Shadow Rider
Page 95
“Your family is so big, Stefano. I only had my sister. No aunts or uncles. No one else. You have enough cousins to make a small town.”
He laughed softly, tugging her closer until her front was locked to his side and she was under his arm. His cell phone chimed just as they stepped out of the shadows into the light behind the red bar. He stopped abruptly and pulled it from the inside of his jacket, refusing to give her any space, clamping her tightly to his side.
“You’re a slave to that thing,” she pointed out.
“True,” he agreed and flipped it open. “Stefano.”
He was as abrupt on the phone as he was in person, she decided, studying his face. He had a gorgeous face, one that belonged on the cover of a magazine. It was no wonder the paparazzi were obsessed with him. She was a little obsessed with him herself. Her heart was still pounding insanely at the giant step she’d just taken. She couldn’t even blame it on alcohol. That was all her, unable to resist him.
She leaned back against Stefano, mostly because he gave her no choice with his arm locked around her, right under her breasts. He smelled wonderful, his scent enveloping her, surrounding her with . . . him. She was acutely aware of his heavy erection pressed tightly against her. He always seemed to be hard around her. She had to admit she liked that. She wanted him to want her.
She had tuned out his conversation, listening to the music instead, used to the constant demands made on his time. It took a few moments before his side of the conversation penetrated. This was no call about someone needing help. She inhaled sharply and turned her attention completely to Stefano.
“No, Saldi, I’m at the club with my brothers and cousins. We’re celebrating tonight. Why the hell would you think I’d sneak into your fucking house and kill that piece of shit Tidwell right under your nose? I had no idea the bastard was staying in your home.”
Silence and then more. “Are you fucking kidding me? I beat the shit out of him and sent him to you to do whatever you wanted with him. Taking his building was enough revenge for me.”
Silence and then Stefano burst out with a string of profanities. “You’re pissing me off, Saldi. I can’t be in two places at one time. Come on down and see for yourself if you want, although the damn paparazzi has managed to sneak in and they’re taking enough pictures for an entire magazine.” Stefano’s voice was clipped and angry.
Francesca tensed. Tidwell had owned her building and now he was dead. Someone had—what—murdered him? Was that what Saldi was saying to Stefano? She shivered. At once Stefano bent his head and nuzzled her neck. His teeth nipped and his tongue swirled heat over the little sting, making her intensely aware of him.
“I’ll tone it down,” he whispered to her and pressed a kiss against the sensitive spot right behind her ear.
His arm, a bar around her rib cage, didn’t relax at all. He kept her tightly against him and resumed his conversation with one of the Saldis. Francesca had heard about them from several sources, but more, she’d read about them in news articles. They were definitely considered criminals. She knew that family was into organized crime, yet Stefano didn’t sound in the least afraid. He swore at them and seemingly had no worries about retaliation.
“I don’t give a damn, Giuseppi, what you think. What I think is that you’d better find someone else responsible for that piece of shit’s cut throat. I’m not crying tears if that’s what you’re looking for. If it happened under your nose, look to your own people and tighten your fucking security.” He snapped the phone shut with an angry click and shoved it in his pocket.
Her breath caught in her lungs. “Giuseppi Saldi is the head of the largest crime family right here in Chicago,” she whispered, terrified for him. No one would talk to Giuseppi Saldi like that, not even the police. He was reputed to be extremely violent and often retaliated if he felt slighted.
“Yes.” He nuzzled her neck again. “You smell so good.”
“You weren’t very nice when you talked to him, Stefano. What if he gets angry with you?” A shiver went down her spine. Stefano was reckless when he lost his temper.
He stopped moving to look down at her, his arms shifting her so she was standing directly in front of him, her front tight against his. She had to tip her head back to look up at him.
“There you go, getting all protective on me. You’re worried about me, aren’t you?” His voice practically purred at her, a sensual mixture of possession, desire and something else—affection. “Dio, bambina, I love that.”
He laughed softly, tugging her closer until her front was locked to his side and she was under his arm. His cell phone chimed just as they stepped out of the shadows into the light behind the red bar. He stopped abruptly and pulled it from the inside of his jacket, refusing to give her any space, clamping her tightly to his side.
“You’re a slave to that thing,” she pointed out.
“True,” he agreed and flipped it open. “Stefano.”
He was as abrupt on the phone as he was in person, she decided, studying his face. He had a gorgeous face, one that belonged on the cover of a magazine. It was no wonder the paparazzi were obsessed with him. She was a little obsessed with him herself. Her heart was still pounding insanely at the giant step she’d just taken. She couldn’t even blame it on alcohol. That was all her, unable to resist him.
She leaned back against Stefano, mostly because he gave her no choice with his arm locked around her, right under her breasts. He smelled wonderful, his scent enveloping her, surrounding her with . . . him. She was acutely aware of his heavy erection pressed tightly against her. He always seemed to be hard around her. She had to admit she liked that. She wanted him to want her.
She had tuned out his conversation, listening to the music instead, used to the constant demands made on his time. It took a few moments before his side of the conversation penetrated. This was no call about someone needing help. She inhaled sharply and turned her attention completely to Stefano.
“No, Saldi, I’m at the club with my brothers and cousins. We’re celebrating tonight. Why the hell would you think I’d sneak into your fucking house and kill that piece of shit Tidwell right under your nose? I had no idea the bastard was staying in your home.”
Silence and then more. “Are you fucking kidding me? I beat the shit out of him and sent him to you to do whatever you wanted with him. Taking his building was enough revenge for me.”
Silence and then Stefano burst out with a string of profanities. “You’re pissing me off, Saldi. I can’t be in two places at one time. Come on down and see for yourself if you want, although the damn paparazzi has managed to sneak in and they’re taking enough pictures for an entire magazine.” Stefano’s voice was clipped and angry.
Francesca tensed. Tidwell had owned her building and now he was dead. Someone had—what—murdered him? Was that what Saldi was saying to Stefano? She shivered. At once Stefano bent his head and nuzzled her neck. His teeth nipped and his tongue swirled heat over the little sting, making her intensely aware of him.
“I’ll tone it down,” he whispered to her and pressed a kiss against the sensitive spot right behind her ear.
His arm, a bar around her rib cage, didn’t relax at all. He kept her tightly against him and resumed his conversation with one of the Saldis. Francesca had heard about them from several sources, but more, she’d read about them in news articles. They were definitely considered criminals. She knew that family was into organized crime, yet Stefano didn’t sound in the least afraid. He swore at them and seemingly had no worries about retaliation.
“I don’t give a damn, Giuseppi, what you think. What I think is that you’d better find someone else responsible for that piece of shit’s cut throat. I’m not crying tears if that’s what you’re looking for. If it happened under your nose, look to your own people and tighten your fucking security.” He snapped the phone shut with an angry click and shoved it in his pocket.
Her breath caught in her lungs. “Giuseppi Saldi is the head of the largest crime family right here in Chicago,” she whispered, terrified for him. No one would talk to Giuseppi Saldi like that, not even the police. He was reputed to be extremely violent and often retaliated if he felt slighted.
“Yes.” He nuzzled her neck again. “You smell so good.”
“You weren’t very nice when you talked to him, Stefano. What if he gets angry with you?” A shiver went down her spine. Stefano was reckless when he lost his temper.
He stopped moving to look down at her, his arms shifting her so she was standing directly in front of him, her front tight against his. She had to tip her head back to look up at him.
“There you go, getting all protective on me. You’re worried about me, aren’t you?” His voice practically purred at her, a sensual mixture of possession, desire and something else—affection. “Dio, bambina, I love that.”
