DON’T TOUCH MY BABY: Ricci Family Mafia Read online

  I wanted to tell him I was too young to be called ma’am, but I kept my mouth shut. After he walked away, I took in the ambience of the restaurant. It was beautiful: dimly lit, with small candles everywhere. There were small tables of couples and a few families scattered throughout the dining room. Overhead was a terrace with real roses snaking through it. An odd feeling welled up inside of my chest and I realized it was sadness. The atmosphere in the restaurant was so beautiful, so haunting. More than anything, I wished Kyle was there with me to share it.

  The waiter came back with a carafe of wine and I ordered a plate of veal parmesan. My appetite had faded but I knew it would be rude to get up and leave now. After all, the restaurant was beautiful and the food around me looked appetizing. I figured I could make myself eat a few bites then get the rest boxed to go. I was no longer in the mood to be in public. I just wanted to be off by myself, licking my wounds.

  I started composing a phone call to Kyle in my head. I’d call him and tell him how much I loved him and that I wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. No, that would sound too clingy. But he had to know how much I needed him with me! I loved Kyle. I wanted him to ask me to marry him. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. Whenever we made love, I imagined what it would feel like to be pregnant with his baby.

  Someone behind me laughed loudly and I whirled my head around. There was a blonde woman — she actually looked remarkably similar to me — and she’d obviously had way, way too much to drink. She was gazing around with her eyes wide open. The waiter stooped down to ask her a question and I could hear her reply clear as day, “My husband disappeared and I don’t know where he went!”

  “Ma’am, I’ll check the men’s room,” the waiter replied in a polite tone. “You wait right here.”

  I watched her, feeling sorry for her. Because Kyle would never do that to me, take me someplace, get me drunk, then abandon me. Kyle loved me. Kyle looked into my eyes deeply and told me he loved me almost every time we were together. We couldn’t be alone for more than a few minutes without wanting to rip each other’s clothes off. We were soulmates, meant to be. We were perfect.

  The waiter returned. “I found your husband, ma’am. He’s outside taking a call. He’ll be right back.”

  The woman laughed again. “He’s such an asshole,” she said loudly. I watched as other patrons turned in their seats to stare at her. “Leaving me like this while he goes to call one of his little girlfriends!”

  “I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” the waiter said. Even in the dim light, I could see he was blushing. “Can I bring you anything else?”

  The blonde declined. She stared intently at the screen of her phone. I knew I shouldn’t eavesdrop, but now I was curious. After all, she’d successfully distracted me from being upset about my own love life. The longer I watched out of the corner of my eye, the worse I felt for her. She was beautiful, around forty years old. There were some light wrinkles around her eyes and the corners of her mouth. I couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to sit in the middle of a restaurant and know your husband was ignoring you for some mistress. Every few seconds she’d lift her head up and gaze around the restaurant.

  Finally, in the dim light, I saw the frame of a tall, well-built man making his way over to her table.

  “Kyle!” The woman exclaimed. My heart clanged in my chest and I whirled around. I knew Kyle had to be one of the most common names in the world, but suddenly that bad feeling was back. I didn’t want to see who it was, but I couldn’t stop myself from watching in horror as the gorgeous blond man lowered himself down into a chair across from the woman.

  “Mary, be quiet,” Kyle shushed. I recognized his easy tone, his handsome, chiseled face.

  A feeling I couldn’t even begin to describe welled up in me as I watched Kyle, my Kyle, my boyfriend, stroke this woman’s face and lean in for a kiss.

  There was a clanging sound. I realized I’d stood up at my table and knocked over my glass of water. Now I could feel cold wetness dripping down the front of my dress. But I didn’t care, I was numb to it.

  Kyle and Mary turned towards me. When Kyle spotted me, all of the blood drained from his face.

  “It’s just some drunk woman who knocked over her water,” Mary slurred. “Come on, baby. Sit back down with me.”

  As I bolted from the restaurant, hot tears slid down my cheeks. He was married! He’d been married the whole fucking time! He didn’t love me; I was just some piece on the side!

  “Yo, Isabella, come on,” Ricardo whined, immediately breaking me from my reverie. “That guy’s waiting to be served! Why the hell are you being so slow right now?”

  I sighed. “I’m sorry, Ricardo,” I said softly. “Just a bad day. I’ll be fine.”

  “I wasn’t asking about you,” Ricardo said. “Come on, Isabella. Go take care of that guy!”

  As I crossed the room in my impossibly high heels, I got a good look at the patron who was seated at the bar. He was handsome, no doubt about it. He had dark tan skin, dark brown hair, and eyes so dark they almost looked black. He was definitely Italian — I could tell by the way his hair was slicked back away from his face.

  “Hi there,” I said as friendly as I could manage.

  Thoughts of Kyle were still swarming in my mind and it was hard not to tear up. Ever since I’d found out Kyle was married, I’d sworn off dating. I flirted, but that was as far as I let it go. No man was going to break my heart again, not the way Kyle had.

  “Can I get a scotch on the rocks?” The man turned to me and gave me a dazzling white smile. “Your best scotch, by the way.”

  I pursed my lips. “Well, we have a Talisker ten-year aged and an eighteen-year aged. Some people say the eighteen is best, but I actually prefer the ten.” I smiled at him.

  “Which is more expensive?”

  Oh, god, not one of these arrogant Jersey Shore assholes. “The eighteen year,” I said with a tight smile.

  “I’ll take that,” the man said with a lazy grin.

  When I realized he was staring at me, I blushed. I was used to male attention — it would have been hard to make good tips if I didn’t look the way I did — but something about this guy was different, more intense. When I was around him, I had that same kind of breathless, stomach-clenching feeling I’d had around Kyle. No more thinking about Kyle, I thought firmly. None.

  “Here you go,” I said as I poured some of the scotch out over a few cubes of ice. “Would you like to start a tab?”

  The man grinned at me and again, my body was flooded with that same rush of confusing hormones. “What are you doing after work?”

  “Nothing,” I said in a breathless voice before I could realize what I was doing. “I mean, I don’t have any plans.”

  The man grinned at me. But this time, he was silent. He raised the glass of scotch to his lips and toasted me before drinking it down in one gulp.

  “Will there be anything else?” Somehow, part of me was hoping he’d say yes. I didn’t normally find myself attracted to cocky men, especially not the kind of cocky men who hung out in Maison Bridges, but there was something about this guy that was really turning me on. Whenever I moved, I was more conscious than ever of my clothes rubbing against my body. I glanced down and saw the man’s hands were gigantic, and solid-looking. I shivered, imagining what they would feel like running down my body.

  “Not yet,” the man said. He winked at me and drained the rest of the scotch.

  Chapter 2

  Zane

  The statuesque blonde let out a sigh. My cock stiffened in my pants as I watched her bend over the bar. Just the way her ass stuck out was enough to make me rock hard. I wanted her, and I was going to get her. Because I was Zane Ricci, and Zane Ricci always got what he wanted.

  “What’s your name, beautiful?”

  The woman blushed. “Isabella,” she said after a long pause. “Isabella Bianchi.”

  I grinned. “Beautiful name,” I said. “Especially the la
st one. You Italian?” I was surprised; she was blonde, after all. “Or your husband, he Italian?”

  Isabella blushed again, a delicious red flush that covered her pale skin. “I’m not married,” she said. “It’s my family name. And yes, I’m Italian.”

  “You’re in good company, then,” I said with a grin. “How about another one of those drinks?”

  Isabella poured me a generous amount of the exquisite eighteen-year aged scotch. Normally, I saved scotch for the winter. But there was something about tonight that made me crave the smoky, peaty drink. I wanted to feel like there was a fire inside my body, and the scotch was just one way to do that. Not as fun as fucking this girl raw would feel, but it’ll do.

  “So, what do you say about a little drive after work?” I winked at her. “I got a nice ride. It’s a Porsche.”

  “I can’t,” Isabella demurred. “I have to get up early tomorrow.” She paused, like she wasn’t going to tell me why. “I have an appointment,” she said softly.

  “That can wait,” I said. “I’m here now. I might not be here tomorrow.” I raised an eyebrow at her. “After all, you’ve never seen me before, have you?”

  Isabella licked her lips. I shifted in my chair, feeling my cock throbbing in my pants. She was so delectable, so perfect. I wanted to pull her into my arms and run my hands over her tits until she was begging me to take her.

  “You’re awfully full of yourself,” Isabella said casually. She flicked her stunning blue eyes over me. “How do you know I even want you?”

  I leaned closer. “You’re standing pretty fuckin’ close, aren’t you?”

  Isabella blushed again. She didn’t reply.

  “What do you say?” I stared at her, letting my eyes trail down her body. “Come on, honey. You know you wanna come with me.”

  “I don’t even know your name,” Isabella protested lightly.

  “Zane,” I said instantly. I held out my hand. When Isabella placed her fingers in mine, I lifted her hand to my mouth and gently kissed her fingers. It smelled like dishwater and scotch but I could catch a hint of perfume from the inside of her wrist and it was enough to drive me wild. “Zane Ricci.”

  “I’ve heard that name before,” Isabella said in the same light voice. “Your family is legendary around here.”

  I nodded. “I live up to the reputation,” I said with a grin. “You wanna find out?”

  “I really can’t,” Isabella argued. “I have to get up early tomorrow.”

  “Baby,” I said, leaning back in my chair and fixing her with a lazy stare. “It’s not even ten yet. What could possibly go wrong?”

  “I have to get back to work,” Isabella said hurriedly. She brushed past me. Electricity crackled and leapt between our bodies. “I have the whole rest of my shift. I just started working.”

  “I’ll be here when you get off,” I called behind my shoulder.

  Isabella didn’t give me an answer. I sipped at my drink, wanting her even more now that she’d gone away. I was going to get her, one way or the other. And once she got a taste of me, she’d never want another man.

  I smirked. That was too bad for her. I had a habit of not fucking a woman more than a few times. I never wanted girls to get stale, and I went through them pretty fast. I liked my women fast and loose and gorgeous. Isabella was definitely gorgeous, but she seemed a little more cautious than the types of broads I was used to. All the same, I wanted her desperately. That sexy way she had of shifting her weight from one foot to the other and sticking out her ass…damn! It was enough to get me so hard in the restaurant that I thought I’d get blue balls before the night was out. Isabella was delicious, all right. And whatever element of her was afraid of going home with me, well, that just made her even hotter.

  It had been a while since I’d felt challenged. Most women were all too ready to collapse in my arms and let me take them, fuck them, love them roughly for a night or two. But most women weren’t expecting a call in the morning either. There was something more delicate about Isabella. Forget that shit, I thought. You ain’t breaking the rules for any chick, no matter how hot she is. Isabella was smokin’, but she seemed closed off. I wanted to bring out her animal side, really make her work for it.

  All night, Isabella bustled around the bar. Every time she stopped by, I’d grab her arm and talk to her for a few seconds. After a few minutes, I could tell she was starting to open up to me just a little bit. But then a while would go by before I’d see her again and she’d be the same tightly closed off person as before. Finally, around midnight, I grabbed her.

  “Listen, my family has this tradition,” I started, making sure I could hook her in. “We take shots at midnight if we’re still up together. You wanna take a shot with me?”

  Isabella blushed again. Her face was pink with the strain of bustling around in the busy restaurant. “Okay,” she said softly. “I mean, what could it hurt?”

  “Exactly.” I smirked. “You like tequila?”

  Isabella shook her head. “No. We’re Italians. We’ll do it the right way.” She raised her eyebrows at me and I felt another jolt of lust rock my body. “Grappa,” she announced, setting down the bottle of clear brandy on the bar in front of me. “Can you handle it?”

  I snorted. “Can I handle it? Do you know who you’re talking to?” I gestured around myself. “I was King Grappa with my boys growing up,” I said with a smirk. “I can drink you under the table.”

  Isabella chuckled to herself, a low, amusing sound. She poured us shots of the clear liquor and pushed mine towards me.

  “Salud,” I said as we clinked glasses. “To your health, beautiful.”

  Isabella threw her head back. She didn’t even wince at the strong taste of the brandy. I felt like I was knocked off my stool; it had been years since I’d had grappa. I’d forgotten the strong, alcoholic bite that was left in my mouth afterwards. But when Isabella grinned, I forgot all about that. The only thing I cared about was her, and getting her to bed as soon as I could.

  After midnight, the time passed quickly. I nursed a scotch. Finally, Isabella sidled up beside me. She was still wearing her heels but she was clutching a smaller pair of flats and her leather bag. Even though it was nice — designer — I could tell it was old and had been patched several times. Why does this dame have money problems?

  She leaned forward against the bar and I saw something gold glinting around her neck. “What’s that?”

  “It’s my locket,” Isabella said. She blushed again and tucked the necklace back inside of her shirt so I could no longer see it. “My mother gave it to me when I was young.” She looked like she wanted to say something else, but she closed her lips.

  “So, you ready to get out of here?”

  For a moment, I thought she was going to change her mind. But instead she nodded. “I am,” she said softly.

  As I led the way to my car, I grinned. Yes. This little girl was all mine, mine all mine, even if just for tonight. She’d remember this night for the rest of her life. I was going to make her scream until she was hoarse. I looked at her delectable curvy thighs and thought about how they would feel on either side of my face. I wanted her to ride me until her clit was numb from coming so hard. I wanted to give Isabella the thrill of her life.

  “This is me,” I said, pausing beside my black Porsche. “You like?”

  Isabella looked over the gleaming car with interest. “It’s beautiful,” she said. She licked her lips and swallowed hard. The air between us was thick with lust. She was so beautiful. I had to have her. Closing the distance between our bodies, I crushed Isabella to me. Her lips against mine were like soft petals and she tasted sweet, hungry. She smelled like flowers and honey and she moaned into my mouth as I slipped my tongue between her lips, eager and hungry to taste as much of her as I could. As Isabella wrapped her arms around me and pulled me closer, I nudged one of my muscular thighs between her legs and rubbed it against her crotch. She groaned again and rubbed her body against mine. Her deli
cate fingers tangled in my hair and tugged. The lust racing through my body was so powerful that I wanted to bend her over the front of my car and take her right there and then.

  Isabella broke away just as I felt I was about to explode in my pants. “Inside,” she said softly.

  I unlocked the car and we crawled inside. I couldn’t keep my hands off of her; she was too delicious, too amazing. Under my touch, her skin was hot and soft and hungry for me. I could smell the arousal coming from between her legs and it was enough to drive me wild. I wanted to rip her pants off and bury my face in her pussy until she was screaming. I wanted to taste her juices. I wanted to feel them flowing down my face.

  “Take me to your place,” Isabella said in a strained whisper. The sensation of her breath against my ear sent shivers down my spine. “I want you, Zane.”