Pink flooded my cheeks as Antonio asked, “Signorina, you no like vino?”
“I do.” My response came too fast as Nox’s pale eyes danced with navy. Mischief filled his expression as he took a sip of the wine and drank in my embarrassment.
“Perfect,” Nox announced, before lifting the same glass to my lips.
Obediently, I sipped the medium-bodied red wine, allowing it to linger on my tongue. It wasn’t nearly as thick as a cabernet and had a slightly tangy flavor. After swallowing, I nodded in agreement. “Delicious.”
“The primo?” Antonio asked.
“Antonio,” Nox said with a shake of his head. “Nothing but the lasagna. You know it’s my favorite.”
“Si,” he said, and again he was gone.
Nox’s eyes sparkled with the reflection of the flickering candle as he poured wine into both glasses. “You seem a little jumpy, princess?”
I shook my head. “Dick,” I muttered under my breath.
Nox leaned closer. “Keep begging, beautiful. You’ll have it.”
Young ladies came and went, bringing glasses and water as well as clearing away the antipasto. Next, the lasagna arrived. Visually it was as appealing as Nox had promised, but it was the aroma that had my mouth watering. When I reached for my fork, Nox shook his head.
Unsure what he’d meant, I pulled my hands back to my lap. Nox took his fork and cut off a corner of our second course. Before offering me a bite, he reached for my water glass. Lifting it to my lips he said, “Drink.”
My tummy fluttered with butterfly wings as I did as he said.
“Cleansing the palate,” he explained.
Pouting his full lips, Nox blew gently on the combination of warm noodles, cheeses, and sauces, and then he directed the fork toward me. “Close your eyes and open your mouth.”
Such a simple request, yet his words made the butterflies in my tummy turn to bats as both of my hungers screamed for fulfillment. Dutifully I lowered my lids and opened my lips.
The lasagna was heaven, just as Nox had said. It enticed my tongue just before I swallowed, and the deliciousness made its way toward my stomach to feed and hopefully calm the ravenous bats. When I was certain I couldn’t eat another bite, the young ladies returned, one with a platter of chicken and fish and the other with an assortment of vegetables.
I shook my head after they walked away. “Are you trying to make me fat?”
“No, princess. I’m making sure you have the sustenance to endure all that I have planned for the evening.”
My breath caught in my lungs as I lifted my fork piled with broccoli and zucchini. “I’m not sure I can anymore. After all of this food, I may be sleeping.”
Nox leaned closer, his hand back on my thigh. His fingers splayed. “I’m most confident I can keep you awake.”
When the tray of cannolis, tiramisu, biscuits, and slivers of cheesecake arrived, I helplessly shook my head. “No, I can’t.”
Nox graciously declined the dolce—the sweet ending to our meal—explaining that we were too full to eat another bite. It was Antonio who insisted that he box them up and we take them home.
Moments later we were back in the sedan with a Styrofoam box of delectable delights.
With his eyes fixed only on me, Nox moved the small white container from my lap to the floor. His hand moved shamelessly under my dress. I’d long since given up the idea that Isaac and even Clayton wouldn’t witness some of their boss’s advances. Nox simply didn’t seem to care that they were present.
I gasped.
At the brush of his fingers on my bare skin, my blood forgot its assignment. Digesting my food was no longer a priority. My circulatory system accelerated its functions with a vengeance, tightening my core.
“N-Nox,” I panted as I leaned toward him.
“My patience has expired,” Nox said, lifting my skirt and exposing the top of the stockings.
The sound he expelled was somewhere between a growl and a hiss as he tenderly refastened the small clasp from the garter belt to the top lace of the stockings.
“Is that really necessary?” I asked. “I mean, won’t you be unhooking that soon?”
Nox’s grin broadened as his fingers moved higher. “Not until I have you begging for relief.”
Begging? I was ready to start before we ever made it to the apartment.
Hours? Days? Weeks? Later…
More likely only minutes…
We were in our apartment. Nox placed the food container on the kitchen counter and tugged my hand toward the bedroom. Only briefly did I consider that the pastries should be refrigerated.
Maybe less than briefly.
The sweets were forgotten as Nox spun me around and slowly lowered the zipper on the back of my dress. Breathlessly, he stood back and watched as the red material puddled at my feet, leaving my breasts exposed with only the garter belt, stockings, and shoes remaining.
“Not even fucking close,” Nox exclaimed. “My imagination… you are so damn sexy.” His pale eyes raked over me from my Louboutins to my auburn hair, burning my skin as his gaze scorched everything in its path.
While the air in our room filled with electricity, the ions and neutrons pulsed faster and faster. I found it hard to believe that this man staring at me had just eaten a four-course meal. Everything about him emanated an air of starvation.
My flesh tingled with goose bumps as I realized that I was his next meal.
“Up on the bed, princess.”
I looked down questioningly at my shoes and back to Nox.
Silently, he shook his head before adding, “No, I want you just like you are.”
As I turned toward the bed, his large hand landed loudly upon my bare ass, the sting sending vibrations to my core and reminding me of the silver buckle.
“I-I forgot,” I confessed as I scooted up the mattress to the headboard. “I wanted to misbehave.”
When I turned back around, my lungs fought to inhale. Surprise. Uncertainty. Anticipation. Excitement. My mind swirled with emotions as Nox walked from the dressing room, his expression contracting my insides to a painful pitch. In his hands he held a pink case and a coil of satin.
He really is going to awaken my vibrator.
“It’s a good thing you didn’t…” he said and after a pause added, “…misbehave.”
“It is?”
Nox opened the case to my purple vibrator. “Because, princess, tonight’s punishment wouldn’t be my belt, though as I said, the one I’m wearing is now my favorite. I told you on the phone how I’d punish you. Do you remember?”
My exposed breasts rose and fell as my nipples tightened. “By not letting me come?” I asked, my voice softening as my thighs came together and lip disappeared behind my teeth. I could barely recall his question as my mind fully focused on the man before me. With the pink case and satin placed on the edge of the bed, Nox removed his clothes piece by piece until each one had disappeared, falling messily to the floor surrounding our bed.
Once he was naked, his broad chest turned my direction, and rock-hard erection sprung forward, pointing toward the ceiling. “Only good girls get to come,” he said as reached for the coil of black satin and crawled across the mattress toward me.
I wanted to reach out and touch him, to take his length in my grasp and stroke the solid rod covered with his velvety smooth, stretched skin. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t move or speak. I couldn’t do anything but watch with wide eyes as Nox’s defined muscles flexed and he inched closer. Each movement reminded me of a panther slowly approaching its prey.
I was the prey.
The warmth of Nox’s body covered mine, his flesh a spark to my kindling. Heat surged as he moved upward and lifted my hands.
“Do you trust me?”
It was the same question he always asked, and each time the answer came with less hesitation. “I do.”
Carefully, Nox bound my wrists before securing them to the headboard. I tugged against the restraints as he ran the
tips of his fingers from the inside of my wrist, along my exposed breasts, all the way down to my waist. His chest inflated as he teased the edge of the garter belt. His hands continued their exploration as he ran lower, moving my legs to his desired position. When Nox was done, my knees were bent, the high heels were against the sheets, and my core was fully exposed.
Lowering his lips he kissed the inside of my thigh just above the stocking—but not as high as I wanted—and deeply inhaled. “You’re fucking perfect.” His deep tone sent ripples through my body causing my insides to quiver. Glancing up at me with navy swirling in his light blue eyes, Nox added, “I was wrong earlier at the restaurant.”
“You were?”
“That lasagna wasn’t heaven on my tongue.” He lowered his head and ran his tongue along the seam of my folds.
“N-Nox!” I writhed against the restraints as his strong, unyielding grip held my hips in place.
He teased my core, my clit, and lapped at my essence. Mercilessly, he set off flares as the kindling of my flesh scorched from his searing touch. I longed to weave my fingers through his dark hair, to push him harder against me; instead, he taunted, igniting sparks but not allowing them to fully combust.
As I moaned in both agony and ecstasy, Nox sat back and reached for the vibrator. With a flip of a switch, the room filled with the combination of its echoing hum and my mindless whimpers of unmet need.
Nox’s brow lengthened as he moved closer. In his hand wasn’t the vibrator that I’d expected. In his grasp was a black blindfold, one that I’d never before seen. Without a word, he eased the elastic over my head, darkening my world.
With the loss of vision, the vibrator’s hum was amplified. Each movement made as Nox shifted upon the bed was more pronounced. Even the scent of our impending union was heightened. I flinched as Nox sucked one of my nipples, his teeth grazing the hardened nub. Anticipation covered my skin, leaving chills as well as a sheen of perspiration in its wake. My breathing hitched and my heartbeat hastened as I waited, blind to his next move.
Then all at once, Nox’s thunderous voice reverberated against the walls, his question echoing in my ears. “Tell me, princess, you didn’t really want to misbehave, did you?”
“RESPECT,” VINCENT SAID through the phone. “It seems that you haven’t taught your son to respect the family. It’s time he learned.”
My throat clenched at his threat. “I have. He’s young. What are you talking about?”
“Young? Lennox is twenty years old. He’s an old man in our world.”
“He’s not in our world.”
“And whose fault is that?” Vincent asked.
“Mine. It was my choice. We had an agreement. I don’t know what you’re doing, but do it to me instead.”
“It’s too late.”
My knees gave out as I sunk to my chair behind my desk. The office where I sat disappeared, as did the view from the windows overlooking the financial district. Nothing mattered. “I have respect. I pay my dues. Do you want more? I can do that. I will, because we’re family. Family, Vincent. Lennox is family.”
“Newark.”
It was his only response before the line went dead.
Newark. What the hell?
And then I knew. I remembered Lennox’s ridiculous hobby. I’d told him to stop—more than once. I’d told him that he shouldn’t be spending so much time in New Jersey. Brooklyn was where his family was. New York was his home as he attended NYU.
I pushed the button on my desk phone. “Michelle?”
“Yes, Mr. Demetri?”
“Have my car brought up from the garage. I need to leave.”
“Sir, you have one more meeting.”
“Cancel it.”
“But, sir, Judge Walters is already here.”
Joseph Walters had already been helpful in a few court rulings over the years through his influence in not only New York, but also his connections elsewhere. Not only was he moving up in the circuit courts, he had tenure at Columbia.
“Michelle, send him in and call for my car.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Judge,” I said, rounding the desk as Michelle led him into my office. “I apologize. I just received an urgent call. I’m afraid I’ll need to cut this meeting short.”
Joseph nodded. “I understand, Oren. Things happen. I just wanted to let you know that I see the wheels turning. I don’t like where it’s going.”
“Marijuana?” I asked.
“Yes. Legalization will upset many people. Many groups who have a vested interest in it remaining, shall I say, untethered by legal restraints and regulations.”
The Costello family had never dealt in drugs of any kind. It was a hard, fast rule of Carmine’s, and Vincent had stood strong on the same belief. It wasn’t that the Costellos were against making money in illegal endeavors. It was that there were others who specialized in the drug trade. Others who knew to pay their dues. Everything from marijuana to cocaine, meth, and crack. Most recently the news reported increased heroin usage, especially across the bridge.
In Newark.
“Judge, I really need to go. What can I do to stop the trend for legalization?”
“I know you have connections.”
Yes, quid pro quo.
“Ones that wouldn’t be appropriate for me to speak to directly,” he continued. “I can help with writing the legislation. I need to know more, to learn details. If you can help me with that, I can help you. I recently saw an emissions bill that could end up costing Demetri Enterprises a fortune in government penalties or refinery alterations to avoid them.”
“You tell me who and what,” I said, looking at my watch. “I appreciate the heads-up on the emissions. Next week?”
“Yes,” Joseph Walters agreed as we exited my office together.
“Michelle,” I called toward her desk. “Lock up my office. I’ll be back in the morning.”
“Have a good evening, Mr. Demetri.”
Good wasn’t the description I had in store for me.
As we stepped into the elevator, Walters lowered his voice to a whisper. “I was thinking about the Bonettis.”
I nodded my understanding and acceptance of his request. Yes, the Bonettis were the center of the drug cartels in Newark.
“Thank you, Oren. I’m sure we can make this mutually beneficial.”
I found the warehouse off South Street in the Ironbound district, and the irony wasn’t lost on me. This was Bonetti territory, the same people Joseph Walters had just asked me to contact. That wasn’t my goal for tonight.
It wasn’t my first time at this particular warehouse. I’d been here a time or two to watch Lennox do what he did. I didn’t like it. Hell, I’d spent most of my life keeping him away from shit like this, but even I had to admit he was good.
I made my way through the crowd as the stench of sweat and something worse assaulted my nose. In my thousand-dollar suit and Italian loafers, I wasn’t exactly dressed for a fight club, but it didn’t seem to matter. People were screaming and calling out Lennox’s name. Not Lennox, but Nox, some asinine stage name he’d assumed.
Elbowing through the mass of people who’d come to watch at ten dollars a head, I made my way toward the tall chain-linked ring. It took a while before I got close enough to see, but when I did, my feet stilled, the roar of the crowd silenced, and the scene blurred.
Bruised and battered, wearing a bloody white wife-beater and track pants, my son wobbled on the balls of his feet, his fists clenched and eyes focused on his cousin, Luca Costello.
Both of their faces had begun to swell as blood and spit splattered the first rows of spectators. It was there, ringside, that I saw Vincent Costello. Within seconds, I was there, pushing Jimmy out of the way and moving beside Angelina’s cousin.
“Tell me what you want and make this stop,” I pleaded. “They’re going to kill each other and then what do we have? We both lose our sons. Is that what you want?”
My stomach heaved as the c
runch of cartilage and bone forced us both to turn toward the ring. This time it was Luca who’d taken the hit. He spat blood onto the floor.
“Ten percent on all,” Vincent said.
“All?” I asked. I paid the Costellos ten percent of all earnings in New York, but Demetri Enterprises had grown globally.
“All.”
“Fine. Make it stop. You’re nearly killing our sons over money?”
“Respect,” Vincent said. “I stop this. You pay. Lennox, he’s good. He has talent. It’s time he uses it in an honorable way—for the family.”
“I’ll pay,” I confirmed. “Stop this now.” Both young men were looking as though they might fall helplessly to the mat.
Vincent turned to Jimmy and nodded. Immediately, a referee or announcer, I didn’t know who he was, stepped into the ring and the vise that had been crushing my chest loosened a bit.
I stood, my new focus on getting to Lennox, when Vincent grabbed my arm. “We’ll talk.”
It wasn’t a request but a summons. “Yes, Vincent. We’ll talk.”
Lennox’s left eye was nearly eclipsed by the red and purple swelling. I supported his weight as he draped an arm over my shoulder. The crowd parted as I helped—carried—Lennox, my over six-foot-tall son, and Vincent did the same for Luca.
“Brooklyn,” Vincent said, his way of telling me to take Lennox somewhere else. Luca would be going to seek medical treatment in Brooklyn. Both of the boys couldn’t be at the same hospital or it would be questioned.
I nodded and assessed my son. Was he well enough to tolerate the drive to Westchester? “Lennox, do you hear me?”
“H-he… a hit?”
“Do you hear me?”
“I’m alive.”
He was. He was alive.
If I got him to Rye, Angelina would be close. She’d be better for him during his recovery than I.