Page 67 of Bittersweet Endings
Without waiting for a response, Lucky turned and left, his footsteps echoing as the door swung shut behind him. The moment he was gone, I slid into his vacated seat. I leaned forward, my fingers curling around the stem of his wineglass, bringing it to my nose and inhaling deeply. Cheap, watered-down crap.
I scoffed, leaning back in my chair while raising the glass to the waiter who’d been hovering in the corner. The moment he saw the look on my face, he rushed over, eager to serve.
“Throw this shit out and get me a glass of thegoodstuff,” I said, my gaze still fixed on the wine I held in my hand as if it disgusted me. “Actually, forget the glass. Bring the whole damn bottle.” Then I looked back at Octavia. “So, how have you been, little doll?”
Her posture was stiff, but I’d expected that. She’d try to put up a fight, resist me, just like she always did. But this time, she wasn’t going anywhere.
The waiter returned moments later, setting the bottle down in front of me with a slight tremor in his hands. He poured me a generous glass. I didn’t acknowledge him as he scurried off again.
Octavia watched him go with a small chuckle. “Look at that,” she mocked. “He ran off like he was being chased by a ghost. You really do have everyone ineverycity afraid of you.”
I took a slow sip of my wine, my eyes never leaving hers. “Everyone but you,” I said.
The atmosphere shifted instantly, like a switch had been flipped. What had been a moment of light teasing, a game between us, turned heavy. Charged. Menacing.
I leaned forward just a bit, my eyes scanning her. Taking in the way she sat, the way she carried herself in that dress. A vibrant red little number that clung to her body in all the right places. It was a far cry from the childish outfits she used to wear with those ridiculous frills and bows. She was no longer the little girl her family owned.
I let my eyes linger a moment longer, before forcing out a slow, almost appreciative hum. “You know,” I said, “you look fucking sexy in that dress. You have much better taste these days.”
The words hit her like a shockwave, her eyes flashing with irritation. She clenched her jaw, no doubt ready to spit out something sharp at the same time I could make out the flush creeping into her cheeks. I had to admit it was a hell of a lot more fun when she hated me. When she wanted to attack me.
The sex was even fucking hotter.
Octavia’s eyes narrowed. “What the fuck are you doing in New York, Carmine?”
“Watch your tone, little doll,” I warned. “If you misbehave, I have no problem putting you over my knee. And we both know how much you love that, don’t we?”
She stiffened, and I couldfeelthe fire between us. The defiance was there, the challenge. And something else. “You wouldn’t,” she muttered, though I could hear a hint of uncertainty, a flicker of hesitation that made me smirk.
“Wouldn’t I?” I deadpanned. “Push me, and I’ll tear that dress right off you. Lay you over this table and show the whole fucking restaurant how you scream my name when I get you off.”
For a second, the world around us seemed to disappear. The staff, the patrons, the noise—it all faded away. Leaving just the two of us locked in this dangerous, twisted moment.
Octavia matched my posture, leaning over the table and lowering her voice. “Seriously, Carmine,” she demanded, “why are you here?”
I shoved back in my seat, swirling my glass of wine. Slowly savoring the feeling of having her so worked up. I could practically taste her anger, and it made my dick hard.
“Why else?” I drawled out. “Only one reason I’d come to this shitty city… and that’s to seemylittle doll.” I watched her reaction closely. “I know you’ve been missing me.”
She scoffed before getting serious. “You did something. Lucky locked me down and then got me here… because of you. What the fuck did you do, Carmine?”
I chuckled, locking my gaze on to hers. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
She hated it when I played games with her, hated it when I kept thingsfromher. But it was that very thing that also kept her coming back, kept her tangled in my web. That and the promise of my cock.
She couldaskall she wanted, but the truth of it was... I wasn’t ready to give it to her. Not yet.
I took another slow sip of my wine, the corners of my lips curling up in a sinister smirk. “If you want answers, little doll, you’ll have to earn them.”
Chapter Twenty-One
OCTAVIA AGOSTINO
Ifound it astounding when people doubted me. Poor Octavia. Weak. Deprived. Sheltered. Damaged. Even after all they’ve learned—all I’ve overcome—it was still there.
Their judgment.
The men in my life played their own games, with their own rules. And in the mafia, their word was law. Women didn’t have an opinion. Until my mother. My father had broken those rules when he married her. She didn’t sit in the shadows. She wasn’t stuck at home raising kids. She was a force at his side.
