THE CALLAHANS (A Mafia Romance): The Complete 5 Books Series (71 page)

“But it’s not filled with whips and restraints. Just PlayStations and Xboxes.”

She made a gesture with her chin, making it clear that she didn’t find my joke funny. She continued to move through the room, pausing outside the partially open door to my office. After a long peek, she wandered back toward the elevator, going into the kitchen.

“You cook?”

“Yes.”

She picked up a garlic press that had been left on the counter—I seriously needed to have a conversation with my maid!—running her fingers carefully over the rough edges.

“My mom taught me to cook. Maybe we could teach each other a thing or two.”

“Maybe.”

She set the press down and turned toward me.

“Can I ask you something?”

Her eyes refused to lift to mine, and she was wringing her hands, squeezing her fingers so tightly together that it must have been painful. I took them between mine, separating them and rubbing her palms gently with my thumbs.

“Ask me anything. I just can’t promise I’ll answer.”

“Why are we doing this? I mean…” She bit her lip before she finally looked up, her eyes wet with tears. “It’s a new millennia. It’s not as if we’re stuck in the 1960s. We have minds of our own, independence.”

“Because we know that this more than just about us. And because we love our families.”

“I grew up believing you and your family were monsters.”

“And I always thought you and your family were idiots.”

She laughed, the sound wrapped up in a sob. “You might not be completely wrong. My brother, Carmine Jr., isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed.”

I touched her face, drawing her closer to me. Our eyes met as my thumb traced a pattern on her chin.

“I can’t promise that you won’t be miserable in this marriage. But I can promise that I will never raise a hand against you; I will never treat you with disrespect; and I will never be unfaithful.”

She shook her head, breaking away from my touch.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“What makes you think I don’t intend to keep those promises?”

“Oh, you probably intend to keep them right now. But you don’t know how things will change in the future.”

“Then what can I say to make this easier for you?”

She turned away, returning to the counter where the garlic press rested, running her fingers over it again even though she didn’t pick it up this time. I didn’t think she was going to answer me. And, to be honest, I couldn’t think of anything she could say to calm the same uncertainty in me. But then she spoke, her voice so low that I had to strain a little to hear her.

“Tell me that the girl in New York isn’t a factor anymore. Tell me that there’s at least a little hope that we can make this work. Tell me that I’m not throwing away my chance for a home and a family on a sense of loyalty that’s completely misplaced.”

She was laying herself bare in front of me, and there was absolutely nothing I could say. The truth was, I didn’t know what was going to happen once we promised ourselves to one another for the rest of our lives. I’d already said what I thought she wanted to hear, but I could see that it was inadequate. And it made me wonder if I was inadequate.

I moved up behind her and touched her shoulder. She turned, moving into my arms like she’d done it before, like she belonged there. I hesitated as I slipped my arms around her, holding my hands back from touching her for a long second. But then she lifted her face and her lips were softly parted, and I felt myself falling into a surreal place, a world that felt boundless. She was looking at me as if I was something more than I really was, as if I had the power to make her fears disappear with single touch. But I wasn’t that man, and I was pretty sure we both knew it.

She raised up on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against mine. My body responded instantly, my breath stuttering in my lungs and my cock straightening itself out against its denim and cotton cage. But it wasn’t just my body that responded. There was something more, something about the way she looked at me when she stepped back, checking my reaction with a touch of fear in her eyes.

I could have pulled away at that moment. I could have made a joke, changed the subject, lightened the atmosphere. But my hand was moving before I could stop it. I cupped the side of her face, my fingertips pressed hard against her temple, her jaw. I pulled her back toward me, stealing her lips, tasting the sweetness that could only be her. I don’t know how I knew that, or why that thought even occurred to me, but I knew it as well as I knew my own name.

She opened to me, her lips parting ever so softly, the tip of her tongue welcoming me inside of her. We kissed with a passion we shouldn’t have felt for each other, a heat that made promises I wasn’t sure I could keep. But, in that moment, it was perfect, more perfect than any first kiss I’d ever shared in the past.

I pushed her back against the counter, trapping her there, deepening the kiss until I felt her sigh against me. Her hands tangled themselves in my shirt, her breasts heaving with every breath she struggled to take. My hand buried itself under the heavy ponytail that held her hair back, the other resting on her hip, drawing her closer. Her belly pressed perfectly against my cock, the soft and hard a lovely contrast that spoke to everything about the two of us. My thoughts were speeding too far ahead, my hand sliding down over her ass, imagining her weight in my hands as I lifted her onto the edge of the counter, as I placed her at just the perfect height to thrust inside…

The damn doorbell rang as she slipped her fingers down along the bottom edge of my shirt, as her fingers brushed the bare flesh just above the waistband of my jeans. There was so much in that one touch, and the disappointment that soared through me as reality forced its way between us in the sound of the doorbell was almost crushing.

“It’s the jeweler,” I whispered against her mouth.

“You better let him in.”

But her hand slid over my belly, making my muscles quiver. I was not a quiver sort of man, but that…

Damn!

It took the power of Job to walk away from her. My fingers lingered on her hip and when I looked back at her, her lips swollen and her eyes downcast, I couldn’t believe I was actually doing it.

The jeweler seemed to understand that he’d interrupted something with his arrival. He kept stealing glances at the two of us as he opened his case on the coffee table.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d want, so I brought a small sample of a large number of rings. If you see something you like, but it’s not quite right, let me know and I’ll see if I can find something more appropriate in my shop.”

He pulled out a tray of diamond engagement rings, each one bigger and shinier than the one before. I sat back a little and watched Mia’s face as she studied them.

“Isn’t this something you’re supposed to do?” she asked, shooting a look in my direction.

“You’re the one who has to wear it.”

“It’s quite common for the woman to choose her own engagement ring,” the jeweler said helpfully.

“But if you were to choose,” she said, “which would it be?”

I sat up and studied the tray. The truth was, they were all a little gaudy in my opinion. When I didn’t pick something right away, the jeweler pulled out another tray.

“We have a few, less traditional, rings here.”

Immediately I noticed a small, oval diamond surrounded by crushed amethysts that gave the ring a little more character than just the solitaire. I picked it up, turning it around in my fingers, studying the way the light glinted off the stones and the gold band.

“What do you think of this one?”

Mia leaned against my shoulder as she studied it, her body pressed against the length of mine, reawakening the urgency that had just begun to subside. I turned my head to look at her and was rewarded with a cloud of her scent, a scent that was more than perfume, but something basic, something that was clearly just Mia. It wasn’t overly feminine, nor was it less than feminine. It was simply her.

She touched my finger just before the ring.

“It’s beautiful.”

“We have more like that one,” the jeweler said, bringing out another tray that was laden with big, beautiful rings that probably cost more than I paid for this apartment. But this was the one that had caught my eye and it was the one that made Mia smile.

I turned slightly, taking her left hand in mine. I slipped it on, pleased with the way the gold looked against her creamy, tan skin.

“You like it?”

She nodded.

“Are you sure? You don’t want one of those big, fancy ones?”

“No. I like this one.”

I kissed the back of her hand on impulse, lost in the twinkle in her eyes for a second. Again, it took a hell of a lot of strength to turn away from her.

“Now we’ll look at wedding bands.”

The jeweler looked terribly disappointed, but he hid it well as he began his spiel on the wedding bands. He showed us a huge collection of gold bands—I’d never realized there were so many different styles of wedding ring. But it only took a moment for Mia and I to settle on a simple gold band with no adornments. It seemed fitting. We were beginning this life together with no clue who either of us was separately, let alone who we’d be together. We were a blank slate, and these simple bands seemed to represent that.

Starting with a blank slate didn’t seem like a bad thing. Not anymore.

Mia

I stood naked in front of the mirror, wondering what Ian saw when he looked at me. Not that he’d seen me this way. I hadn’t, until an hour ago, been sure he’d ever want to see me this way. But then he kissed me and…I couldn’t even begin to describe what that’d been like. I felt like putty in his hands, like clay waiting to be molded. I’d never felt that way with anyone else. Even Spider. Especially Spider.

It wasn’t as if I’d had a lot of experience. My father was very particular about the guys he’d allow me to date. I had a steady boyfriend in high school, but I had such a strict curfew that we barely had time to get something to eat and catch a movie. If we skipped the movie, we sometimes had time to make out for a while, but that never allowed us enough to time to get beyond petting. In college, I had a little more freedom, but my dad made sure the boys I dated knew who he was and what he’d do to them if they hurt me. Most of them were more afraid of him than they were interested in me.

Spider was different. Maybe that was why I fancied myself in love with him. He didn’t care about my dad’s threats, didn’t care that there always seemed to be someone following us around on our dates. All he cared about was making music and spending a few stolen hours away with me. But then we ran away, and it just wasn’t the romantic story I’d envisioned it being.

I’d begun to believe that I would never feel the way the heroines in books like
Wuthering Heights
and
Pride and Prejudice
felt. But then Ian kissed me and reality simply melted away.

Was it possible that I was about to marry my Heathcliff? Or my Mr. Darcy?

I touched the ring that now adorned my finger. I’d imagined the kind of engagement ring I would someday wear. I wasn’t one of those girls who wanted a ring so large that it constantly snagged in my sweaters. I imagined something simple, but unique…something I’d be proud to show off, but wouldn’t be embarrassed by its lack of beauty or its overwhelming ostentatiousness. This ring was exactly what I’d always imagined and my heart nearly jumped out of my chest when he picked it up out of the tray.

It was as if he’d read my mind.

And the wedding bands couldn’t be more perfect. Simple, but expensive. Unadorned, but not unattractive. They were symbolic of this relationship, of the uncertain future that lay out ahead of us. And, like with the engagement ring, he’d read my mind, picking exactly what I’d wanted.

It couldn’t have gone better.

But then he drove me home in silence, careful not to touch me as he waited for me to climb out of the car.

“I’ll see you,” he’d said, his eyes moving slowly over me before resting on my face. And then he was gone, speeding off in that fancy car as if nothing unusual had happened between us.

I’d never been so confused in my life.

I pressed my hand to my belly and let it slide slowly downward, wondering if he’d felt the same thing I had during that kiss—I was pretty sure he had—or if he’d been disappointed. Was I not as good of a kisser as his girlfriend was?

I wished I knew her name. It would be so much easier to be jealous of a name than an idea.

“Mia? Are you dressed?”

I turned, quickly snatching the bathrobe off the end of my bed.

“No, Momma.”

“The hairdresser’s here. She wants to do you first.”

“Okay.”

“Can I come in?”

I groaned, but I knew I had no choice. The door opened before I could answer, my mom and my sister rushing toward me, their hands outstretched.

“Where is it?”

I blushed as I held out my hand. My mom gasped as her fingers brushed the ring. “Beautiful,” she whispered.

“It’s so small. I thought the Callahans had tons of money,” Seraphina said.

“Don’t be crass,” Momma said, jabbing her with her elbow. “It’s exactly what Mia would have wanted. Right, darling?”

“Yes.”

Seraphina just shook her head. “If I was the one forced into this marriage, I’d get the biggest rock out of him that I could.”

“Maybe that’s why you’re Aldo’s problem,” I said.

She stuck her tongue out at me, but then she laughed. “You’re probably right.”

An hour later, we linked arms as the three of us made our way down the stairs. The party had begun a half hour ago, most of the guests arriving right on time. They knew better than to be late…because Daddy didn’t appreciate tardiness. It was mostly people I’d grown up with, my dad’s associates and their wives, but I spotted Killian and Stacy, Brian and his wife, Sean and his girlfriend. Kyle was there, too, his arms wrapped around the waist of an attractive brunette I’d not met yet. But my eyes just bounced off these familiar faces as I searched the crowd for one set of blue eyes, one blond head.

Daddy and Aldo were waiting at the bottom of the stairs, a matching proud expression in their eyes as they watched their respective ladies walk toward them. I’d watched this same scene from the living room, a spectator imagining what it would be like when I had a man who looked at me that way. And then Ian came around the corner from behind Daddy, dressed in an expensive dark suit, an unreadable expression on his handsome face. But then he looked up at me, raised his hand, and I thought for a second I saw pride fill his eyes.

The crowd parted as he escorted me into the room, the silence absolute.

“Allow me to announce the betrothal of my beautiful daughter, Mia Isabella Rossi, to Ian Crawford Callahan,” my father’s voice billowed out from behind us.

The room suddenly burst into applause, the sound almost deafening. Ian held my hand up above our shoulders, pushing me slightly forward to accept the wave of adoration. I glanced back at him, and there was no doubt in my mind that I saw pride this time.

It was everything I’d always imagined it would be.

***

Ian remained close to my side all night as we worked our way through the crowd. Everyone was open and joyous. But I could feel the undercurrent of tension in the room. It was the first time in the history of both mafia organizations that major players from both sides were in the same room. Jack McGuire himself came up to me and offered his congratulations, professing that Ian was every bit the gentleman he’d proclaimed him to be to my father. I hadn’t heard that proclamation, but I had no doubt that he was right.

It was exhausting, the tension. I was almost relieved when a few hours into the party Ian led the way outside. We walked through the garden without speaking. He paused from time to time to touch a rose here, a petal there.

“I’ve heard that your mother is the gardener.”

“She is.”

“I can see that. She seemed to have a very patient nature, the kind of nature you’d need to grow and nurture something like this.”

“She’d appreciate your assessment of her nature.”

A few minutes later, Ian pulled me into a little clearing in the center of the garden where there was a small, stone fountain and a bench. We sat side by side for a long few minutes in silence, the sounds of other partygoers walking in the garden background noise to our breathing. Ian lifted his hand and acted as though he wanted to touch me, but his hand stilled in the middle of the air.

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” he said, glancing at me almost as though he’d forgotten I was there. “I just…I feel like there are so many things I should say to you, but I don’t know how or what.”

“Then maybe there’s nothing that needs to be said.”

He turned to me, his eyes moving slowly over the length of me. He touched my knee, just the tips of his fingers resting against the material of my skirt.

“You look really beautiful tonight. I guess I should have said so earlier.”

“Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

“You think so?” He looked down at his suit. “I debated whether I should buy a new suit or not.”

“Maybe for the wedding.”

He looked up quickly, his mouth open to respond, but then he saw I was teasing and he chuckled softly.

“I want you to know I’m not such a bad guy.”

“I know.”

“I don’t expect anything from you that you aren’t willing to give.”

I nodded, my thoughts going back to the kiss in his kitchen. I bit my lip, and I swear I could taste him there still. Our eyes met and he leaned close, so close that I could feel the heat of their breath. I knew he was about to kiss me—I wanted him to kiss me—but then voices of men who were walking in the garden came close to us.

“Jack only caved to this because he knew he’d never win in a full out street war. Carmine could have kicked his ass.”

“Then why is he marrying his youngest daughter to that Callahan?”

“I don’t know. But it sure is a waste of a sweet, little thing.”

Anger flashed across Ian’s face. He started to get up, but I grabbed his arm and pulled him back down onto the bench with me.

“Ignore them. They’re just drunk and feeling stupid.”

“They shouldn’t be talking about you that way.”

I was touched by that, by the idea that he might care enough to be angry about such a stupid comment. I leaned forward and kissed him on the corner of his mouth.

“Thank you. Not even my brothers would care enough to want to defend my honor.”

“You’re a beautiful woman, Mia,” Ian said, pushing me back against the bench with a hand on the side of my face. “You should be spoken of only with respect.”

He kissed me, not on the corner of the mouth, but with the same sort of breath-stealing, knee-weakening passion that he’d kissed me with earlier in the day. I grabbed hold of his lapel and went for the ride, opening to him as he pressed hard against me, his hand sliding over my hip as he tugged me almost onto his lap. He was an amazing kisser. He knew what he was doing, and he made each and every movement count. I’d never been explored quite the way he did it, never touched quite the way he touched me. It was a jumble of sensations, not just his lips on mine or his tongue doing the most amazing things, but his hand on my hip and his other on my neck. My mind was overwhelmed with the feel of him, not sure which source of pleasure was the one that should win priority over the others.

And then there was my hand on him, the softness of his suit jacket tangled in my hand, the heat of his flesh under his shirt where my other hand was pressed. I wanted to feel flesh in a way that was almost obsessive. I wanted my fingers under his shirt, wanted to feel the jumping and the flexing of his muscles against my hand. We were in my mother’s garden—in the middle of a massive party—yet I wanted him to rip his shirt from his body and give me access to every inch of that powerful chest, that six pack, and the secrets that hid below them.

It was a crazy thought, one I shouldn’t have been having at that moment. If my dad were to catch us, he would kill Ian despite the fact that we were properly engaged.

Almost as if he’d heard my thoughts, Ian broke the kiss, pressing his forehead to mine.

“We should stop,” he said breathlessly.

“Okay.”

“I don’t want your father to think I have ill intentions toward you.”

“Of course.”

And then he kissed me again.

I was floating on a cloud, my mind so far beyond reasonable thought that it was fractured, my thoughts moving from one insane thought to another. I pressed two fingers between the buttons on his crisp, white shirt, disappointed to find the ribbed fabric of an undershirt. But the shirt was thin, and I could feel the heat of his skin and the pounding of his heart. He broke the kiss again, but this time to create a trail down my throat, eliciting a moan from deep in my throat as he made his way slowly to the heart shape of my dress’s bodice. His tongue, just the very tip, brushed against the rounded flesh of one breast, sliding slowly down the curve into the valley in between. And then he began his way slowly up, alternating between little flicks of his tongue and tiny, butterfly kisses.

I don’t think my nipples had ever been quite that hard.

And then his mouth was on mine again and we kissed roughly, almost violently, as he slid his hand under my skirt along my stockings. He groaned when he found my garter, his hand sliding further up against bare skin.

“Fuck me!” He groaned as he broke the kiss a third time. “We really have to stop.”

I ran my hand over the bristles of his short hair, teasing a few of the hairs at the back of his neck. Then he jumped to his feet and held out his hand, tugging me to mine. He stood facing the exit of the little garden for a long moment, almost as though he was waiting for something. Then he tugged me back into the garden and back up to the house. Seraphina saw us first, waving from the stone porch. Beside her was Aldo—with that perpetual dumb look on his face—Kyle, and the brunette he’d been with earlier.

“Hey, brother,” Kyle said, slapping Ian’s shoulder as he studied him with a hard stare. “Everything good?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

Kyle hesitated a second then tugged the brunette up closer to his side.

“Mia, this is my wife, Amelia. Amelia, Mia.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” I said, taking her proffered hand.