“She’s mine. Even if she doesn’t know it yet.”
Antonio chuckled. “There is so much DeLuca in you, Nic. All right, I know it won’t be long then. I’ll give you some more time.”
“Thanks. I’ll see you next Friday at the meeting with the O’Reilly's.” A snitch we had in our pocket had recently brought it to our attention that a local faction of the Irish mob had been trying to inch in on our territory. We were going to attempt a peaceful resolution first, but I knew this group, and I didn’t foresee it happening without force. If things didn’t go well, I’d have to hire security for Gianna and Sophia.
***
The doorbell rang and Sophia perked up from where she was coloring at the kitchen table. I waved at her to stay put while I went to answer the summons.
I didn’t realize how tense I’d been until I saw Gianna standing on the porch. She looked nervous but excited, and it was cute as hell. I swept my eyes down her succulent body, taking in the swell of her ample tits, pressing against the fabric of her white blouse. Her tiny waist, full hips, and long legs (despite her height which her bio had listed as five foot five) enhanced the flirty red skirt she was wearing. I glared a little at the hem, willing it to grow longer.
When my eyes returned to hers, her cheeks were pink and my body tingled with the anxious need to drag her into me and kiss the fuck out of her.
“Gianna,” I greeted calmly, masking the arousal and need humming in my body. Damn, she was gorgeous.
Her eyebrows shot up at the use of her full name. “It’s Anna,” she corrected as she moved to enter. I turned to the side but stayed in the entrance, forcing her to brush by me. The touch was too much. I gripped her hand and dragged her around the nearest corner. I backed her up into the wall of my living room and grasped her waist firmly. Her eyes flitted around apprehensively, but eventually, the green pools locked onto my gaze.
“Not to me,” I told her gruffly. “To me, and only me, you’re my Gianna.”
Her eyes widened slightly, but I only saw it for a second since in the next one, my lips crashed down onto hers.
Chapter 3
Anna
I’d been kissed before. Or at least I thought I had, right up until the moment Nic DeLuca’s mouth claimed mine. There was none of the usual awkwardness of a first kiss. No chance for me to wonder how I should hold my head, if I tasted like the strawberry lip balm I’d put on earlier, or if I should part my lips. As soon as his lush lips met mine, I gasped in surprise and he took control. Head slanted to the right, his tongue swept inside to tangle with mine. His fingers dug into my waist, tugging me flush against his body and proving exactly how much he was enjoying our kiss when I felt his hard length hot against my stomach. By the time he pulled away to nibble on my lips, I could barely see straight, let alone stand by myself without him keeping me upright. The pecks I’d received had been from boys, but Nic DeLuca was no boy—he was all man.
Once I’d steadied myself, one of his hands slid from my waist, down to the hem of my skirt. I shivered when he slid it up my thigh, the heat from his palm searing my skin. “Given more time, I could come to appreciate your choice of skirt, but my daughter is waiting for us in the kitchen.”
His daughter, who I’d come to meet and promptly forgotten about when he’d gotten his lips on me. “Crapballs.”
His deep chuckle made me aware I’d said that aloud and not just in my head. I felt the heat of a blush climb up my neck to my face. He swiped his thumb across my cheekbone as he stared down at me. “Such innocence,” he sighed. “It’s almost a shame you found your way to my door.”
He didn’t give me a chance to wonder what he meant by his statement, twining his fingers in mine and leading me out of the living room and down a hallway into the kitchen. It was outfitted with top of the line, stainless steel appliances and gleaming black countertops, but it still looked homey. Colorful drawings were stuck to the fridge, a few dishes were in the sink, and a large bowl of fruit sat in the middle of the counter. I barely took the time to appreciate the beauty of the room, my eyes quickly drawn to the little girl with long brown hair, practically vibrating in her chair at the table as she stared up at us with shining, brown eyes.
“Is this her, Daddy?” she asked, her voice high with excitement.
“Yes, my preziosa. This is Anna.” The smile he sent her way, his love for his daughter clear in his eyes, made him even more attractive. “Anna, this is my baby girl, Sophia.”
“I’m not a baby anymore, Daddy,” Sophia said in exasperation. “I’m almost seven.”