Brutal Intentions: A Standalone Mafia Enemies to Lovers Romance (Brutal Hearts Book 1)

It’s perfect.

Everything about it is perfect. The shop. The palatial showroom. The six bays for servicing cars. The huge storage area. The staffrooms. The huge shady trees out front that would keep the heat off on hot days.

I can picture the sign that would hang in pride on the front of the building. Rosetti Motors and Servicing. The life I want is so close I can touch it. Taste it. Smell the engine grease.

This place could be mine.

It should be mine.

But my brothers are ruining my dreams. I earned good money for the family over the years, but like an idiot, it didn’t go into my bank account, it went into the family account that my father and now Faber controls. It must add up to hundreds of thousands of dollars, shifting their suspect imports, overseeing so many illegal clubs. I busted my guts for the Rosetti family, and when I asked for what’s rightfully mine, they’ve turned their backs on me. I’m a loose cannon, the unreliable one, but the irony is I don’t even want to be a criminal. I’d be happier up to my elbows in car engines every day, buying, selling, and fixing up motors. I worked hard for the family. Now I want something that’s mine.

My wife has enough money to buy this place fifty times over, but I’ll tie a bungie cord to my balls and jump of a cliff before I go begging to her. I know just how Giulia would act if she bankrolled this place for me.

Lazzaro just loves tinkering with his little cars.

You’re going there? Again? Didn’t you go there yesterday?

Please, Lazzaro, stop pretending your silly hobby is anything close to real work.

I’d rather not have this place than have it under those conditions.

I stand up from the hood of my car with a groan. So, I guess I’m not having it.

I need a drink to drown my misery. Or ten, in a place where the other drinkers have never even heard of kale and quinoa.

I head across town to a place where the streets are comfortably run-down, the men wear ripped jeans and faded T-shirts, and the girls sport the best winged eyeliner in the city. I’m about to head into a bar when I spot my favorite strip club, Peppers. Your feet stick to the carpet, but the girls are gorgeous.

Treat yourself, Laz.

But when I get inside, I can barely concentrate on my beer, let alone the bartender with great tits or the dancer on stage with even better tits and an ass so tight you could bounce a coin off it. A few girls put a hand on my shoulder and ask me if I want a private dance. I thought I did, but now it doesn’t seem so appealing, so I shake my head.

I’ll finish my beer and go. Tonight’s a bust.

“Please welcome to the stage, Tasha.”

I glance up, more to show some respect to the girl who’s performing than from interest. I’m about to drop my gaze when something about the slender, lilac-haired girl snares my interest.

First of all, she’s so pretty and petite that my hands ache to get around that little waist of hers. The lilac hair makes her seem ethereal, and there’s a flirty, knowing curve to her lips. She’s got the tiniest pair of tits I’ve ever seen. Almost no tits, but adorable, raspberry pink nipples that have my tongue moving against the roof of my mouth. The way she’s dancing is incredibly sexy, swaying that cute little ass and taking languorous swings around the pole.

Suddenly my dick is standing to attention. I can’t tear my eyes away from her, and from what I can tell in my peripheral vision, every other man in this joint is staring at the pixie on stage as well.

She’s a full minute into her dance before I realize with a jolt that I know this girl. I leap to my feet, my chair shooting out behind me and clattering to the floor.

“Mia.”

The girl calling herself Tasha has been smiling from one man to the next, and finally her gaze lands on me. Those brown eyes of hers widen momentarily as they meet mine. But then they’re moving on to the next man, that languid fuck-me expression being bestowed on someone else.

My stepdaughter’s a stripper? I’ve just caught her, and she’s going to keep dancing like nothing’s happened?

No way. No fucking way. I grasp the edge of the stage, preparing to leap up and drag her off it.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” A bouncer grabs me by the shoulders and pulls me back.

I round on him and point at Mia with a furious forefinger. “That’s my stepdaughter.”

The bouncer glances from me to Mia and back again. The anger melts from his face, but he compels me back to my seat and rights it for me. “Sorry, man. She’s chosen to be up there, so you need to suck it up or get out.”

I can’t sit down, so I death-grip the back of my chair for the rest of Mia’s dance. Guys keep holding out bills to her, and she lets them slide the money into the waistband of her G-string, and their fingers accidentally-on-purpose graze her flesh. Every time one of these lowlifes touch her, I want to drag them out of here by their hair, but the bouncer has his arms folded and his narrowed gaze directed right at me. One wrong move, and I’ll be outside where I can’t get to Mia.

When she finishes her dance, she has enough bills tucked into her panties to wallpaper a house.

I open my mouth to call her down off the stage, but she ignores me, gives a flirty little wave to the room, and disappears back the way she came.

Un-fucking-believable.

I step into the path of one of the dancers who’s dressed in a spangled purple G-string, a white feather boa, and nothing else. “Tell her to come out and talk to me.”

The woman gives me an up-and-down. “Who?”

“Mia.” She stares at me blankly, and I growl through my teeth, “Tasha.”

Purple G-string gives me a sarcastic smirk and places a hand on her hip. “We don’t follow your orders here, honey. If you want to see Tasha, you’ll need to pay for a private dance.”

I pull my wallet out of the back of my jeans. “Then I’ll pay for a private dance.”

She points where I need to go, and after I hand over the money I’m shown into a small room and told to wait.

A few minutes later, Mia comes through the door wearing a ruffled white G-string.

Clear plastic high heels.

The curly lilac wig.

A flirty smile on her glossy lips directed right at me.

And absolutely nothing else.

She looks like jailbait. Mouthwatering, innocent jailbait. Not usually my type, the barely legal girl who probably doesn’t know her way around her own clit, but I happen to know this petite angel has a pussy of molten gold and can grind herself to orgasm on my fingers.

I open my mouth to ask her what the hell she’s doing here, but she puts her hands on my shoulders and pushes me back against my seat. A song starts playing, something sexy and slow, and Mia straddles my lap.

As she slinks closer to me, and I catch the scent and heat of her perfect body, my dick stands to attention again.

I grip the sides of my chair. Oh, Jesus. I wasn’t expecting this. I planned to yell at Mia to explain herself, but she’s dragging her pussy along my erection and suddenly I’m seeing stars.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“What do you think, baby?” she murmurs in the horniest voice I’ve ever heard. “I’m giving you a dance.”

She’s not acting like she even recognizes me. The crazy thought occurs to me that Mia has a twin, but I recognize the small mole on the side of her throat. I kissed that mole the other day in my car. It’s definitely her.

“You do know who I am, right?”

Maybe she’s high as a kite and she doesn’t realize the man she’s writhing against is her stepfather.

“Sure I do. What are you doing here, Laz?”

Mia holds on to my shoulders and arches all the way back, moving her body in a slow semi-circle. The colored lights overhead play across her flawless skin.

“Mia—”

“It’s Tasha.” She meets my gaze and gives me a wink. “But you can call me Bambi if you like. Shall I take this off?”

She runs a teasing finger under the waistband of her ruffled G-string.

I swallow. Hard.

The right answer would be to shove her from my lap and lecture her about how inappropriate it is for either of us to be in here, especially together, when I’m married, she’s in high school, and I’m her fucking stepfather.

But I never was much good at making the appropriate decision.

She edges the strap of her G-string down, giving me a flash of her waxed-bare pussy. “I won’t tell. As you can probably guess, I’m very good at keeping secrets.”

No kidding. I would never have guessed in a million years that this was where she spent her hours as a “barista.” She not acting like the Mia I know at all. Tense. Vulnerable. Mouthy. Tasha is bold and sexy and she’s on a mission to show me a good time.

Anger is still simmering beneath the surface, but I couldn’t push Mia from my lap if my life depended on it. She takes hold of my shoulders and eases me back against the chair, and I let her. I settle back with my knees spread and my hands gripping the seat.

I can barely breathe as Mia edges down the waistband of her underwear, first on one side, then the other. Her white nails and the ruffled white G-string glow in the black lights.

We’re both watching her undress herself for me, our heads bent closely together. The whole world slips into the background and the music fades away.

Slowly, Mia edges herself back on my thighs, stands up, and turns around. She teases the G-string lower, lower, until I can see all of her glorious ass. Then she bends double and drags the underwear down her legs and steps out of them.

Still bent over, Mia reaches back and drags her nails slowly over her pussy, across her ruffled inner lips and spreading herself open for me. It takes all my self-control not to reach out, pull her against my face and thrust my tongue deep inside of her.

Straightening up, Mia turns around and drops spread-eagled back into my lap, hugging my thighs with her knees. She makes a rolling motion with her hips, back and forth, until she finds the thick rod of my cock in my jeans, and a smile spreads over her lips.

“Laz,” she whispers, wrapping her arms around my neck.

I swallow, struggling for control. “Yes, Bambi?”

“You can’t tell my mom you saw me here,” Mia tells me, dragging her bare snatch up my erection. “You can’t tell my uncles.” She slides back down my cock, arching her back and making my balls ache. “It has to be our secret.”

I groan and my eyes nearly flutter closed. Damn, she’s so good at this. How many men have seen her like this and felt their cocks grinding against her pussy? My blood is boiling, half from jealousy and half from the need to take Mia in my arms and raw her senseless.

“You look mad,” she murmurs, keeping up that insanely good pressure up and down my dick. “Or are you just horny?”

“I’m furious,” I tell her, lifting my hands to her waist and pulling her tight against my cock. I buck my hips slowly, aching to be balls deep inside of her.

“You’re not supposed to put your hands on me,” she moans, her eyes fluttering closed.

“You going to stop me?”

“I am. Let’s go, buddy.”

I look up and see the bouncer from earlier heading toward us with a stony expression on his face.

He’s really starting to piss me off.

Mia smiles up at him. “It’s all right, Jimmy. We know each other.”

“Rules are rules, Tasha.”

Mia puts her hand out to stop Jimmy just as he reaches to drag me out of the room. “I understand. He’ll follow the rules. Won’t you, Laz?”

I don’t want to let go of Mia, but I can’t be thrown out of here. My hands slide from her waist and hit the chair. I grip it hard, my whole body feverish with need.

The bouncer seems satisfied and steps back. “Have a nice time. Stepfather.”

I flick a glare at him as he leaves us alone again. “I hate that he’s watching you.”

“Don’t think about him,” she tells me, resuming the glorious motions of her pussy.

My head tips back with a groan. “Mia, I should be dragging you out of here, but I don’t want you to stop.”

“I told you, I’m not Mia here. I’m Tasha.”

I open my eyes and gaze at her beautiful face. She’s not acting like Mia. She barely looks like Mia with all that makeup on her face and that lilac wig, but it’s the way she’s holding herself too, spine straight and proud. She’s enjoying not being herself for a while, and who can blame her? Her life is filled with pain and loneliness. Tasha gets to be anyone she wants. When I kissed Mia’s tits in my car she was so self-conscious about them. But Tasha knows they’re special in a bar filled with women with enormous implants.

“You didn’t believe me last time when I told you you’re sexy,” I murmur, watching her through half-lidded eyes. She has her hands pressed against my chest while she moves to the music. “Will Tasha believe me if I tell her?”

She flicks her gaze up at me and then down to my dick. Her lips are curved into a smile as if my hard-on is the best thing she’s ever seen. “I don’t know. Try her.”

I grip my seat even harder. “You’re so hot. It’s all I can do not to explode in my jeans, you’ve got my dick that hard. You always get me so hard.”

“Thank you, baby. You’re not so bad yourself. I’ve always had a thing for bad boys with tattoos.”

But it’s Tasha speaking, not Mia, a practiced line she’s probably used dozens of times before and it sounds flat. Is that who usually pays for her lap dances, men with tattoos? With her sweet looks, she must attract the worst kind of creeps.

Mia strokes her hand beneath my jaw. “I can feel you getting angry again. Just relax and try to enjoy yourself.”

“Stop being Tasha. Just be you.”

She goes still, a line forming between her brows and her eyes growing huge with worry. “I don’t want to be Mia right now.”

My hands lift to touch her, reassure her, but I have to drop them again, and I growl in frustration. “Mia’s who I want.”

There. I said it. I’m married to her mom and my life is a mess, but I want Mia.

Mia gazes at me with those huge eyes of hers, and I see past the makeup and stripper attitude to the vulnerable girl within. “I’m not supposed to want you, Laz.”

“I’m not supposed to want you, either. But I can’t stop thinking about you. Everywhere I go in that house I can feel you. I can taste you. It’s driving me crazy.”

Mia throws me a challenging look. “I thought you just wanted to make me miserable for fun.”

I do.

I did.

I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing.

“I was angry. I was taking it out on you.”

“Now you want to take it out on me in a different way?”

My gaze slips down her body and I breathe, “Fuck, do I ever.”

“You’re so mad at Mom and your brothers so you want to screw me as a big fuck you to them,” she says.

“Yes. No. I don’t know.”

Mia scratches her nails through the short hairs at the nape of my neck. “I hate them too, Laz. So maybe I’ll let you fuck me because a big fuck you to them would feel pretty good. But if anyone finds out, we’re going to get in so much trouble.”

No shit. I’ll probably get beaten to death by her uncles. “I will. Not you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She strokes her fingers through my hair. “No one’s ever wanted to protect me before. Sometimes it feels like my family would be happier if I were dead.”

An icy hand grips my heart, and I wish I could tell her that’s not true, but she wouldn’t believe me, and I won’t lie to her. “Then keep on living out of sheer spite. Or just live because you’re beautiful, inside and out, and the world needs people like you.”

I need people like you.

I need you.

She smiles, a real, beautiful smile that lights up her eyes.

I take a ragged breath. “Bambi, I want to kiss you so much.”

Mia leans close and runs her fingers over my lower lip, murmuring, “I bet you kiss real good.” She leans even closer and licks the scar at the corner of my mouth, and then runs her lower lip through her teeth like I’m delicious. “Mm. I’ve been aching to do that.”

I will lose my mind in a minute.

“Remember when you came on my fingers? Do that on my dick. Show me how beautiful you are.”

She changes her pace and the angle of her hips, and her lips part with pleasure as she rubs her clit across the head of my cock.

Her soft moans fill the air around us and her cheeks are flushing pink. “You know I can come like this. How about you?”

I never cared much for lap dances. If you’re going to have a girl in your lap, what’s the point of wearing clothes and not being able to touch her? It’s more frustrating than fulfilling.

But not today. I’m transfixed by the sight of Mia moving against me, and her peachy ass rubbing against my dick just right. The way she’s sliding up and down has me riding closer and closer to my peak. “Bambi, I’ve been craving to blow with you in my arms ever since I laid eyes on you. This wasn’t what I imagined . . .” I break off with a groan. “But I’m not complaining.”

I struggle to control myself because she’s not quite there yet. Her small hands are clenching on my shoulders and her moans are getting higher and higher in pitch.

“Tell me that you’ve never got yourself off in another man’s lap like this. Swear it.” My voice is guttural and demanding.

Lie to me if you have to.

“Never.” Mia shakes her head but doesn’t break eye contact, and I groan as I realize she’s telling the truth.

Her movements are needy and desperate now. She’s on the downward slope to her orgasm and her mouth is open as she breathes hard. She rubs once, twice more, and then her breath catches and she clamps her arms and knees tight around me as she comes.

The frantic movements of her hips send me over the edge. I haven’t come in my pants since I was a teenager, but that’s how I feel with Mia in my lap. I wrap my arms tight around her and bury my face in her hair. We haven’t even had sex, and I feel closer to this woman than I have to any other woman who’s been in my life.

“Laz. The bouncer,” she reminds me.

Shit. I drop my arms and sit back. Another song starts to play, and God knows how much money I’m being charged for this, but I don’t care as long as Mia doesn’t go anywhere.

I gaze at her as she pushes her lilac hair back from her face. She can’t raise her eyes for a moment, as if she’s suddenly shy.

“Mia, baby, that was crazy, and I loved every second.”

Mia hesitates, and then nods.

I frown at her. “You didn’t enjoy that?”

“No—I mean. Of course. It felt . . . We sure got carried away.” Mia closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths.

When she opens them, she’s Tasha again, and the flirty smile is back on those perfect lips. My heart plummets in disappointment and the world rushes back in. Where we are. The fact that the bouncer just watched everything that happened between us.

“I could sit here all night with you.” Mia wriggles against me, and a familiar scent washes over me as she exhales.

“Have you been drinking?”

Her smile vanishes. “I’m not drunk.”

“That’s not what I asked. I can see you’re not drunk, but you’re drinking at work?”

Mia looks off to one side, hugs herself with her arms, and shrugs. “So what? It was just two shots.”

“Do you like working here?”

Mia bursts out laughing, but it’s a cold, hard laugh. “I don’t know, what do you think, Laz? I’m excruciatingly self-conscious at all times and I have to parade around naked in front of a bunch of strangers. I’m a nervous wreck before every shift, and the only thing that evens me out are mouthfuls of vodka every few hours.”

“Then why the fuck are you doing this?” I fire at her.

She shrugs. “The same reason as everyone else. I need the money.”

“Why? Who’s blackmailing you? What debts do you have?”

“It’s nothing like that. I have to get the hell out of that house, and soon. I hate it there.”

I don’t blame her. “I’ll take care of you. How much do you need?”

“You don’t have any money either.”

“Who says I don’t?”

“I thought the whole reason you married my mother was for her money.”

“No. My money. I have an inheritance and stake in the family business that my brothers are keeping from me because apparently I’m too impulsive.”

She raises a brow at me as we stare at each other.

“Don’t say it,” I mutter.

“Your pants are full of cum and your stepdaughter is sitting in your lap.”

She said it.

I stare at Mia’s beautiful face. What if the mistake I actually made was marrying the wrong Bianchi woman? This girl’s far more my speed. She’s wild. Sexy. Funny. If I were her husband, I would throw everything I had into making her happy and knocking her up.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’m fine. And I need to keep working because I haven’t hit my target for tonight.”

I feel my eyes nearly bug out of my head as she stands up from my lap. “You’re going back out there?”

Mia looks up at me in surprise.

No.

Tasha looks at me.

She’s wearing her cool, professional mask and wearing a cloak of confidence despite the fact that she’s stark naked. And wet. I can see how her pussy lips are glistening. What I wouldn’t give for one lick.

“Of course I am. I’ll see you at home.”

She’ll see me at home? I get to my feet as my temper hits the roof. “You are not working in this place one second longer.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. Don’t act fatherly after what we just did. I’m not quitting because you tell me to. This is my life.”

I want to shout, or better yet, haul her over my shoulder, but I can feel that bouncer one second away from throwing me out for real this time.

“I told you, I’ll look after you.”

Mia gives a scornful laugh. “You? Why would I rely on you? I don’t trust you. My family hates you more than they hate me, and you could disappear at any moment. I’ve got my future to think about, and I can only rely on myself.”

On the one hand, I’m proud of her for standing up to me. On the other, fuck that for a joke. She’s leaving this place and she’s not stepping in another strip club as long as she lives. I pull my wallet from the back of my jeans. “How much to hit your target?”

“I thought you were broke?”

“I’m buying-a-business broke, not cash broke. It’s hundreds of thousands I’m owed, not pocket money. How much?”

She considers me with her head on one side. “Three thousand.”

In this seedy place? I doubt it, but I don’t care. I slap eight hundred into her hand. “There. I’ll Venmo you the rest. You’ll get the same next week, and the week after, and the week after. Now get your shit and let’s get out of here, okay?”

Mia holds the bills, glaring up at me. “I’m not letting you become my sugar daddy. If you hate seeing me in this place so much, you don’t have to look.”

“You’re not going to be my sugar baby.” I grind my teeth together and then burst out with, “You’re going to be my girlfriend.”

Mia’s mouth falls open. “Are you insane? How’s that going to work when you’re married to my mother? Don’t let one lap dance make you lose your head. You’ll be over me by morning, and I’ll be worse off than ever. Just take the money back, I don’t want it.”

She thrusts the bills at me. I pinch my brow and growl. Always with the annoying details when none of that matters right now. I’ve put my marriage to Giulia Bianchi in one compartment and the life I actually want to live in another. Mia’s in the compartment with the things I actually want.

Focus on one thing at a time. Get Mia out of this place and safely back home.

I pull my T-shirt off over my head, tug it down over Mia’s, and pull her arms through the sleeves. It comes down to her knees like a dress. She’s spitting with anger now and trying to get away from me, but I haul her fireman’s-lift style over my shoulder and head for the door.

Mia’s nails dig into my bare back. “You asshole, Laz.”

The bouncer blocks the doorway, but I push past him. “Don’t bother throwing me out, we’re leaving. I’m parked out front, the black Camaro. Can you bring me Mia’s things? I have a twenty for you in my car if you do.”

The bouncer hesitates, and then heads off to wherever the girls have their lockers. I suppose I’m not the first man who has dragged his girlfriend, wife, or daughter out of this place.

We draw a load of stares from the patrons and passersby in the streets as we head for my car, the shirtless man with a stripper in a T-shirt over his shoulder. I look straight ahead, comfortable in the knowledge that no one can recognize Mia upside down in a wig and an oversized T-shirt. If they recognize me, well, it’s not the craziest thing I’ve ever done in this city.

I open the door of my car and tumble Mia into the back seat. When the bouncer arrives, I take her things from him and pass them to a fuming Mia. “Get dressed. I’m taking you home.”

I fish a twenty-dollar bill out of the glove box and pass it to the bouncer. “Thanks, man. She won’t be working here again.”

The man laughs, shaking his head as he turns away. “Sure, she won’t.”

I sit in the driver’s seat while Mia takes off her wig and makeup and puts her own clothes back on. As soon as she looks herself again, I start the car and we drive in silence toward home.

I pull up two doors down from the house so that Giulia won’t see my car if she glances out the window.

Meeting Mia’s eyes in the rearview mirror, I say, “The photo of you with your tits out. That wasn’t taken at school, was it?”

Her gaze drops away from me and she whispers, “No. Kaleb and his brother came to the club. The bouncer threw them out for taking the photo, but it was too late.”

What a couple of pricks. I wish I’d punched them harder. “That’s the first and last time you ever lie to me. Out.”

She blinks at me in surprise. “What?”

“You’re home. Get out.” The mood I’m in after what we just did, I dare not risk walking in with Mia and Giulia seeing us together. I can’t act natural when all I’m thinking about is dragging Mia upstairs and fucking her hard until she agrees to do everything I say.

Her expression closed and angry, Mia slides out of my car, slams the door, and walks quickly up the sidewalk to our house. I wait to hear the front door slam and then peel away from the curb.

I intended to drive around for another hour and cool off, but there’s a tug in my chest. For the first time in a really long time, years probably, I just want to go home.

A few minutes later, I pull into the garage and turn off the engine.

Inside, Giulia’s sitting at the kitchen counter while Mia pours herself a glass of juice. My stepdaughter stares at me, and I guess she didn’t expect me back so soon.

Neither did I, but I needed to see her here, back to normal.

Giulia wrinkles her nose at me. “Where have you been? You smell like a cheap whore has been rubbing herself all over you.”

Over her shoulder, Mia turns pale and her jaw tightens. I can only imagine the hell that would be rained down on her head if Giulia discovers where she’s been tonight, and all the other nights she’s been dancing at the club. Being dragged down to the basement, tied up, and flogged might not be off the table.

“Me? I ate a lilac-colored ice cream earlier and it wasn’t cheap. It was delicious and sweet and just what I wanted.”

Giulia throws me a baffled glance and turns back to her phone. Over her shoulder, I give Mia a meaningful look.

“Actually, it was perfect.”

You’re perfect.

Then I have to get the hell out of there because the inside of my jeans is a mess and I need a shower.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m sitting on the edge of the bed with a towel around my hips, rubbing my hair dry while I search through emails on my phone. I must have Mia’s email address somewhere.

I finally find it included in one from Giulia back when she was planning our wedding and she CC’d the whole family. She’s even included Mia’s phone number in case anyone had questions about our special day.

I grit my teeth, recalling the charade that was our wedding. Giulia was lapping up all the attention she was getting as a bride, acting as if we were in love and this wasn’t an arrangement between two people who’d been in the same room on only three separate occasions.

I tried to concentrate on my bride and psych myself up over the idea of sleeping with her. I’m used to looking into the eyes of a woman I’m about to screw and seeing an aching need to feel my cock rammed inside her. Giulia looked right through me.

And then there was Giulia’s third bridesmaid and youngest daughter, Mia. She stood behind her older sisters clutching a small pink bouquet, looking as pissed off as I felt. No one paid the slightest bit of attention to her, but I caught her tiny eye rolls and the impatient shifting of her feet. I could also see the outline of her nipples through the thin satin of her bridesmaid gown. The design was simple and clung to her delectable body, and I couldn’t stop staring at her all through my vows. I finally got her attention, and she was so disgusted with me. Dislike burned in her eyes, and something else that I suspected she would hate to admit. That it had crossed her mind she’d like to be pushed up against a wall while I tongue-fucked her pussy.

And suddenly, I wanted to screw one of the Bianchi women. I wanted to screw her very much.

Only, it was the wrong goddamn one. If I couldn’t screw Mia, then the next best thing was to make her life hell, because that’s what I do when I’m angry.

I act like a cunt.

I send Mia the twenty-two hundred dollars I promised her. A few minutes later I get a notification that the money has been reversed back into my account.

Frowning, I send her a text. Take the goddamn money. I know you need it.

I never make 3K in a night. I’ll keep the eight hundred for the dance, but I don’t want the rest. Thank you for the gesture, I appreciate it. But I can look after myself.

The gesture? It wasn’t a gesture, it’s a promise to her that I’m not going to sit back and let dozens of skeevy men get their unworthy eyes all over her body.

I type back an angry reply. Call it whatever you want, but you’re never stripping again. I forbid it.

I smirk down at my phone. Forbid. I sound like a stepdad pulling his stepdaughter into line.

Sure, I just came in my pants while my stepdaughter was grinding in my lap, but I’m laying down the law when it matters.

My phone buzzes a moment later. I’m not going to stop working. This is the only power I have in the world and you’re not going to take it away from me. Tell Mom if you want, cause another huge fight, but she’s not going to stop me either.

Of course I’m not going to tell Giulia, but I’m not going to let other men get their eyes all over the woman I want either.

The woman I want but can’t have.

Giulia comes in and sees me sitting on the bed in just a towel. Her gaze lingers on my body, half annoyed by my presence, half interested. The last thing I need right now is to screw my wife with my head full of Mia.

“Goodnight,” I mutter, throwing my towel on the floor and sliding between the sheets.

I pretend to be fast asleep when Giulia gets into bed and puts her hand on my back.

The next day I’m moodily wandering around a secondhand car lot, looking for a muscle car that’s been neglected so I can bring it back to life with some love, a fresh coat of paint, and an overpowered engine. If I can’t buy a repair shop then I’ll distract myself by fixing up one car at home. There’s plenty of space in Giulia’s quadruple garage, and it will give me something physical to do. I work out every day at the gym and I’m still so goddamn frustrated all day.

Maybe I should have had sex with Giulia last night. If I had, she might have fallen pregnant, and I’d be one step closer to getting what’s rightfully mine. But the thought of Mia just down the hall hearing us and being totally disgusted with herself for dancing in my lap and bringing herself to orgasm just hours earlier stopped me. Maybe I can catch Giulia while Mia’s out at her sister’s or something and screw her quickly.

I stop what I’m doing and tilt my head back with a groan. Jesus fucking Christ. What am I doing, sneaking around my stepdaughter’s back with my wife now? This is crazy. How do I get myself into these messes?

I kick a half-deflated tire. I know how I got into this mess. By becoming obsessed with my beautiful, untouchable stepdaughter. She won’t have anything to do with me if she hears me screwing her mom. She probably won’t let me ever touch her again, period, because she’s not as messed up as I am, and I shouldn’t be trying to make her that way.

But Mia’s lips.

Her body.

The way she sasses me and then breaks into smiles.

We’re a couple of family fuck-ups together, and I wish I could scoop her up in my arms and carry her away from all this bullshit.

My phone rings and I take it out of my pocket. It’s Giulia, and I answer it. “What?”

“Lazzaro.”

I lift my head and frown. She doesn’t sound normal, and it takes me a moment to realize she’s choked up with tears. “What’s wrong?”

“Lazzaro, something terrible has happened. Come quickly.”