Reign (The Syndicate: Crime and Passion Book 2) (8 page)

S
ergei

W
hen I got
to Santo’s house, I found Daniela in the kitchen, and she was so breathtaking, so beautiful, that for a moment I wondered if I had conjured her from my imagination.

“Hello,” she said.

“Hello, Daniela,” I replied, managing to get the words out without giving away my reaction to her, which I had furiously tried to suppress.

She gestured toward the refrigerator. “I wanted something light today, so there’s salad for dinner.”

“Two home-cooked meals in a day? That might be a record for me,” I said, smiling.

She returned the expression. “Well, congratulations, I guess,” she said as she opened the refrigerator door and removed a large glass bowl covered with plastic wrap.

I watched as she filled two plates and headed toward me.

“Do you know Vincent?” I asked.

Her eyes flashed, but she covered quickly and placed one plate in front of me, the other in front of her place, and then she sat.

“Too well,” was her cryptic response.

“You know, that reminds me of what he said,” I said, not bothering to hide the annoyance in my voice. “You should be more specific.”

She frowned again and put down her fork, looked at me through lowered lashes.

“Whatever you think, it’s not that,” she said.

“Doesn’t matter what I think. What matters is what happened. What was that?”

“Nothing happened. And you’ll be happy to know that Vincent and I have hated each other forever,” she said.

I stared at her, considering. “That was not the impression I got,” I finally said.

She chuckled. “That makes you a first then. I was seven or eight when I met Vincent, and we’d only been with the Carmellis for maybe a year. He was three or four. He walked right up to me and kicked me in the shin. It went downhill from there,” she said.

“Sounds like Vincent,” I said, thinking that he’d probably wanted to do the same, or worse, to me. At least the years had taught him some self-control.

“Yes, so, we never hit it off. My sister, though. Different story,” she said.

“Not a happy ending?” I said.

She shrugged. “I just assumed he worried Santo wouldn’t approve, and my sister’s not one to wait around, so she left. That’s my theory, anyway.”

“You didn’t ask?”

“Ask who? Giovanna was gone. Vincent is an asshole. So I pieced together what I could,” she said.

I took a bite of the salad, enjoying the crisp vegetables and bite of the citrus dressing against my tongue.

“This is delicious,” I said. Then I paused, looked at her, and she looked over at me, her eyes questioning as I began to smile.

“What?” she said.

I smiled brighter. “Nice girl like you using language like that,” I said.

“That surprises you?” she asked.

I lifted my brows, and she looked at me, blushing.

“What?” I asked.

“The things I do with my mouth,” she said.

I tilted my head causally, though I had instantly gone hard. “I think I need another demonstration,” I said.

She smiled again. “My pleasure,” she said.

Then she sobered and daintily folded the napkin she had placed over her lap and sat it next to her dinner plate before she looked at me again.

I pushed aside my plate and looked back. Her expression was serious now, and I waited.

“Thank you,” she finally said.

Those words were not ones I had been expecting.

“For what?” I asked.

“You didn’t have to fix the door, but I appreciate that you did,” she said.

“Oh,” I said, thinking back to the door. “The color doesn’t quite match, but I think it looks okay.” I reached into my pocket and retrieved a key. “Here’s the key.”

Her brows furrowed and she looked down at my hand in disbelief. “You’re not mad that I went back? You don’t care if I go again?” she asked, voice almost a whisper.

“Daniela, you’re not a prisoner. You live here, but you can go where you like,” I said, angry at Santo for teaching her to expect so little, equally determined to prove to her that I was nothing like him.

“Thank you,” she said again.

But this time she reached for my hand and the weight of her smaller fingers on mine, the softness of her skin was more noticeable now, and I began to respond.

“You’re welcome,” I said.

Then I turned my hand so that my palm touched hers.

Her dark eyes on mine, I closed my fingers around hers. Then I stood from the chair as I lifted her from hers.

There were so many words I could think of, things I could say, but words would complicate this, make this undeniable moment between us something else.

I didn’t want that.

Because here and now, I was not Sergei, representative of the Syndicate, and she was not Daniela, daughter of a slug of a man.

I was simply a man who wanted a woman, and she was the woman I wanted. The one who wanted me back.

There was no doubt of that, not at all.

I couldn’t believe how mistaken I had been before, when I’d thought Daniela was good at hiding her emotions, her thoughts.

She wasn’t, and I could read them clearly now. Saw the desire in her eyes, saw how much she wanted me to fulfill it.

Knew how much I wanted to do the same.

I pulled her close, and then slowly pressed my lips against hers.

The need to take her was almost urgent, one I didn’t want to hold back on, but I did and instead, I kissed her slowly. Teased at her lips slowly, but I didn’t press my tongue into her mouth.

I just kissed her until she sighed, her breath warm against my lips. It was she who finally deepened the kiss.

She put her tongue in my mouth and then coaxed mine with her own.

I was helpless to deny her, and I took over, deepened it, kissed her with all I had.

Moments later I broke away, looked down at her. She was tall, not nearly as tall as me, but still tall enough I could kiss her without straining, and could clearly see her eyes from this distance.

Eyes that now sparkled with the desire I so deeply felt.

I stared at her for a moment longer and then saw the instant her decision was made.

I lifted her, her warm body a comfort in my arms, and then carried her up the stairs.

I didn’t pause at her door and instead took her to the room where I had been staying.

I hadn’t done anything with the place, and it probably looked much like she remembered.

But when I looked at her, I could tell she wasn’t paying attention to the decorations, because she was intently focused on me. I don’t know if she’d looked away the entire time I walked, but I settled her on the edge of the bed and began to work.

I ran my hand from her knee to her ankle, squeezing at her calf, and then I pulled the small heel she wore off her foot.

I did the same with the other shoe and then I slid my hand up her leg, over her full, soft thigh, and hooked my fingers in the waistband of her panties and pulled them down.

I tossed them aside without looking at where they landed, too focused on Daniela in her prim little dress with no panties underneath.

In that moment, I decided I’d take her that way one day, dressed in one of those proper dresses as I fucked her from behind.

But for now, I looked at her for another lingering moment and then pulled her to her feet. The dress had a row of buttons down the front, and I started working them, popping open one after the other, growing more and more excited with each patch of skin that was revealed.

I could hear her breath change, deepen, as I got farther, and by the time I was midway down, I paused to see the smooth expanse of her soft stomach, her golden brown skin and the black lace of her bra, the full breasts the bra contained.

I kept going.

When the dress was finally opened, I quickly slid it off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

I made quick work of the bra, not pausing to notice what I was sure was fine lingerie.

Because even the finest was nothing compared to the woman it covered.

I stepped back, not trusting myself not to touch her and looked at her, trying to drink in every dip and curve of her beautiful body, all smooth skin and soft curves.

She exhaled, the movement making her body shake ever so softly, and it broke my trance. I reached for her, and then kissed her.

As I did, she began to work my shirt up, her fumbling hands only intensifying the moment. I broke the kiss long enough to pull my shirt up and over my head, but once it was gone, her hands again found me instantly, soft palms against my bare skin as she again began kissing me.

Then her hands dropped lower to open my belt.

She made quick work of it and my pants, and then wrapped her hand around my thick cock. I pushed her away, already too close to handle more stimulation. When I lost myself, it would be inside her.

I stripped off my pants and shoes and then lead her until she sat on the edge of the bed. It was impossible for me not to notice how close her face was to my cock, how she looked at me like she would want nothing more than to take me between her lips.

Not yet.

I shook my head, and she lay back, her body soft, beckoning. I climbed atop her, then looked down at Daniela, her body caged between mine and the bed.

We were touching everywhere, and I thought I would combust from the intensity of this moment.

From my desire to be with her.

Instead though, I kissed her soft lips again and then I worked lower, sucked one of her turgid nipples into my mouth and teased it with my tongue as I kneaded her other breast.

She’d widened her thighs to cradle my hips, and my cock jerked toward her, seeking the warmth that was so close, close enough that the crown of my cock was pressed against her wet hole.

It was exquisite torture, one that I was in no hurry to end.

Instead I stayed, her legs wrapped around me, my cock so close to where it wanted to be, my hands full with Daniela’s luscious curves.

She pulled me closer, brought our bodies into even greater contact, and I exhaled sharply, almost dizzy with desire and in desperate need for release.

I bucked my hips ever so slightly, my dick brushing against her soft, wet lips.

I stilled, stared down at her, and she returned my stare, her eyes full, dark with passion.

That look made it impossible for me to hold on longer. I grabbed my cock around the base and slowly began to push inside her.

She was wet but still so tight that I worried about hurting her. So, at the risk of my sanity, I moved as slow as I could, let her adjust to me as I filled her.

She kept her hands anchored on my shoulders, her eyes on mine the entire time.

I pushed until my pelvic bone thudded against hers, and we both sighed out at the sound.

I stilled, letting myself feel. Her hands on my shoulders. Her hard nipples pressing against my chest, the softness of her stomach.

Her tight walls clenching around me.

I almost came, but I wouldn’t, not until she had gotten her pleasure. I reached between our bodies and teased her hard clit.

She responded immediately, crying out. I only intensified my efforts, pinching and stroking her bud as I started to thrust into her. She arched her back, cried out in ecstasy as her walls clenched around me tight.

Tight enough to trigger my own orgasm, and on a deep growl, I spilled myself inside her.

D
aniela

T
wo days later
, I smoothed my skirt down and exhaled, drawing on the calm I had once again found in my mother’s garden. I shouldn’t need it, not for my current visitor, but a sense of unease filled me as I waited, one that I didn’t have the time to examine.

One of Sergei’s men had called and told me of Michael’s arrival outside the house. For some reason, my first instinct had been to send him away, but after a second, I pushed that down and allowed him entry. Now, I waited.

I’d never felt nervous around Michael before. He was one of my oldest friends, one of the people I knew best, who knew me best, but despite all that, I was nervous to the point of shaking as I waited for him.

Guilty conscience, Daniela,
I thought, and I couldn’t argue with the diagnosis.

I hadn’t seen Michael since the day after my wedding, and I hadn’t given him a single thought. Quite the turn of events from the day before the wedding when I had cried on his shoulder, told him that I didn’t want to go through with it.

He’d held me, whispered words of comfort, or words that I thought at the time were words of comfort. Looking back on it now, I wasn’t so sure. He’d told me I was strong, that I could handle anything or anyone, including the Syndicate. That if I simply complied, he and Santo would eventually save me, but until then, I needed to bide my time.

Funny, because those were the exact things I had told myself, the only difference being I planned to save myself. At the time, the words had worked, had made me feel a little less alone, like I had someone in my corner.

Now, though, I wondered…

As they so often did, my thoughts turned to Sergei.

Would he have done that? Whispered words that sounded like support, but that, when I thought of them again, were only designed to ensure my compliance?

No. He wouldn’t have.

I was certain of that, more certain than I was of almost anything else.

He’d never told me as much, and if I asked, he would have denied it, but that didn’t change what I knew. And what I knew was if I expressed a moment’s hesitation, shed even one of the thousands of tears I had shed to Michael, Sergei would have wiped it away, kissed me until my tears dried, and then promised me I wouldn’t have to do anything I didn’t want to.

I knew that, and knowing it changed so much of what I thought I’d known before. Like that Michael was strong, that Michael was a friend, that he was someone I could rely on.

Had anyone before Sergei ever truly been that?

That I couldn’t answer immediately was answer enough.

I heard Michael approaching, and again smoothed my skirt.

It wasn’t fair, really, comparing Michael to Sergei. After all, Michael didn’t have the power of the Syndicate behind him, didn’t have Sergei’s experience either.

Even still, part of me knew that wouldn’t matter. Alone or not, powerless or not, Sergei would have faced any threat. Michael doing so might have gotten him killed, gotten others killed, and I didn’t want that, would have done all the things I had so far to avoid it. Still, knowing how he’d encouraged me, how he hadn’t even offered a theoretical resistance, had changed the way I thought of him completely.

I didn’t know if I’d ever respect him again.

“Daniela.”

I turned at the sound of his voice and plastered a smile on my face. He did the same, and I hoped mine didn’t look as plastic and false as his did. He came toward me, his light-colored suit perfect as always, the light breeze ruffling his hair. I’d always had a weakness for a well-dressed man, but I couldn’t help but notice how much more naturally Sergei wore his suits, how much more naturally he wore everything compared to Michael who looked stiff, almost false.

“Michael,” I said as he approached.

He grabbed my upper arms and pulled me in for a kiss, but I lifted my hands to his chest to stop him and then again smiled as brightly as I could muster.

His eyes darkened, but he covered quickly, smiled again.

“You look well,” he said.

“Thank you,” I replied, feeling stiff, stilted in his presence.

He continued to stare at me, seeming to take me in. “Better than I’d thought, really,” he added.

My smile dropped. “What did you think?” I asked.

His own smile dropped and he went serious. “The Syndicate has a…reputation. Overstated I guess because you look fine. Better than fine,” he said.

Anger flared in my chest and I narrowed my eyes at him. “What, you thought he was going to beat me, rape me or something?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm, though I knew my expression was anything but.

Michael didn’t seem to notice, but instead shrugged. “I tried to prepare for the worst. I figured you’d be able to hold your own, but you never know with those kinds of people.”

“What kinds of people?” I asked.

Michael shrugged. “You know, the brutal animals who like to call themselves businessmen,” he said.

Were I not standing here listening to this, I wouldn’t have believed it. I’d heard stories of Michael’s cruelty at Santo’s behest, knew he had been there when Santo was at his worst, so to hear him say these things about Sergei, who’d been the kindest person I’d known in a very long time, was upsetting.

It shouldn’t have been.

Sergei was kind to me, but I wouldn’t allow myself to rely on it, and I wouldn’t pretend that he was incapable of terrible things. But the “brutal animals” Michael described were nothing like him, and I didn’t like Michael talking about him that way.

In fact, I decided, right now I didn’t like Michael talking at all. It was time for this visit to be over.

“Do you need something?” I asked as he sat in one of the lawn chairs and reached for the crystal water pitcher in the center of the table.

His hand stilled at my question, and he looked at me frowning. “I was coming to check on you,” he said.

My anger flared again. He’d only come the day after the wedding at Sergei’s behest, and I hadn’t seen him in the days since. But he was here now, probably thought the worst was over so he was willing to risk it.

I thought I would be sick.

“As you can see, I’m fine,” I said tightly.

He frowned, stood, and then came to stand in front of me. I’d once thought him handsome, but now I could see how opportunistic he was, how he played every situation to his advantage, and that included me.

“Daniela, this will be over soon,” he said. As he spoke, he again reached for my arms, and I wanted to recoil from his clammy touch against my skin.

“I’m fine, Michael. Sergei will be home soon,” I said.

“Ah, I see,” he said, understanding lighting his eyes. “So he’s going for a different approach, trying to win you over.” He stared at me, assessing. “And it’s working.”

“It was good to see you, Michael,” I replied, feeling nothing but the urge to be away from him.

He watched me for a second longer and then nodded. “You too, Daniela,” he whispered, but I heard the good-bye that went unspoken, waited for the grief to come at the sudden loss of an old friendship.

There was nothing but relief when he was gone.

D
aniela

It had been hours since Michael had left, but I was still reeling from his visit when Sergei arrived. I again reached for the poise that I had relied on so often and gave him my best smile and then stood on tiptoe to kiss him.

When I lifted eyelids I had closed, he stared down at me, his own eyes swirling.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing. I’m…”

I trailed off as I continued to watch him and saw the flash of warning in his expression. Sergei was calm, not at all quick to anger, but he somehow always knew when I was lying to him, and he never liked it.

I sighed. “Just a difficult day,” I said.

“Any reason why?” he asked, still staring at me.

I couldn’t tell whether this was a question he already knew the answer to or if it was designed to test me, but I didn’t have the energy to lie, nor did I have the desire.

“Michael came to see me today,” I said.

“Why?” he asked.

He didn’t sound angry, nor did he look pleased, though.

“He said he just wanted to check on me, see how I was,” I said.

“See how I was treating you?” he asked.

I nodded, and Sergei scowled.

“Pretending he cares,” he said.

“He does, in his own way,” I said, the instinct to stand up for Michael, for any of Santo’s men, moving me automatically.

“Bullshit. If he cared, he wouldn’t have let you marry me,” he said.

“I made my own choice, Sergei,” I said, not angry but not wanting the responsibility for my actions to reflect on someone else.

“And that weasel let you. If you were mine, I would have never allowed it,” he said.

“But what choice did he have?” I asked.

“There’s always a choice. Michael made his, and it’s a bitch move for him to come back now to make sure you’re okay,” he said scornfully.

I went quiet. I’d thought much the same thing when Michael had visited earlier, had known that Sergei would too, but to hear him say it, hear my perception of him confirmed, gave me a deep joy that chased away all the worries that had clouded my mind.

One glimpse at Sergei, though, and they threatened to come back. His expression was stern, bordering on angry, so unlike him. I reached up and touched his cheek, stroked my thumb along the corner of his mouth, trying to soothe away the tension there.

It didn’t work.

“Are you fucking him, Daniela?”

I dropped my hand, recoiled, my eyes wide with shock. “N-No! Of course not. I would nev—”

“But you used to,” he said, brows now dropped in a tight furrow.

My heart thudded as I watched him, not sure what to make of this. I had been honest about my past, though I hadn’t identified the person. Still this anger was surprising, and there was no choice other than to be honest with him. And I didn’t have the desire to be anything else.

I nodded. “A long time ago,” I said.

“Santo allowed that?” he asked, his expression unchanging.

“We didn’t advertise,” I finally said.

I thinned my lips and looked away, thinking back.

Michael and I had once talked about this, except I’d been pushing for us to be more open and he’d done everything to avoid it. Back then, his unwillingness to speak up had been the end of our physical relationship, just as it had ended our friendship now.

We’d never been a love match, simply one of physical convenience and familiarity, but his unwillingness to confront my father had stunted any affection I might have grown for him.

I looked up at Sergei again.

“We haven’t been together for years, and we won’t be again,” I said.

“And he knows that?”

“He knows,” I said.

Sergei watched me, his eyes heavy-lidded, but after a moment, I saw the tension begin to relent. He stepped away from me and sat at the small garden table.

“Pretty dress,” he said a moment later.

The words were bland, but the look he gave me was anything but. He’d seen and touched every part of me, but the glint in his eye now sent a flush of heat over my skin.

“Thank you,” I replied, my voice deeper than I’d intended.

“Come here,” he said.

Without thought, I stood, circled the small table, and walked to him. The sun was warm on my skin, but it didn’t even rate, not when Sergei was looking at me with burning eyes. I let my gaze drop, and though he held his body casually, the standard cargo pants and T-shirt replacing his suit, I saw his interest.

All thought of anything but him fell away.

There was the tightness in his jaw, the way his hand lay curled against his leg. The ever-growing ridge between his thighs, his thickness apparent even through pants.

My mouth started to water and my pussy clenched. I couldn’t decide what I wanted. Him in my mouth again, his length and thickness almost too much for me to handle, though I was more than eager to try.

Or maybe thrusting inside me, his hardness filling me, his strong body above me, beneath me.

Sergei stood abruptly, his huge, hard body making my sex clench.

He reached for me and I trembled when his hand settled on my hip, scorching through the material of my dress. Eyes on mine, he started to move his hand in slow circles, rubbing me in a gentle fashion that conflicted with the hungry edge in his eyes.

“Take your panties off,” he said.

I reached under my dress and started to pull, my motions jerky, jittery with my desire. When I dropped my panties and stepped out, I looked at him, my body warming at the look of approval on his face.

He still stroked my hip and was slowly driving me insane, my pussy fluttering wildly, my inner thighs getting slick with my cream. I reached for him, but he stilled me with a look.

“Pull up your dress,” he said.

That flush intensified, but I complied, lifting the dress up, holding the hem in my hand.

Sergei released his hold and then took the skirt from my hands and bunched it around my waist. The sun was warm against my ass, the air cool against my pussy. He put his hand back on my bare hip and began to move it in circles again.

I moaned, the sound shockingly needy, but it shouldn’t have been. My desire for Sergei, his ability to draw a reaction from me, had never been in doubt.

That moan intensified when he lowered down, his body brushing mine, his shirt soft against my thighs.

“Sergei,” I said on a sigh when he nudged my pussy with his nose and then breathed deep.

“Daniela,” he said, his voice muffled, his breath hot against me, making me even wetter than I already was.

Without thinking, I lifted my hand, threaded my fingers in his hair. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to pull him away or push him closer, but he took the choice from me.

He breathed deep. “You smell so good.”

In the next breath, he kissed me, stroked his tongue between my wet pussy lips, lingering over my hole for a moment but not nearly long enough.

“You taste good too,” he said, his breath on my sex unlike anything I had ever felt before.