Ruthless: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (10 page)

Getting back to Seattle, I noticed that it was nearly midnight as I delivered the truck to the warehouse that Tomasso had instructed me to go to, turning the truck over to Julius Forze of all people. "Here you go," I said, tossing him the keys. "It's going to need the gas tank topped off after you get the box out of the back."

Julius nodded. His demeanor was different than it had ever been with me, not friendly still but without that air of derision around him that said he didn't respect me. Instead, I was just another co-worker, which was a big step. "Cool. Everything went smooth?"

"Kind of. I'll tell Tomasso about it. Is he here?"

Julius hooked a thumb toward the office. "Of course. He almost always picks up his crew when he sends you guys out. You got yourself a good new boss, man.”

"Don't I know it." I went to the office, where Tomasso was waiting, his feet propped up on the desk and a book in his hands. "I'm back. Had a little incident at a gas station about an hour south of here though."

"What happened?" He asked, setting his feet down. I told him about the tweaker and the punch, and he nodded. "Okay. That's no big deal, the truck's not in a real name, and I doubt they'd be able to peg you to a video anyway, not with as shitty as those video systems are at those places, even if someone wanted to start some shit. Come on, I'll give you a ride home. By the way, you earned a rest tomorrow, so after your dance and training, you've got the rest of the day off."

We left, and I felt myself walking on air. Not only had I done a good job on the mission, but I'd handled myself well. My first
test
, if you could even call it that. Going back to the diner where my car was parked, I pulled out my phone, and sent Carmen a text message.
You awake?

Yes. What's up?

Want to get some dinner tomorrow night? I've got the night off.

Sounds great. Where?

I don't know yet. Let me think. See you at practice tomorrow. Good night.

Buenas noches.

* * *

I
was still feeling
it the next day, picking Carmen up for our date, and I knew that was what it was, a real date. Carmen looked stunning, as I'd expected, with her hair pulled back and a light blouse on that matched her skirt. She was a woman who knew how to wear a skirt, that was for sure.

The Metropolitan Grill was another one of those places that I always wanted to go, but never could have afforded. Not that it's super expensive, mind you, but when a steak salad is thirty bucks, and I was making barely over minimum wage, even a salad was out of my reach.

"So have you ever been here before?" Carmen asked as I escorted her to our table.

"Never, you?" I asked. I felt like I could take on the world, and was ready to show it too. Last time, I'd been laid back with her. This time I would show her exactly who I was and what I wanted.

"Once," she admitted, giving me a little smile as I held out her chair and helped her in. "It was a birthday gift."

"Good friend," I replied, coming around and sitting down. "Well, tonight is a great time to make it your second trip, and my first. To us?"

"To us," Carmen said, raising her glass and tapping it against mine.

Unfortunately, that toast was the highlight of the date. The shit hit the fan and hard when the waiter came over to take our orders. "Can I start you with some drinks?"

"Two glasses of the Columbia Crest Merlot, and I think we can order the food as well," I charged ahead, not noticing Carmen's reaction. "New York Strip for Two, medium rare, and let the chef choose the veggies to go with it. And the Dungeness crab appetizer."

The waiter nodded and snapped his booklet closed, walking away without even talking to Carmen. I looked over at her, smiling, the smile faltering when I saw the look in her eyes. "What?"

"You didn't let me order," she said, clearly upset. "What the hell?"

"I figured we'd have coordinating dinners, that's all," I replied. "Chill, it's all good."

"Chill?" Carmen echoed, her voice rising slightly before she clamped down on it. “Do you think this is a joke or something?"

"Not at all. I'm just saying . . . you let me take the lead on the dance floor, why not at dinner too?” I said with a chuckle. "Is it that big of a deal, babe?”

Carmen blinked, and her mouth pinched in a way I'd never seen before, like I'd slapped her across the face. I saw the fire in her eyes too however, and I could tell she was pissed off. "Babe? Excuse me, I think I should go home . . . before I do something that I'll regret later. Have a good evening."

Getting up, she stormed out of the place, so quickly that I sat there stunned, barely comprehending what had just happened. I got up and stumbled toward the door, calling out to her, but she was too quick, and she jumped in a taxi before I could get her to stop. Watching the taxi drive away, I mentally kicked myself, trying to figure out what to do. When the restaurant's host touched my shoulder, I spun, my anger at myself for my fucking stupidity making me almost knock the man out. "What the fuck do you want?"

"Sir . . . your order," the host said, trying to calm me down. "Do you still want it?"

I sighed, shaking my head. "No. Here, sorry for your trouble. Cancel the . . . whatever. Just here."

I peeled off a hundred bucks from my wallet and handed it to the host, walking away. I got to my car and slumped inside. I felt a buzzing in my pocket, and I pulled out my phone, seeing it was a message from Carmen.

UR an asshole. But U R my dance partner. Six tomorrow, and for now I’ll keep my mouth shut about this.

I felt a mixture of fear, disgust, and relief as I read her words. Fear that I'd fucked up yet again, disgust at the way I'd acted, and relief in that at least I would see her tomorrow.

Six. I'll be there. And I'm sorry.

Six.

I
was still seething
the next morning when Dante came into the studio, looking much different than the night before. "Carmen, I'd like to say . . ."

“Don’t,” I hissed, completing my stretches. "Get stretched out, and we'll start with some foxtrot work today."

He sat down, and started changing his shoes. As he did, I felt the anger inside me, that had been building up all night, finally explode. "What were you thinking last night?"

He actually flinched at my yelling, and set his shoe aside, looking up at me and saying nothing. I continued my rant. "Seriously, what the hell was going through your mind? Ordering for me? Calling me babe? I don't care if you're the baddest motherfucker in the entire Bertoli organization, you treat me like I deserve!”

I was staring at him, halfway across the room, my fists clenched at my sides and my chest heaving, I was so angry and I didn’t even know why. I mean, I knew why I was mad, but was it really worth being
that
mad over? I was expecting anger in return, or yelling, or something along those lines. Instead, Dante stood up and came over, his face actually still calm. "Carmen," he said softly, with an intense look on his face. "I'm sorry. I don’t know if I was just trying too hard, or if I was still riding the high from my latest job. But I don’t want to make excuses. I'm sorry."

"You better be sorry!" I yelled, jabbing him in the chest. “What’d you think was going to happen? You were going to throw down a couple of bucks for dinner and play the big player for me, and I'd just spread my legs? Well guess what, buddy, I don't do that shit anymore!"

Dante blinked, confused. "Anymore?"

I stopped, shocked. "You . . . you still don't know, do you?"

"Know what?" Dante said, stepping back and holding his hands out wide, not understanding. "What do you mean?"

I felt tears come to my eyes as I stepped back myself, until I bumped against the wall. I blinked, looking up before shaking my head. I waved with my hand and headed toward the back. "Come with me."

I walked into the back of the studio, where I'd never let anyone else in since giving up my apartment. Dante followed, his socks swishing slightly on the wood floor and parting the curtain that I had strung up to hide the area. In the back room, off the toilet area, I opened the door to what was supposed to be my office, and for the past seven months had been my sleeping quarters. I went over to my sofa and sat down, reaching for the photo album I kept next to the sofa.

“What do you think of me?" I asked as I patted the cushion next to me. "Tell me the truth, no holding back."

He sat down, his elbows resting on his knees, and looked down, thinking intensely for a moment before answering. "I think you're smart. You know more about just dancing than I think I know about anything, and on top of all that you keep this dance studio running by yourself. And every time we're together, I feel like we’re both truly having fun. Well, aside from last night.”

I felt my throat close up, and I handed him the book. "I know when we had those drinks and coffee, I left out a big chunk of my past, basically from the time I turned eighteen until I was twenty-three. Here's why."

Dante took the photo album and looked at the cover. "Never forget," he said, looking at the title I'd had inscribed on the leather cover. "Never forget what?"

"Open it," I said, an unfamiliar stab of fear in my belly. "See who I was before the studio.”

He opened the book to the first page, a picture of me standing in front of the Starlight Club next to the marquee by the door, where my name was in bold letters next to my head. I was in a tight t-shirt and shorts, and while I wasn't in my work clothes, I was still dressed pretty skimpy. It was from my first night as the top billed dancer for the club, and at the time I'd been nineteen and so proud. I thought I'd made it.

Turning the page, he swallowed when he saw the picture. It'd been taken inside the club and given to me by one of my regular customers as a strange sort of gift. I still had my clothes on, but the way I had my hands by the closure of my skirt, you knew exactly what was going to happen.

"I started stripping two months after I turned eighteen," I whispered, looking as Dante flipped through the pages. The pictures were mostly of me clothed, but there were a few of me topless or nearly nude. The most shameful ones were the ones in the back, where I was posing with the sugar daddies, the high rollers.

"Dancer," Dante said, closing the book. "I didn't know."

I nodded, and took the book from him. "So the supposedly beautiful, classy woman you think you're dancing with? She's just a stripper from Georgetown who sometimes was expected to do a little more.”

I buried my head in my hands, weeping miserably. Sure, for years I had presented a strong face to the world, saying I was confident and secure, but as the years had gone on, I regretted it more and more. "Last night . . . when you took me to the Metropolitan, I told you that I'd been there before."

"That it was a gift from a friend," Dante recalled. "A birthday gift, right?"

"Yeah," I said miserably. "But not my birthday." I didn’t need to explain more. He got the point.

Dante set the book down and reached over, taking my hand. "Carmen . . . I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"How could you not have?" I asked, crying again. "Every other Bertoli man who came through those doors over the past three years has known, and even though Tomasso and Daniel have made sure none of them are fucking stupid enough to try it, I can still see it in their eyes."

"I didn't," Dante said softly. “Before that night when Eduardo grabbed you, I'd never seen you before in my life. Can I ask, did Eduardo, you know?"

"Treat me like a whore?" I asked sarcastically. "Oh yeah. He even mentioned it too. He thought I was a fucking party favor."

Dante held my hand, his thumb stroking the back slowly, not saying anything. I shivered, then looked at him. "Last night, you made me feel just like what I used to be. I've tried for three years to put that behind me, and last night I felt right back in that game once again."

"I'm sorry," Dante said again. "I knew when you walked out that I screwed up, but I didn't know how much until just now. Our first time out, I felt like we had a perfect time, until right at the end. Were you expecting more?”

"It hurt me when you walked away. I thought that maybe you knew and decided against it. A lot of guys, they'll have fun with a good time girl, but not take her on dates if you know what I mean. Or those that date, but then when they find out, they end it like I have a disease."

Dante nodded. "I know what you mean. Anyway, the whole time driving home, I was kicking myself. I wanted to kiss you so bad I could taste it. You’re Luisa and Tomato’s friend, and I didn’t want to push it and end up in a ditch somewhere.”

He paused for a second and then continued. “When Luisa told me that you took it the wrong way, I was worried that you wouldn't want to see me. Instead, the past few months have been electric. I'm becoming a man that I can actually respect. So I told myself if I got another chance, I was going to take charge and show you exactly what I wanted. But I fucked it up big time.”

"That you did," I agreed. "But you didn't know the things that really triggered me. That you can't be guilty of."

Dante shook his head. "Still, for what it's worth, I never knew. I asked you out because I enjoy spending time with you."

"So tell me something. If you had it to do over again, back when we went to the Pie Bar, would you have at least kissed me?" I asked, starting to feel a little better and curious what he’d say.

"If I had a DeLorean and a flux capacitor, I'd have kissed and done one other thing."

"What's that?" I asked, leaning forward. He passed the test.

"I'd have burned that book," he said. "You don't need to carry that weight around any longer. At least, not alone."

That wasn’t what I was expecting. We came closer, a sense of fate guiding my actions as he leaned down, and our lips touched for the first time. I could feel the hunger inside him from the way his lips caressed mine, but he kept it in check, behind a wall of steely unconscious, natural discipline that I had seen before. It was the same discipline that had let him seize the moment when Tomasso gave him an opportunity, and the same discipline that allowed him to put himself through day after day of rigorous multidisciplinary training, all to help me.

I scooted forward, reaching up and stroking his cheek as our lips parted. "Dante?"

"Yes?"

"Did you know that I sleep on this couch almost every night?"

Dante looked at the sofa and chuckled. "Sounds like me. My apartment, it's not exactly a good one either."

"Well . . ." I said, not needing to complete my answer as he pulled me into his lap, his mouth finding mine again. His kiss was still tender, but this time there was a sense of growing passion in it, and I could feel his body respond to my closeness. There was a growing lump in between his legs, and I slid my hips over it, moaning lightly.

"Wait," Dante said, breaking our kiss. "Isn't this . . . you know, ironic?"

"No," I replied, stroking his hair and letting my hips keep moving. He swelled more, heat building in the pit of my belly as his hands, on their own, came around and rested on my waist. "Because you respect me. You make me feel like I'm special."

"You
are
special," Dante gasped as I ground down on him.

"Show me how you feel," I whispered, kissing him again. Our tongues wound around each other, passion replacing anger like water draining out of a sieve. His hands pulled my t-shirt up, his fingers finding the skin of my back and stroking it, sending chills up and down my spine. "Oh God that feels good."

He came to the strap of my bra, pausing as he tried to figure out what I was wearing. After a little bit of fumbling, he pulled back, looking at me. "Sports bra?"

"What did you expect? We were going to dance, you know," I teased. "Here, let me."

I pulled my shirt the rest of the way off, smiling as he took in my body. All the hours of dancing had left me in the best shape of my life, maybe even fitter than when I had been stripping. I unzipped the front of my sports bra, freeing my breasts to his view.

He lowered his lips to the tops of my breasts, kissing them tenderly, his eyes fixed on mine. With smoldering looks, he made love to my breasts, not devouring them like every other lover I'd ever had, but instead relishing them, not even touching my nipples until I was nearly moaning incoherently, lost in the pleasure of his hands and mouth while my hips rubbed back and forth over the bulge in his pants.

His tongue paused, then barely touched the tip of my left nipple, tracing around until the already stiff nub was aching, then he wrapped his lips around it, sucking strongly. I lost it, humping Dante's crotch in my pants until I trembled on the edge of orgasm.

He shifted, his hands coming from my back and ass to slide his right hand between us, his fingers finding my pussy through my pants and curling up slightly until, with an explosion of light behind my eyeballs, he started stroking my clit as he bit down gently on my nipple. Caught between two electric pleasures, I exploded, crying softly as I ground against his fingers, my body stiffening. My orgasm shot through me with a galvanizing clarity, and I pulled him to me, refusing to let him go.

When it passed, I blinked, my chest heaving as I pulled air into my lungs, not knowing how long it had been since I'd taken a breath. "Holy shit, I needed that," I whispered, looking him in the eye.

"You're an angel, and watching you come was the most beautiful sight I've ever seen," he said smiling.

"Oh, we're not done yet," I replied, feeling his cock still hard underneath me. “I’m all for tenderness, but now I want something more. Show me your strength. Show me your power,” and I motioned him to the drawer over to his right, “there should be a few condoms in there.”

His smile changed into a hungry grin, and he nodded. Before I knew it, he was pulling me in close. I thought he would roll me, but instead he carried me like I was only a feather until we were bumped against the table, our lips mashing together and our tongues dueling. His hands pulled on my pants, pushing them down until he cupped the skin of my ass, kneading it hard. "Mmm," I groaned as he knelt, only long enough to pull my pants the rest of the way down to my ankles before he turned me around, bending me over the table.

I trembled as his strength was displayed, his right hand holding me totally still while I heard the rustle of his pants being pushed down. It only took him a second to roll the condom on, and the first feel of his cock against the lips of my pussy sent a fresh gush of wetness between my thighs, and I pushed back, hungry not for tenderness but for the animalistic joining that I hadn't had in so long.

He nudged my feet apart as far as I could with my pants down, then pushed again, his cock filling me in one perfect motion. He pulled back, just the head inside before sliding in again, both of us hissing in pleasure as his balls rolled forward to slap into my clit. He began stroking, tight, powerful thrusts that drove me against the table that rattled the legs and added a counter beat to our joining.

I thought that, after already coming, he would be first, but somehow, he knew, controlling himself by alternating between long, powerful strokes that drove the breath from my lungs and left my fingers clawing at the table for more, and smaller, rapid-fire strokes that kept most of his cock inside me, still building the tension inside my body while letting his own rise slowly. Again and again, we repeated the cycle, long strokes partnered with small, slapping thrusts until I was trembling again on the edge of orgasm. “D–don't hold back."

“I won’t,” Dante grunted, his hips speeding up. I was shocked as he went faster and faster, his cock slamming into me over and over. I thought his longer strokes had been good before, but they paled as he hammered me into submission until I was crying out loudly, losing all control, abandoning myself to the sensations that shot through my body with every stroke.