorry about that. It wasn't my intention,” he said, his fingers tracing patterns on my lower back. “But I kissed you because I didn't want you going off in a rant that I knew I could explain if you just gave me a chance. I kissed you because for the past two hours, it's been the only thing I've wanted to do, ever since opening the door to your room and seeing you in that bathrobe, looking lost and scared. I wanted to tell you that you're different, that I don't want this to be only one night. But that's also why I didn't say anything at the house, and why I had to leave your room at the same time.”

“Uncle Carlo,” I said, realizing. “The rules.”

Daniel nodded, sadness in his eyes. “Ade, last night I wrote my own death warrant, and I don't regret it. Even though I was nearly caught sneaking out of your room, I don't regret it. The only regret I have is that the chances of us having real happiness, the future that I can see in your eyes and in the way you talked last night . . . the odds of that are slim to none. I'm Neiman,
no man
, an orphan with no family. No name, nothing but my wits, a decent gun, and what Carlo Bertoli has given me. You're his niece, the only child of his murdered brother. You're more precious to him than a daughter, Adriana. And Carlo has told me twice now, if I ever did what happened this morning, I was a dead man. Do you know your uncle to be a man who’s willing to compromise?”

I blinked, tears in my eyes. “No,” I whispered. “But Daniel . . . maybe it can still happen. Mom said she'd talk to him. Her and I together, maybe?”

He kissed me again, his lips soft and silencing. When we parted, he smiled. “I doubt it. It's okay though. You're worth it. You know, my only worry as I sat out there in the hallway was that I know if we keep doing this, doing what I have so wanted to do for years, that I'd be breaking your heart? Not because I'll leave you on my own, but because you're going to have to bury me.”

“Not going to happen,” I replied, my anger coming back but not directed at him. “You've spent weeks protecting me, and I know you'll give Vincent what he deserves. I need you to put some faith in me, too.”

“How so?” he asked, a smile on his face even as uncertainty flashed in his eyes.

“Let me protect
you
. You keep me safe from Drake, and I'll keep you safe from Uncle Carlo.”

Daniel's eyes were still concerned, but he nodded. “Okay. But we do have to have rules. Rule one is, no expressions of affection or our new situation in public. Not even here at the university.”

“And this study room?” I asked, pulling him closer this time. “Please tell me I can spend at least my study time in this sort of room with you, kissing those bewitching, seductive lips if nothing else?”

He took his hand off my hip long enough to glance at his watch, then nodded. “For another two minutes at least. Then we might have to take a break until after your second class of the day. You've got that meeting with your Renaissance professor at three this afternoon. That's a gap of nearly two hours.”

I pulled his head down, my lips hungry and eager for one last kiss. “Two hours . . . I can make do with that.”

* * *

G
etting home that night
, I was happier than I'd ever been before. The two hours with Daniel hadn't happened in a study booth. Those had all been taken up when we got back to the student union after my second class, but instead, in a little used section of the library, where we kissed and made out like teenagers in between stacks of musty books that I doubted had been taken off the shelves in years. I'd actually been two minutes late for my meeting with my professor, apologizing but not overly concerned. Artists normally have a reputation for not being on time anyway.

At dinner, even Uncle Carlo noticed my newfound happiness. “You look better than you have in weeks, Bella,” he remarked as he sipped at his wine. “What's going on?”

“Just classes went well, Uncle,” I said, not liking lying to him but knowing how important it was. “And I had a good meeting with a professor. Besides, the weather today was great, and just before dinner, I had a nice session in the pool. How could I not feel better?”

He nodded and took another drink. “I understand. I'm glad to see that you are adapting well. You know, I had a period, before you were born, when I had to go everywhere with a bodyguard as well.”

“Really?” I asked, intrigued. “What happened?”

“Eh, this was back in the late eighties, when the Japanese were trying to buy up Seattle,” Carlo said, reminiscing. “Your father was in charge then, but I was the one in charge of talking with some Japanese who came in from Osaka, wanting to muscle in on our turf. They thought they could go through the port without cooperating with the local groups. In negotiations between us and them, things quickly broke down as they thought they could bring in some Yakuza muscle and just take what they wanted without providing the proper respect. Things got quite heated for a little while, and there was a month or so in the middle when Johnny and I both went around with bodyguards.”

It was rare that he talked about my father, and even less often that he used Dad's name. Gianni “Johnny” Bertoli had been his closest friend and protector growing up, and it was nice to hear Uncle Carlo talk about him. “How'd it get resolved?”

“In ways that are not for the dinner table discussion,” Uncle Carlo said with a cryptic smile.

* * *

A
fter dinner
, I worked on my painting for the night. Daniel woke from his nap in time to watch me finish. “It's changing,” he remarked. “It's not as dark as it was before.”

“I've got reasons to feel more positive about the world,” I said, carefully avoiding saying what I meant. “Still, it is pretty dark for me.”

I washed up, changing into my pajamas and going to my bedroom, where Daniel's chair and new side table for his computer were already waiting for him. I paused at the door, turning around. “Come tuck me in?” I whispered, leaning in close. “Or maybe check under my bed for monsters?”

“If I do that, the only monster will be in your bed,” he growled sexily in reply, his breath tickling my ear. “Are you sure you want that?”

“More than anything,” I replied. Disregarding the risk, I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “Maybe later, when everyone is asleep.”

I heard footsteps in the hallway and pulled back just as Kathy walked by, her clogs squeaking on the hallway tile. “Well, good night, Daniel. I hope you can get your work done,” I said, maybe a touch too loudly. Kathy disappeared around the corner, and I blushed. “Sorry.”

“My fault,” Daniel whispered, his eyes flicking left and right before focusing on me, their icy blueness softening to angelic warmth. “Good night, beautiful lady.”

T
hree days later
, I was still walking in heaven, but I was also seriously pissed off. I was in heaven because I'd never had such a sensual, exciting time before in my life. Every moment with Adriana was pure, agonizing bliss. We found little ways to sneak in shared contact and moments, like her resting her hand on the console of my car while I drove her anywhere. When I could, I'd reach over and lay my right hand on hers, just resting there until I had to make a turn.

Adriana started coming to the house gym not once or twice a week, but each of the past three days. It was motivating and sexy to work out in front of her, something I'd never experienced before. Exercise was for fitness and performance, not foreplay. At least, that's what I'd thought until Adriana started doing hip bridges in short, tight shorts—supposedly to tighten her backside, but in the meantime, giving me one hell of a show.

Mostly though, we found private places around campus in the form of closed classrooms or private nooks in the library where we could hold each other. In those spaces, there was no Bertoli or Neiman, and there was no danger. It was our own private little world, where I was able to feast on her kisses, to run my fingers through her hair, and even when we were feeling super frisky, caress the soft weight of her breast through her shirt while she cupped my balls through my shorts. Teenager stuff, but I was still enthralled.

The second night I'd gone into Adriana's room, just after two in the morning, I found her sitting up, nervous. “I was afraid you wouldn't come,” she whispered, climbing out of bed and walking over to me. “I was going crazy in here.”

We didn't just fuck, but instead we made love, even if it was hasty. Each night, Adriana gave herself to me while I taught her what her body was really capable of feeling.

“I'm drunk from our time together, and I want to explore more with you.”

I was drunk too, knowing the risks each night when I opened her door, and each night, not caring as she kissed me for the first time. I needed Adriana like I needed air and water. I couldn't stop.

I was happy in a way I'd never felt before. But, three days later, I was seriously pissed off. Not at Adriana, but at Adam. He hadn't messaged me in two days, not even his normal message of 'nothing new.' With Drake still out there, I was getting annoyed.

That morning, as we drove to school, Adriana noticed. “What's wrong?” she asked, her hand resting on mine. While we couldn't be sure my car wasn't bugged by Don Bertoli himself—after all, it had been his men who'd
secured
my car—we could still talk about other things. “You're looking more tense than normal today.”

“Haven't heard from Adam in a few days. I hope he isn't slacking off,” I growled, pulling my hand away to make a right turn. “I need his help.”

“I'm sure he's doing his best,” she replied, trying to reassure me. “Have you tried calling his office?”

I shook my head. “He's kind of a one-man operation. He says he has assistants, but what he means is that he has people he sometimes shops out work to. Your case, though, he was handling personally. And the only contacts I have for him are his cellphone and email.”

“Well then, have you tried calling him?” Adriana asked with a chuckle. “I mean, that's what I'd do.”

“Of course, but he's not picking up. I left him a message. I was going to give some other people a call this afternoon and see if he'd been by. He was giving the girl at that Starlight Club quite the look when I last saw him. Knowing Adam, he's gone back at least once.”

“She's that hot, huh?”

“Men will do stupid and dangerous things for women they're attracted to,” I replied, giving her a meaningful look, which she returned with a smile. It was the closest we came to saying how we felt in the car. “So I'll wait until the club is open, then give them a call.”

After lunch, I did just that, sitting next to Adriana in the cafeteria while I dialed. The phone rang a few times, and I was just getting ready to leave a message when Terry, the manager, picked up, sounding out of breath. “Starlight Club, what can I do for you?”

“Terry, it's Daniel Neiman,” I said, giving him a second to adjust. “How's it going?”

As usual, Terry semi-freaked out when he heard my voice. I didn't know why. Other than the incident with Carmen, I'd never even had to threaten the man. He was always on time with his payments and had never given the Bertolis any reason to be concerned about him. He even threw in some free extras to Bertoli men from time to time, but he still acted like we were about to burn the place down whenever we even talked. “Good afternoon, sir. What can I do for you today, sir?”

I rolled my eyes, letting Adriana listen in some, and she covered her mouth, laughing silently at the overabundance of the word sir. “Terry, I'm calling for some information, nothing more. My friend I brought by the other night, Adam . . . has he come by the club again recently? I'm trying to get a hold of him.”

“He was here last night, actually,” Terry said, relief in his voice. “Uhm, I don't know if you would approve sir, but he and Carmen left the club. I think they may have gone on a date.”

I nearly dropped my phone, I was so surprised. “A date? No offense, but doesn't that break the rules?”

“It does, but Carmen is quite taken with him for some reason. I don't have any leverage on her. She's clean and sober, totally debt free. She dances by choice. And from what she told me, Adam doesn't have a problem if she continues to dance. There's little I can do to stop them.”

“Never mind. Good for Adam,” I said, dismissing it with a small laugh. “Listen, can you please give Carmen a call? I doubt you want to give me her number, but just tell her that if she's in contact with Adam, I need to speak to him immediately. Think you can do that?”

“Of course, sir. However, Carmen should be in at three o'clock today, if that's okay.”

“Okay, but please call me back no later than five. Thanks, Terry.”

“It is no problem, sir. Uhm, one thing though.”

“What's that?” I asked. Adriana sat back, and I pulled the phone to my ear.

“About the first meeting between the two and the matter of the bill. It isn't much, only a thousand, but I was wondering when we might be able to settle it?”

I chuckled and looked at Adriana, who gave me an innocent look. Now that we were
together
, if you could even call it that, it seemed that she wasn't as upset about the other side of my work any longer. “I can stop by this evening, say around nine or so. If Carmen is around then, I need to talk with her. Professionally. Maybe backstage?”

“A VIP would be better, sir. The other girls will be preparing for work, and your reputation precedes you. But I'll let her know.”

“Thank you, Terry. Goodbye.”

I hung up my phone and noticed Adriana's look, a small, affectionate smile of amusement. “What?”

“You asked a dynamite stripper to wear clothes for a conversation,” she said with a proud little smirk. “I guess I am having an effect on you.”

* * *

T
he VIP lounge was quiet
. I'd turned on some Samuel Barber music to drown out the outside noise when Carmen came in, looking totally different than I'd ever seen her before. Out of her stripper clothes, she looked like one of the girls I'd seen running around the college campus the past few weeks—or even younger. When she noticed that I was looking at her strangely, she blushed and looked down. “What, Papi?”

“Just . . . I know this sounds strange, but you look a lot different, Carmen. Better, if you can dig it.”

“I can,” she said, even sounding different from the Latina seductress I'd known her as. “And thank you. Most of the guys I dance for seem to only think of me in that short skirt with my boobs hanging out. I doubt any of them give a damn otherwise.”

“Except it seems Adam does,” I said, using her comment to broach the subject of my visit. “Can I ask?”

Carmen laughed, giving me a genuine smile. “Well, he definitely was disarmingly charming—not like the type that usually comes in here. So when he asked if he could see me again, I said yes, and without him asking, I gave him my phone number. I figured he'd never call, but he did, and we've been out twice since. Breakfast both times—we tend to work hours that preclude romantic dinners and such.”

“That's kind of what I wanted to ask you about,” I said. “I'm sure you know I work for Don Bertoli.”

“Of course I know. Everyone does,” Carmen said, her voice serious. Carlo Bertoli was not a man most people wanted to joke about. “Honestly, it's why you scared me so much that night you lost control. You're the sort of man who could blow my brains out and not face any repercussions.”

“I don't know about that, but I’m still sorry about that. You didn't deserve what I did, that's for sure. You were a bit . . . how shall we put it?”

Carmen laughed. “Let's just put that behind us—how about that? So what's your question?”

“Recently, the Bertoli family has been threatened. I've been assigned as bodyguard to his niece, and I asked Adam to look into the person coming after her. He was giving me daily updates until two days ago. Do you know what happened?”

Carmen thought, then blushed slightly. “I know what happened two nights ago,” she said with a smile.

“Well, that explains that night,” I said, “but what happened since?”

“I don't know. I haven't heard from him, and it seemed like he really liked me.”

I thought for a moment, perplexed. She must've really put him off his game. I wanted him to have fun, but I didn't want it interfering with his work. I waved it off and finished my drink. “Okay. Thanks, Carmen. Look, if you hear from Adam, tell him I need to talk to him immediately. Let me ask—how much would you make if you worked the rest of your shift?”

She sat back and thought, tapping at her lip with her perfectly sculpted gel nail. “Easy. Tonight's a Thursday, so we'd only get some of the early college boy crowd and the diehards. Not too good, honestly. Maybe three or four hundred at most?”

I pulled out my billfold and took out five hundred. “Here. Take the rest of the night off, and after my current duties with the Bertoli family are wrapped up, let me talk to the Don. He's always looking for smart people who can do more than just shake their ass in sweaty guys’ faces."

Carmen smiled. “You know, even girls like me have dreams.”

“What's that”

Carmen sighed and looked down at her feet. “I want to open my own dance studio. I went to the International Dance Academy for ten years until my father died and I had to give it up. I don't have the turnout to be a professional ballerina either way, but I would still love to teach.”

“Who knows? Maybe that can still happen,” I said. I opened the door to the VIP room and turned back. “Recently, I've had changes in my life's outlook too.”

Leaving her behind, I went to the bar and offered Terry a hundred-dollar bill. “Thanks, and Carmen's taking the rest of the night off,” I said.

“Okay, sir,” the manager said. I barely heard him, leaving the bar and heading off into the night. Where the hell was Adam?

I had more questions than answers when I got back to the Bertoli estate and was surprised to find Adriana still up and in the living room. “Can't sleep?”

“Remember, we start late tomorrow. I was just enjoying time with Mom and Uncle Carlo,” Adriana said, stretching out on the sofa, knowing exactly what the look of her legs was doing to me. “Have a nice trip to the strip club?”

“Very funny. It was just business,” I replied. “Still, questions abound, and I'm not pleased about it.”

“Oh, tell me,” she said, pointing at the chair next to her. It was still close enough that we could easily see each other without sharing the same seat. It was safe.

I told her about my conversation with Carmen. Her eyes twinkled when I got to the part about Carmen and Adam seeing each other, as if she actually knew them and was happy. “Seriously? That's awesome!”

“Ade, you don't even know them,” I reminded her. “Why would you even care?”

“Guess I'm just feeling romantic,” Adriana said with a smile. “And besides, why can't I cheer for people I don't know?”

I was about to answer when my phone rang, and I pulled it out of my pocket. “Speak of the devil,” I said in a pleasantly good mood. I was planning to only curse him out a little bit when I saw that the call was a video call. “Hmm, this is new.”

I hit the button, and the first image was of a plastic-tiled ceiling. The panels and grate on top were only slightly identifiable. There was a glaring light off to the upper left corner of the screen, and I could hear someone breathing. “Adam, tilt the camera, man,” I said with a laugh. “You can't video call for shit.”

The breathing intensified, and I grew worried. That didn't sound like him at all. “Beefcake. Hard to see you at this angle, but I wanted to keep the surprise going a while longer.”

I looked at Adriana, who had dropped her feet over the side of the couch, her face turning pasty white. “Drake,” she whispered. “I'd know that voice anywhere.”

“What do you want, Vincent? And how'd you get this phone?” I asked, not letting on that Adriana was in the room. “I know it's you.”