Page 53 of Sins of the Son

Through my gasping sobs, I heard the bedroom door close and knew, without having to look, that he was gone.

Then I heard the unmistakable sound of the door lock sliding into place.

Startled, I looked up.

Barone was standing in front of the locked bedroom door, unbuckling his leather belt as he kicked off his heavy work boots.

My vision was blurred from tears. I had to blink several times before I understood what I was seeing.

He whipped off his belt and set it aside, but still within reach. “First, Milana is not your only family. I am your family now. We are your family now.”

He unbuttoned and shrugged out of the hunter green, cotton twill outer shirt he was wearing, the sleeves stained a deep purple from lifting crates filled with Montepulciano grapes he'd been sorting all day with his men. “Second, any fool can see that Milana loves Cesare. And my son certainly must love her, or he wouldn’t be going through all this trouble to keep her.”

I opened my mouth to object.

He raised an eyebrow as he tossed his shirt aside, leaving him in a long-sleeved oatmeal-colored thermal shirt. “I don’t give a damn about what happened in their past. Whatever it was, the two of them will sort it out.”

I rose on my knees. “He hurt her!”

Barone drew his thermal shirt over his head and tossed it onto the floor next to the outer shirt. “I’m sure he did, just as I’m equally sure that Milana is going to make him pay for it. Figuratively and literally.”

Dammit. Why did he always have to do this? Why did he always have to be the voice of calm, stupid reason? Why did he always have to sound so rational and smart… and freaking right?

If I looked past Milana’s protestations and viewed her relationship with Cesare through a more objective eye, like Barone was, I could almost see what was happening as foreplay. I meant sure, Cesare was being a big bully and telling her she couldn’t leave and all that, but Milana was the strongest, most resourceful person I knew. If she wanted to leave, truly wanted to leave, she would have found a way to leave.

Hell, knowing Milana, if she really hated Cesare as much as she claimed, I really wouldn’t put it past her to be capable of killing the man in cold blood. Look how she'd attacked Barone when she thought he was attacking me. She seemed all pretty and glamorous, like she wouldn’t lift a finger for fear of breaking a nail, but in reality, she could be straight up mafia at times.

Maybe Milana wasn’t in danger after all.

Maybe I had overreacted.

Maybe I had allowed my fears for Milana and my anxiety about the big changes in my life with Barone to spin into a great big, out of control snowball of drama and doubt.

Maybe….

I looked up from my position on the floor.

Barone was a few steps away, looking like an angry Roman god who had been forced down from Mount Olympus to deal with a stupid human.

He flicked open the top button of his jeans. “Now that we have my son and your friend’s love life settled”—he raised an eyebrow— “what was that about you… not… marrying… me?”

I leaned back on my hands as I tried to slide backward on my ass. “I just meant that… well….”

He stalked toward me. “I think there has been some confusion, so let me clear a few things up for you.”

He reached down and fisted his hand in my hair, pulling me to my feet and wrapping his other hand around my throat before walking me backward until the backs of my thighs hit the bed. “I’m not asking you to marry me.”

He reached both hands into the collar of my blouse and wrenched downward, tearing off the buttons. I fell back onto the bed as my blouse hung in tatters, exposing my lace-covered breasts. Barone quickly followed, straddling my hips. He undid the remaining buttons on his jeans and pulled out his fully engorged cock. It looked thick and menacing as he wrapped his hand around the shaft and slowly, methodically, stroked it. “I’m telling you. You're marrying me.”

I swallowed past the rising panic that was closing my throat.

He looked down at my prone form. “Lick your lips.”

Without even a thought of disobeying him, I licked my lips.

“Brava ragazza. Now, open your mouth for daddy.”

A fresh tear escaped from the corner of my eye as my lower lip trembled. “Please, Barone. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to doubt you. To doubt us.”

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