Page 29 of Dario

Interrogation – commencing.

“I’ve known Terry since I was nine years old. His dad owns a boxing gym I used to go to. Terry’s wife was a marine and got killed in a so-called friendly fire incident three months after their baby was born.”

Alessandro blinked, still groggy, which was what I needed but I couldn’t have his defenses going up again. I leaned over to kiss him and licked and sucked until he melted back into my arms. “I used to sneak out of the house to watch the fights at the gym. When my dad found out I was going out alone, he completely lost his shit.” I chuckled. “I think Mom was angrier with him than me. But Grandpa rescued me in the end. Nonna’s husband. He told my father he would accompany me every time I wanted to go, and he did.”

He murmured something, his eyes remaining closed.

“I’m glad you seem to like Nonna. It’s hard for her when I don’t have much time. Did you ever meet your grandparents?”

I didn’t think he was going to answer at first, but his eyes opened, and I could see the glitter of moisture in them. “I wish.”

“You wish?” I pushed, feeling like the bastard he had accused me of, but I had to know.

Alessandro sighed. “I never knew who they were. I was just relieved Rocco didn’t have any parents when I found out who he was to me, and my mom said both hers had died before she even came to America. When you’re a kid you just accept things. I wasn’t the only kid in class with a single parent. It’s hardly unusual these days.”

“You never asked anything? Where they came from?” The words were out before I could stop them, and I could have kicked myself. I’d just told myself I didn’t want him shoring any defenses up.

“Once,” he nodded. “I had a best friend called Rudy and his older sister was getting married. His dad had died when he was little, but his grandad was giving his sister away. He cameto school full of stories about how funny it had been to watch his grandfather learning to dance. He told me it was for the father-daughter dance, which I’d never heard of, even though he was her grandad. I went home and asked my mom about my grandparents, and she told me then that they died. She said that one day when I was old enough, we would go on a trip and see her old village. She even described this cottage in a small Tuscan village.” Alessandro smiled. “It wasn’t as big as this house obviously, but the jasmine and the red terracotta tiles reminded me of her stories.”

I pressed a kiss into his hair, not knowing what to say. Either he was the best actor in the history of the universe, or he had no idea about a possible connection to Chicago. I really thought the mention of the Bratva was nonsense because no one would trust Hugo with that sort of sensitive information, which left Rocco and the Irish, or Alessandro and the Amatos.

“I begged her to tell me all about them and my dad, but she got upset. She promised she would tell me when I was sixteen.” A single tear escaped, and he lifted a hand to brush it away, but my thumb beat him to it. “By the time I was sixteen she didn’t even know who I was.”

I pulled Alessandro in close and stayed awake long after his breathing had evened out and he slept. I could easily get a DNA test done on him, but getting the DNA of the Boss of the Chicago family was so impossible it was ludicrous.

Maybe I should add him to the increasingly long list of people trying to kill me and be on my guard even more than I was already?

15

Alessandro

Iknew the bed was empty before I even opened my eyes. What I didn’t know was if Dario was still here, now that he thought he’d taught me a lesson. Would that be the ultimate humiliation? For him to appear only when he thought I needed to be disciplined, then return to some lover when he wanted fun? I rolled over and huffed. I’d only held out and stayed strong for about ten seconds. I could feel his hands on me even now. The soreness. The humiliation. And, unfortunately, the bone-deep, blow-my-mind-toe-curling orgasms that followed it. I’d barely managed to last five whole indignant minutes, and that included the time it took for him to carry me from one bedroom to another, before I caved.

What was wrong with me?

Maybe nothing. Maybe I shouldn’t want my marriage to be a battlefield. He hadn’t ever attempted to pretend to be anything other than what he was. A Don. He might call himself Boss which basically meant the same thing, and didn’t change the tiger’s stripes.

I just didn’t want to think about whose bed he had left before he got into mine. Which reminded me I should think about other things. Like sexually transmitted diseases. Unless it was already too late. Did I believe what he'd told me about Terry? Terry could be Bi.

If he told me he was negative, would I believe him? Would I have any choice? And how was he planning on siring an heir? Could I cope with watching him sleep with women? Would that be better or worse than suspecting he was with Terry?

Somehow, and I wasn’t sure why, I imagined Dario would be a good father, or was I swayed by the well-used ache in my bottom half enough to not care what was going on in my head?

Or my heart.

Because that would be the biggest mistake I could ever make, to assume I was anything more than a means to an end.

I sat up quickly when the knock on the door startled me, but I smiled at Imelda when she came in carrying what I hoped was coffee. “I don’t expect you to wait on me.”

She grinned. “It’s nearly nine and Renaldo will be here at twelve.”

I made a good owl impression for a couple of seconds but then I took a deep breath.

“Why do I need my hair fixed?” I mean washed, yes, but I’d been doing that myself for a lot of years. I didn’t understand why I needed it done up.

“He’s bringing a selection of clothes for you to try. Renaldo operates a styling team. Not just hair.”

“I thought you were going to do that?”