Page 26 of Corso DeLuca

“Fourteen. As a boy, my father taught me pay attention to the inner workings of the families’ businesses. Ours and the competition. Mattia watched as the DeLuca empire expanded from neighborhoods to entire cities. His envy bred contempt, Jessie. Back then, my father had to protect his family, all of us. He moved Gregorio and Carmen onto the estate, the nurse and her son, a few years younger. Their relationship had existed for many years by then, not that it would have mattered. As the head of our household, it was accepted that powerful men indulged with other women. Carmen cared for me and my mother, and Greg became a trusted friend.”

“Wow, that was a huge risk for your father. Bringing Greg and his mother into your home.”

Looking back, I can admit a truth. I held deep resentment for my father back then.

“He loved us all. At first, he thought to protect them from a similar fate. Later, Carmen treated me as her son, taught me how to care for my mom when she slipped into a coma two months later. Gregorio stayed by my bedside. We read, played crossword puzzles, Sudoku. Anything to distract me from what was happening one bedroom away from mine.”

“And when you learned the truth about him?”

“It didn’t matter. He was my brother. Not half, not illegitimate. I loved and respected him. A part of me envied that he could live in both worlds. When he made the choice to leave ours, to fight for justice, I cheered the loudest. My father… wanted him to spy, be an inside man for the DeLuca family. Greg never did.” Our father’s expectations hurt Gregorio. “They didn’t talk much afterwards. I had established The Governor. Greg knew he was my brother first, a federal agent second.”

Jessie snakes her uninjured arm around my neck. She looks into my eyes, and I drink in the depths of hers.

“I trust you, Corso DeLuca.”

In this moment, I choose to believe her, even as I know it’s a lie. While she’s settled into nestling my cock between her ass cheeks with me stroking her back, I felt the stiff paper hidden in her waistband. It’s the envelope Greg left with me before he died, two columns of unrelated running numbers.

“You made the right decision,” I whisper.

Her brows pinch in the center, questioning the confidence of my statement. “How can you be sure?”

“‘Cause there’s no fucking way I’d let you go without me tasting you first.”

Her eyes widen at my declaration. “You haven’t even asked if I like it rough or real gentle like, Corso DeLuca.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll give you both tonight.” She gasps, and I give in to my craving, unable to resist the pull of her sweet vulnerability any longer. On a groan, I crush my mouth down on hers, unleashing her fire.

ELEVEN

Jessie

I’ve lost the compass that pointed to Corso DeLuca being evil. Whatever he is, threat or redeemer, prince of darkness or bringer of pleasure, I want him. I don’t want to be treated like a princess. Corso is hard and raw. I want to feel that intensity burning behind his eyes pumping through my body. That he’s as crazed as me, that is what I need to see.

He stands, placing me on my feet. He’s always towered over me, but this is the first time where his six-foot frame looms all-powerful. When he lifts one hand, I expect him to touch me. Instead, he gestures for me to turn around. Behind me there’s silence. I want to feel the weight of his hands caressing the fire he’s ignited under my skin. Time stretches, as does my irritation.

“Touch me,” I demand, incredulous.

Angling my head, I try to look at him. He doesn’t allow it. This is his way of testing me, teasing me with his physical and emotional power.

“Walk,” he orders.

Corso presses his toned body against mine. I’m helpless to push back against his steel. Is this how it will be between us, still silence or barked orders?

No.

He’s narrowed the distance. While The Governor’s lobby is a marble and glass contemporary marvel, Corso’s private retreat is filled with classics. A time capsule in tribute to the old world with a modern twist. Wall sconces are dim, casting our shadows in a dance too close to be mistaken for anything other than what it is. A prelude to a kiss of his body with mine. The brush of his chest against my back warms me. His hard erection pushes into my plush ass cheek. My steps lack grace, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He’s used his strength to guide me where he wants my surrender to take place. There’s another Italian maple furniture piece like in his office. It’s solid dark wood, sturdy, and blocking my path.

“Stop, he mutters at my ear. With his nose, he nuzzles my neck, taking a long drag of my scent. “So damn sweet and strong, like expresso with fresh cream.”

The release of the single snap holding the silky black cape with cranes in flight sounds loud in the quiet. Effortlessly, the material sails to my feet. Cool air hits my skin, but Corso’s bare chest is there to chase away the chill before it takes hold. I hear his controlled movements, then the soft glide of his sleep pants touch the back of my leg. Sinking my teeth into my lower lip, I bite back a shiver.

He’s completely naked. Excitement courses through me.

Adept fingers hook me at the waist, and then my loungers pool at my feet. I’m naked, his body the only heat surrounding mine. Reaching past me, he snatches a crystal perfume decanter from the dresser top. A soft snick sound penetrates the air.

“Ah.” The most delicious scent of jasmine and orange blossom enters my nose, heightening my arousal. “What is that?”

“In eighteenth century Italy, Princess Anne Marie Orsini, created exotic fragrances from fresh picked flowers during the months of March and April. They heighten sexual pleasure. His fingers cup one of my breasts, massaging the scented oil into my pebbled nipple, while the other hand pins me to him at the waist.