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THREE
SEBASTIEN
Rebecca’s perfume lingeredon my tux. I should have just kept walking inside the hotel, gone straight to the bar, and started drinking. When I saw the license plate of her father’s limo, Dom1, I froze and instincts took over.
Seeing Rebecca standing in a ballroom looking beautiful made my cock ache to the point of agony, as it usually did when I was near her. I stayed away to avoid the pain in her eyes as well as my pants. One slip and I’d break, drag her into a dark corner and pull up whatever dress she had on. Give her what her eyes longed for.
A good savage fuck from a man who loved her.
Now watching her dance with Messina killed me. It still shocked me that my Becca was spoken for. The day those two said I do would be the worst day of my life. I had no expectation he’d date her properly. No, he’d drag her to the altar, put his ring on her finger, his name on her driver’s license, and then go back to what he always did.
Fuck anyone on two legs with a pussy.
Or an asshole.
A shiver went through me watching Messina, even if I couldn’t deny the pulsing in my cock. My damn body betrayed me at every turn. That fuckface was playing with fire, using me for his games.
Rebecca returned to the table where her father sat looking terrible with droopy jowls and sallow skin. Jesus fucking Christ, was Giovanni Domenico sick?
Or just sick and tired of being embarrassed by his son. Growing up, I liked Nate. Thought he was cool with his long hair, skinny jeans, and always humming a tune. Meanwhile, I barely changed out of my St. Mary’s Prep uniform. Even as a teenager, I wore dress slacks, a white pressed shirt, and a tie to dinner at the Domenico house.
Of all the boys freshmen year, I still couldn’t believe Becca chose me. A lanky kid from a poor family there on a scholarship. God, I loved her from the first time I kissed her.
What I remembered most was the last kiss from those tear-soaked lips five years ago when we were twenty-three, and I’d broken up with her.
“Giovanni Domenico has promised his daughter to Anthony Messina Jr.” The words from my father’s mouth had sounded like they hurt more to say than they had for me to hear.
“Rebecca? My Becca?”
My father had nodded. He loved Rebecca as much as I did. When my mother had passed away, Becca held us together, my father and me. We weren’t legacy in their world. My father worked hard to build his gambling connections and in New York City, organized crime was the name of the game. You played ball with the king or else. When I lost Becca, my father turned ruthless. Tired of being on the outskirts of power. As if we could get Rebecca back, my father barreled into Domenico’s universe with a relentless drive to go after the kind of success he saw Anthony Messina Sr. had. Within a year, we were the rings to kiss in the underground gambling world.
Just not shiny enough to impress Giovanni Domenico.
“Does Rebecca know?” I’d made love to her the night before. All night in my bed, the moonlight shining on her skin. She didn’t feel like a woman who had to marry a man she didn’t love. No, she’d been wet and panting. Riding my cock as I pinched her hard pink nipples between my fingers. We were fucking animals, going at it all the time.
But I loved her, and she loved me. I could tell her anything, she understood me and was my best friend. Most of all, she didn’t care that I grew up poor as shit.
“No. And don’t tell her. That wrath is for her father to bear.” My father’s tone had been tempered.
To get where we were, we had to do business with Domenico. All real estate deals went through him. That made him the one true king. Families like the Messinas and the Byrnes dominated their own worlds. Anthony’s family had a stake in every major restaurant and bar, and Giancarlo’s family ruled the hotel world.
“How long?” I’d asked my father, my heart breaking.
“Soon.”
“Soon,” I mumbled to myself, watching Becca tolerate Anthony on the dance floor.
As far as I knew, she still didn’t know she’d been spoken for. Anthony had told his father at the time he wasn’t getting married at twenty-three. The way the man plowed through socialites, models, actresses, and tourists, I couldn’t imagine him ever settling down.
He had a cock that wouldn’t quit.
That left Rebecca a lonely woman because, with the word out she belonged to Anthony, no one dared to go near her.
I grew still watching those two exchange what looked like tense words and her pulling away from Anthony.
“Fuck this,” I mumbled to myself and stomped toward her.
