Rough Redemption Mafia Romance Books 1-4

6. Dante

6

DANTE

She was in my mouth last night. Right where I wanted her, and I couldn’t get rid of her taste on my tongue. The act played over and over again in my head like a movie scene. Every couple of minutes, I remembered her p***y pulsing under my lips.

An erotic film for sure, one that made p**n a shoddy substitute.

Her p***y was all that was good and true—and like the rest of her body, f*****g center-fold worthy.

Sweet.

Tangy.

It tasted like seconds, thirds… hell, I couldn’t see ever slaking my hunger for Savanna. Nor did I want to.

The next morning, I tried to scrub the need off my body with a loofa while she slept in.

Maybe the sting on my skin would clear the confusion about how this girl in trouble had walked into my life, pulled me out of my shitty, mopey routine, and tossed it all in the air like a deck of cards.

For the first time in a long while, I felt like I had something to live for.

A fixation of the female variety was a complication I most definitely could handle.

The Old Spice shower gel did nothing to erase her scent from my mind. With the olfactory reminder, I was nestled between her soft thighs again, tasting her honey. She squirmed beneath my attention and suddenly I was all powerful.

I’d make her let me do it again.

She’d asked me to f**k her. Not in so many words, but I got the general idea.

What was it like to be inside that sweet, tasty p***y that clamped down tightly around my fingers when she came?

“I called your aunt, “ I said to Savanna later on in the kitchen.

Teresa was up to speed that her niece was at my place for the weekend. I told her Savanna was having a hard time when I arrived to install the flooring last night and I thought it best that she didn’t spend the night alone.

Of course I said nothing about the dead body my cousin removed from her place of business, or that Carlos was there late into the night, making sure the place could pass forensic inspection.

Anyone who didn’t know her would think Savanna was functioning just fine, but I observed the minor differences.

From the day I met her, her laughter flowed in a constant stream, and she moved like a puppy through the world, excited to see what it offered. Nothing could kill her enthusiasm for the most mundane thing: rainbow sprinkles on a chocolate donut, an ugly flowered hat hand made by a customer, or the temperature of a frosty glass of milk she used to wash down a chocolate chip cookie.

Savanna’s energy surged so strongly it was crystal clear after only two encounters with her before the unfortunate incident with a knife.

She needed grounding. The safety of family. Mine was whacked, but they were still kin. “It’s Saturday, my Zio—that’s uncle in Italian—Lorenzo always has family dinner at his place. I go over early and help get ready. You can meet some of my crazy relatives. You look like you could use a laugh or two.”

She nodded listlessly, staring out the window towards the lake. I had a feeling she didn’t even see the water out there.

My uncle, Zio Lorenzo, built like a linebacker, his prize-fighter bulk an extreme contrast to the docile way he treated his “kitten.“ He was underboss to my grandfather, Don Alberto, and one of two remaining sons. Gangsters had killed my father when I was fifteen years old.

I’d forgotten to warn Savanna about Zio’s pet name for his lady friend.

“Kitten, will you pick out a couple bottles of wine to open for our guests?” Zio bent his gigantic form over the stove and stirred the contents of a giant stainless-steel pot, “One sec.“ He addressed me. “ It’s time to add the oregano or this sauce will go to shit.”

The sound of his huge wooden spoon scraping over the metal pan lulled the room for a moment. “You know how it is. Timing is everything.”

Once satisfied his sauce was simmering along, he spun his gigantic body towards us with surprising grace. No one would dare tease my uncle for being a tough guy with a soft side. Besides, they say a hard heart is worse than b****y hands, and I had to agree.

The Drago name commanded respect, but Lorenzo got it without ever having to say his name out loud.

I watched as he smeared his white apron red with his hand swipes of homemade tomato sauce, calling to mind the violent deeds that he’d committed. Zio was a man you wanted at your back during good times or bad.

“Dante, so glad you’re here. What did you bring my kitten?”

So, for real, part of our family’s deal, ever since his “Kitten” moved in, we were all required to bring a treat for her when we came for family dinner.

Swear to God, over scotch and cigars in the solarium one night, tears dripped off Zio’s massive jaw while he described the situation he had rescued his girl from.

Jessica took care of her father for years, working herself to complete exhaustion as his caregiver, only to find out he lied about his diagnosis in order to use her as a free servant. When Lorenzo found out, he insisted she move in immediately and they’d been together ever since.

“I’ll make it up to her if it’s the last thing I do, Dante. No girl should ever have to go through such a thing. Imagine the years she wasted caring for that thankless, lying bastard. A girl needs pampering, spoiling, not to be worked like a dog who’s never even given a bone.”

Jessica, aka “Kitten,” loved my uncle with everything in her soul, and when she thought no one could hear her, I’d sometimes hear her whisper his pet name, “Daddy.”

I wasn’t sure what to think about that, but I knew their affection for one another made the skin on the back of my neck prickle.

In a good way.

Did I have such a deep connection with Lilly when she was alive?

The sick thing was, I couldn’t even remember.

Parts of my memory from that time were lost, like missing puzzle pieces.

I hated myself for it.

Rolling my neck and shoulders as Savanna approached, looking like a lost puppy now, my words came out rapid fire. “Why don’t you go with Jessica and find some eggplants in the solarium? I need two about this big for my parmesan.” With my hands, I showed her the measurements in the air, and she smirked.

“Sure.” She turned and walked away to find Jessica.

Her hair was a weakness of mine, lustrous, spun gold, cascading over her shoulders in shiny waves. I wanted to clench my hand in it and yank her back to me. Demand that she address me properly. “Yes, Sir.”

Obviously, I didn’t go there.

I didn’t go there when she was so fragile it seemed she might break into a million pieces. Even though she thought she needed s*x. Nor would I go there now that she was still recovering from what happened last night.

She might not know it herself, but Savanna needed time.

I was a bastard, sure as s**t, but I wasn’t a cruel bastard.

Zio’s dahlia garden was surrounded by a white picket fence, and he swung open the gate for his son, Carlos, who had just arrived, and I followed them in.

“Ah, my work of heart.” Lorenzo cooed as he stroked one of the rainbow-colored blossoms as big as his head.

“You can learn a lot about how to treat a woman in the garden, boys, lemme tell you,” Lorenzo said.

Carlos looked at me, one side of his mouth curved up into a hook. “How’s that, Zio?”

My uncle got down on his knees, his huge back bent over to see under the dark leaves which he pulled to the side. “See that?”

I didn’t know what he was talking about, but crouched down next to him, anyway. “What am I looking at?”

“Mulch.” He grabbed a handful of straw in his hand. “And underneath it, perfect soil.” He raked more of the straw back with his fingers. “Affection for a woman is just like this mulch, don’t go a single season without layering more of it on top. Without it, the ground cracks apart under the harsh glare of the sun; no protection. Mulch keeps the pesky weeds away and feeds the soil.”

A fat worm worked its way back into the black dirt that Zio had revealed by removing the straw.

“You know what they say, boys, ‘A flower cannot blossom without sunshine, and man cannot live without love.’”

Carlos raised his eyebrows and said, “I don’t know, Zio. I can’t get enough of the girls who I know are bad for me. Pretty sure that’s l**t, not love.”

Zio turned a faucet on and gave a drooping dahlia a shot of water. “You’re young. You need to get it out of your system.” He turned towards us and his spray of water moved with him, soaking the path, “But some day when you least expect it, you’re going to meet a girl who makes you want to lay back, laugh at the stupidest things, hold each other, and enjoy being together in every menial moment.” He shook a hose-sized finger at us. “That’s when you know.”

He turned off the water, and we headed back inside.

Carlos put a hand on my shoulder and whispered, “Dante. That thing, it’s taken care of. No worries. Clean as a whistle.”

My uncle gave a sharp nod, sensing we were talking business that was none of his business, pushed his shoulders back and turned towards the house. “I’ll see you both back inside. Need to stir my sauce.”

This was how it worked. Carlos did me a favor, and that favor would be called in, family or not.

He had me by the balls.

I stopped short on the front lawn and turned towards my cousin. His hand dropped to his side and his eyebrows furrowed as he gazed at me with focus. A hummingbird buzzed in like a dive bomber, sizing us up. His bird brain actually considered himself a worthy opponent and reminded me of how testosterone was a d**g that blinded us to our own vulnerability.

I knew getting involved with Savanna was a bad idea.

Life had shown me it could snatch a beloved from you at any moment, unexpectedly, and bam—in a nanosecond, the rough beast of oblivion became your pet.

I couldn’t go there again.

If I did, I wouldn’t make it out alive.

Not in so many words, but that was what I told Carlos. “I haven’t felt like this about a girl in a long time.”

His eyes glossed over. “Don’t blame you. With an a*s like that, who needs p**n?”

A snarl hit the back of my throat before I could stop it.

Carlos jerked his head back. “Whoa there. Easy. You really do have it bad.”

He scrubbed his beard with his palm and held his chin high. “If I were you, Dante, I’d call that favor in.”

“Call it in?” I narrowed my eyes at him.

His grin held a secret, “You know, in exchange for your silence about the…” his voice lowered to a whisper, “… unfortunate event with a knife… she offers her body. Becomes your s*x slave.”

“That’s blackmail.” My toes curled up off the ground. “I’ll be the first to admit my proclivities toward the fairer s*x are weird beyond the national average, but I’m still above using coercion to get a woman in my bed.”

I said it like I meant it, even felt my muscles tightening with conviction.

Real believable.

Nearly convincing myself.

But the very thought of having Savanna under lock and key, beholden to me, made my pulse quicken and my c**k swell with f****d up, f*******n longing.

And right there, right then, I knew—I’d see that longing through.