Reign (The Syndicate: Crime and Passion Book 2) (4 page)

D
aniela

T
he next morning
, my eyes opened soon after the first strands of sunlight began to bellow through the sheer curtains. I didn’t move, though, much preferring to stay here in bed trying to hold on to the dream that was still imprinted on my mind.

It was a familiar one, all of us together, my mother healthy, my sister here, me free from the weight of my father’s world. I wished I could call it a memory, but it wasn’t that. No, the ease, the happiness that always came with that dream had never been there. We’d loved each other, always, but we’d never been free.

And I wasn’t free now, far from it.

I heard movement in the room next to mine, a reminder, quite unwelcome, that no matter how long I stayed here, no matter how long I tried to pretend, it wouldn’t change the reality of my circumstances. And that reality was that I belonged to him now.

I waited for the revulsion, hoped for it, but when it came, it lacked the intensity I wanted, needed to see me through. It wasn’t even revulsion at all. Knowing what he did, how I’d ended up back here wasn’t enough to supplant the seeds of attraction I felt for him.

They tasted like betrayal, like insanity, but they were there nonetheless.

How was that possible?

He’d taken my family home from the man who’d raised me, was keeping me from the only space I considered mine.

I should hate him for that.

I wanted to hate him for that. Told myself I did.

Feared it was a lie.

Because last night, I’d felt everything but hate. At first I’d been nervous, then embarrassed, then surprised. But all of those emotions paled next to the bone-deep desire I’d felt, desire that I still felt now, a low hum in my system that wouldn’t let me forget it.

There was no denying it, no pretending. I wanted him, wanted him more than I had ever wanted anyone else.

And he’d sent me away.

That rejection stung, pinched at my chest and made my entire body hurt with it.

Which was foolish, stupid even. I’d been spared having to give my body to a man I hadn’t known twenty-four hours ago. I should be celebrating, but what I felt was disappointment.

“Stop moping, Daniela,” I whispered to myself as I lifted my body out of bed.

My mother had abhorred moping, hated complaining and wallowing, and I tried to follow her example whenever I could. Doing so now would give me something to focus on besides my own thoughts, the puzzle of trying to figure out why Sergei had found me lacking.

The soft carpet against my feet was familiar, as were the decorations in the room. The tasteful dark wood furniture had been there for as long as I could remember. In fact, I didn’t think anything had changed in this room since I was a teenager over a decade ago. My mother had kept it as it had been, and after she died, I hadn’t had the heart to change it.

Not that I’d ever expected to sleep in it again.

The sun caught on the huge diamond that weighed down my finger.

I hadn’t expected a lot of things.

Heaving out a sigh, I headed to the suitcases that were lined against the chaise lounge. I walked over to the lounge and sat.

Desire aside, I still hadn’t quite decided what to make of Sergei. He’d seemed so sure, so confident, but not in a way that I was used to. My father’s men always projected confidence, but it was of a different sort, almost a performance.

Sergei’s had been real.

He hadn’t carried himself like he wanted to convince everyone else of his toughness. He hadn’t needed to. He simply was. He’d seemed as confident and sure of himself when dismissing me as he had standing at the altar in the midst of a church full of enemies.

Perhaps that was a sign of overconfidence or maybe he didn’t recognize the difference in the scenarios, but I didn’t think that was it. I suspected he was more than aware of the differences in each, but that he was simply confident in his ability to handle whatever might confront him, be it a room full of enemies or a stupid woman making a fool of herself.

When I’d left him, I’d scurried back to my childhood bedroom. I’d never thought I would live here again, but even still, even after Sergei had taken this house as his own, I felt safe here.

Comfortable.

So comfortable that I’d immediately fallen into a deep sleep, the excitement of the day and the embarrassment of the night overtaking me.

I exhaled, stood, and then went to my bathroom. The morning would not wait, so I showered and prepared for it. I took my time, not certain what today would bring and not entirely excited to confront it, or see him. No, that was a lie. I was very excited to see him, not that I would ever admit it, but I was far more reluctant to again be reminded of how he’d rejected me. It would happen though, so once I was showered, I dressed in a gray pencil skirt and cream-colored sleeveless blouse.

More formal than I would ordinarily choose for a day where I had no specific plans, but I might have visitors today to congratulate me on my wedding. Or, more precisely, to gawk at me and try to figure out what the marriage meant.

I’d handle them all without any problem.

The other reason for my attire, I was less sure.

Sergei had caught me unaware yesterday. I couldn’t have anticipated how brazenly I would react to him, but I should have been able to recover more quickly.

I hadn’t.

He had awakened parts of me that I wasn’t yet sure I could control.

But there were things I could control, my attire being one of them. If I looked like myself, the self I tried to project, I’d be better able to act like it, and that would better allow me to deal with Sergei.

I hoped.

I descended the stairs, listening for any sounds of life, though after the movement I’d heard this morning, there was now nothing but silence.

I entered the kitchen, could see that someone had been here, but no one was here now.

Deciding not to go looking for him, I instead headed toward the refrigerator and poured a glass of orange juice. This was so familiar, comforting. I could so easily picture my mother here, remember how she’d created a safe environment.

I could so easily picture my father here, remember how that safe environment could be destroyed with a single look from him.

Still, I loved this place, and valued it, but it wasn’t mine anymore. Wasn’t my mother’s. It was his, just as I was. I didn’t like that, but didn’t dislike it nearly as much as I should.

As if conjured from my thoughts, Sergei came into the kitchen. I’d heard nothing, didn’t even turn to look at him, but I felt his presence. It was like a disturbance in the atmosphere, a thing that couldn’t be seen but couldn’t be ignored.

I lowered the glass of juice to the counter, not trusting myself to hold it, and then, after a moment’s pause, turned to face him.

Felt that same kick of awareness, desire, that I had felt last night. Tried to chase it down with shame, and failed miserably.

Again, he seemed to know what I was thinking, gave me one of those quick smiles I’d already come to associate with him, annoyed at myself for associating anything that wasn’t misery with him, but doing so nonetheless.

“Good morning,” he said, his deep voice rasping through the kitchen and making me think the most inappropriate thoughts.

“Hello, Sergei,” I said, prim and proper.

He lifted one corner of his mouth. “Sleep well?”

“Of course I did. This is my home,” I snapped, before quickly going silent.

“Our home,” he corrected, still smiling, though I could see his unspoken order that I dare correct him, and could see even more clearly that he knew my anger was simply an attempt to cover my embarrassment.

He continued toward me, and on instinct, I stepped aside, though not quickly enough. I’d wanted to avoid contact, but he brushed past me, him warm, solid arm ghosting against mine and setting off a wave of shivers that was outsized for our minimal contact.

That had been what I hoped to avoid. Even now, confronted with the reality that my family home was no longer mine, that I myself was no longer mine, a bare, almost nonsexist touch had my stomach fluttering, body alive, ready. All because of him.

I watched him as he got his own glass of juice, eyes riveted by his precise movements, the way the strong column of his neck worked as he swallowed. Trying to look away would have been futile, but I could only hope my expression was one of displeasure and not fascination.

The doorbell rang, and I nearly cried with relief at the interruption.

“We have a visitor. Let me see who it is,” I said.

Without bothering to wait for Sergei’s response, I smoothed my hands down my skirt and then left the kitchen, plastering the perfect smile on my face, the one that was reserved, yet welcoming, not too friendly, but not off-putting either.

I looked through the peephole and smiled and then quickly pulled open the door.

“Michael,” I said, ushering Michael Briar, my father’s associate and a man I considered a friend, in and then giving him a one-armed hug.

“You look gorgeous as always, Daniela,” Michael said, smiling fondly at me.

He was dressed in a suit and tie, which wasn’t uncommon for him. In fact, his tall, methodically maintained body was dressed as always, his blond hair perfectly in place. If I hadn’t known him all my life, I would never believe he was a career criminal, number two in my father’s organization.

But that outward appearance, the ability to blend was what made him such a valuable asset and was one of the things that had tied us together over the years. I didn’t look like Santo’s daughter, had never quite felt like I belonged, and Michael had confided in me he felt the same way. So we’d found kindred spirits in each other, and that tie through our childhoods continued now, if somewhat altered.

“You came to visit me?” I asked.

He frowned. “I…ah, no,” he said.

“Business,” I said flatly.

He didn’t respond, but I knew the answer. Business was all Michael cared about.

“Well, it looks like you survived the joyous occasion,” he said after an awkward pause.

“So far,” I replied, not bothering to elaborate. The idea of discussing yesterday felt wrong, and I told myself it was because Michael would use whatever I told him for some business advantage, but the little voice at the back of my mind whispered that I was worried about betraying Sergei.

Which was nonsense. I didn’t care about that. Not at all.

I looked at Michael, searching his face for a reaction, though he was difficult to read. I’d known Michael for my entire life, but he could still be somewhat inscrutable, particularly when he wanted to be, and today seemed to be one of those days.

“You’ll be okay,” he said, moving closer, his expression softening.

“I will,” I said firmly, unwilling to entertain the possibility of being anything else.

He moved closer, slanted his body so that he was only inches from me. “I mean it, Daniela,” he said, staring down at me intently. “I’ll protect you.”

“Protect her from what?” Sergei said.

S
ergei

A
fter I spoke
, they both turned, looked at me, her expression flashing irritation, his flashing the desire to rebel. The way he stood so close to Daniela had me wishing he would.

But neither said anything.

“What are you going to protect my wife from?” I asked again, striding across the room to stand next to her.

I felt Daniela stiffen next to me, but I didn’t look at her directly and instead focused on Michael.

“The situation is difficult for her. I was reassuring Daniela that she would always have my friendship and support,” Michael said, his voice expressing his alleged concern, but his eyes never quite meeting mine.

Smooth. Bullshit, but smooth. I’d need to watch him even more closely than I’d planned.

“Daniela,” I said, turning to look at her without responding to him, “Michael and I need to talk.”

I left the command that she leave unspoken, but she didn’t miss it. Instead, her expression turned down immediately. But unlike him, she met my eyes, and I could see the battle waging within her. She wanted to defy me, but something was holding her back. It wasn’t affection for me—I knew that with certainty—but she eventually nodded.

“It was lovely to see you, Michael,” she said.

Then, without addressing me, she walked away, posture stiff, steps graceful, a perfect mix of class and sex. She was careful not to acknowledge me, but as she walked away, I could see her struggle not to, could somehow feel how attuned she was to me. As attuned as I was to her.

I still didn’t quite understand it, and had been ready to chalk yesterday up to a fluke. But it wasn’t. There was something between Daniela and me, and I was going to find out what.

As soon as I dealt with the fucker who’d also watched her every step.

When she was gone, I looked at him, rage, hot and sudden at the way he’d looked at her surging through me. He still wouldn’t meet my eyes, but I could feel his hatred. Maxim would have killed him for less, and I was tempted if only to make sure he never looked at Daniela like that again. However, acting on emotion wouldn’t get me anywhere, so I swallowed it back and turned to business.

“You know the way,” I said, nodding toward Santo’s—now my—office.

He paused, no doubt not excited about the prospect of turning his back to me. I waited, and he relented, walking toward the office.

When we got inside, I closed the door and then faced him.

“Don’t worry, Michael. If it comes to it, I won’t stab you in the back,” I said.

“Should I promise the same?” he said.

I laughed. “I wouldn’t want you to lie,” I said, locking eyes with him. “But when you miss, know you won’t get a second chance.”

Was Michael brave enough to try? I hadn’t decided, but someone would, and that person would become an example for the others. I’d have no regrets if the example was him.

“I apologize,” he said. I said nothing and he continued. “Things have changed. I accept that. There’s no need for us to get off on the wrong foot.

He sounded earnest, which made me certain he was lying. Besides, any chance of him getting on my good side was gone the moment he’d looked at Daniela like that.

“What were you going to protect my wife from?” I asked, ignoring his attempt at a heartfelt moment.

He flinched at the word “wife,” and I decided I would have to continue to use it in front of him.

“Daniela and I have been friends for a very long time. Our whole lives, really.”

“Just friends?”

He looked away guiltily, but didn’t speak, a confession in itself.

“Make sure it stays that way,” I said, after I paused long enough to ensure my anger didn’t come through.

He nodded tightly and then stood, waiting. More controlled than Santo, that was clear.

“Gather all your men tomorrow,” I said.

“Santo too?” he said.

“No. Now get out.”

He recoiled but then recovered, nodded, and left. Once he was gone, some of the tension started to fade.

What a fucking douche bag, not that I expected more from Santo. Still, he was number two in the organization, and he was a way for me to learn and understand how Santo’s men worked. One wrong move though, and I’d gleefully choke him to death.

But that was something for tomorrow.

I smiled. For now, I would go and find my new wife.

D
aniela

I
breathed
deep to inhale the beautiful fragrance of the vibrant rosebushes, stood listening to the soft bubbling of the koi pond my mother had had installed, the friendly chirps of the birds who ate from the numerous bird feeders, waited for calm to come over me as it always did when I was here.

There was no calm today.

I had married a stranger, and I had done so willingly. Wanted that stranger, even after what he’d done to my family.

What I hadn’t signed up for was blatant disrespect.

He had all but ordered me out of the room, sent me away as though I was a servant or a child.

It had been clear he and Michael had plans to talk about business, and yes, it would be a violation of all the things they believed to allow me to stay. But there was protocol, a way to handle things that didn’t involve dismissing me, and Sergei hadn’t cared enough to bother with them.

He doesn’t care, Daniela,
I reminded myself, though that reminder did nothing to smother the rage that was being stoked in my chest, the tiny petal of hurt underneath it.

I was worthy of respect, damn it. Deserved at least that.

And I’d gotten none from Sergei, who hadn’t even bothered to issue an order but still expected my obedience. None from Michael, who’d stood mute, hadn’t even offered a token attempt at solidarity.

What else did I expect, though? Michael, all of us, lived at the mercy of Sergei and the Syndicate, so I couldn’t really be angry with him, could I? Maybe it wasn’t reasonable to expect anything from Michael. Okay, it definitely wasn’t reasonable, but I
had
wanted something from him, if only to show that I wasn’t completely alone. That he’d meekly stood by dampened some of my respect for him.

And made me boil with rage at Sergei.

I clenched my fists, but then unclenched them and smoothed my hands down my skirt. My fingers had been balled so tight that my short, manicured nails had left indents in my palm. That kind of anger, any emotion, really, wouldn’t do.

I needed to focus, be smart, and I couldn’t do that if I was drowning in rage any better than I could if I was breathless with desire.

I managed to push back the anger, but in its place was curiosity. I’d been halfway tempted to stand outside the door and listen, but had quickly decided against it.

I remembered vividly when I’d done that as a child, burning with curiosity about the men who came to the house, the ones I wasn’t supposed to see and who completely ignored me. My mother had found me listening once, and scolded me, told me that doing so was undignified.

Even now, all these years later, I felt a jab of guilt when remembering her speaking that word.

Undignified was the very worst thing anyone could be in Nora Carmelli’s eyes, and I’d sworn I would never be that, carried that vow with me to this very day.

She had led me away from the door, and I could still remember looking up at her, her dark eyes bright with disappointment and compassion. She’d reached down, caressed my cheek.

“There’s no reason to huddle at doors, Daniela,” she’d said.

“But I want to know,” I’d replied.

“I know, my darling. And you can.”

I’d brightened. “How?”

“You just have to learn how to listen,” she’d said.

She’d spent the next twenty years teaching me how to listen.

And I’d learned.

I no longer had to sit outside doors, hover in places I shouldn’t be to learn things others probably didn’t want me to know. But still…to be dismissed like that.

Frustrated, I turned and walked across the lush grass, moving to the next rosebush in search of that elusive calm.

“Asshole,” I muttered.

“What was that, dear?” Sergei said.

I didn’t jump. I wanted to, but my pride wouldn’t let me.

Instead, I kept my back to him and focused on the flowers, though I was acutely aware of him in a way that made me wonder how he managed to sneak up on me. And determined he’d never do it again.

“Why are you here? Aren’t you busy?” I asked when I turned, not bothering to attempt to do anything but say exactly how I felt.

“My wife is here. Where else would I be?” he asked.

The sun glinted off his dark hair, and shadowed his face, but I still saw the easy grin on it, still felt the tightness of desire that even my anger couldn’t push away.

“We’re alone. You can drop the pretense,” I said curtly.

“Pretense?” he asked innocently.

My anger, the anger I had thought I had such a good grip on, flared, loosening some of my control.

“You don’t think I saw that?” I asked through tightly clenched teeth.

He stepped closer. “Saw what?”

“The way you were trying to assert your dominance. Show Michael that you’re in charge.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t need to assert anything. My status has never been in question.”

“Are you certain about that?” I asked. I was certain, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t press, that I wasn’t above trying to turn this around on him so he felt at least a little of the tumult and discomfort I did.

His eyes flashed dangerously, and for a moment I wondered if I had let my anger get the better of me.

“Careful, Daniela,” he said, his voice taking on an edge. “I would have thought Santo taught you better.”

“If you’re so concerned about what my father may or may not have taught me, perhaps you shouldn’t have insisted on going through with this charade,” I said.

“When Maxim brought the terms to you and your father, did they feel like a charade?”

I went silent, thinking back to that day, the man who had calmly presented his terms, terms that had left us no options at all. Nothing about that meeting had been a charade.

“If they had, would I be here?” I finally said, some of my anger deflating.

“And last night? Was that a charade?” he said.

I slumped, but his words pulled me back upright, and I narrowed my eyes at him, shocked, more than a little hurt that he would throw last night back at me. His little smile was gone, but I could see he knew what he was doing. Turning the tables on me yet again, wrestling away what little control I had. But I wouldn’t make it easy.

“Last night was me living up to the terms of my agreement,” I said.

That smile came back in a flash, genuine and then gone. “Offering up your virtue was going above and beyond, don’t you think?” he said.

“It might be if I had virtue to offer,” I replied.

That got a reaction from him, a little flash of surprise, just as I had intended. One I planned to capitalize on. “I’m damaged goods, Sergei. You should send me back,” I said, issuing a dare of my own. “Santo’s good little girl isn’t so good.”

My heart thundered as I waited for him to speak, to do something. But he’d gone still, his expression unreadable, his body unmoving. Then, finally, he spoke.

“So you’re not a virgin?” he asked, his voice deep, maddeningly unreadable.

“No,” I said, my emotions warring.

A man like Sergei wouldn’t be able to abide that. There were strict rules to be followed, and women like me, bosses’ daughters, were expected to save themselves. It was unthinkable that a boss’s men would touch his daughter, even look at her, and most men couldn’t bear the thought of someone else having been with their wives. It was an ideal way for me to get out of this, because Sergei wouldn’t be able to handle it either. That, too, should have made me happy. Him sending me away would free me from this. It would also mean I wouldn’t be with him, and I didn’t know how I felt about that.

So I watched him, breath frozen in my lungs as I tried to interpret his expression, and failed. As the seconds passed, the tension ratcheted up and I questioned myself. Maybe I had pushed him too far.

Then, he did something I never would have expected. He laughed, his previously calm expression shattered in a burst of humor. “I don’t give a fuck about your virtue, Daniela.”

“I—” I cut off quickly, not sure I’d understood what I’d heard. “You…don’t care?” I finally asked.

“Nope,” he said.

“But I…”

“You what?” he said.

I glared at him. “I know how men like you are,” I said.

He tilted his head in contemplation. “And how is that?”

I looked at him, incredulous. Sure, he seemed jovial, almost friendly, but I knew what lurked underneath. He was a stone killer. I knew that as much as I knew anything. I had grown up with men like him. Had lived with one every day.

“I know men like you will hurt people over ancient history. Over nothing. What you’d do to someone who had even looked at someone or something you consider yours,” I said.

Before I’d spoken, I hadn’t been certain how he would respond, but him lifting his hand and cupping my cheek was not it. He held my face, his hand deliciously rough against my skin, his eyes surprisingly thoughtful.

“You’re wrong, Daniela,” he said.

I barely heard him, all of my attention focused on the thumb that stroked against my cheek, the crazy riot of feelings that the point of contact stirred.

“H-how am I wrong?” I finally asked, my voice a low, needy whisper.

“You’ve never known a man like me,” he said.

Then, I watched as he lowered his head toward mine, realizing now how close his body was, accepting how much I’d been anticipating feeling those lips against mine.

He started slowly, then deepened the kiss, moving his lips over mine with expert control that left me breathless. Before I’d realized I’d moved, I was clinging to him, my hands curled around his muscled sides, my breasts against his chest. He tightened his hold on my face and brought our bodies closer together, his warmth and hardness only making me want to seek more.