Veiled Amor by V. Theia

FOURTEEN

“Jealousy is a puta.” - Capone

 

 

What Capone planned went off without a hitch.

He led the asshole a merry dance around the airport, making like he was putting Lucia on a plane to New York. While Tiger got Jacie out of sight, Capone stood by a pillar, watched Nicholas’ goon buy a ticket, and boarded a plane.

He’d text Lucia twice to check-in. He’d expected her to call, and she hadn’t.

Not once.

Irrationally pissed about it, he’d wanted her to need him.

Climbing out of Tiger’s Ram, he stomped his way toward the entryway, acknowledging how fucked up he was. He’d been the one to push her away, holding her at arm’s length, he couldn’t feel pissed off that she hadn’t reached out.

The tension riding on Capone’s shoulders didn’t lessen when he strode through the double doors, his eyes searching her out. It was late. She was probably in their room. He was gonna grab a beer and then…

Nah, she wasn’t in bed. He spotted her sitting around a table holding cards, laughing at whatever Sideways was saying. The big bruiser was rubbing at his hair, flashing his teeth at Lucia. When Sideways noticed Capone glaring at them, he jutted his chin to Lucia. That’s when she swiveled around on the chair. Her smile was hesitant, but it loosened something in his chest when she tossed down the cards and headed toward him. “Hey! You’re back. How did it go?”

“There weren’t any issues.”

Lucia beamed a grin up at him, and he felt the smile deep inside.

“That’s good, right?”

Capone grumbled, still throwing a stare at Sideways. Considering putting the smirking man through a window.

It was Lucia’s hands on his chest, which brought his attention back. “Thank you, Capone, for doing that. It was so nice of—”

“Stop.” He growled, dropping his head. “Don’t thank me for shit, Lucia.”

“Oh,” she blushed, smiled a little. “I’m still grateful.”

Under his breath, Capone grumbled in Spanish. Then asked her. “Have you been okay here? No one bothered you?”

“No, everything has been fine. I ate dinner with,” she named four of the boys, making Capone grind his back teeth. “Then I creamed Sideways at Black Jack. I’ve won a whole pack of hard candy so far.”

Fucking friendly of Sideways. He glared to see the man watching him with a sly grin.

“You wanna play with us?”

“No.”

From a seat at the bar, nursing a beer in his hand, he watched her for the next hour as she laughed through game after game. It was only when she turned her head to meet his eyes that Capone’s burning chest felt better. He couldn’t erase his scowl fast enough, and her smile fell.

He was jealous.

Down to the bones jealous.

Unnatural.

Uncalled for.

Completely out of fucking line.

Club women approached him. Capone couldn’t rally the enthusiasm to even pretend he wanted company. He grunted a few words, and they slunk off to find a better biker reception. One woman stuck around longer, hovering at his elbow, not giving a fuck that he wasn’t replying more than a grunt or two to her inane chatter.

“Hey, Sassy, do you mind if I have a word with Capone?” He heard, not realizing Lucia had come over. He pierced her with a look so fucking hungry he almost reached for a knife and fork to eat her up.

“Oh, yeah, sure, babe.” The other woman replied, placing a hand on his forearm like she had the right to touch him. She winked at Capone. “But don’t keep him long, I got plans for this one.”

It was news to him. The woman was gonna be disappointed.

He caught Lucia's frown as the woman walked over to the crowd of bikers, finding a lap to sit on. He saw Jacie from the left, closely followed by Tiger, towering down over the smaller woman. But it was Lucia he watched as she bit into her corner lip.

“Is something wrong?” She asked. “You’re quiet over here.”

Capone was a calm guy, having learned the hard way and battled through his turmoil and anger for years. Any other emotion didn’t touch him. But as he replayed her smiles and giggles for Sideways, there was no denying how irrationally jealous he was feeling.

He could have said any number of responses, but what flew out of his goddamn stupid mouth was, “You’ve been flirting with that cabrón.”

Lucia blinked. Her mouth opened and closed.

“I’ve what?”

Capone glowered. An awakening caveman clawed at the inside of his skin. He’d never given much thought to the PC brigade these days, but he’d always treated women with respect and care. Only now, he wanted to drag her off to his cave so no fucker could even smile at her. How was that for a modern man, huh?

“Do you mean Sideways? You think I’m flirting with him?” Each question brought her tone higher. And then her stabbed finger into his chest came out of the blue. “Of all the cheek. You just don’t quit being a jerk, do you?”

Lucia went on. “I was playing cards, but you’re over here with your whoredom flaunting all over you, touching you. And that’s your business. What I do is my business.”

Poke. Poke. Poke.

Her skinny finger was almost embedding into his chest.

Wrong thing to say to a man who was on the edge of sanity as he reached out and grabbed her wrist. Hauling her the few inches separating them until she bounced against his body.

“I was not flirting. Not that you have a say in what I do.”

“My whoredom?” He growled low between his grit teeth.

“Yes! Your… hey, wait up.” Capone shackled the top of her arm, and pulled her along to a quieter spot in the hallway. He all but slammed her up against the wall and climbed into the space with her. His head, feeling heavier than a fucking boulder, as it hung low to see the color of her eyes.

“My whoredom?”

“I said what I said. Every time I look over, you have another woman buzzing around you. You didn’t seem to mind at all. At. All. Capone.”

He’d been Capone for as long as he could remember, but hearing it on her lips now sat wrong with him, made him feel a type of way he couldn’t understand, and because he was already fucking irrational, he went with the sensation.

“What’s my name?”

She dared roll her eyes. “If you don’t know your name by now, then I’m not telling you.”

“Say it.”

Another eye roll, Lucia sucked in her breath when he braced both fists by her head, trapping her in the confines of his body. “Giancarlo.”

“Sí. That’s what you call me.”

“W-what does it even matter what I call you?”

He couldn’t explain.

The air practically set alight around them, making his skin crackle and his teeth ache to bite her on her exposed neck.

Capone never acted this way by losing his control and never felt as though he was crawling out of his skin if he didn’t have someone.

Only once.

With her.

Years ago. He’d lost all his control and took something that didn’t belong to him.

He wanted her again. And again.

“Why are you acting like this? You see me talking to a man, and suddenly I’m relevant? Is that what it is, Cap—” He growled a warning. Now she showed signs of the same frustrating anger he felt when she pushed against his solid chest. It didn’t move him back, but her touch burned through his shirt, and he anchored his head lower to better breathe her in.

He felt unhinged. Like a lock had snapped and all the shit he’d held at bay pooled around them, threatening to drown Capone.

Guilt and regret always stacked up when he thought about Lucia. Being near her fucked with his head. Holding up this thing in front of his face, he couldn’t have. This perfect, beautiful thing he was starving for.

“You can’t flirt with him, Lucia.” He threatened, low from his throat. Then amended, “anyone.” Not in front of him. Not at all. He gave no fucks how that made him look. He couldn’t even call on the Holy Mother to help him get back his control. She was sitting on the side-lines watching him go through this shitshow, waiting to see how it turned out too.

“I can’t…” her eyes rounded and then narrowed to accusatory slits when it penetrated what he was demanding. Her hands came to his chest, staying there. “Where do you get off telling me what to do?”

He growled.

She sucked air through her teeth.

They strained against each other, as if tethered by the same frayed string holding them so close. Chains rattled in Capone’s head, feeling the restraints break apart, freeing him.

She smelled incredible and felt insanely good smashed up against his chest. Her tits molded to him, and Capone grew harder the angrier she became.

He was fucking insane and needed a reality check.

But there was none to be found when he leaned in, almost tasting the breath she exhaled.

“I don’t want you flirting with him,” he grit between his teeth. Meaning every word.

“I don’t want you flirting either!” She shot back, pushing against him, clinging to his shirt at the same time. By their own accord, Capone’s hands reached down and gripped Lucia by the hips, angling her in. He didn’t hide his growing arousal as it tented the front of his jeans.

All it had taken was seeing her smiling at another man.

He was fucked.

“Why now, Gi, huh?” She pushed her head back on the wall, rolling up on her tiptoes still didn’t have her at chin level with him. But it meant she grazed against his cock, and they both sucked in a breath. His was pained. Needing her. Fuck, he needed her badly.

Her eyes were wild and full of anger. She let her lips open naturally as she breathed roughly. Capone noticed everything, always had, even unconsciously. He’d always noticed Lucia, and now he couldn’t stop noticing.

“Lucia.” He groaned, putting their foreheads together, angling for her mouth. He saw her gaze flicker down to his, knowing she wanted it too. He was already plagued with the taste of her from the other day. And squeezing her hips wasn’t helping him to get himself back in line. He’d never been a man to put demands on a woman. After enjoying them for the time they were together, he didn’t care what she did after that.

Lucia was re-writing all his fucking rules.

Making him think and act unnaturally, yet it felt right at the same time.

He ached to demand and threaten and punish in ways she would scream her pleasure and make him calm again.

It was then a sadness crossed over her face, and Capone’s gut threatened to explode. He couldn’t take seeing her sad over anything, least of all something he’d said or done.

“This is what happens, isn’t it, Giancarlo? You only get this close to me when you’re pissed off. You can only kiss me when you’re angry.” Her lip wobbled, but she bared her teeth with a hiss as she pushed and pushed at his chest. He was immovable, outweighing her, and he couldn’t find the strength to step back, not when she had him deranged.

He’d kill to kiss her.

He wanted to smash her mouth and demand she never looked at another man again. But that was illogical.

Against his self-imposed rules and the walls he’d put up to keep out the guilt, he knew he’d claimed this woman a long fucking time ago.

That meant she couldn’t flirt and smile and laugh with any other jackass.

Capone swore in Spanish.

Nothing she was saying was a lie.

He only allowed himself to feel when he got to breaking point.

“This isn’t fair,” she whined like a sexy-as-fuck goddess. Her breath pushed over his face, and she clung hard to his waist in the same way he squeezed her hips, as if he could merge their bodies as one. Without warning, Capone wedged his knee between her legs, widening them before he drove his hips forward, hitting her soft parts.

Lucia moaned, eyes closing, but when they opened, they were pure fire. “This isn’t fair, Giancarlo.” He agreed. He was a jealous fucker. He couldn’t have her but threw a fit if anyone else wanted her.

Capone recognized all this and still.

He. Didn’t. Fucking. Care.

Because he was acting on autopilot.

The part of him only Lucia had reached.

And she fueled his fires. Poking his buttons and the beast within snarled.

“Lucia. Don’t,” he begged.

Don’t what? Don’t angle her hips, so she was rolling into his hard cock? He’d never ask that, not when it felt so good.

Don’t what? Expose her wet mouth perfect for kissing?

Don’t what? Fucking torment him?

He teetered on a knife-edge.

Still, he didn’t move.

“Go on then,” she taunted, bumping into him until they were both moaning from the pleasure it elicited. Fuck, he could come with little provocation. “Do what you always do, Gi.” Lucia hissed, “kiss me in anger and then regret it afterward. Punish me for a crime we committed years ago. Punish me for smiling at someone who enjoys my company.”

She pushed, dared, and she taunted until a roar was screaming through Capone’s white skull meat.

The taste of her was already inside him. He didn’t need to crush her lips to know them intimately. She was as much a part of him as his goddamn legs were. And it was killing him slowly.

“Do it,” she said, tears appearing in her eyes, and it was that one change in her that brought Capone to a racing halt.

“Stop,” he groaned, reaching out to palm her face. “Lucia, don’t you dare cry.”

“Fuck you, Gi.” She croaked.

God, he was an asshole. She deserved better than someone like him.

“You don’t get to do this to me.”

No, he didn’t.

Swiping his thumbs under her eyes, he knocked away the errant tears, and then he stepped back from her. His lungs inflated with much-needed air.

She was a vision.

It probably made him a sicko to enjoy seeing her eyes sparkling with unshed tears and her lower lip caught hard between her teeth.

In his mind, he saw her in a different place. Wearing his marks all over her sweet body, clawing him up, begging in gasping sobs.

And when his resolve was crumbling again, making him lean in to take her lips, he saw his brother in his head.

The brother he’d betrayed. Cold water poured over him.

Motherfucker. It was a sucker punch of guilt coming at Capone from all sides.

She deserved better than a man who couldn’t do the decent thing and not defile his sister-in-law when she’d only needed comfort.

Whatever she saw on his face made Lucia’s features rush with color. She pressed her hands to the wall, inadvertently pushing her tits higher, focusing his gaze.

“Fuck.” He swore, head hanging low. “Lucia, I…”

“You apologize, and I will punch you.”

His head reared up to see blazing eyes staring him down. Perfection right there in a tiny beast package. She was made to be mauled and worshipped and fucking licked all over. If he got his way back then, he would have tattooed the bite marks he’d left on her hip bones, making sure she had a permanent reminder of him.

How sick was he, huh?

“I’m not sorry.” He rasped his truth.

However wrong it made him. He wasn’t sorry for acting like a mannerless animal now. Or fucking her in every dirty way years ago.

It made Capone the lowest of the low. But that was his truth.

He wasn’t sorry for it.

Shuffling his feet until he was in her face again, she cocked her head back, inhaling hard. “I don’t want you flirting with anyone, got it?”

A second. And then two.

“I wasn’t flirting. It’s called being friendly, you should give it a try sometime.”

“Lucia.” He growled.

“I won’t flirt with anyone. Will you and your whoredom?”

“No.”

“What about Sassy, who has big plans for you?”

“Not interested in her.” Or anyone else. Other than the beauty in front of him, cutting him to shreds from the inside.

She nodded only once and slid her body out from under his, walking back into the main room like nothing happened. Capone followed a minute or two later when he had his hard body under better control. Parking it at the bar again, this time facing out to the room, he watched her play card games.

Keeping the women away, he took Lucia fresh drinks, made sure she had snacks. She didn’t acknowledge him other than to turn her head his way, their eyes locking with understanding.

There’d been no defense plan put in place once he knew she’d needed his help. He hadn’t factored in how fucked up he got over her.

Without a way to say sorry to Santiago, all he could do for his younger brother was to stay away from his wife.

Only, that was getting harder by the second.

Claim her. Own her. Take her. A dark voice pushed.

Grinding his back teeth, Capone sat on the barstool, braced a foot on the floor, a whiskey in his hand.

Watching her.