The Dom's Virgin: A Dark Billionaire Romance Page 27

  I think back to how I felt when I was talking to Roman. I’ve never had a connection with little kids before, but I guess knowing he was hers made me want to do whatever I could to protect him, to help make him into a strong young man, to be there for him. Not your job, Leo. The kid might have looked like me a little, but I feel like that’s a stretch. All I really see in him is Julia. Then again, I’ve been seeing her everywhere since I walked away four years ago.

  I park my car outside Angelo’s new place. He’s staying in a nice apartment the Bianchis put him up in. Four bedrooms, two baths, and the guy doesn’t even own a fucking cat. He’s on the fourth floor, and I find him sitting in a fold-out chair, throwing a baseball against the brick wall. His eyes find me but he shows no reaction.

  “Where you been?” he asks. “Almost 24 hours I’ve been here and you haven’t so much as called. Were you off chasing that pussy?”

  “The fuck are you doing?” I ask. “Go get a couch or some shit. You look like a crazy person, Angelo.” I realize what a hypocrite I am a second later. The place I rented beside Julia’s is equally bare.

  He looks around, as if noticing for the first time. “Yeah, Carlito was going to meet up with me to go check some things out, but he flaked on me.”

  “You surprised?”

  Angelo palms the baseball, picking at the stitches. “Nah. Not anymore.” He tosses the ball in the air, following it intently with his eyes. He purses his lips. “Maybe. Maybe I’m a little surprised. I thought coming back here and getting back in our old life would help him clean up. But it’s just the same shit.”

  I move to the wall across from him and slide down, sitting on the ground. “You know what people do when they’re drowning? They’ll grab at any fucking thing they can to keep afloat. Once it reaches a certain point, there’s no thought to it. It’s just survival. They’ll take you down with them in a heartbeat. They’ll fucking hold you under just so they can push off you and get a few more breaths.” I meet his eyes and don’t look away until he nods slowly, proving he understands.

  Angelo thinks for a long moment. “And what if he’s not drowning yet? You know? What if he’s still swimming toward the deep end.”

  “We had to kill two people because of his drug deal the other night, and he didn’t even bat an eyelash.”

  “I’ve seen you kill plenty of people in the last few years, man. You never seem too bothered by it.” There’s a question in his eye, like it’s something he’s been meaning to ask. How do you do it? How do you not let it get to you?

  I feel a swelling of emotion toward my little brother. How did I not see how badly he needed my help before? “I’ve been shitty to you…”

  He frowns, confused. “Since when? You went to jail for me. You spent four years on the run because of me.”

  It’s the first time he’s come close to apologizing, but I wasn’t waiting for it. He doesn’t need to apologize to me. He’s a man who makes his own decisions just like I am. If I had chosen to let him clean up this mess on his own he would’ve accepted that, no question.

  “Being a good brother is more than just hitting anybody who tries to hurt you.” I shake my head, searching for the words. “Look. I don’t want you thinking killing people doesn’t get to me. You know what I think about every night before I go to sleep? I think about how every life is like a web. You don’t just snuff one person out of existence and that’s that. People have wives, kids, parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends, all that shit. One dead person and a whole boat load of fucked up lives. That’s what I think about.”

  “I just think about what it must be like. The moment you know it’s over. You know? I mean sometimes it’s quick. Get them in the right spot in the head and they go down before they know what happened, but not always. Shit, remember the guy in Hillsboro? I thought he was never going to stop bleeding and coughing.” Angelo laughs, but it’s a hollow sound, and his eyes are distant, brows drawn together. “Just makes you wonder what that’s like. You’re sitting there bleeding your guts out and knowing it’s all over. Everything you spent so much energy caring about doesn’t matter anymore. Gets me to start thinking about how it’s going to be us one day.”

  I move to him and clap him on the shoulder, yanking him up so I can hug him. “That shit’s normal, bud. You’re supposed to think about that. I should’ve told you that when we got into this business, but I’m telling you now. Killing people isn’t something the human mind was made to accept. If this wasn’t getting to you, I’d be worried. Okay?” I pull back, holding him at arm’s length and searching his face. “Okay?”

  He nods, but doesn’t meet my eye. “Yeah. Thanks, bro.”

  44

  Julia

  A few minutes after I put Roman to bed, there’s a knock at my door. I look through the peephole and curse under my breath when I see who it is. It’s Leo. He’s holding a pizza box and even through the distorted fisheye peephole, he looks absolutely gorgeous. I unlatch the locks and open the door.

  “What are you doing?” I ask. I notice the box is from Lenny’s Pizzeria, my favorite.

  He steps inside without waiting for an invitation, rummaging through my cabinets for plates. “Thought we could catch up. You like pizza?”

  “Shhh!” I hiss as he bangs a cabinet door closed and practically slams two plates on the countertop. “Roman is sleeping.”

  Leo winces, holding up his palms defensively. “Won’t happen again, ma’am.”

  I cross my arms, glaring at him. “What if I say no? What if I tell you to take your stupid pizza and leave?”

  “Then I’ll leave. You just give the word and I’ll go.” He steps closer to me until I can smell his cologne and feel the heat radiating from his perfectly muscled body. “I’ll walk away and you’ll be left wondering what tonight could have been like if you’d have let me stay.”

  I clear my throat, moving past him to the counter and opening the box. Cheese pizza with black olives. How the hell does he know that’s my favorite? I plant a fist on my hip, hesitating. “You and your stupid pizza can stay, for now, but only because you just happened to get my favorite.”

  “Yeah?” he asks, plating a few slices for me and then himself. “Guess we’re soulmates. I just got it because it’s my favorite, too. Have any booze?”

  “Over there,” I say, pointing to a cabinet too high for Roman to reach.

  “Nice, this’ll do,” he says, pulling out a bottle of Cab. He pours us each a glass and looks around. “Have any card games?”

  I frown. “I have Uno…”

  “No shit! I fucking love Uno.”

  I stifle a laugh.

  “What?” he asks, rooting through the drawers to look for the game.

  “It’s just the image of a guy like you playing Uno is a little funny.”

  He sips his wine, smirking at me as he finds the box and pulls it free. “A guy like me?”

  I shrug. “You know. A tough guy? A bad boy? I don’t know what the hip term is for it anymore.”

  He moves close, smoothly moving his hand behind my back and catching my eyes with his. “There is a name for guys like me.” I think he’s about to kiss me, and then his unbelievable lips split into a grin. “Uno Master.”

  A few glasses of wine later, I’m staring at the last two cards in my hand while Leo holds five. He’s glaring at me over his hand, hilariously pissed that he’s losing. I’ve had one too many glasses of wine and feel constantly on the urge of bursting into uncontrolled giggles. I play a card.

  “Draw two!” I say, giggling.

  He fumes, pulling two cards and adding them to his hand. I realize my mistake right as he does. I only have one card left in my hand and I forgot to yell “Uno”. He leans forward on the table jabbing a finger toward me.

  “U—” I start.

  “Uno!” he yells over me. “Fucking Uno! Draw two cards, do not pass go, go to jail.”

  I laugh so hard I snort as I draw two cards. “That’s definitely not the right
phrase.”

  I’m forced to watch in dismay as Mr. Uno Master slowly picks me apart, adding more and more cards to my hand while thinning his. When he finally says Uno, he looks so pleased with himself I burst out laughing.

  “Congratulations. You beat me at a kid’s game.”

  He looks smug. “My condolences. You lost at a kid’s game.”

  I try to swat at him, but he catches my wrist over the table, meeting my eyes. The moment passes when I giggle again, leaning forward helplessly. I’ve always been a silly drunk, which is why I’m normally way more careful about drinking in front of people. I think he’s about to kiss me when Roman walks out from his bedroom, rubbing his eyes.

  “Mommy, I heard a noise.” He notices Leo and the sleepiness evaporates from his face. “Mr. Leo!”

  “Was just leaving,” says Leo graciously. He ruffles Roman’s hair and gives him a quick fist bump before looking at me, biting his lip. “You know where to find me.”

  45

  Leo

  There’s a knock at my door. It’s four in the afternoon, but I’m tired as hell. Tensions between the biggest families in Jersey reached a boiling point while we were gone. The Capobiancos have moved their operation from Chicago and set up shop in Jersey. They managed to get a squeeze on the entire dockyard shipping industry, and if rumors are true, they might be pulling in more cash than even the Morettis are with the shit they are selling to Mexican cartels. That leaves the Bianchis, who have basically been shafted in the whole deal. The other families just see them as mad dogs, too stupid to handle any kind of delicate operation, and it’s true. Not for the first time, I wish I could go back in time and drag Angelo away from these idiots by the scruff of his neck.

  When I’ve been working, I’ve managed to get someone to keep an eye on Julia’s apartment for me. When I’m here, I can’t seem to make myself sleep. I wake at the slightest noise or footstep in the hallway, thinking it could be a Moretti coming after Julia and her son. I think about her, and the few times I’ve been with her. I feel a little crazy when I realize how much I care about this woman I’ve probably only spent a few hours with. But fuck it. I know what I want, and I want her.

  Someone bangs on the door again, louder this time.

  I rub the sleep from my eyes, squinting against the bright sun outside as I move to open the door. Julia stands in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes unsteadily darting from me to the apartment behind me and down my bare chest.

  “You...” she starts, and then she frowns when she takes in the whole picture. “What are you doing, sleeping on the ground?”

  I glance at the bare floor behind me. I moved into the place three days ago now, but haven’t had time to get furniture. “Pretty much. If you came over here for a booty call, I could see if the landlord has a blanket we can borrow.”

  She makes no sign of even hearing me as her eyes dart down my bare chest and stomach, falling on my briefs. “You’re just walking around in your underwear in the middle of the afternoon?”

  “You complaining?” I ask, smirking.

  She bites her lip. “I’m not doing this with you. I had to ask my friend to watch Roman for tonight because I need to know what you’re doing. What is this? Why are you here?”

  “I’m here for you,” I say.

  She shakes her head. “Well you’re about four years late for that.”

  I wince, knowing I deserve it. I still can’t help smiling a little when I see her face. “You know you do this thing with your nose when you’re pissed. Just a little wiggle. But you do it when you’re horny, too.”

  Her nose wiggles just slightly, and then her cheeks burn red.

  I laugh. “See? I can’t figure out if you want to fuck me or deck me.”

  She sighs, letting her defenses fall a little as she grins. “So I’m not the only one trying to figure that out?”

  I see the heat in her eyes, the way she takes me in. She wants to, I know she does. I’ve always been tuned in to women’s desires. I can see them so clearly they might as well appear in bright red letters on their foreheads. Right now hers would say “fuck me.” A few more words, a touch, a whisper, and she’d be mine. But would it last? That’s the real question. As much as I burn with a desire to take her again, I know she needs more than that. If I give in and take her now, I’ll just be what she thinks I am. That’s not enough. I need to show her I’m more, to show her I’m capable of being in her son’s life, of taking care of her.

  She bites her lip and takes a deep, shuddering breath. The moment hangs in the air like something tangible, something I could reach out and grab in my hands if I wanted. But I wait as it passes, diffusing into smoke. She deserves better than that. I won’t manipulate her, and I won’t take advantage of her. I’m going to treat her the way she deserves to be treated.

  “Well,” she says, snapping out of the spell.

  “Let me take you mini-golfing,” I say.

  She gives me an incredulous look. I can practically see her replaying the words over and over in her mind. “What?”

  “Mini-golf. You know, putt putt? Unless you don’t think you could beat me?”

  She crosses her arms. “Do you really think I’m going to let you bait me? You do remember I have a doctorate in the study of the human mind, right?”

  I shrug. “It’s up to you. But it would give you a chance to try and ask some of those questions you’re dying to ask.”

  46

  Julia

  “‘Putt it in the Hole’? That was really the best name they could think of?”

  Leo gives me a serious face. “Nobody talks about my home field like that.”

  I can’t help smiling a little. “Really? Your home field?”

  He grins. “Yeah. They usually roll out the red carpet when I pull up. I’m not sure where they are. Maybe they didn’t want to intimidate you too much.”

  It’s a beautiful night out. The air is just crisp enough to mean I have no fear of sweating, but not cold enough to make me shiver. I threw on my outfit quickly, putting a tunic on over grey leggings. I have my favorite elephant earrings in. They were a gift from my mom years ago because she knows I love elephants, and wearing them now helps me remember what things were like before she was sick. I can still remember the anticipation in her face as she watched me open them. She’s always loved giving gifts more than receiving them. My vision blurs a little as the tears threaten to come.

  Leo looks at me, face growing serious. I expect him to ask if I’m okay or to force me to tell him what’s wrong, but instead he just puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder and pulls me into his side, wrapping me in his warmth and protection. I breathe in deeply, getting lost in his scent. I’ve never been good at identifying smells, but the way he smells makes me think of hiking through chilly forests and of sex beneath the stars. I blush. It’s almost impossible not to think about sex around him.

  He wears a t-shirt and jeans, but somehow looks like a million bucks. His dark hair is pushed out of his face, but a few stubborn strands dangle in front of his smoldering eyes. His powerful chest is clearly visible through the thin cotton of his t-shirt, and I can even see the hint of his abs when his shirt lies against his stomach just right. It takes considerable effort not to slide my hands across his body. My thoughts still burn with the memory of how he felt beneath my fingertips, soft skin and hard muscle, perfectly sculpted.

  We step inside the building, which is built to look like an old, aged water-mill. It’s a little tacky, with Christmas lights strung haphazardly, but the trickle of water passing beneath and the winking lights of the city in the distance are peaceful. I wait while Leo pays for us and picks out a putter for me.

  A pang of guilt stabs through me. Roman would love being here, and yet I just made him stay with Lauren all night so I could figure things out with Leo. It hurts to think of it that way, but I know it’s partially true, at least. If I’ve learned one thing about parenting, it’s that doing what’s best for my child almost always means doi
ng what’s hardest. It would be easier to write Leo off and refuse to talk to him. He’s persistant, but I know he would keep his distance if I made my intentions clear. I’ve treated plenty of stalkers and people with borderline personality disorder, and he doesn’t fit the profile.

  The strangest thing about Leo is that he defies my training. When I’m around him, the never-ending focus on ticks and word choice and body language fades into background noise. The only sense I get from him is an overwhelming impression of protectiveness and sexuality. Yet all I have to do is look at his tattoos and watch for the flickers of darkness that pass across his face to know why I should stay away. He’s trouble. He’s a criminal. He’s exactly the kind of man I should be keeping away from my son, so what am I doing here?

  We step outside to the practice green and Leo lets me take the first shot. It’s a flat, straight path to the hole. I sink mine in two putts. Leo lines up, squaring his hips, and breathing out a deep, slow breath. His eyebrows draw down in concentration. His eyes dart from the ball to the hole a few times before he takes a practice swing. He finally taps the neon blue ball and I watch with annoyance as it rolls straight into the hole.

  He quirks an eyebrow at me.

  “Shut up,” I say, falling in beside him as we cross through a narrow path between bushes to the next hole, which is at the top of a bridge over the winding stream that passes through the whole course. “You take this way too seriously.”

  “Shut up?” he asks. “I thought you would be trying to get me to talk.”

  “I don’t need your life story, I just want to know why. Why did you leave, and why did you come back?” I ask.

  “Because of you,” he says, kneeling to set my ball on the green.