Page 44 of Broken Innocence
My fingers caress her cheek before I order, “Take out my cock, baby.”
I’m facing the group of men around us with Eden between my spread thighs. I don’t give a fuck who sees me, but no one will see my wife’s gorgeous curves, so this is the best I can do on the fly—having Eden suck me off in front of our rapt audience.
It’s a good thing I’m always hard around my wife or else we’d really have a problem.The wayward thought is a wisp of refreshing levity before it disappears in the face of reality.
Eden takes a deep breath, and I gently stroke a tendril of hair off her cheek, silently encouraging her to be brave for me. With a slow exhale, her lashes flutter closed as her pouty lips circle the tip of my cock. Someone groans in the background, but I block out the sound.
Her cheeks hollow as she slowly bobs up and down my thick length, drawing out my pleasure and giving my brothers enough time to swoop in and save the day. The men around us shift, lust permeating the air, and every ounce of my control is commissioned to focus on Eden. To stop from gagging in awareness of their disgusting desire.
At least Eden isn’t gagging.
These bastards would love to see and hear that.
But she’s being careful not to swallow me too far, though those tears she held at bay earlier are now spilling down her flushed cheeks. I tenderly caress the salty trails with my fingertips. Silently conveying my encouragement.
Fabian leans against the wall with a sneer. Flicking an imaginary piece of lint off his shoulder, he continues lounging to our left like it’s an everyday occurrence for him to watch forcedsexual interactions. Hell, it probably is with his latest line of work.
“I should have known it would come to this, brother. Hired help is useful, but when you need something done right, it’s best to do it yourself.” He waves his gun nonchalantly in the air like it's a damn king’s scepter rather than a deadly weapon. “Those men in Paris. The team you destroyed at the docks. Two chances to finally put you down, and they failed. You won’t be so lucky to escape a bullet a third time.”
“Paris? You’re the one who put out the hit on me? Not Enzo?”
Eden pauses her ministrations as I jerk in surprise. Her nails dig into my thighs, a mute hint to temper my reaction.
Fabian’s smug admission sheds new light on the drive-by shooting. It makes more sense that my psycho half-brother wanted me dead versus our father who’s been trying to integrate me back into the family.
“Our father? Kill his golden boy?” Fabian scoffs and stomps forward. “He’s too weak to do what must be done to secureThe Family’sbest interests. We can’t have a bastard becoming the next don.”
“That’s what this is about? Inheriting leadership of the Boston mafia? Enzo isn’t naming me his heir. It’s going to be you.” It’s what Fabian was raised to do. While our father taught him the inner workings of the mob, his buddy Conrad was teaching me how to murder then dispose of an enemy.
It was never Enzo’s plan to seat me at the top ofTheFamilypyramid.
“That may be what his will says now, but it’s only a matter of time before he changes his mind. He’s already tied you to us with this sham marriage to a Marino. He’s paving the way for you, and I won’t have it. I will be the next don. Me!”
A crazed wildness transforms Fabian’s expression, and dread creeps down my spine. Trapped animals are dangerous andunpredictable, and that’s exactly what Fabian reminds me of right now.
This was already a shit situation, but a part of me had hoped to reason with Fabian. To rely on his desire for approval from Enzo—who would be furious about mine and Eden’s kidnapping.
But Fabian doesn’t give a fuck about what Enzo thinks. He’s basically staging a preemptive coup.
Which means Eden and I are in major trouble.
CHAPTER THIRTY
EDEN
Last year, I watched a holiday movie where the heroine had to learn how to send covert texts. Her phone would be in her pocket, and she’d have to slip her hand into the hidden space and text her partner—the handsome spy training her to be his accomplice.
At the time, I thought it was funny and cute. I never thought I’d have to do something similar a year later, but that’s exactly what happened the moment Luca’s phone was in my grasp in the car.
Brief glimpses of his contacts appeared before I tilted the phone, so our driver couldn’t see the screen’s telltale light, then my thumb slid across the glass to form one word.Fabian.I hit SEND and prayed one of his brothers would be able to decipher the message’s meaning.
What if I sent gibberish?
Everyone knows about phones’ tendencies to autocorrect. Plus, my hand was none too steady since a gun was pointed our way.
It’s too late to worry now.
Especially since both of our cells were confiscated the moment we stepped into the fake spa in the basement. In another life, I might think this is an excellent use of the extensive, white space.A relaxing oasis from life’s stresses. Unfortunately, this is reality. One dominated by the mafia feud between two brothers.
