Chapter 90

Carlo

Summer wears a just-fucked look even though she hasn't gotten off yet. It makes me want to throw her onto the floor and ravish her in every way imaginable.

Her tongue darts out and licks her lower lip. "I don't know."

I smile at her honesty. "If you fail, I'll punish you. But I think you might enjoy your discipline as much as I like giving it, so that won't be so bad."

A gorgeous pink stains her cheeks.

"I won't let you fall, principessa. I'll always catch you. I may spank you until your perfect ass wears my handprint, but you'll be safe with me. Do you believe that?"

She drags her lower lip between her teeth. "Yes."

"If you need reassurance, if you need some sugar, even if it's in the middle of a punishment, you can always ask for it."

"What if I change my mind?"

"About what?"

She lifts one delicate shoulder. "About any of it."

"Are you asking me for a safe word?"

"Yeah, I guess."

I brush her jaw with my knuckles. "Bambina, I would know you were struggling long before you used a safe word. I'm going to pay attention to you. But if you want out at any point, just say that."

"Say what?"

"Say you want out. I would never violate your wishes."

Summer's shoulders relax. She lifts her eyes again, the coquette returning. I've seen more facets of Summer in the past few days than in the four years I've known her. Her submissive side is the most surprising, but I also love the sex pot, the ingenue, the vulnerable young woman. I love them as much as I love the sassy, stuck-up mafia princess who never gave me the time of day and expected my service when her father snapped his fingers.

"Carlo?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Do you do this with all your... I mean-" Embarrassment scrawls across her face.

"I've played dominant before if that's what you're asking. It's my personality, and I like the fetish, too, but I could live without it if my girl wasn't into it." I meet her gaze, trying to convey that she's my girl. The one I would change everything to please, if she needed me to. That this isn't a requirement, even though I love it.

I stroke her cheek with my thumb. "But you are, aren't you, tesoro mio?"

The copper eyes lift. "Am I your girl?"

"You are. I thought I made that clear last night. You're mine now."

Her full lips quirk into a smile. "Yes. Yours to punish and to pleasure."

I return the grin. "That's right." I have a thousand wicked plans for both those activities. If Summer needs to feel sexy, I will make sure she does. I'll keep her turned on, objectified, worshipped, degraded and generally sexed every minute of the day until she learns how fucking desirable she really is.

That part seems easy. Figuring out how to handle the don is another story. Because I sure as hell can't run back to Sicily if things go south here.

Summer

Carlo carries my suitcases down to the street and drives me to his apartment. It's farther from NYU, but I don't mind. I have a nice car. I valet park, even in the city. My dad doesn't like me taking the subway, so I'm well-practiced at driving in and out of the city.

I'm thrilled to be staying with Carlo.

You're mine now.

The words pierce my armor like a flaming arrow. They burn and cut. I want them to be true. God, how I want them to be true. But how can they be? I sit next to Carlo in the passenger seat of his beautiful car, which he keeps neat as a pin, unlike my car, which is pretty on the outside and a rumpled mess on the inside. Kinda like me.

What does Carlo mean by all this? Is he really trying to "fix" me? Or just playing kinky games? Either way, I shouldn't get too attached. He's not the kind of guy who plays for keeps.

Besides, it would be incredibly awkward if my parents found out. My mom would probably disapprove, as much as she loves Carlo. She wants a banker or lawyer for me. And my dad... he's a dangerous man. He's been a dick to every guy I've dated, but he would take personal offense to one of his own men touching me. He would see it as a sign of disrespect. A claiming what supposedly belongs to him. As if I'm a possession to be given or granted.

Which is why I plan on keeping the whole thing on the down low.

I study Carlo when he's not looking, admiring the proud angles of his bone structure. I wonder how he got the tattered ear. A knife? Bullet wound? Teeth? He's certainly a warrior. I wonder how many men he's killed.

He navigates traffic with ease, his hands relaxed on the wheel. I don't mistake the relaxed exterior for easy-going, though. His is a practiced calm; power and force rippling just below the surface. He's strong and capable, like my dad. I feel safe when he's near and sorry for anyone who gets in his way.

I understand all this about him by his presence, which is as familiar to me as family. And yet, what else do I know? For four years we've eaten Sunday dinners together, but I'm not acquainted with the real Carlo. And it seems he's been paying attention to me, which now puts me at a disadvantage.

"Why did you come to the States, Carlo?" Nothing like going for the heaviest question first.

Carlo's eyes slide sideways and move back to the road. He doesn't open his mouth to speak, and for a moment, I think he's not going to tell me.

"You want to know my secrets, bambina?"

Tingles flush across my chest, tightening my nipples, the idea of knowing his secrets exciting me. "Yes."

"Why?"

I rub the seam of my shorts. "Well, it seems like I don't really know you."

He arches a brow.

"Well, I don't. I know what you like to eat, or at least what you tell my mom you love. And I know you don't like American coffee, but other than that, what do I really know? I don't even know what you do for the organization."

Carlo frowns and opens his mouth, but I cut him off with a wave of my hand.

"I know we don't talk about that. But the problem is, what else do we talk about?"

Carlo's face has the cool, blank mask he always wears.

Why have I never before wondered what lies beneath it? "Cat or dog?" I quiz.

"What?"

"Which do you prefer?"

He smiles. "I have nothing against dogs. But I like cats, actually."

I laugh at his embarrassed look, as if it's some kind of weakness to like cats. "I love cats. My mom's allergic, but I always planned to get a cat when I moved out."

"Why didn't you?"

"Maggie's allergic." Maggie was my first roommate-we were placed together in the NYU dorms freshman year. "And then John didn't like them."

It occurs to me that Carlo has a talent of offering very little and turning the conversation back to me. I press on. "How many girls have you spanked?"

He laughs. "I don't know-twenty? Twenty-five? Thirty? Contrary to popular belief, I don't notch the bedpost."

Even though it's as I expected, nothing stops the jealousy from clawing up my throat. Still, I press on.

"Have you had a serious girlfriend? I mean, you never brought anyone to my parents', but have there been partners?"

He gives a dismissive shake of his head.

"Why not?"

He shrugs. Another non-answer.

"Why did you come to New Jersey?" I try again.

He doesn't answer, and nothing changes on his face, but I sense the thread of tension my question draws.

"I won't tell anyone," I promise.

The corner of his lips lifts in that lopsided grin, but just as quickly as it appeared, it vanishes again. A furrow deepens between his brows. "My brother ordered me killed."

I would gasp, except I stop breathing altogether.

Now Carlo's knuckles tighten on the wheel, tension flexes his jaw.

"Why?" My voice cracks a little. I almost don't want to hear the answer.

Carlo pulls into the parking lot behind 504 and parks next to my car.

"I rose too fast in the organization. My father was dying. Mario thought I'd threaten his future as the Don."

My vision blurs, and I grip the dash as if I might fall out of my seat without it. "Carlo... I'm so sorry. That's awful."

He doesn't answer, but I suspect he has more to say.

I sit perfectly still, waiting.

"Sometimes, I think the same thing might happen all over again. If Joey wanted back in or if one of the older guys like Vince gets a hair across his ass. People don't like when a younger man holds more power. Your dad's healthy, though, so it hasn't come to a head."

He finally turns to look at me, and I must look shocked because regret washes over his face. He reaches out and strokes my cheek. "I shouldn't have told you any of that."

"No, I'm glad you did. I'm so glad." I unbuckle my seatbelt, wanting to get closer to him. Wanting to climb in his lap, despite the difficulty presented by the steering wheel.

He gives a surprised chuckle when I attempt it and allows me to nestle into him. "Why did you think I moved here?"

"I don't know-I thought you were hiding from the law or something. But I realized it could be anything. I can't tell what goes on inside your head. I mean, I had no idea you were a sick bastard who likes to take his belt to-" I break off in a shriek of giggles as Carlo tickles me. "Safe word! Safe word." I press my elbows to my sides and twist to and fro. I'll take a spanking with his belt over tickle torture any day.

He keeps his fingertips pressing into my ribs but doesn't move them. Bending to bite my ear, he murmurs, "Frivolous use of the safe word is going to get you spanked."

I shiver, excitement darting up my spine. "Safe word."

HIs chuckle is rich and dark. He makes a tsking noise. "Bad girl. Get in your car. Drive back to my place and take your clothes off."

My pussy turns liquid at the authority in his voice. I never knew I had a switch that could be flipped so quickly. I've gone from zero to horned up in about two seconds flat. Never mind that it's the middle of the day, and I have a boatload of homework I ought to do.

"Yes, sir." I crawl off his lap and out of the car. Leaning my head back in, I say, "Safe word."

Carlo laughs again.

I shut the door and climb in the BMW my father bought me as a high school graduation present, tossing my purse onto the pile of stuff sitting in the passenger seat. Tomorrow I'll clean my car. If my jail-keeper gives me permission to leave his apartment, that is.