Her Guardian Don

Her Guardian Don By Carolyn Faulkner

Her Guardian Don By Carolyn Faulkner Published by ABCD Webmasters Copyright 2005 by ABCD Webmasters & Carolyn Faulkner All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be translated or reproduced in any form without written permission from the copyright owner(s) For more books by Carolyn Faulkner & the best spanking fiction on the Net, visit:

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Chapter 1 Lily let herself into the kitchen with a bang as the screen door slammed shut loudly behind her. She took a deep breath. Home smelled wonderful, as usual – garlic, onions . . . she thought there must be pasta sauce cooking, but she was wrong. “Patty? Mrs. Scalia?” she called, setting the overflowing bags of groceries down on the counter with a groan. Her fingers, she swore, were permanently cramped into that “plastic-baghandle”, claw-like position until she forced them open. “Patty?” she yelled again, sure her adoptive sister and best friend – who had called her to come over for dinner – was probably upstairs applying makeup to her already flawless skin. She heard footsteps and turned towards the sound, just as that deep, throaty voice floated to her ears. “They’re not home.” Oh, God. It was him. Victor Scalia – six-foot-four if he was an inch, full head of short, black hair, broadly muscled and strong as an ox. His dark good looks alone made multitudes of women – including her – want to swoon at his big, Italian leather shod feet. Even those who knew who and what he was. Hell, who and what he was attracted most women like flies to a half-eaten watermelon – but not Lily. Money, power – and more money and more power – was supposed to be an aphrodisiac. But more than he attracted her – much, much more - Scalia scared her – always had, more than she wanted to admit, especially to him. Still, she loved him. The man she saw around this house – the man who had been kind enough to take her in when she was summarily orphaned in a firefight with a rival family – was smart and funny, witty and literate, even. He held both a bachelors and a master’s degree. Victor had assumed the mantle of head of the household as soon as his father died, and seemed to wear it unconcernedly. He was one of those men who saw what needed to be done and did it, quietly, efficiently, and without complaint. Family was of the

utmost importance. He was a doting son and brother; his mother and the younger members of his immediate family already lived with him – his brother and sister – and Lily had simply been added to that mix – welcomed with warm loving arms by his mother, who had immediately become a surrogate to her, as Patty became as close as a sister. But Victor had slipped into the role of mob boss just as easily. When his father died, there was no more question about who was going to run the business side of the family than there was about who was going to run the personal side. He’d been trained by the best, at his father’s knee, from the moment he was born, to take his position in life. And he was damned good at what he did. Too good. In his hands, the family fortunes had increased triplefold. Everyone connected to his organization was making money hand over foot, and – thanks to his strong leadership – and there was rarely any warfare amongst the prominent families. They were all too busy making money to kill each other, and as long as no one got greedy, there was no reason for bloodletting. Oh, there was the occasional skirmish from young hot bloods looking to make a name for themselves, but such flagrant displays were frowned upon by upper management and easily squelched by those who appreciated the current peace and affluence. Still, the truths of his chosen profession shone in the depths of his steely eyes. Looking into them made Lil shudder, so she had avoided him in general at almost any and all costs from the beginning – even when she was ten. Today, instead of watching him, she began to put the groceries away. But she knew with a shiver that his eyes followed her like a greedy wolf salivating at the sight of a rabbit. The warm, loud, loving household – raucous though it could be at times – was such a difference from the small, shabby apartment she shared with her father. When she was first brought here, Lily had been a little intimidated by it all – she was an only child, living with her father and a live-in nanny. Her life had been very quiet and orderly until she joined the Scalia household. Their family gatherings left her speechlessly shy in the

din. Thankfully, Mamma Scalia – who had a heart like a marshmallow, especially when she took one look at that thin, pale face - took Lil under her wing, treating her with loving affection just as if she was another daughter, although for some reason, Lily could never bring herself to call her any form of Mother, preferring instead to use the more formal “Mrs. Scalia”. But Mama ignored that small snub, praising and scolding and cajoling and gently guiding the straggly little stray that she was, using only her tone voice and two warm, strong arms to mold the little girl. In relation to his siblings and their upbringing, however, Victor continued the tradition his father had started: the leather strap that his father had used on him still hung on the pantry wall, and he didn’t spare its use on either Nicky or Patty – nor did he ever hesitate to dish out a hand spanking when one was deserved for minor infractions such as sassing or bad language. Lily – who’s bedroom was right next to Patty’s – often couldn’t help but hear her friend’s cries as her brother lit into her for skipping school or staying out past curfew. But he never once physically disciplined Lily. Lily snapped out of her remembrances. Her voice was ultra-soft. “Thank you. She called and asked me to come over for dinner. She must’ve been on her cell. I’ll leave when I’m done putting away the groceries. Please have Patty call me when she gets home and I’ll come back over.” Frowning, Victor raised an eyebrow at that cold suggestion – as if she was a stranger and hadn’t grown up in his house. Hell, he wouldn’t treat any of Patty’s friends that way – make them go home and come back – much less a woman everyone considered to be a part of his family – except her. She was always so skittish around him – she always had been, since the moment she’d arrived in the household, standing there gripping Sal Matroni’s hand like a lifeline, solemn little face accented by wide, sad eyes. Of course, he hadn’t really known what to do with her from the beginning. Lily’s father had been one of his father’s cappos. Arturo had married late in life, and his petite wife had died bringing Lily into the world. The old man really hadn’t known any

better than Victor had what to do with the child, beyond engaging a nanny, so she seemed to have grown up quiet and alone for the most part and with very meager possessions, and Victor guessed that his loud, boisterous extended family that sometimes got into what seemed like life or death arguments around the dinner table must’ve seemed quite alien to her as a little girl. But he had loved her – platonically - on sight. She was a small ten year old – almost eleven – very petite and ladylike and endearingly shy. Her cheeks were always blushing red about something, and that very delicacy made him feel extremely protective towards her. Appalled at the fact that her only possessions seemed to be one small valise of clothes, Victor had made sure she had everything a little girl could want. Whatever Patty had, Lily got: a big, white Italian Provincial canopied bed and matching furniture and pretty pink, ruffled bedclothes, as well as plenty of stuffed animals and toys, and clothes enough to stock a children’s boutique. Although they got along famously and were extremely close to this day, Lily and Patty were two very different girls. Patty had grown up having everything handed to her – she had come to almost expect that she would receive her due, materialistically, one way or the other – from someone in the family – especially being the youngest and the only girl. Lily had never had much. Even though her father had certainly done well, it was as if Arthur either resented that his daughter had lived when his beloved wife had died, or that he just couldn't bear spending money on her because as she grew she began to remind him of his wife . . . Victor didn’t know which of those theories was right, but his jaw clenched whenever he thought of how she had been living, and with no good reason. Since adopting Lily into the family, his opinion of Arturo – which had been extremely favorable based on his father’s thoughts – had taken a radical turn. Victor heartily wished he had Arturo in front of him one last time, so he could beat him to a pulp for how he neglectfully he’d treated his daughter. Unlike Patty, who always seemed to approach him with her hand out, Lily had never asked him for anything

monetary or material. Ever. Since she and Patty were the same age, he’d given her the same allowance as Patty, the same curfew, the same bed time . . . but Patty was always coming to him in his office, slipping in when she shouldn’t have, to climb surreptitiously onto his lap for a cuddle in a none-too-subtle attempt to wheedle something out of him – more money, usually, so that she could buy clothes or records or candy. Lily never came to him unless she absolutely had to, usually because Mama didn’t want to give permission for whatever it was and sent her to him, and even then he had known – as she stood before him, staring at the ground and fidgeting like a naughty child when she’d been nothing but perfect – that she wished she was anywhere but there at that moment. She never, ever asked for money and was always home by curfew. The two or three times she hadn’t been able to make curfew, she’d called and explained herself before hand, and asked permission to be late or explained why she was going to be, whereas Patty would take her chances and come in in disgrace, knowing she was going to have an appointment with the strap either that night, if her brother was still up, or the next night. And he’d probably ground her, too. Patty was a party girl – not a bad girl, but one who loved nothing more than to socialize. Lily was her opposite in that, too. She went out, never seriously with a boy, though, while Patty went through boys like they were Kleenex. Generally, Lily preferred to read more so than anything else. She could always be found with her nose in a book – any book that someone put down was fair game, as far as she was concerned. He’d even noticed her picking up his business magazines when she was still a teenager, and the occasional Sports Illustrated when she was desperate for something to read. And if she wasn’t in her room or some other hidey hole with one of the Chronicles of Narnia, then she was down at the stables, or lying on the grass staring up at the clouds, with a menagerie of dogs and cats all around her. Although she adjusted to the family – its loud “discussions” and overly-enthusiastic aunts and uncles and grandparents – she was always remained just a little aloof - a little removed from it all.

Most especially him. If he were pressed, Victor mused, he’d have to say that he didn’t think she liked him very much, and that was the exact opposite reaction he was used to from females in general. From the time he was a baby, every woman he knew fawned all over him, and as he grew that immediate attraction grew. By the time he was an adolescent, most women threw themselves at him, even those who were his mother’s contemporaries, and now the very young, the very old, and everyone in between softened in some mysterious way upon seeing him or at the very least came to him with this favor and that, all the while offering him casual treats – usually food, but not uncommonly their bodies and selves. All of the women of his family sought him out, either platonically or with something else on their minds – his cappos’ wives, his father’s friends’ widows . . . it seemed that someone of the female persuasion was always tugging at his sleeve for something. But not Lily. And she could probably use a favor or two from him more so than anyone else who never hesitated to ask one of him. That was probably what intrigued him most about her. As she’d grown – once she’d become an adult – his attraction to her had matured, also and became that of a man for a woman. But Lily didn’t seem to know he was alive and did her out and out best to be absolutely nothing but polite to him. Which, of course, aggravated him to no end. His jaw set as he looked down his not-inconsiderable nose at her. “You most certainly are not going to go home just because Patty is out right now. First of all, you are home, even though you never seem to want to accept that fact.” Lily flinched inwardly, but kept her face serene. “And secondly, I don’t bite - ” But you do spank, came the snappy, thankfully silent retort from the back of her mind. Lily closed her eyes tight, hoping to banish the errant thought. She didn’t want to think of him spanking her. She didn’t. Really. Truly. It was a bad, bad, bad thought . . . but one that

occasionally reared its ugly head. Like now. In the middle of a perfectly innocent conversation, she’d start to think of what it would be like if he did what she’d seen him do to Patty on occasion when the other girl had sassed him. Patty had always had a bit of a mouth on her, and when she got fresh with Victor he never hesitated – no matter who was around – to tug her over his lap. Lily had been too perfectly behaved to ever deserve that kind of punishment, of course. But that hadn’t stopped her from fantasizing about it when she grew up enough to realize that it was just what she’d been missing, and that Victor Scalia was the perfect – but perfectly wrong – candidate to deliver it. He’d tug gently on her arm, so as not to hurt her. Victor did not go in for gratuitous violence . . . at least as pertained to women, anyway. His lap would be warm and broad, but hard beneath her stomach, thanks to lots of tennis and a daily five mile run. She knew that he would pull her further over his legs than she would normally lie, making sure that she was off balance and that her toes didn’t touch the floor, forcing her to be that much more helpless during the spanking. He would catch her wrists with one of his big hands – firmly but causing no pain. Then his free hand would lift her skirt, baring her pink panty-clad bottom and making every inch of her flesh flush hot and red . . . some more than others . . . Would he take her panties down? No question, most especially if they were alone. He would always paddle her on the bare bottom, not wanting her to have any sort of protection from his efforts. At first, Victor would be looking at her creamy, round rear, and then his palm would cover it, patting gently as he spoke soothingly in that deep, sexy tone of his, telling her what she’d done wrong and that he loved her, and that if he didn’t love her he wouldn’t bother to spank her . . . And then he would begin to swat her – and it would be horridly painful, she imagined, but at the same time wonderfully intimate . . . “ – and it would be nice if you wouldn’t treat me as if I had leprosy.” Victor waited for her to respond – even

just to nod her head. But she was just standing there with a can of crushed tomatoes in her hand, staring off into space dreamily. It was completely unlike her, and Victor’s brow furrowed in concern. “Lily?” Lily’s face flamed as she snapped out of it and realized where she was, what she was doing, and in front of whom. “Uh, yeah, I’m fine.” Luckily, the pantry took her a ways away from him to where she could give herself a mental shake to clear her head and straighten her back. God, if he ever – ever – found out about what she was just thinking . . . a delicate shudder ran through her. “Did you hear a word I said?” he asked, leaning his pinstriped hip against the counter and folding his arms over his chest expectantly. She hadn’t, of course, and her face blared the fact, but Lily managed to mumble something to the effect of, “Yeah.” “Well?” “Well what?” Oh, God, what had he been saying when she came out of it? If she’d known there was going to be a quiz she would have listened . . . maybe. Maybe not . . . His sigh didn’t make her feel any less nervous. “What did you think about what I said?” Luckily, she remembered he had mentioned something about him having leprosy, and deduced the rest from there. “You’re exaggerating.” More for something to do – something to keep her hands busy – she continued to put away the groceries. His position – standing there like a statue of an Italian God – forced her to move around him, bend down next to him and reach up near his head, declining his belated, murmured offer of assistance and drawing in the occasional whiff of expensive, spicy cologne. He smelled too damned good for her concentration. She kept wanting to ask him to repeat the things he said during the course of their conversation, because his nearness was so distracting to her. It had been that way since the summer of her sixteenth birthday, when she’d come to realize that she was a woman and he was a

man, and exactly what that could have meant, in another lifetime . . . in another world. It was then that she realized he was the man she wanted in this life. No one else would do. She knew him well enough to realize that he would be a loving, doting, charmingly old-fashioned husband who would believe in indulging his wife to a point, but also would subscribe to the ancient philosophy that a man needed to keep his woman in line – and that would definitely include spankings. Lots and lots of them – some fast and hard and unbearable, and others slow to build the heat in the both of them, and in both her back and her front sides. But she was in love with a cold-blooded killer, and that thought always kept her from acting on any impulse she might have. But that didn’t mean she stopped having them. “I am not exaggerating,” he repeated back to her with what sounded like real anger, revealing the extent of his exasperation. Victor almost never let anyone get him mad. Instead, he got even. “You’ve always – “ His next summary comment about the way she treated him was forever interrupted by the shrill trill of his cell phone. “Yeah, what?” he answered impatiently. Lily was glad she wasn’t the poor unfortunate on the other side of the phone. “They what? When? Where? Well, find out – now!” She never seen quite that expression on his face – he looked like he was about to implode. A chill ran down Lily’s spine. “What is it?” Victor, who was already halfway across the room, stopped in his tracks and looked back over his shoulder at her. She almost wished he hadn’t, after hearing what he’d had to say. “Someone’s kidnapped Mama and Patty.” Much to Victor’s annoyance, Lily never left his side after that little bombshell announcement. She followed him into the inner sanctum – his office at home, where few men and even fewer woman had ever tread - as if she

belonged there, not hounding him with questions but just being there. Because she didn’t pester him but rather just sat close to him and touching him voluntarily for the first time – her small hand on the cuff of his suit near his wrist - he found himself telling her more than he would have if she had been talking non-stop. “The call was Giani. They were shoved into a car in the mall parking lot. Some of his guys were there, but it all happened to fast for them to do anything about it. The only thing they saw was the direction it was driven off in, which wasn’t much help.” The police – whom he had never expected to welcome into his home, and even now he was a little hesitant to allow in – arrived in record time and milled around, arranging to record the incoming calls on his residence and cell phones, which had Victor catching Lily rolling her eyes. He had to agree about the irony – as if they weren’t already doing that on a regular basis. They were anticipating that he would be getting a ransom call fairly shortly, but in the mean time, everyone he knew was also checking in, and the first thing he had to say to everyone was that the cops were there listening in, to remind them subtly not to say anything they shouldn’t about the family business. It didn’t help that the detective in charge – a Lt. Moore was a little too-smart-for-his-own-health sort who sidled up to Lily immediately, setting Victor’s jaw even harder than it already was. If there was something in this world that he hated, it was someone cozying up to his Lily. Just before he was about to physically confront the scum-sucking bastard – as he’d already labeled the cop in his mind – his cell rang again. This time, it was no friend or business associate. “We have your mother and sister. We want twenty-five million dollars, in small, unmarked, non-consecutive bills . . . . “ It was a good thing that they were recording this, because Victor zoned out a little. Until now, it had really been only rumor and innuendo. He had still halfheartedly expected to see Mama and Patty coming through the door any minute, loaded down with bags and boxes from having spent way too much of his

money. Then they’d all sit down to a wonderful dinner and laugh and talk the night away . . . “I’ll get it to you,” he responded on automatic pilot. “No. Not you. We want the other sister to deliver it.” For a moment, he was befuddled. And then it struck him. Lily. They wanted Lily to deliver the ransom.

Chapter 2 The corner, Lily was discovering, was damned boring. How the hell had she gotten herself here, anyway? She wondered grouchily . . . Oh. Must’ve been the going behind his back and sneaking around with the police . . . and rescuing his sister and mother nearly singlehandedly from the kidnappers, she thought with an indignant sniff, almost stomping and then remembering quickly exactly where she was. Stomping was probably not such a good idea when one was face first in the corner of one’s surrogate brother’s huge, overwhelming office, with him shuffling papers occasionally and clearing his throat angrily behind you. But what else was she supposed to do? Just thinking about it brought her back to that horrid day . . . Victor’s first reaction to the kidnappers’ insistence that she bring the ransom was pure, unadulterated, uncensored anger - much to the dismay of the collective cops who didn’t want him to upset whoever was holding his family hostage. But Victor was not about to risk the last safe member of his little family. “Fuck, no. I’ll bring it.” He eyed Lily reflexively, in silent apology for the vulgarities. He never swore in front of his family. Ever. The rest of his life could be an uncivilized mess, but not his home. There was a chuckle on the other end of the line. “If you bring it, we’ll kill ‘em and mail them home to you in pieces.” His blood ran cold, and his fingers clenched on the phone till he nearly crushed it. Taking a deep, slow breath, he consciously relaxed his hand. The detective he hated was holding up a white board that read, “We will take care of her.” Victor nearly snorted at the thought of the cops being able to truly protect anyone – he’d never seen any evidence toward that fact himself - but it seemed he didn’t have much choice in the matter. There was nothing he hated worse than feeling powerless. Nothing. It had been a long, long time since he’d felt that way, and he didn’t like it.

No, not at all. And, one way or the other, even if he had to don make up and wig, he was going to deliver that ransom himself. But that wasn’t the way it had worked out. While the police had placated him and let him think that they were going to set up a decoy, they had quietly and efficiently taken Lily aside and asked her if she was willing to do this for her family. They had the instructions about the drop, and could hold Victor in protective custody if necessary. Lily thought to herself that they would probably enjoy keeping him just for the fun of it – especially that pain of a detective. There was no question in her mind that she would risk anything and everything without a moment’s hesitation. Mama Scalia and Patty were all she had. Victor . . . well, even though she was in his house at his behest and with his blessing, he didn’t really factor into the equation . . . except within her fantasies. She didn’t think he much liked her, and they certainly weren’t close. And so she committed the ultimate offense and, simultaneously created an incredible debt. Victor – predictably – had focused almost exclusively on the offense rather than the debt, even when his mother and sister were returned – basically unharmed – to the fold. The police debriefed everyone and beat back the press – which, according to Victor – was about all they were good for. Lt. Moore, however, wasn’t going to let the Mafia boss off that easily, especially when he saw how the man was treating Lily. Carl had decided he liked the quiet, competent young woman, despite the trash she surrounded herself with, and he wasn’t about to let Victor Scalia off the hook about what his non-sister had done for the family. Carl knew the other man was royally pissed about the switch they’d done – that Lily had been in considerable danger while making the drop, despite the fact that she’d been wired within an inch of her life and was even wearing a Kevlar bullet-proof vest. He’d had every man he could lay his hands on watching her,

too. She was probably safer than she’d been since she was adopted by that snake of a man, but Scalia didn’t look inclined to agree with him when he found out. Carl eyed Lily, who was standing away from everyone else with her arms around herself, visibly shaking and shaken, almost wild eyed from the overdose of adrenaline. The big, bruiser Italian was hovering over his Mother and sister, but it was obvious any time he looked at Lily that he was none to happy with her. If she hadn’t been a close, if adopted, member of the family, Carl would have been extremely concerned for her health. But he couldn’t just leave well enough alone. Nope. Not him. “Can I speak to you for a moment?” That smarmier-than-thou cop had sidled up to him, just when Victor was about to herd the lot of them out of his house for once and for all. He had had it with the whole police department, and was considering some sort of legal action for completely disregarding his orders and placing Lily in grave danger. The look he gave the only somewhat smaller man let him know that Victor placed him somewhere below both cockroaches and maggots on the food chain. He was of a mind to tell him flat out no, but then wondered if that might not be inadvisable, considering he still harbored hopes of catching the parties who were responsible for snatching his family from him. God help them if he did. Victor had every henchman on alert, from the highest capo to the lowliest wannabe. Eventually, he’d find them. And, at that point, the law would not be even a sparkle in his mind as he tore them apart with is own, bare hands. Instead, though, he replied in a tight, overtly unhappy tone, “Yes,” and led the man with obvious reluctance to his study. They had barely made it into the room before the huge man turned and bore down on the Lieutenant. Moore

had the smarts to be a little intimidated – more than Victor might originally have attributed to him – but not by a lot. He took one small step back, but kept his eyes locked on Victor’s. “She’s still scared, you know.” “I know. My mother is, especially.” Moore blew out an almost exasperated breath. “No. Lily. The one who’s largely responsible for getting them back. It’s only because she had the guts to go through with it that your Mother and your sister are sitting in your living room and not lying in a morgue somewhere. Have you ever considered that?” Anger made him bolder than he might have been, and he found himself getting in the big man’s face. Scalia stood his ground, his facial expressions shutting down so that he almost looked sleepy. Dangerously sleepy. When he spoke, his voice made Moore begin to wish he had kept his fat mouth shut. “I’m not going to dignify that comment with a response. When I need a scumball, twisted, spineless man like you to tell me about my family I can always buy one. They’re a dime a dozen.” Moore’s jaw tightened, but he wisely kept silent. The irony of Scalia calling him names was not lost on him. “Now, Lieutenant. I want you to gather up your sorry little troop of has-beens and Dick Tracy wannabe’s and get the hell out of my house. If you’re not out of her in the next five minutes you’re going to learn the reason they used to call me Victor the Bloody.” Blanched completely white at the thought of the connotation of that nickname, the policeman – to his credit – was nonetheless able to hold it together long enough to execute a rigid about face. The house was devoid of police presence within four minutes – Victor timed it. They were surprisingly agile at

working their way around the extra muscle he’d added to watch the women of the family a little more closely. The cop had really managed to get to him, though, dammit. His approach was one that was unfailingly guaranteed to grab Victor’s attention away from almost anything – Lily. And what was worse was that the guy was dead to rights. She was petrified. He could see it in her eyes when they met his briefly then skittered away like a surprised mouse. She hugged herself just a little harder, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably, making Victor’s stomach clench and bottom out at the same time. He had been paying all his attention to Mama and Patty, when, as usual, Lily stood to the side, asking for and expecting nothing. And getting exactly that from him. Lily – who could barely contain her surprise and unease at the thought – suddenly found herself the center of his considerable attentions, much to Mama Scalia’s relief. The older woman was glad not to have her son hovering around her. She was fine – if tired and dirty. They had been held in a dirty room with no furniture, and what she wanted more than anything in this life at that moment was a shower and her own soft, warm bed. Poor Lily looked like she’d had the worse end of the bargain, frankly, and could well imagine what her son had been like during their ordeal . . . and then Lily had gone directly against him to deliver the money . . . Mother of God, she shuddered slightly. Her son took right after his father, and there had been precious few times that Conchetta had been willing to go against Antonio. And her own bottom had paid the price, each and every time. And none of them had been anywhere near as serious as what Lily did. Connie rose slowly to her feet, feeling older than her years, at first leaning on the couch then taking a short moment and straightening to her full height of five foot nothing. “Victor,” she said softly as she patted the arms he’d reached out towards her, away from Lily instantly, as if she was nothing to him. “Take care of Lily. I’m fine.

Patty’s fine,” she said firmly, glancing down at her abnormally silently, worn daughter whose tears still streaked down her rounded cheeks. “Patty, come upstairs and lie down.” Without so much as a word, the young woman did exactly as her mother told her. Nothing could have spoken more eloquently as to just how shaken his sister truly was. He hugged each of them, hard, whispering his love and not feeling the least bit less masculine for it. His father would never have been as forthcoming about his feelings, but then, Victor did not take after his father in everything. Lily made to follow the other women, but Victor’s slight touch on her arm stopped her. “Stay.” There was true command in his voice until he added more mildly, “Please.” Those soft blue eyes careened off of his, then settled on a spot on the deep pile carpeting. She didn’t say anything, but didn’t continue out the door, either. Victor sighed. The glimpses he’d gotten of her did not make him any happier. She looked like the weight of the world was on her – the small, slim shoulders were bowed, her face was paler than usual, eyes red rimmed and swollen almost shut. Funny, Victor thought. Mama and Patty had been crying all over each other, quite noisily, but he’d never heard a peep from Lily. After the initial reunion hugs, she’d stayed away from the rest of the family, crying by herself and consoling herself the best she could. Alone. “You know I’m not happy with you, don’t you?” She nodded slowly, as if every movement hurt her. Another sigh escaped him involuntarily. What was he going to do with her? “But that I’m deeply indebted to you because of your bravery – however foolhardy and stupid I think it was?” His vehemence – at another time – might have made

her smile. But she knew – somehow, deep in the pit of both her heart and her stomach – that she wasn’t going to escape unscathed from this. He was just about as angry as she’d ever seen him – relieved and thankful and grateful and all of that, but absolutely seething. At her. The one person in the world who was the least likely to ever have done anything to get herself into a predicament where he was going to handle things in the way she was most intrigued by – and dreaded the most, frankly. Lily had a feeling that she was going to be subjected to the same style of discipline that Patty had had to endure – and still endured, since she was still living in his household. This time, she’d really done it. She knew him well enough to know that there was no other way for him to respond. More mute nodding from her. Victor leaned against the back of the divan, his arms crossed over his chest. “But, I bet you’re also smart enough to know that I’m not about to let you get away with risking your life – even for Mama and Patty. That, no matter how much I feel I owe you – and I do – you’re going to get the lesson of your life.” She looked up at him quickly, then down again – that beaten down but still wholly angelic face fear stricken for a different reason than it had been for the past week, even white teeth nibbling nervously at a full, pink lip. He could literally hear her swallow – a gulping, desperate sound that moved him to bring her a glass of whiskey. “Relax. I’m not going to make you an offer you can’t refuse,” he joked lamely. Victor knew that Lily – unlike his mother and sister – didn’t approve of his occupation. Since she’d moved out – and more gently and subtly before that – she’d let everyone know what she thought – not using her opinions to tear him down, but rather gently rebuking him for taking the easy way out, and intimating that she would have thought better of him. It was like being tsked at by a woodland fairy who never confronted but niggled gently and with humor at what she considered to be his foibles. “And I’m not going to jump on you today.” “I know that,” she protested in an almost whiney tone.

Well, she was allowed to be whiney, in this consideration as far as he was concerned. A little, anyway. “Well, I’m glad for that. Sometimes I wonder – you’re so removed, I wonder if I just imagined you.” Lily frowned. “How fanciful.” He was back in front of her. Lily watched as he crossed one ankle over the other. “You’ve always kept yourself just a little bit removed from the rest of us. Just a little away.” From him, she wanted to correct him. Only from him, really. But Lily bit her tongue and said nothing. “You have a week. To recover. To sleep and eat. I know you haven’t eaten in quite a while. But a week from tonight, I’m going to expect to see you in my study at eight o’clock. You might want to plan to stay overnight in your old room that night, because I don’t think you’re going to want to be driving on the bottom you’re going to end up with when I’m done with you.” She flinched, and it rattled his heart. Lily was a very small, delicate woman. And he’d never spanked her before. Should he? In his heart there was no question. There was none in his mind, either, except a niggling concern that he might not be able to keep his hands completely to himself, although he was giving himself seven days to learn how to do just that. He wondered if her bottom would be paler than her face? If it was as full and rounded as he thought it might be . . . Lily was disparaging him in her thoughts. It wasn’t recovering, eating, or sleeping that she’d be doing, and he knew it, the sadist. She’d be anticipating and worrying and tiptoeing around him – if she decided to come back here during that much-too-short-much-toolong timeframe. But how could she not return here? She wanted to spend as much time with Mrs. Scalia and Patty as she could . . . which would mean being around him just that much more, too.

“I’d like it if you’d spend the next couple of days here. Help everyone get settled back in.” Lily nodded, not really hearing what he was saying, thinking ahead. Too far ahead, and automatically rubbing her bottom. But just once, before she caught herself and stopped. “Why don’t you go upstairs, too, then?” She rubbed her forehead. “I thought I might get some sauce started . . . comfort food, you know. Maybe some baked ziti or lasagna . . . “ Victor shook his head. “No. You need sleep. I know you didn’t get a wink while they were gone – just like I didn’t.” She hated it when he was right. “And tomorrow I want to see you eating, too.” Even exhausted, she managed to hold her own, mouthing a casual, “Uh huh,” back at him when most people – with the exception of perhaps Patty – would have been right there with a “Yes, Sir.” His eyes narrowed as he watched her walk slowly to the stairs. “Sleep well, Lily. And thank you.” His thanks made her pause for a millisecond. Her murmured “you’re welcome” barely drifted to his ears.

Now, here she stood, ever grateful that he hadn’t made her take her pants down . . .yet, and minutes away from her first – and one and only, she thought she hoped – spanking by Victor Scalia. Lily had no idea how long she’d been standing there – and he hadn’t specified a time. She’d arrived about fifteen minutes, as was her usual habit for any

appointment - even this type of thing, apparently – but hadn’t knocked on his door until the last possible moment. Until she could hear the grandfather clock in the foyer beginning to strike eight. Victor had been, as usual, across the big room, behind his huge oak desk which was piled high with files and papers, his white collared blue shirt rolled up at the sleeves, looking for all he was worth like the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. He’d peered up at her, then pointedly at the brass wall clock above the mantle of his fireplace. “It’s a good thing you weren’t late – you’d’ve gotten double, and believe me, you don’t even want the original of what you’ve got coming to you, little girl.” It leapt into Lily’s mind at that moment to save her own skin and run like hell – out of his study and out of the front door to the relative safety of her small compact car and eventually her small apartment. But she knew that he wasn’t about to let her go. Oh, she might actually make it back to huddle under her own blankets, but that didn’t mean much. Lily knew that if she ran away from him, he’d just hunt her down. Or worse, send one of his flunkies to go collect her. So, she straightened her back and forced herself to take a bold step into the room, even closing the door with a horrid finality behind her. He had already gone back to his paperwork when he said but one word, “Corner.” Lily wasn’t sure exactly which one he was referring to, but she found the one to the right of his desk as if she’d been drawn there by a poster of a naked Adrian Paul. Just when she was starting to fidget again – which she’d already been warned about once before – another command was issued. “Come here.” Lily skirted her way around his desk, then looked up at him. He was shaking his head solemnly and patting his lap. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. He didn’t really expect that she was going to sit on his lap, did he? She wasn’t a little girl . . . “I know you’re not.”

Lily wasn’t aware of having said her thought out loud, but apparently she had. He was still patting his leg, as if she was a cocker spaniel or something. “Can’t we just get this over with?” she asked, making a slow trip back around the desk to stand in front of him. His bushy black eyebrow met his hairline. “If you knew what was coming, you wouldn’t be so eager, Lily-pad.” His use of the nickname he had used rarely when she was younger nonetheless made her feel ten again. “I don’t want to sit on your lap.” “Still, you’re going to, aren’t you?” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. He had all the power, as usual in his relationships. But theirs had been different – up to this point. She had been excruciatingly, almost calculatingly well behaved as a youngster, consciously retaining some of that power and nearly refusing or rejecting his authority over her. But she wasn’t nearly that rebellious or confrontational. Still, this was going to be the first time he would lay a disciplinary hand on her. And they were both well into adulthood. Funny, it never really occurred to her to dispute his right to do this. Technically, she supposed, he didn’t really have that right, since he wasn’t really a relative of hers and she was an adult. But, in this family, anyway, that wasn’t at all the way it was going to work. It wasn’t the way he was going to let it work, anyway. His family agreed, surprisingly. Mrs. Scalia - once she’d recovered a bit – was completely horrified that she’d risked her life as she had, and her daughter was even more outraged, accusing Lily of having lost her mind. Patty had shaken her finger at Lily, saying, “You are in real trouble with Victor, you know, and you’re not going to sit down easily for at least a month, I’d bet. More power to him, I say.”

He hadn’t said a thing or made a move while she considered what she was going to do, then, of course, gave in and set herself gingerly down on his thighs. Victor wasn’t going to have any of her prissishness. He’d let her keep him at a distance for much too long, when he really shouldn’t have. This was going to be the beginning of a different way of handling her. A very hands on method of handling her, and he bet she would only benefit from it. His strong arms came up and hugged her against him, forcing Lily to lean on his chest, whether she wanted to or not. He wasn’t asking for her opinion or preferences. And he didn’t stop there. He brought his leg up just enough to force her to tilt towards him, then began to rub his hand up and down her arm. She was, as he expected, stiff as a board. Victor didn’t know if that was because of her unusual position or because of her impending doom. Either way, he intended to soothe her as much as he could. There’d be more of that after the punishment, probably. “I should have done this long ago,” he mused out loud, squelching her attempt to rise up. Lily sniffed, distracted a little, as he’d intended. “I wouldn’t have let you.” Victor didn’t dispute that . . . for now. “You always were a stand-offish little thing. Still are.” Again, his arms kept her from leaning away from him. “I am not!” “Yes, you are.” “Am not!” He smiled. “You’re protesting too much, Lily.” She blushed, thankfully not a full body one or he might have mistaken the heat – although there was enough of that already. Being on his lap was extremely disturbing. Despite his warning about being careful what she wished for, she really did wish he’d just get on with it,

largely because being so close to him was making her body respond quite embarrassingly. “I should have spanked you long before this, too.” Them were fighting words, as far as she was concerned, but her wiggling just got her a pre-emptive smack on the bottom, that really hurt. Frowning, she realized for the first time just exactly how much trouble she was truly in. Patty wasn’t joking or even exaggerating. A spanking from this guy was going to leave bruises, and have her reaching for a pillow before she even contemplated sitting down. Why, then, did those thoughts – which made her mind rebel - make her body melt?

Chapter 3 She was thinking. That was never a good thing, Victor thought to himself wryly. But thinking seriously while she was perched – as delicately as possible, at that – on his lap, awaiting the descent of his hand on her bare bottom was unusual, to say the least. But then, that was Lily, always doing the unexpected. He was amazed that she hadn’t immediately come back at him with the usual “no” of protest that any mention of spanking around either a child or a woman – lately – engendered, the latter equating it with abuse. He would have thought that Lily would have been at the head of that line. When it came, her “no”, as she squirmed slightly, was highly anticlimactic. “Maybe if I had spanked you when you were younger, you wouldn’t have been so ready to throw yourself into the line of fire.” “But – “ “No.” Lily was amazed to feel him shudder beneath her as his hand wandered gently up and down her arm. “I couldn’t believe it. The rest of the family was already Godknows-where with a gun to their heads, and there you went, blithely walking into the park with that doctor’s bag full of cash under your arm, like you were bullet proof or Wonder Woman or some such thing – “ While he was talking, he was arranging her more over his lap than on it, his agitation with her plain in his voice. Lily was thinking she was glad she wasn’t looking at him – his normally handsome face always took on a meaner, harder edge when he was mad. But then she realized that thinking about him was the last thing she should be doing in this situation: she was over a very large, powerfully strong man’s lap, her feet

dangling behind her in the air and her head and arms doing the same in front of her. The only thing she could do with her hands was grab for the spindles that held the wheels of the chair to steady herself. Once that problem was out of the way, her real one came to her hard: his fingers were reaching for the waistband of her pants, pulling them down slowly . . . inexorably, no matter how much she wiggled. “Victor! You can spank me, but not on the bare – yeow!” His second crack to her bottom hurt worse than the first – the whole of her rear was available to him, and his hand seemed to hit every millimeter of it in every swipe. And it stung even worse afterwards; the sensation building and burning and irritating her sensitive flesh until she had to move her legs, just to see if it really did help. It didn’t. Nothing did, and the spanking hadn’t even started yet! Victor, if she had been able to see him, had a small, almost amused, smile on his face. “Lily. Allow me to inform you that you are not in control here. I am. And, for your information, I only spank on the bare. Anything else is a waste of effort, as far as I’m concerned. I want you to feel every nuance of every swat. Maybe, when I’ve delivered a thousand or so of them, my heart will be able to come down out of my throat.” She was trying to concentrate on what he said, but she couldn’t; he was too busy arranging her pants just above her knees, where they were well out of the way and of absolutely no help to her. Her panties – which she had made sure were a modest, spotless white cotton – had joined them there before she even had a chance to protest. Not that that stopped her. “Victor! Not my panties! No!” If he had been able to, he would have savored the flavor of what she’d cried out to him, but he was too absorbed in his first sight of what had to be a world-class bottom. His hand cupped the curve of a soon-to-be-reddened cheek reverently as he told her exactly what he was thinking.

Lily blushed predictably. “It’s much too big.” “It’s no such thing, Lily, and I won’t hear one word to the contrary.” A third handprint joined the others and her yowl of complaint hadn’t died down when he began to pepper her tail with even more, bringing the entire tapestry of her bottom, from the gentle curve of the small of her back to the middle of her – once - alabaster thighs to an angry red glow. Oh, God, it stung! She was unprepared for that, figuring that it was going to hurt in an entirely different way. Her bottom felt like it was being burned, and not only where he was spanking at the time, but everywhere his hand had deposited its evil kiss. Suddenly, though, he stopped, leaving Lily bucking and heaving well afterwards, much to her embarrassment. That was it? She thought, almost afraid to hope it. She tried to bring one of her legs around and plant her foot on the carpet, but it was unceremoniously hauled back in line. “Where do you think you’re going, missy? We’re not even nearly done yet. That was just the barest of warm up.” “Warm up?” Her head, which had been hanging down as she gulped in air, jerked up as if he’d just said “fire” . . . and he had, only with his palm instead of his mouth. “Yes.” Victor looked at her as carefully as he could, noting that, although she was breathing heavily, she wasn’t crying yet. Most of her reactions so far were automatic and reactionary, rather than truly repentant. That was all right, and even expected. This wasn’t going to be a short, sweet session. It was going to be long and hard, especially for a first spanking. But what she’d done . . . he wasn’t sure whether he could ever truly forgive her for putting herself into so much danger. When he thought about losing her, it was almost worse than the idea of losing his mom or sister, because at least he knew that they loved him, and they knew he loved them. But Lily had always been alone and, whether she admitted it or not, somehow lonely in the world, despite

the love that surrounded her. Regardless of how this turned out, he intended to let her know how he felt about her tonight – despite the fact that telling her after blistering her bottom was probably not the smartest of moves. He’d never been smart about Lily, or he would have done as he’d already confessed to her – both spanked and held her, whether she needed or wanted it or not. Loving contact was what she had been missing. He knew it now with a clarity that was truly startling. Accenting nearly every word with a tremendous slap, he told her just what he was feeling when he found out what she’d done. “If you ever, ever, ever do something like that again, I will spank you every night for a month running.” These were real spanks. These were the swats that Patty got, that made her cry out, loud enough to be heard even thought the thick walnut paneling of her brother’s study, and, when it was all over, run up the stairs crying and throw herself onto her bed to spend the night sniffling on her tummy. And they kept on coming, one after the other after the other after the other . . . as if he would never, ever even consider stopping. He continued to talk to her, but of course only bits and bobs of it got through the pain to her. “It wasn’t enough that everyone else I lo – cared about was inches away from death – you had to go and try to be a hero, even thought you knew that that was the last thing I wanted. If I had lost you – any of you – “ he amended quickly, not willing to blurt out his feelings in the middle of a punishment “ – I don’t know what I would have done.” By this time, Lily was beyond listening to anyone or anything but the raging inferno in her butt. The only thing in her mind was trying to get him to stop spanking her, but no amount of crying or whining or begging or pleading seemed to have any effect on him. She was practically giving him a lap dance unintentionally, wiggling and writhing and gyrating against him in an unintentionally lewd manner. But not one swat landed anywhere but exactly where he

intended it should. Finally, she reached back with one hand, but he had her arranged so well that she couldn’t even defend her own bottom. Instead, it ended up caught and held by the fingers of his free hand. “Lily. That will never work with me, and you just end up that much more helpless while you get your swats.” There was almost no pause when he reached into a desk drawer and brought out a solid oak hairbrush. Lily recognized it as one of Mrs. Scalia’s old, antique ones. The first time it landed on her already well-roasted hillocks, Lily screamed bloody murder. And continued to scream as he smacked her – hard – fifteen times – not paying one iota of attention to her screams or cries. When he was through with that round, he paused while she tried – unsuccessfully – to collect herself. “Lily. If I didn’t . . . . care about you, I wouldn’t be doing this. I don’t want to lose you. We would all miss you terribly if anything happened to you.” Ten more swats that made the poor young woman sob even more pitifully, and Victor had to steel himself for the last round of twenty. Every moan, every scream tore at his heart, but he knew he was giving her exactly what she needed, and he intended to do that for her for the rest of her life, if she’d let him. At the end, the hairbrush, which was an heirloom, was thrown across the room, ending up brush down in the same corner she’d occupied not long ago. Victor turned Lily in his arms, hugging her to him as she bellowed sobs on his shoulder. He kept his soothing caressed strictly above the waistline, knowing that her bottom was glowing an abnormal shade of red right now and probably throbbing atrociously. Lily couldn't think, couldn’t reason, and what little logic she possessed had long since flown the coop with the advent of that nasty little hairbrush. She wasn’t considering the ramifications of her position – her bottom half bared to the four winds as she was and lying draped over the lap of an extremely masculine, highly powerful man, sobbing her heart out onto the shoulder and chest of his hand-stitched dress shirt. She wasn’t

thinking about their history and how she thought he probably hated her, or at the very least didn’t like her very much and didn’t care much about her. All she could do was feel – feel the burning of her bottom, feel the strength and comfort of his arms around her, and the warm, rock-solid support of his shoulder beneath her cheek as she lost all control. Everything she had experienced for the past twenty minutes or so descended upon her and helped her get out a lot of the fear and worry and pain and sorrow she had been bottling up, since the Scalias had been kidnapped, and well before. Since her father had ignored her, and she had been brought into a family that she ached to truly joined, but didn’t quite trust herself, or them, enough to do so. Finally, someone cared. Someone cared enough to take her in hand. And it was the man she most wanted for the task; the man she would have hand-picked, given the chance. She couldn't believe her luck. Luck? She couldn’t believe how much it hurt, and how tired she was. Victor stroked her back with excruciating gentleness in between trying to get her clothes back up, with only a modicum of success; her panties were up . . . mostly, and her pants were up a little less than mostly, and unbuttoned. She was crying as if someone had ripped out her heart, much more so, in his considered opinion, than that one spanking warranted. But it was a great excuse to hold her, and he wasn’t about to complain. Not one bit. He cupped the back of her head, threading his fingers slowly through her hair, and realized that, as her sobs receded, her yawning increased. Although it surprised him to no end, she didn’t seem to want to go anywhere. In fact, she had curled up into a small ball, a small, vulnerable kittenish ball. Lily was serene and calm and intelligent and surprisingly wise for her age, but he’d never, in more than fifteen years, seen her kittenish.

He liked it! Not really knowing how she was going to react, or how she was going to handle what he was going to do, he’d cleared his calendar. He had nothing more to do this evening than to hold her – more than that, he wanted nothing more than to hold her. Him. The tough, take no prisoners Mafia boss, who had never in his life blinked at ordering someone’s disappearance, was just as happy sitting at his desk, holding a hundred and whatever pound woman whose bottom he had just most thoroughly roasted, and rocking her ever so gently back and forth. In the end, she fell asleep on him, without apology or ceremony, and he carried her to her old room, which was maintained in pristine condition by Mama, in the vain hope that she might come back to the house to live rather than insisting on striking out on her own. She awoke, but only slightly, just as he deposited her tenderly on the bed. “Victor?” “Yes, Lily-pad?” he asked, pulling back the covers to tuck her under, still fully clothed. He thought she had fallen asleep, until her tiny, still slightly hiccoughy voice drifted to his ears as he was closing the door. “Thank you.” Well, she couldn’t have been thanking him for that discipline session. It had been a grueling one, more so even for him, he persisted in thinking, although one look at the condition of that lovely little rear would convince him otherwise, he was sure. It must have been for bringing her up to her room. “You’re welcome. Sleep tight.” Victor closed the door and headed back down to his study. Just because his family was resting comfortably didn’t mean that he could knock off. His cleared schedule left him room to deal with the things that he kept putting off, and, although visions of her haunted him till he went to bed, that was just what he did. Despite his best intentions, he hadn’t told her about how

he felt. When Victor watched her the next morning, walking stiffly around, sitting down gingerly and only when she was able to secure a fluffy pillow to cushion her tush, he knew he had to do it soon. He wanted to date her, despite how that might look to those who knew that he had acted as her guardian for the majority of her life. He didn’t care. If he couldn’t do as he wanted, then who the heck could? So, later in the afternoon, after a big, celebratory lunch with every bit of family they could scrape up bringing food and love and hugs and their own versions of what had gone on to discuss loudly at the dinner table, Victor took Lily aside, into his study. At first she looked somewhat alarmed, as if she thought there was going to be a part two of what she’d gotten last night. The way her eyes flared open clued him in and he chuckled as he closed the door behind them. “No, don’t worry. You fell asleep before I could tell you last night, but once it’s over, it’s over, unless I’ve told you I’m going to paddle your butt every night for a week, or something to that effect.” Lily released a visible sigh of relief, but only looked a bit less nervous than she had before. Victor couldn’t keep his eyes off her. She looked more ethereal, more delicate, than she ever had to him before, now that he could remember and replay the sounds of her begging him to stop spanking her, and the crack of his palm against those fleshy spheres . . . Dragging himself out of his reverie, he noticed that she was still stationed by the door, as if she thought she’d need to make a quick getaway. “Sit down. Make yourself comfortable.” With painfully obvious nervousness, she did, taking a seat – gently - on the far end of his big leather couch, just about as far away from him as she could get without leaving the room. Victor sat down on the coffee table directly in front of her and took her ice cold hands in his, rubbing them to try to warm them. “How are you?”

Lily just looked at him, with just about as sarcastic an expression as anyone had ever dared. “Okay, okay, that was probably a stupid question. Your bottom hurts, I’d imagine. But how are you otherwise?” “Fine.” Already, this was not going nearly as smoothly as he’d hoped. What could one say to the woman he was causing to shift uncomfortably while she sat for any length of time? Well, he guessed there was nothing for it than to come out and say what he was thinking. If she said no, he didn’t know what he’d do, but maybe she wouldn’t and he wouldn’t have to deal with rejection, which was unusual enough for him. “Lily, I want to go out with you sometime – like this Friday.” She looked stunned, and Victor didn’t think that was a very good sign. Apparently, the thought of dating him had never occurred to her. That didn’t bode well. “You mean like a date?” She said it as if she was considering the possibility that the hamburger she’d just taken a bite out of was horsemeat. Victor’s jaw clenched. “Yes. A date. We’ll go out to any restaurant you like, then maybe take in a movie.” Lily was completely stunned by the idea. How had spanking her spurned him into asking her out? And why hadn’t she thought of that sooner? And did she want to date Victor Scalia, Mob Boss? The answer, plainly, was no. She had no interest in becoming just another hanger on to the man with all the power. But the man who did the New York Times crossword puzzle in ink, the one who punned – badly – occasionally – and who, in his spare time, read everything from Stephen King to Stephen Hawkings . . . now that man she was definitely interested in. “Yes.”

Now it was Victor’s turn to look like he’d swallowed an elk. “You will?” His unguarded eagerness made her smile, but he recovered quickly and adopted a grin that made him look almost boyish. “Of course you will. Why not? We’ve known each other for years. Where would you like to go? You name it. Any restaurant in the city.” Leave it to Lily to choose something different. Her favorite restaurant, as it turned out, was one that served Mongolian barbeque, where one could go in and select one’s favorite meats and vegetables, as well as sauces to cook them in, then hand them over to a guy with a huge wok-like grill who would stir fry them and bring them to the table. Victor, whose tastes ran to the usual Italian favorites, occasional fast food, and only rarely Chinese food, actually found that he liked it. He didn’t end up with foods he didn’t like in his stir fry, and made it heavy on the broccoli but completely devoid of water chestnuts and bok choy, which he hated. “What did you get?” he asked, balancing another mouthful – that would be seriously reduced in size by the time it actually go to his mouth - precariously on his chop sticks. “Pork with celery, carrots, water chestnuts – “ “Ugh,” he interjected with a disgusted look. “ - in a spicy garlic-hoisin sauce.” Victor peered at her plate as if it had piles of worms on it. “Ew.” The way he said it – like a five year old boy staring at a bowl of brussel sprouts – made her giggle, and then he dropped what would have been a healthy spoonful of food into his lap and she laughed even harder. “Here,” Lily handed him a good old fashioned fork. “Use this. I never managed to learn how to use chop sticks, either, even if I just heft the bowl up to my mouth, I still end up wearing it down my front.” He took the more familiar utensil with a comically grateful sigh. “Thank you. I was beginning to think I was going to starve to death with a plateful of food in front of me.”

She was snickering behind her hand, and then more openly. Victor liked that. Lily had never pulled her punches, and, although she was a little wary around him, she was honest with him. The more time he spent with her, the more he liked her. Dinner lead to more dinners, and movies and the occasional soiree that one of the boys invited to him, as well as the multiple family invites that he usually declined. With Lily, he started attending more baptisms and engagement parties, and his stock within the family went up just being with her. She was smart, and pretty much everyone liked her. She treated everyone she met with respect and friendliness, and most of the family already knew her and respected her. The only problem he was having was that the extra security he’d assigned to her was, at best, a little lax, apparently, despite the fact that they knew how displeased he’d be if anything bad happened - and Lily had developed the habit of ducking them on occasion, just in an attempt to get some time to herself, he imagined. But he wasn’t about to let her get away with that. He would be beside himself if something happened to her, and he was being as careful as he could until he – or the police – caught those who were responsible. He had his own sneaking suspicions about who it might be, but hadn’t been able to prove it yet. Heaven help whoever it was when he did, though. Lily, however, was smart enough to know that slipping away from her bodyguards was not something he would tolerate. He was just pondering the problem at his office in the back of an old sporting goods store, when he the phone rang. “Scalia.” “She’s gone again, Boss. I’m sorry.” It was Carlo, one of his capos. It was his men that were assigned to watch Lily in particular. Victor had stepped the quality of her guard up because she’d been able to disappear so easily. He’d warned her – apparently not

strongly enough - that she was going to get herself into trouble if she continued to dash off without any protection. It’s not like she wouldn’t know what was coming this time. That woman was slippery as an eel, and he wasn’t going to have any more of it. She was going to learn her lesson the hard way. But first they had to find her, dammit!

Chapter 4 Lily, who was not entirely unaware of the panic her summary disappearance would cause, was sitting contemplatively at Borders, enjoying a Kenya double-A with extra cream and extra sugar, as well as a chocolate almond biscotti, alone. Blissfully alone. No big beefy goombas breathing down her neck or watching her every move. At least, since they were all Victor’s men, they were basically respectful, if only out of fear of him rather than any real honorable intentions. She wondered how long it was going to take them to find her . . . again. And Victor would be royally pissed, of course, but he hadn’t spanked her since the fiasco with the kidnapping, and she was feeling what was probably a modicum of false security. Since they’d been dating, he’d threatened occasionally, and given her “the look”, which she had never been subject to before – they’d all gone to Patty. Funny, though, she didn’t get bogged down in any sort of concerns about the fact that Victor used to be her guardian. He had confided that he’d had some concerns in that area when they’d started dating. She’d moved out of the house years ago – much to everyone’s chagrin – and she had had little enough contact with him, in that she’d basically been almost like a little adult even when she was younger, that he hadn’t really become a fatherly figure to her. Just an authority figure, she frowned, her pretty mouth twisting. That he was, in spades, and to men a lot bigger and stronger than she was. Victor exuded power without even trying – it was a part of him. Sometimes Lily wondered if he had been like that as a kid, and, if he was, her sympathies lay firmly with Mrs. Scalia – she could imagine what a hard child he must have been to raise! With a sigh, she reached into her catch-all Dooney and Bourke tote bag and hefted out the latest Diana Gabaldon, which she was devouring greedily, and preferred to do so alone. As she dove into the perils of Jamie and Claire, she gave a big sigh. No one sitting outside her apartment door looking forlorn and bored . . .

no one trailing around after her in the mall . . . She didn’t look up again until a shadow crossed her peripheral vision. Said shadow pulled back the delicate white wrought iron chair across from her and overwhelmed it merely by sitting on it. Knowing full well who it was that had discovered her – or rather, had had a report from some other eagle pair of eyes and had trooped down here to show her his displeasure - Lily didn’t look up at first, and when she did it was very, very slowly to let him know that she wasn’t particularly concerned about having been found. Those thunder-cloud dark eyes almost made her reconsider her casual attitude, however, although she was very careful not to let him know that. “Fancy meeting you here,” she threw out with a small smile. Nothing, for an uncomfortably long moment. Her smile died on the vine as he sat there, totally stone faced. “Did I not make myself clear the last time we discussed the fact that the added security I’ve put on the close members of my family is for their own good?” His emphasis on his last four words was all the stronger for his calm, cool tone. “What are you, stupid? Slipping your guards like some high schooler skipping out of school?” Nothing – but nothing – was more calculatedly guaranteed to get Lily’s back up than to insinuate that she wasn’t smart, and he knew that. Ordinarily, he would never intimate that she wasn’t intelligent, because she obviously was. But not about this. Lily stiffened, then relaxed, all the while staring directly into those fathomless black eyes. She enunciated her next two words slowly, and with excruciating clarity. “Bite . . . me.” Her wrist was captured and she was dragged out the nearest entrance before she had time to register it. “My bag!” she cried as he stuffed her unceremoniously into the back of the waiting limo. With a mere nod of his head, he sent a lackey back into the café and seconds later she was again in possession of both her book and her bag. She could only assume that Carlo had also

taken care of her bill. “I don’t appreciate being man-handled.” It should have gone without saying, but Lily felt she needed to emphasize the fact. He shot back immediately, “You weren’t man-handled, you were woman-handled. Any man who did what you’ve done – repeatedly – I would have punched out and withdrawn the courtesy of my protection.” Lily’s eyes were wide at that pronouncement; her mouth hung slightly open. “You’ve been given a lot of slack lately, and I think that was a definite mistake on my part that I intend to rectify within the next few minutes by doing something I should have done the first time you decided to play Houdini and risk your life yet again.” Her mouth snapped shut audibly. “But that behavior is at an end, my dear. No more. I assumed that you had the sense God gave a gnat not to do things that would endanger your life. I have been proven wrong, however, on more than one occasion.” He watched Lily visibly shrink into the plush leather upholstery, her lips twisted into a pouty grimace. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought she was six instead of twenty-six. But then, he thought, she was the one who should have known better than to try to duck the protection he had very carefully gone to great trouble to arrange for her. Each of the men who was with her knew that his life would be on the line if anything happened to her while she was in their care, and all of them – each of the three sets of two on which she had pulled a fast one – were mortified, and had vowed to him when they had to tell him she was missing that they wouldn’t rest until she was found. Several had gone so far as to offer their own lives for hers, if it should come to that. What they didn’t realize was that their lives were already forfeit if one hair of that bright blonde halo had been harmed. Luckily, each and every time she had been doing something innocuous: this time it was drinking a coffee and reading in Borders. Last time she had just been sitting – granted in a friend’s borrowed car just to throw them off the track for a while longer– by the shore, watching the surf. And the first time, she had just gone

back to her apartment and was on the phone when four hefty men had barged in the door, guns drawn. She had recognized some of them as well as him, and had had the grace to look abashed when he’d confronted her. She was growing bolder and bolder, and this was happening with what he considered to be alarming frequency. His blood pressure shot up each and every time – it was a wonder he hadn’t stroked out when he’d heard that she’d gone missing, considering what had happened recently. His heart was living in his throat lately, and that couldn’t be good, medically speaking. The idea of something happening to her struck such fear into his heart as he’d never encountered before. He could – and had on many occasion, especially when he was younger – looked death in the eye and never blinked – never even flinched. But if she was ever kidnapped . . . or hurt in any way . . . he felt as if he would crumble. The big, strapping, macho Mob Boss was head over heels about a tiny little girl no taller than his shoulder, who had never once hesitated to give him what for, who never asked him for anything or demanded or expected anything . . . the solemn eyed girl had become a wiser-than-thou, highly independent woman who thought she could take care of herself, regardless of the threats that might plague her. But not any more. Lily would have no idea what to do about this situation. Victor knew her – she would ignore it, and hope it went away. He was not going to be so cavalier with her safety, and he was going to make sure that her childish little rebellions stopped, here and now. When the limo came to a halt, Lily found herself hauled from it by the wrist, like she was a recalcitrant five year old. To her surprise, they had pulled up in front of her own building, and seconds later she was standing in front of her door, with an impatiently tapping Victor standing next to her while she fumbled for her keys. Since she had a good idea of what he was planning – and she certainly hoped fervently to avoid the ending he had in mind, Lily stepped in ahead of him, saying with a patently false perkiness, “Thank you so much for seeing me home – “ She made a valiant – if stupid - attempt to

close the door in his face, but his large, expensively shod foot in the doorway prevented that slick maneuver. “Would you move your foot, please?” she asked politely, staring at the offending appendage disparagingly. “Certainly,” he replied, smoothly insinuating the rest of himself into her smallish apartment. Lily took several steps back and crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly feeling considerably overwhelmed. “I hadn’t intended on inviting you in. I’m tired and I was going to take a short nap before dinner.” Victor was busy unbuttoning his coat, not paying any mind to what she was saying as far as she could tell. He was making himself to home, and that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. He’d rarely been in her place – just when she was moving in and once or twice while they’d been dating, but only long enough to collect her and leave. The apartment was small, but bright and sunny, decorated in bright and pastel yellows, with touches of soft pastel green and baby blue, with tons of plants hanging everywhere. As if he owned the place, Victor crossed immediately to her small, semi-circular kitchen table and pulled out a sturdy wooden, straight backed chair that she’d refinished and painted that creamy white herself, sitting it in the middle of the euphemistically named “dining room” and settling onto it, his eyes descending on her like a wet blanket. There was absolutely no doubt in her mind as to what he intended with that position, and that damned look of his. Lily couldn’t keep herself from backing up against the door, her hands over her bottom protectively, her head shaking back and forth, trying to deny the inevitable. His left forearm leaning on his thigh as he crouched a bit forward, Victor reached out a hand to her in silent command. Lily stared at his hand. It was very large – she well knew it could cover the entire of her defenseless butt with one tremendous whack – and tanned, the nails clean and well kept, fingertips slightly callused from guitar playing

in his youth, which had been reduced to special occasions in his adulthood. But she couldn't seem to bring herself to touch it. Instead she simply nibbled her lip, her eyes growing bigger and bigger. “Lily.” Softly said, Victor tried to gentle her. She looked like she might bolt, and his jaw began to tick when he realized that she could just as easily slip out the door as come to him as he’d intended. Of course, if she did, then Carlo could catch her when she came out of the building, but still. He hoped to avoid another chase scene, if possible. “Come here.” He tried to say it in as non-threatening a way as he could, but it wasn’t as if she didn’t know what he was planning. She knew him well enough by this time to know what to expect from him. She was going to get her bottom warmed. Hell, she was going to get it blistered, he thought with immense satisfaction, trying rather unsuccessfully to keep from translating that feeling to his facial expressions. Just as Lily tucked her fingers into his, he grinned like the Grinch contemplating the demise of Christmas, and, if she had been seconds quicker, she would have reclaimed her hand in an instant. But his strong fingers closed around her immediately, giving her no chance to reconsider her action. He tugged her to stand next to him, switching the hand that held hers smoothly and keeping a tight grip, not hurrying her over his lap. His right arm wrapped around her loosely, but preventatively, she knew. “Look at me, Lily.” She was glancing around the apartment as if she’d never seen it before, desperate to avoid the censure she knew would be in his eyes. When she didn’t immediately respond to his commanding request, Victor shook her just a little. Just enough to remind her of her precarious position. When their eyes finally met, he began to talk to her, his voice low and soothing. “You are much too precious to me to lose. And you know this. Yet you continue to defy me.” That lower lip was going to disappear completely one of these days, he was sure. “Apparently, what I’ve done in the past wasn’t nearly enough to impress on you exactly how unhappy your sudden disappearances make me.”

Lily knew that men who had made Victor unhappy had done disappearance acts of their own – not that she would ever be worried that he might do that to her. No, it would only ever be her bottom that would have to pay the price of her stubborn ways. She knew without a shadow of doubt that Victor would never – could never – truly hurt her, despite his well-earned reputation. “This might seem like a strange time to tell you this, but I love you. Dearly. As a man loves a woman.” One big hand reached up to cup her cheek. “I can only pray that you have some semblance of feeling towards me.” Lily was at a total loss, facing a harsh punishment and hearing the man she loved dearly confess his feelings for her – when she would have bet he didn’t have it in him to do so, even on a good day. Perhaps she’d underestimated him. Perhaps not. She wasn’t quite willing to bare her soul to him today as she knew she would soon have to bare her bottom. She would tell him over her nearly life-long love at another time. Not here, and not now. It wouldn’t hurt a man like Victor to wait and worry a little. Seeing that she was making no move to join him in his little confessional, Victor’s mouth hardened a little and he used his hold on her fingers to tug her over his lap gently. The skirt she was wearing was easily flipped up and over her back, then folded gently so that it would stay out of the way. When he looked down at what he expected to see – pantyhose covered legs and bottom, he was amazed to see that she was wearing tiny lace briefs and lace topped, thigh-high stockings. He was always semi-aroused around her, but this brought him to an aching stiffness that called for an immediate release. Good God, did his mother know she was wearing such provocative stuff? The answer flitted into his head immediately as he gingerly pulled those panties down, sweat breaking out on his brow and upper lip when he realized that they were really no more than scraps of stretch lace material. Of course his mother didn’t know. No one knew but Lily what she was wearing under her demure skirt and blouse, and that was probably why she wore them. To feel pretty and sexy, but within relatively safe limits.

But now he knew, too, and now every time he looked at her when she was wearing a dress or a skirt he’d have to wonder exactly what racy lingerie she was sporting beneath it all. He wondered what her bra looked like, too, but squelched that thought quickly, or he’d end up taking her into the bedroom and they’d never make it to her much-deserved punishment. As he began to speak again, his hand covered those sensitive hillocks. “This is only the beginning of this punishment. I’ve got things to do this afternoon, and I’ll be back. But I can’t let you go without a promissory note of things to come. When I get back here, I’m going to be carrying the paddle – “ he favored it with Lily rather than the strap, which seemed almost too manly for her. She’d gotten it before, and just the thought of it made her start to cry. “ – and the cane.” That declaration had her jerking her head up and wiggling furiously, as if to get away – not that she really thought he was going to let her escape. “Victor! Not the cane – please!!!” He’d threatened it before, but had truly felt it was much too harsh for her. Patty had gotten it only on very rare occasions, and had cried for hours, it seemed, afterwards, not to mention sitting extremely gingerly for days . . . Lily would do nearly anything to avoid the cane. The mere thought of it sent shivers down her spine. To her, it was very nearly the equivalent of a cat-o-nine-tails. He hated the pleading, desperate note in her voice. It was so unlike his Lily. But lighter measures hadn’t seemed to have had any effect, and Victor was entirely unwilling to subscribe to the idea that she might continue to drop of his radar screen when the whim struck her. No way. She was going to toe the line . . . at the very least that one. It wasn’t as if he had stepped in and was trying to control her life and set up a multitude of rules for her behavior – he knew her well enough to know that she would totally balk at that and probably tell him to go do a physically impossible act. Besides, he didn’t want to crush her independence – that was one of the things that had attracted him to her in the first place. But he did want to drive the point home, and the cane and the paddle would do exactly that. “Yes, the paddle and the cane – after a good hard warm up spanking,

now and then.” He started to spank her immediately, without preamble – hard, making her bottom wobble enticingly with each resounding swat. She was already crying from the mention of the two implements he was going to come back with, but her sobs increased as his hand rose and fell onto her cringing cheeks. Victor was an old hand at multi-tasking – he lectured as ferociously as he spanked. “I will not have you disobeying me like that. We are more than just guardian and little girl now, and I do not intend to lose you, under any circumstances. I’ve just barely gotten you so that you’ll actually tolerate spending some time with me, but that doesn’t mean that I’m going to ignore it when you do something stupid. I’m not. It’s going to be just the opposite, in fact.” Lily was only half-listening to what she had already branded in her mind as his ranting. She was much too concerned with the delicate condition of the nether parts that were currently under his considerably less than delicate care. Her butt felt as if she would be doing better if the whole thing fell of onto the floor . . . at least that way he’d have a hard time reaching it . . . As it was, he was setting her bottom ablaze, searing the now-pink flesh to a rosily roasted red that looked atrociously painful, even to him. But he didn’t let that stop him. He swatted her up and down her bottom for a good fifteen minutes, carefully orchestrating where each new angry red handprint would rise to get the maximum effect, and from her cries and moans he could tell that he was achieving his goal, much to her dismay. Only when she appeared to be truly repentant, and was full-throated crying did he stop, but Victor held her tightly in place rather than letting her slide off his lap when she immediately attempted to – as she always did. He wanted to keep her close, keep her lying there with her hot, shiny, swollen butt no doubt throbbing, and her barely-there panties around her knees. He wanted her to remember this moment – and the others he was going to use to impress on her that running out on one’s protection is not a good idea – for a long, long time, so that the next time that wild hair popped into her head, she’d reconsider it mighty quick.

Victor blew a breath of air out through his pursed lips, blowing his naturally feathered hair a little. It was a sign of his exasperation with her. He was known as a calm person, overall, even in the tensest of situations – although, Victor thought with a wry, somewhat selfsatisfied smile, he had overheard some of his capos talking once and the thing he remembered the most was his bad-assed right hand man, Gino, saying sotto voce something to the effect that despite his general good nature and considerable generosity with those close to him, “you ne-vuh wanna get da Bo-oss angry.” Gino was the quintessential Mafiosi, down to the fedora and the pin striped suits. He was almost a caricature of himself, and he never failed to make Victor smile. What Gino had failed to impart to the young wannabe he’d been mentoring was that you never wanted to be the cause of Gino getting mad, either. Coming out of his reverie, he could hear her sniffling and snuffing. He desperately wanted to comfort her, but decided against it. If this had been a one-time, impromptu spanking, he might have been rubbing her bottom for her now. But not this time. Nope. She deserved to feel every bit of this, and he was going to make sure she did. “C-can I get up now?” came the tentative request as she rubbed the remaining tears out of her eyes with the backs of her hands. “Not just yet, sweetie.” The endearment went a long way to calming her, even thought that might not have been exactly what he’d intended. Lily was just lying there, in all her ignominy, with her well-warmed butt on display for all and sundry. That there was no one else in the apartment with them, of course, was an unimportant detail. She felt as if he’d stripped her naked, and, indeed, was almost surprised he hadn’t. But Victor had been gentlemanly in the extreme with her. He hadn’t made any move towards bedding her at all. Not one. Not that she was really objecting, she supposed. She figured he’d get around to it eventually. It wasn’t like she thought he lacked desire for her – it was

there, if tightly restrained, in the background of every kissed they’d shared since they started dating. She couldn’t believe – with the way her rear hurt now – that he intended to come back sometime this evening for a continuation. That idea – and the specter of the cane - struck fear into her heart like almost nothing else had in her life. A cane in Victor Scalia’s hands? She shuddered outright at the thought. Victor felt the tremor that ran through her as she lay quietly over his lap, and wondered momentarily about its origins before letting her down . . . “until round two,” he reminded on his way out the door, leaving her to nurse herself in the aftermath as best she could.

Chapter 5 The best she could turned out to be lying on her big bed all alone on her tummy, avoiding work entirely in favor of a pint of Ben and Jerry’s New York Super Fudge Chunk and ABC’s afternoon line up of soaps. Watching Erica Kane try to extricate herself from yet another failed relationship always cheered Lily up, somehow. Lily did her best not to think about what had happened, but one thing Victor had said replayed in her mind: He’d told her that he loved her. Part of her chalked it up to the heat of the moment . . . but the other part ached for it to be true. The phone rang, and she struggled to turn around and get it without causing creases in her still very sore buttflesh. She ended up just kind of making an indelicate lunge for it, already thoroughly annoyed at whoever it was that was disturbing her deep blue funk of a sulk. “What do you want?” Not her usual method of answering the phone, but . . . Patty was taken aback at her tone. “Lily?” “Yeah.” Immediately concerned that something nefarious might be going on – Patty had a highly overdeveloped sense of the dramatic – she asked, “Are you okay?” Lily was grunting and groaning indelicately, trying to rearrange herself back in front of the soaps with the minimum of pain. “Yeah, I’m fine. How are you?” “Fine. I heard you made another great escape again this afternoon . . . “ Patty’s tone was at once censorial and a little wistful. She had grown up a lot since the kidnapping, and didn’t challenge Victor’s authority anywhere near as much as she used to – for which Lily knew he must’ve been deeply grateful “Yep, I did.”

“Do you not want to talk about it?” Patty was getting some pretty weird vibes from Lily, and although it had piqued her curiosity, she didn’t want to be an intrusive friend. Feeling suitably but gently chastised, Lily muted the soaps and resolved to pay more attention to her sister’s phone call. “Sorry. I was just being a self-indulgent brat. I deserved it, after what your brother did to me once they found me.” “Who found you?” The other girl’s indrawn breath was almost worth it, but not quite. “I don’t know who spotted me; it was Victor that sat down at my table at Border’s café. I was reading the copy of Fiery Cross you lent me – although I could barely lift it out of my tote bag . . . “ “I know!” She and Patty had very similar tastes in reading material – historical romances, the occasional biography of an entertainment figure, and any and every book of the Anita Blake Mysteries. “She’s just wonderful, isn’t she?” “A little wordy, but yes, in general I like her.” “To hell with that – I know you like the Outlander series. What happened when Victor sat down at the table with you?” Lily stretched loudly, emitting guttural moans that sounded very much like she was having intercourse. “Was it good for you, too?” Patty asked sarcastically. “Wanna cigarette?” Only slightly annoyed at the teasing, Lily shot back, “Oh, shut up. You know I always stretch like that. Do you want to hear about what happened or not?” “I do, I do!!!” She sounded like an eager schoolgirl who was being told a particularly juicy piece of gossip. “Well, of course, he was none too happy with me.” Lily heard Patty snort into the phone.

“I bet that’s an understatement . . . “ “It is. I got the usual lecture, number ten thousand, four hundred and seventy-three – personal safety – subheading B: thou shalt not slip out from under the bodyguards whose lives are forfeit if something happens to you. It screws my day up looking for you, and makes the bodyguards quite cranky, too.” Patty was laughing. “Only you would make a funny remark about having to face Victor when he was pissed off.” Lily shrugged. “No skin off my nose – although lots off my butt!” She reached back automatically to the offended part and rubbed it very carefully. “Boy, he’s spanking you now more that you’re full grown than he did when you were a kid.” “He never once laid a hand on me when we were kids. He was too busy walloping you – you were always in trouble!” “I was not!” Patty shot back indignantly, although she knew she should just agree, because it really was true. “I think we’ve traded places, though, huh?” Now it was Lily’s turn to be indignant. “We have not. He just refuses to understand how awful it is to be so cloistered all the time.” The other girl’s next words became softer and much more subdued. “But it’s worth it, Lil, believe me. You don’t ever want what happened to Ma and me to happen to you.” “Oh, sweetie,” Lily breathed into the phone with every ounce of sympathy she could muster. Neither Patty nor Mrs. Scalia had ever talked to anyone – besides a counselor – about what had happened to them while they were held captive – except to provide Victor with as much of a description about who was holding them and where they were held so that he could find and wipe out the thugs. “I promise I’ll be more careful – I’ll stop trying to get time alone, I swear.” Lily would have agreed to nearly anything to get that defeated tone out of her sister’s voice. It occurred to her that Patty had single-

handedly - and without one threat - succeeded where Victor had had failed. That fact kind of tickled her – although not in some more sensitive places . . . She could hear the unshed tears in the somewhat choked response. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” Lily was desperate to help her friend feel better. “You want I should come over there – I still have a half a pint of Super Fudge Chunk I’d be glad to share . . . ?” That got a watery chuckle. “No. I’m fine. I can imagine that you’re not too eager to do too much sitting, either, are you?” To tell the truth, she wasn’t, and she said exactly that. “Plus, he’s coming back tonight with both the paddle and the cane to finish me off!” “A two parter? Oy, girl, your butt’s gonna be hamburger when he’s through with you! You do not want him to use the cane on you – take my word for it. It’s horrid.” Lily frowned, her stomach doing summersaults. “Thanks for the supportive words, sister,” she grimaced. “I think I got that idea already. But somehow I doubt I’m going to deter him.” “Hmmmmmmm. What about sex?” “Huh? You lost me.” “Well, how about trying to distract him with sex. Maybe you can get him so hot and bothered that he won’t remember about the second part . . . “ Lily snorted. “You have a lot more faith in my ability to be slutty than I do – “ she paused for a moment to consider that statement. “Hey, did you just insult me, or what?” she pretended to be both confused and slightly insulted. Patty giggled, which was exactly what Lily’d intended. “Moi? Would I insult you? If I did, it was unintentional but I’ll take the two points anyways . . . “ “Grrrrr. I don’t think I’m quite the siren enough to do

what you’re suggesting, although it’s a good idea.” “You never know, girlfriend. You guys haven’t yet, and my brother’s not usually one for the monkish lifestyle, if you know what I mean.” “I know, I know.” “Well, then be in something deliciously sexy when he comes to the door . . . or be deliciously naked when he comes to the door . . . Hmmmmmm. I wonder which would be better?” she mused out loud. Lily was shaking her head even thought she was alone in the privacy of her bedroom. “Thank you all the same, but no.” “Party pooper.” “Yuh-huh,” came the blatantly enthusiastic, unapologetic response. More chuckles from the other end of the line. “Well, I suppose I’ll let you get back to Ben and Jerry.” “Yeah, lying on my tummy watching mind-numbing television – it would be great if my butt didn’t feel like someone had used a blow torch on it.” “Oh, girl, you got off easy . . . so far.” “Stop helping me, Patricia Faustine Scalia.” “Call me tonight after he leaves – if he leaves – if you want to talk or want a sympathetic ear to commiserate with.” “I will, hon. I love you.” “I love you, too.” Victor hadn’t said when he was going to make his grand return, so Lily was kept on pins and needles the rest of the day, wondering just when her doorbell was going to ring and she was going to be subject to what she knew was going to be an atrociously painful punishment – especially on top of a bottom that was only slightly recovered several hours later.

The phone rang again just as she was finishing her meager dinner of a cobbled together chef’s salad – minus the lettuce because the head that had been in the crisper of her fridge had become a world-class science experiment, even though she’d only bought it about two days ago. With a mouthful of shredded garlic beef in tangy Italian dressing as she squeezed the receiver between her cheek and her shoulder, she answered the phone, “Mfghm?” “Caught you in the middle of dinner, did I?” Victor’s deep tone slid over her smooth as butter. Still crunching noisily on fresh veggies in his ear, she replied, “Yup.” “Don’t talk with your mouth full, Lily,” Victor corrected. Sometimes he was still on automatic pilot, as if Lily or Patty was still in need of encouragement regarding their table manners. “I bet you’re eating standing up, though, huh?” His guess was, of course, correct, but Lily was not about to give him the satisfaction of letting him know that. She just waited patiently for him to get over himself. But she didn’t take another bite, either. “I just wanted to call and let you know that - “ Lily’s active imagination – and whatever wishing genes she owned – was busy filling in the end of his sentence with one she would find much more pleasant than what he was probably going to say: “I won’t be able to come over tonight.” “I’ve decided that the spanking you got this afternoon was bad enough.” Or even the ever popular “I’ve decided that I’m never going to spank you again.” “ – I’ll be over a little after eight tonight. You might want to be ready for bed when I get there, because you’re probably going to want to go just crawl in when I’m finished with you.” Lily’s heart squeezed tight with dread, but she didn’t

want to let on to him how she was feeling, so her answer was almost too casual. “Uh huh.” “Lily.” His reproach was sharp. “You know better than to answer me like that.” With a sigh, she answered, “Yes, Sir.” “That’s my girl. I’ve gotta go now. Remember, be ready.” Be ready. How could someone really prepare for what was going to happen to her when she arrived? How does one develop instantaneous leather butt? She wondered, remembering having heard the term in a spanking newsgroup she’d found. The doorbell chimed all too quickly for Lily, who had been in her flowered cotton nightie and robe for quite some time, waiting. Endlessly waiting. Even television couldn’t seem to distract her, and that was nearly unheard of. She had the television on in the background almost all the time, only occasionally looking up to see what was on – it was company. She got up, slowly, like she was walking to her own hanging, and opened the door. Victor stepped in quickly, as if he was worried she might change her mind and decide against letting him in. He wouldn’t put it past her, nope. Not his Lily. He was carrying a duffel bag, which was unusual for him since he had a gym at home – he had no need to tote sneakers and such around. But suddenly it flashed in her mind that that wasn’t what he kept in that particular duffel bag . . . Mouth dry, her body clenched with fear, Lily seized on the first thing she could to distract him from his evil intent. “You love me?” She was feeling so raw that it came out like an accusation. Victor turned from where he had been stashing the bag and his suit coat on the dining room table to consider her with a raised eyebrow. But he didn’t shirk or try to discount what he’d said. “Yes, I do.” He came to stand directly in front of her, reaching out to pull her close and interlock his fingers at the small of her back. “And I don’t care if you don’t feel the same – I realize I kind of threw

it at you last night. I kind of figured you hadn’t heard it in the commotion. Fudging a little to keep him distracted – she hoped – Lily bit her lip and responded, “I heard it, and I’m not sure exactly how I feel about it,” which was exactly correct, because she was still stunned by the idea. She would have sworn that he could barely tolerate her, frankly . . . well, except lately when he’d been downright romantic with her . . . she supposed she should have seen the signs, but she was too wrapped up in old stereotypes about him from when she was a kid. Victor sighed. Nothing was ever easy with this woman. She made him work for everything he got. But he supposed she was worth it, in the end. Suddenly, it occurred to him what she was doing. “Yes, I love you. But no, that’s not going to deter me from spanking you.” Lily growled at having been discovered so easily. Damn him for being so blasted smart! “In fact,” he continued, carefully guiding her into her bedroom, “it’s because I love you that I spank you.” She couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes. “That old adage? ‘I only discipline you because I care about you’.” Victor tilted her chin up with one finger, making her meet his gaze. “It’s true. You’ve gotten headstrong in your old age, and I intend to be the man who curbs it.” His lips melted onto hers in a very gentle but profound kiss. “And, regardless of how you feel, I will always love you. I have high hopes that, one day, you might come to love me, too. Until then, I can be a patient man – when the situation demands it.” Lily well knew his capacity for patience – not with Patty’s misbehaviors, granted, but in his line of work he was known to look before he leapt, unless it was a matter of honor, in which case he acted with swift, brutal justice. After breaking off the kiss, Victor disappeared back into the dining room, but reappeared with the offending implements in hand. Wasting no time, he sat down on the edge of her bed and patted his lap expectantly. “How’s your bottom from this afternoon, honey?” He reached out as if to pat the part he was referring to, but

she danced a little away from his hand, making him chuckle slightly. “I guess I have my answer, don’t I?” Instead of lying over his lap, as she knew he intended, she sat on it, looping her arms around his broad shoulders and pressing herself against him. But Victor was too smart for that ploy, too. Gently, so as not to bruise her delicate ego, he tugged her hands back down to her lap. “None of that right now. We can kiss and cuddle afterwards, if you’re feeling up to it. But you’re not going to lull me into forgetting your punishment by offering sex, either.” Lily huffed and puffed and tried to act indignant, but it was darned hard when he had her pegged to the “t”. So much for playing Mata Hari. He easily adjusted her so that she was over his lap again for the second time that day, her nightie up to her shoulders and her panties down at her ankles, sure to be kicked off when he employed the wooden paddle that lay to his right. Her bottom still retained a rosy glow – if a slight one – but when he ran his hand over it, she reacted as if he’d scalded her. Victor grinned, but she couldn't see it. “Oh, come on. It can’t hurt that bad still. You’re barely pink at all, honey.” “That’s not my problem,” she shot back. “I’m still tender.” “Well, good, then. I’m sure this time you’ll learn your lesson and I won’t have to join the herds of men I send out into the streets to look for you, because you’ll be right where you’re supposed to be – with your bodyguards.” The first of many impossibly hard smacks hit her rump, dead center. “Won’t you?” “Ooohh – yeooooow - but –“ Victor couldn’t believe how stubborn this little woman of his could be. She was over his lap, just starting to receive her second punishment of the day – and she knew it was going to be a harsh one. And she was still stubborn to the very end. He hadn’t planned on starting in immediately, necessarily, but it seemed that she was giving him no choice. “Excuse me? But what? But you want to be kidnapped? But you want to worry your loved ones into an early grave? But you enjoy being

headstrong and obstinate and getting yourself paddled, apparently?” “No no no!” It wasn’t clear at first whether Lily was protesting the spanking itself or that she was inviting it. “I do not enjoy it! I don’t!” Which, of course, was a halftruth, because the idea certainly got her . . . interested. The idea did- and replaying the incident later when she was alone made her ache. But when it was actually happening to her she truly wanted nothing more than for it to stop. It hurt – all of it, beginning to end, and it was excruciatingly humiliating, especially since he was determined that no spanking could be effective over clothing, so she ended up with her bottom hanging unprotected in the breeze. She had never been bare bottomed in front of any man but her doctor, and then only when she was getting a physical. Hmmmmmmm. Victor wondered if she was protesting too much, or was just not thinking because of what his strong right hand was doing to her. He made a mental note to himself to do a quick check later – one that surprised her and was done before she had a chance to argue against it. Of course, it might not be an accurate reading, considering that he wouldn’t usually be this severe with her . . . When her cheeks had regained the almost ruby red color he’d left her with this afternoon, he reached for the paddle, laying it on the small of her back. Lily knew exactly what he’d done. He’d stopped spanking, but the next implement in line to be used was lying mere inches from its intended target. And that target was already intensely sore. Victor did not give easy warm up spankings – if he gave warm up spankings at all. It all hurt, from beginning to end. There was no gentle, easing into it. There were only hard, crisp swats that delivered his message in no uncertain terms. With the paddle looming in the foreground, Lily was beginning to question her own sanity. What was she, crazy to keep getting herself into trouble like this? Why hadn’t she listened to him –why hadn’t she obeyed? Was it really that bad to be protected? It certainly showed her that he loved her – even if she at first had thought it was in a more brotherly or fatherly manner. He was doing it of his own accord, to keep her safe. Was it really that obtrusive?

The answer to that question when her bottom wasn’t on fire, of course, was yes, yes, yes. She hated being followed around, being leered at – for lack of a better word. Carlo’s men were, after all, men, and Lily always felt like they were sizing up how she would be in bed if they had the cajones to try to get into her pants – although they were all smart enough not to make any such moves towards her, for fear of Carlo, yes, but more due to fear of Victor, she was sure. Time to herself had always been important to her – which wasn’t that inconceivable, considering how she was raised. She’d spent most of her time alone as a child, and had continued that tradition as an adolescent as much as was possible in her new, loud family, and now as an adult she found herself desperate at times to get away from the scrutiny she’d recently found herself under and just relax. But was it worth this? Lily kind of had to wonder as Victor picked up the paddle and she knew that the real punishment was just about to begin.

Chapter 6 Victor was experiencing no such self-doubts as he hefted the paddle in his hand. Corporal punishment had worked wonders for multitudes of generations, and, as far as he was concerned, it would work on recalcitrant twenty-somethings, too, if used judiciously to reinforce certain rules. “Because I’m also going to use the cane on you, I’m not going to give you too many with the paddle, honey. Just enough to let you now that I mean business when I tell you not to do something.” Lily was about to discover that although he wasn’t going to give her a lot of swats, what she got was going to be impressive ones. There were only twenty in total, but each one – from the first to the last – thudded its way through her skin, it seemed, to her very bones and up to her heart. The pain was abominable. She would have done just about anything to stop it, but her hands were easily caught to prevent that – and also to prevent any potential injury to them as they flailed back in the general direction of the area he was setting afire. This was no flurry of quick swats. Each and every time that paddle was laid down against her clenched butt was a separate and distinct event – not blended in with each other, but built on, so that the last ten were horrendous to receive because of the cumulative effects of the first ten. Poor Lily was completely out of control, almost from the beginning – not even moaning but rather sobbing pitifully, expelling a deep breath almost in surprise as each stroke fell, until every ounce of air was out of her lungs, then dragging it back in violently, often only to have to repeat the process mid-stream because the paddle had descended again, it and the man wielding it were entirely without mercy. When the final crack – harder than any of the others against those plush pillows was heard, there was a long moment of absolute silence, until her sobs caught up with her, and she let out an anguished cry from deep within her – it was almost animalistic it was so primitive. But then the pain he’d brought her was primeval in

nature – as deep seated as her need for him to take her in hand and set limits for her – especially those that kept her safer than she would keep herself. She might not be willing to admit it, Victor thought as he sat back a little and let her cry some of it out, but she needed to be kept in line. It surprised him that that tendency hadn’t shown itself more when she was younger, but she’d been butting heads with him more since she’d grown up than she ever did as a child. But then, she hadn’t needed extra protection when she was little. She’d been under his roof, where she belonged. When Lily’s breathing had calmed down a little, he eased her off his lap and over the edge of the bed, her hips raised by one of the pillows he dug out from under the flowery comforter. She was still crying copiously, wiping her eyes compulsively with the back of her hands. “Can I have a Kleenex, please?” she got out brokenly. Victor handed her the box. He was sure she would make good use of most of it before they were truly through. Lily blew her nose noisily and wiped her face with a dry tissue, feeling a little more human, but not enough to alleviate the tremendous ache in her backside. And he wasn’t even done – the worse was yet to come. She wasn’t sure she was going to be able to survive it. She’d led a sheltered life, she was realizing, not having been spanked by her father – or any of the multitudes of nannies he’d hired – and then also managing never to get into enough trouble to warrant a spanking from Victor. She’d never experienced such pain in her life that wasn’t associated with an illness or an injury. This was just involving a childish chastisement. She certainly had felt like a naughty little girl over his lap, but now, without the warmth of his strong legs beneath her, she wasn’t sure exactly how she felt – a little bereft. This, she realized, was going to be the more serious and thus more adult portion of tonight’s entertainment. He’d put the cane up by her head. Deliberately, she was sure, for the intimidation factor alone. And it was working. She was deathly afraid of that thing, although it

looked so simple – long and straight, without the usual crooked handle most of them were shown with on the Internet, although the handle was wrapped in what looked like black leather. “Now,” Victor was saying, not that she could truly pay attention to one word with that thing staring at her from inches away. “I’m sorry to have to do this, but nothing else I’ve tried has gotten through to you. I flat out won’t risk losing you, nor will I be ignored and blatantly disobeyed.” He cleared his throat. She looking incredibly enticing, her bottom well in the air from the pillow beneath her, toes barely reaching the floor, the line of her back arched a little, her golden hair spread out around her and over her back. He wanted her. Badly. But now was not the time for that, he told himself firmly. Discipline first. Recreation later. “I’m going to give you fifteen strokes.” He heard Lily’s sharply indrawn breath at that pronouncement, and then the reconstituted sobs that had been beginning to die down a little. “No, Victor, please – not that many! I can’t take it, I can’t!” Lily hated – literally hated – the way she sounded – begging him like some pitiful wretch. She so wanted to be stronger than that – to take it all quietly, nobly, biting her lip and the pillow and anything else rather than ever crying out. She wanted to be stoic and endure the pain without complaint or sticky tears or noisy nose-blowing. Yeah, right. Between his wicked strength and abilities with implements and her basic sensitivity to pain, that wasn’t gonna happen. But it was something to strive for. Perhaps being silent and noble would make him go easy on her. Or at least make him worry and stop early, or something else that would be extremely beneficial in this situation . . . “Yes, fifteen. Normally I wouldn’t give you that many, but this is the third time that I’ve had to talk to you about this – and this is nothing that should be sloughed off. This is a matter of your health and well being, and I consider it a very serious subject. Very serious.” The tone of his voice only served to emphasize his

words. He was mad. She’d screwed up as far as he was concerned, and now she was going to pay the price. A heavy price. Suddenly, the cane was no longer up by her head. He’d claimed it. Every muscle in Lily’s body tensed in preparation for the first stroke. She had no idea just how much it would hurt, but she figured it was going to be pretty intolerable. “Do you need some help keeping your hands in place? This thing will hurt your hand much more than your butt if you reach back mid-stroke to protect yourself . . . ?” Lily paused for a moment, so prepared for the commencement that she had zoned him out entirely at the beginning of his speech. “What – what kind of help?” “Do you want your hands bound in front of you?” he asked in such a matter of fact manner that the bizarreness of this situation struck her right in the face. Uncertain of exactly how she should respond, Lily murmured softly, “No, I don’t think so.” Victor nodded, not surprised that she had declined. Bondage was a little kinkier than Lily probably got, even if it would probably help her. “Besides making sure that you don’t reach back, honey, you need to stay in place and not try to squirm away. I know it won’t be easy, but that’s what must be done. I’m not going to chase you around the room with the cane. You’ve misbehaved, you have this punishment coming to you, and I will add strokes if you get out of position. Do you understand me?” Lily gulped. Hard. What in Heaven’s name had she gotten herself into? “Y-yes.” “Yes what?” Victor prompted. “Yes, Sir,” Lily whispered. “All right, honey.” He looked down at the lovely visage before him, and realize that it was shaking like a bowl of Jell-O and he hadn’t even touched her yet. “Lily, you do know that I would never truly hurt you, don’t you? That this is just a bit of a chastisement – granted, a serious

one about a serious problem regarding your behavior, but I would never, ever harm you. Please tell me that you know that.” He rubbed the small of her back with his hand soothingly. “I – I know.” She was thinking, however, that knowing it and believing it were two very different things. He hated the fact that she was so scared, but figured that the best way to alleviate her fear of the unknown was to do it, and then it would no longer be unknown. So, Victor pulled himself to his full height and laid the cane gently against her bottom at its fullest crest, pointing out where he intended to land it the first time. And then, without hesitation, he lifted it and brought it down sharply, leaving a vivid red weal on the creamy whiteness. For the first time in her life, Lily opened her mouth and screamed. There were no restraints on the sound – she wasn’t thinking of what the other tenants might think, she wasn’t thinking what Victor might think. The cry had its own voice and its own short life, dying out suddenly on a croaking sob. One thing she knew for sure, though: there was no way she could be completely still for this. She wasn’t even sure she could be the least bit still for this. Her bottom was moving entirely of its own accord as she writhed, but she did her level best to remain in some semblance of how he had positioned her. The cane whistled through the air with its second volley, creating another thin, raised strip that had her howling mindlessly. She was in too much pain to beg – although, honestly, she had built it up to be much worse in her head. It was plenty bad enough in reality, but in her head it had been something akin to the pain of a broken bone . . . it was atrocious and horrible and almost impossible to bear. But she knew that there would be and end in thirteen – YEOW – twelve strokes, as long as she was able to keep from trying to rescue her poor abused butt. Victor was a man of his word. He was punishing her, but he wasn’t abusing her. Victor was trying to remember to pace the caning correctly and not rush it. Her squeals and cries always made him want to throw away whatever implement was

in his hand in favor of dragging her into his arms and comforting her, even thought he knew intellectually that that was not what needed to be done. He waited for long seconds after welting her for the secondary pain to settle in, so that she got the full effect of the caning, making sure there was a decent timeframe between each mark. He mustn’t rush things because her fear and her pain made his heart ache. And so it went – the cane falling at a snail’s pace, her bum and the backs of her thighs slowly becoming decorated with vivid wheals that overlapped and crisscrossed at spots, like some sort of sadistic, surreal plaid. When, after what seemed to him to have been a lifetime – and must have seemed much longer to her, he was sure - the cane bit into her for the fifteenth time and dropped out of his hand to clatter to the floor. Lily wasn’t counting. She was too lost in her own ordeal to do that. Her life during those moments consisted of only one thing – the rise and fall of the cane. Nothing else mattered, except that she try to stay as still as she could, even if it must’ve looked like she was offering up her bottom obscenely to its kiss. At last it seemed there was nothing more to be endured. She had done it. She had stayed in place, despite the tremendous pain. More tears joined those that had coursed down her cheeks previously. Her nose was running, but she couldn’t even bring herself to reach for the Kleenex that she knew was right next to her. All she could do was lie still and pray that the pain would recede with time. Suddenly, she was cold – shivering, quaking cold. Victor longed to scoop her up and hold her on his lap, but he didn’t think that that would be comfortable for her. Instead, he gently arranged her in a more normal position on the bed, with her head on the pillow that had been propping up her hips, still in her nightie and lying on her tummy, then he joined her, stretching out next to her and brushing away the hair that had been sticking to the sides of her face. “My poor baby,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her ear. The irony of his words was not lost on her, since he was the one who had put her in this predicament, but she

was still way too uncomfortable to point that out to him just yet. Lily was working on getting her breath under control at this point, and also trying to corral her various leaking orifices, but whenever she moved, she started to hurt again, and that made her start to cry. Again. Still. Yet. Victor cuddled her as best he could – he didn’t want to get all grabby and accidentally brush what had to be excruciatingly tender skin, and he didn’t want to arrange her in an uncomfortable position just to suit his own need to hold her. So he pressed himself up against her side, and of course the usual thing that happened to him whenever she was within a ninety-mile radius happened, but he decided he wasn’t going to worry about it. His erection – impressive though it was, he thought with a wry smile at his male ego – pushing into her side was the least of her worries right now. And he wasn’t a beast – he could control his baser instincts. She was crying and in pain and she needed him. He wasn’t about to move until he knew she was okay. He rested his hand on the small of her back, rubbing gently, but very careful not to touch the offended area. “Are you okay?” He asked, because he could no longer suppress his need for reassurance about that. She was being quiet – too quiet. “I’m fine,” she sniffled loudly, then blew her nose, as if belying her words. Victor couldn’t help himself. His fingers loved the feel of her skin, and they wanted to trail down the pristine length of her back, then the few untouched areas of the backs of her thighs, and her calves and feet. He wanted the right to touch her in more than a disciplinary way. They had been working towards that while they dated, very slowly, but hadn’t really been very physical with each other. So far, the only time he was getting to see her in any semblance of undress was when he was applying his hand or something else to that lovely rump of hers. And he would take what he could get, but he was thinking it would be nice to make her scream with pleasure rather than pain sometime, to make her crave his touch rather than dread it.

Victor enjoyed women. He’d enjoyed a considerable amount of them in his time. But Lily wasn’t one of the bimbos or hangers-on that were common in his profession. She was a lady – more than that, she was a member of his family. He wanted to marry her, and intended to do so – although he’d never imparted that bit of information to her, of course. Maybe it was time to show her that he could give her pleasure, too. He leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on the top of her ear as his hand massaged her back. On a whim, Victor used his strength to move her on top of him, so that if she was going to cry, she’d have no choice but to do it on his shoulder or chest. He loved her weight on him – she was so small in comparison to him. He was sorry he’d had to discipline her, and he told her that. She didn’t say anything back, just laid her head on his shoulder and sighed. Victor tiled her face to his and kissed her, with every ounce of affection he owned. Lily was surprised at his kiss. He’d been pretty scrupulous with her physically. She knew he was no saint, but he’d never even come close to treating her as if she slept around. Hell, she was getting a bit frustrated – they practically shook hands at the end of the evening. It was like he was still thinking of her as the little girl she’d been when they’d met the first time, or something. Maybe he was associating her with Patty because they were so close in age . . . Lily didn’t know. What she did know was that she wanted him. Even with the throbbing in her rear – or maybe because of it? – he nearly drove her to distraction. He always had, blast it. She was trying to be mad at him, but wasn’t succeeding very well at it. Somehow, the pain in her bottom was traveling to a very unusual place, as if it was drifting lower to that spot between her legs . . . And it wasn’t hurting. And then he was kissing her, tenderly and slowly – not grabbing at her like some men did, as if they owned whatever woman was in their arms at the time or, in

Victor’s case that the woman owed him something for some favor or other. In their case, frankly, it was the exact opposite: Victor owed her for his family’s lives, although Lily wasn’t sure that he would quite see it that way, she knew he felt some sort of obligation towards her for what she’d done to get his Mother and Patty back. He didn’t push his tongue down her throat, either, but waited until she parted her lips, then touched the tip to the space she’d left, as if asking permission, although he wasn’t quite patient enough to wait for her to give him a signal that it was okay. His tongue made a bold foray, tickling the sensitive insides of her lips and running quickly over the edges of her teeth – not sloppy or messy, but inquisitive and actively stimulating. Lily twisted her mouth on his and shyly met him half way. And he groaned. The great and powerful Victor Scalia groaned at something she’d done. She’d made him feel pleasure. Lily couldn’t believe how that made her feel – powerful and pleased with herself, and very, very warm. His big hands – the very same ones that had wreaked such havoc – came up to cup her face almost reverently as he stared into her eyes. “You are incredibly beautiful, you know.” Lily blushed, knowing he was wrong. She wasn’t buttugly, but she was really only passably pleasant in the looks department. She had pretty hair, and her features and skin were even, but she was no raving beauty. “Thank you,” she replied in a tone that would convey her doubt in his statement. “You are. Inside and out. I’ve never met a woman quite like you – smart, funny, and annoyingly independent.” He accented the last with a smacking kiss to the end of her nose as he ran his fingers through those golden strands at the back of her head, letting them drop away onto her back as he watched, hypnotized. Lily smiled dreamily at his characterization. Of course he thought she was “annoyingly independent” – she had thwarted him and his men too frequently. How dare she! She should have made some sort of sharp, witty retort, but she literally couldn't think with the way his hands were moving on her, gliding down her shoulders,

rubbing here, pressing there, working out most of the kinks she lived with daily, then wandering down her spine to massage her lower back rhythmically as his mouth descended again, this time just a bit more aggressively. But Lily was ready for him. It seemed that in these few minutes that the throbbing that had been so prevalent in her tush had receded some . . . or maybe just relocated a little to the front . . . She wanted to squeeze her legs together so badly, but didn’t want to be too terribly blatant about how achy she was feeling, even though she knew that he was most completely involved already. He was poking quite insistently – if involuntarily - into her lower tummy. His rampant response only served to make Lily feel even better – she was downright amazed that she was able to affect him that way. It was something she’d only dreamed of – lying in this very bed – that he would want her as much as she wanted him, that he would slide carefully into her, stretching her open and they would make slow, sizzling love. And that he would stay with her all night, holding her, cuddling her, and wakening her occasionally for another frighteningly wonderful, mind-blowing taste of their passion. She couldn’t keep herself from wiggling a little though, prompting Victor to emit a small moan and grab her hips, then drop them again as if he’d been scalded. “I’m sorry – I don’t want to grab a hold of you and hurt you since that are is probably still extremely tender – “ “That’s an understatement if I ever heard one,” Lily agreed, nodding vehemently. “ – but – “ He sounded like he was in pain, somehow, straining to get the words out. Lily leaned her head on her hand, her elbow on his chest, staring down at him with a quizzical look. “You’ve gotta stop wiggling around like that, or I’m going to flip you over onto your sore bottom and plant myself inside you before you get a chance to say yes or no. I’m trying to show some restraint here, and you’re not helping any.”

Her response was anything but what he expected: she grinned, broadly, like the Cheshire cat. “Really?” she asked coyly, playing with the button of his shirt. Victor adjusted his head on the pillow, so he could look up at her better. “Yes, really. What do you think, I carry a railroad spike around with me in my pants pocket? I’m hard as a rock here.” “Well, in your line of work – “ The words just slipped out automatically – she was always needling him about his occupation, but this was neither the time nor the place. She felt him stiffen beneath her, and apologized immediately. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.” Lily worried that all the contriteness in the world wouldn’t make up for that cut. Seconds later, she found herself rolled beneath him, and although it made her butt sting a bit, it wasn’t as horrible as she had originally thought it might be. And of course, even in his anger, Victor was extremely careful not to hurt her. Regardless, she was truly overwhelmed. He filled her field of vision – there was nothing for her but him – that huge expanse of well-muscled shoulders with white oxford shirt material straining to constrain them. She was surprised that she was so comfortable – as long as she didn’t move to much, she discovered accidentally. The way she quickly sucked in a breath after trying to adjust her position a little had Victor looking at her with a concerned expression. “I’m fine,” she reassured him, “as long as I don’t try to do any break dancing, or God forbid move in any way.” Victor’s head tilted down, and that was when she realized that he had maneuvered her nightgown far enough up her as they’d rolled that her breasts were naked against his chest . . . until his lips surrounded one impudently pointed nipple and suckled, pulsingly, dragging his tongue over the very tip with each inward draw. It was over almost before it registered with Lily, and he was saying, “You not being able to move can have some distinct advantages,” he said casually, making Lily’s body go both cold and hot at the same exact time.

Chapter 7 Lily lay beneath him, completely still, her eyes wide as she looked up at him. Victor couldn't decide if she looked scared, really. Wary was probably a better word. “Are you afraid I might hurt you because of my line of work, Lily?” He didn’t defend himself, or his life’s choices, nor did he try to reassure her that he would never do that. If she didn’t know by now that he would give his life for her, that he would do anything to protect or defend her, and that he would never let anyone hurt her, least of all himself, then telling her again and again wouldn’t do a bit of good, and it trying to convince her would only make him look like an idiot. She didn’t answer him – she couldn’t. She wasn’t afraid of Victor – not on a truly physical level. She knew beyond a shadow of doubt that he would never ever punch or kick her or abuse her. She also knew beyond a shadow of doubt that the closer they got, the more likely he was to spank her. She could deal with that, as long as it wasn’t a caning very often. But on an emotional level, and even on a sexual level, since that seemed to be where this evening was going, she was afraid of him. And for very good reasons. This man, who held so many people’s lives in his hands on a daily basis, also held her heart in those strong, capable hands, although he didn’t know it . . . yet. His confession of love had not quite prompted her own, although knowing he felt that way certainly made her feel better. However, Lily had seen how the men around him had treated some women. Granted, she’d never really seen Victor treat any woman badly, that didn’t mean that – away from his family, whom he cosseted and protected – that he didn’t indulge in more prurient behavior. It had been an extremely unusual occasion when he’d brought any woman to the house. She could count them on one hand – although Lily certainly knew that that was not the number of women he’d bedded – he was too highly sexed for that. None of them had panned out, though, much to Mrs. Scalia’s dismay - not due to anything the family had

done, but soon after the bloom would be off the rose and they would never see the girl again. And she would never survive ending up as one of his discarded women – someone who no longer interested him, that he considered a bother or a slut. She had loved him from afar, quietly and secretly, for too long, and would have to be absolutely sure of the safety of her heart before she revealed her true feelings to him. Victor was drawing some conclusions of his own in the interim. Her nightie ended up on the floor next to them, to give him even more access to her body. Her panties had lain there long since . . . her feet had been kicking up so badly that it’s a wonder they hadn’t ended up in the next room. She was naked, and his legs had worked their way, albeit slowly, between her legs. His shirt came off in short order. The only things that kept them from joining completely were his zipper and his self-control, which was rapidly slipping. “Or maybe what I do is a turn on – maybe you’re protesting too much because power and money turn you on. It turns on a lot of women, Lily. There’s no shame in that.” “No no no!” How could she tell him that it wasn’t his job – that he could be a garbage man or a ballet dancer – that it wouldn’t matter a bit to her nor would it change who he was or the aura of sex appeal he projected. The man appeared entirely unaware of the fact that women were attracted to him, not just his position. His job added perks, no doubt – he had all the trappings of wealth whenever he wanted them. But even broke and homeless, all he’d had to do is smile at a member of the opposite sex, and they would melt at his feet. Then there was the fact that she was a virgin. She hadn’t realized she’d blurted out the words until Victor literally reared back and looked down at her like she had two heads. “You’re a virgin?” Disbelief was rife in his voice. Well, at least that would distract him from probing too deeply into her feelings . . . She wanted to say how could she not be a virgin when

he was the only man she’d looked at since he’d rescued her from a life of complete obscurity so many years ago? How was anyone going to compare to him? Of course she’d dated – very rarely, though, when she was younger, very carefully chaperoned and innocent dates all through high school – with him for a surrogate parent, few young men were even willing to ask. Victor’s predate interview with one of them was enough to send him packing before the date even began. No one had interested her as he had. He was all she’d ever seen, everything she’d ever wanted – although she’d much prefer that he didn’t have a job that was likely to land him in jail, or that involved so much violence. He was what he was, and, beyond the occasional dig about it, she really couldn’t see herself changing him much. And Lord knows no man ever voluntarily changed for any woman. Changing a man was always a long, drawn out process, worse than pulling teeth, if it happened at all. Lily’s eyebrow rose, despite the height of her desire. “You’re doubting me when you’re seconds away from finding it out for yourself? Why would I lie?” She was right. Victor was beyond stunned. She was twenty-six years old. That was absolutely unheard of, even in a good Italian family. Mothers and fathers tried to keep their girls pure – without, of course, trying to do the same with their boys but that was a long ingrained societal thing – but in this day and age . . . it was a lost cause. She’d never been with a man before, and yet she was lying naked under him, looking up at him with her heart in her eyes. Those open, vulnerable eyes startled him. She’d never given him any hope that she might feel much of anything for him – he figured she was merely tolerating his presence in her life out of some sort of misguided sense of obligation . . . although those tightly peaked nipples told a different story. “Do you want this?” he asked huskily, praying she didn’t reply in the negative. If she did, it was going to pay hell with his gonads trying to reign them back in. For some extra added incentive to say “yes”, he captured her other nipple and gave it a wet, hard tug, flicking it against the roof of his mouth several times before

releasing it as she shuddered and arched, grinding her hips into his, despite how it must’ve renewed the sting in her bottom. “Yesssssss,” she hissed back at him. Without a thought to any possible consequences – beyond pregnancy – he rolled a little to the side and wrestled his way out of his pants and underwear, but not before finding the condom he kept in his wallet. “What a boy scout you are . . . “ Lily commented caustically, wondering to herself what she’d expected, and chastising herself for not having some of them on hand to offer him so that she could at least have had some semblance of modern femininity. Victor tore the gold foil with his teeth and paused. “It’s either this or we only play – your choice, smartass.” When she nodded slowly, her eyes locked on his, he slipped it on with practiced ease. When he settled back on top of her, she whispered in his ear, “Just out of curiosity, what constitutes ‘only playing’?” In answer, he let his hand drift down between them, adjusting enough to the side so that he had unimpeded access to her heated delta. The overheated nest of curls was already very damp; he was gratified to feel the slickness of her on his fingers even before he truly touched the heart of her. “Only playing is mutual pleasure, but not making love. My mouth and hands on various parts of your body, your mouth and hands on various parts of mine . . . Do you want to make love with me?” he asked in all seriousness, his hand stilling where it cupped her intimately. Lily could only nod, her eyes and her heart full of him. She knew a lot of men in his position – and in the position they were currently in - would never even bother to ask. But not Victor. She was . . . apprehensive about making love with him, but not truly afraid, and that was what she told him. Victor was humbled by her trust in him. It had been a long time since he’d been with a virgin, and he hoped he could be gentle enough for her first time, but it was

going to be a dicey thing. He wanted her. Plain and simple. He wanted to be inside her, to let himself go and explode within her, but he wasn’t going to be able to do quite that because he knew he could never live with himself if he hurt her. If he could keep a hold of himself, keep his passion on a tight enough reign, then he should be able to make it all right for her – hopefully good for her, depending on how responsive she was. He nuzzled the side of her jaw, whispering, “Leave it all up to me. You’re safe with me.” He ran his hand down her right arm and brought her hand to his mouth, kissing the back like a Southern gentleman. Somehow, somewhere in Lily the former tension she had been feeling eased tremendously at that small, elegant gesture. Victor was busy decorating her face with tiny kisses, but he could sense that her body was much less taut than it had been, and was glad for it. Her trust in him was an incredible honor, and he intended to treasure it – and her – as long as he lived. He set her hand against his bare chest, his eyes closing as her natural curiosity got to her and she rubbed the small nipple that was beneath her palm. His fingers reclaimed the area between his legs with a new reverence, his thick middle finger insinuating itself very slowly and cautiously between those love-swollen lips. Victor was elated when he found the tip of his finger covered in her juices. As he slid it further within her folds and over a very erect, swollen nub, enjoying the way she squirmed beneath him at his touch there, but he didn’t linger. He wanted to find out just how wellguarded she was. Luckily, she didn’t have too much of a maidenhead, probably from all of the horseback riding she’d done with Patty when they were growing up. Victor pressed a kiss to her forehead as he gently slipped his index finger inside her, making every effort to keep his mind from comparing the feel of her warmth and wetness as it clamped automatically down on him with what it might be like if she were grabbing at another, better part of him . . . Lily drew in a quick breath at his boldness, tightening a lot in preparation for pain and holding onto his

shoulders, but when there wasn’t any she relaxed back onto the bed, allowing him more complete access to her body. “That wasn’t bad, was it?” he asked in a rough voice, just before his mouth settled onto one of her nipples to suckle insistently. “N-no, no- uhhhhhhhhh!” God, what was he doing to her? That finger, deep inside her, hadn’t been still a second once he’d realized that she wasn’t hurting from his efforts. He’d begun a tantalizing rhythm that had her raising her hips without thinking about it, as if entreating him for more. The firestorm that he had created in her backside had been deftly converted to an equally agonizing ache where his hand was exploring her. More than anything in this world, Lily wanted him not to stop doing what he was doing. She was coming awfully close to grinding her crotch against the heel of his hand, and it made him chuckle. His little virgin was getting eager, and Victor was glad of it. He’d hated to see the hesitation and out and out fear in her eyes when he’d asked her if she wanted to make love with him. This had to be a pleasant experience for her – more than just pleasant – or he might lose her entirely. Unlike a lot of the women he’d slept with in the past, Lily didn’t need him for anything. She was a little bit too independent, and that made him uncomfortable. What if she decided she was better off without him? The pressure was on. Luckily, he’d always risen to the occasion, and was more that capable of meeting this challenge, and enjoying it enormously as he did it. Like most things, if he was going to do it then he wanted to do it well. He threw himself into it completely. Victor realized that they’d progressed a little further than the really should have, considering how new all of this was to her. So he moved a little away, over her protestations. She thought he was rejecting her somehow, but that was the least thing in his mind. He soothed her fears about that merely by silencing her with his mouth, then let his hands begin to wander over her exposed skin,

marveling at its soft sweetness and watching the goose bumps rise as wherever he touched – down the sensitive inside of her arm, down the gentle slope and over the tip of her nose, along the curve of her waist. He wanted her to know by his touch that he valued her. That she was not just some lay he’d picked up. She meant everything to him. Hell, he’d already confessed how he felt, although she hadn’t had much of a comeback for it. But that was okay. He loved her enough for both of them - the kind of love that – in earlier centuries – would have inspired a passionate Italian man to write volumes of love poems to his beloved. Well, he had the ability to write love poems, but no particular talent at it. In sexual matters, on the other hand, he had a certain something . . . a sensitivity that few men possessed. He took great personal pleasure and pride in bringing his partner to incredible heights of ecstasy – bringing her out of herself and making her lose control to him – all because of his touch, his voice, the way he stretched them open and drove himself into them . . . God, he wanted her! He wanted to taste and touch every inch of her, and intended that he would – some inches more than others. Victor’s lips left her nipples glistening and berry-red, almost stinging with need, her breasts swollen slightly from his attentions. In tiny increments he worked his way down her flat tummy, depositing a lick here, a nibble there, making her shiver and shake within his strong arms, but though he let her squirm some, he did not let her move away from him. There would be no escape for her but to explode in his mouth as he drank in her essence. Lily lay beneath his ministrations, unable to do anything but experience – her entire world right now was the way he was making her feel; every bit of her skin was ultrasensitized to him, every part of her swelling and keening for him, causing a riot and overload along every one of her nerve endings. And she knew where he was heading when he slid his chest down along her stomach, the rough, crinkly hairs grating suddenly against her moistness as his

broadness spread her legs further and further apart, making her arch away from him at the stark, rawness of the sensations he was creating. The stark rawness of her position made her more than a little uneasy: he was between her legs, still only kissing her hip demurely, leaning on his elbow and trailing one fingertip up and down the outside of her engorged, exposed lips. She wanted to do two things at once – to run and cover herself to prevent him from seeing her like this, and to arch up against that teasing finger in hopes of getting it to explore a more satisfying place so near to where it was right now. Lily couldn’t decide which to do, so she did nothing, just letting him have his delightful way with her. He scrunched down a little more, so that his face was level with that heated triangle. Victor drew a deep breath. He loved the scent of her – her flowery, musky perfume, and wanted to bury his face there. But he didn’t want to scare or startle her, so he restrained himself – barely. Instead, he locked his eyes with hers and pressed his middle finger into her with every possible care, intently watching her expressions to make sure that there was no discomfort associated with what he was doing. And, from what he could tell, there was only pure pleasure. Only once he was buried - third-knuckle deep – within her did he lower his head, using his index and ring fingers to open her sultry flower, exposing that throbbing peak to the loving attentions of his lips and tongue. Lily could feel his breath on her skin just as the most sensitive point on her body was completely enveloped by the wet heat of his mouth. He was suckling at her, dragging the broad, flat expanse of his tongue over the very tip of her, and she had to press herself against him to prevent him from ever stopping this delicious torture. Victor reached up with his free hand to tweak her nearest nipple, making her nearly scream with pleasure. He lifted his head, and her scream descend into an anguished moan at the loss of stimulation. But he knew her too well, knew that she was holding herself back. Why, he didn’t know. But he wouldn’t allow it. “Ahhh, Lily, give yourself over to me. I promise you this won’t hurt. Let me love you.”

It was as if she’d needed his permission to completely let go. He felt something within her relax internally and then he returned to his favorite spot, this time with the gentle determination that she was going to experience the ultimate in pleasure. Lily couldn’t imagine that the feelings could get any better, but they did – almost frighteningly so. There was nowhere for her to escape to – she was trapped by his body and her own. This could only have one ending – a raw, fierce one that she both craved and feared. His finger pumped in and out of her, adding sensation onto sensation while his fingertips gently tortured her nipple and his mouth – oh, God, what his mouth was doing to her, bringing her closer and closer and closer . . . She was arching into him, inviting his caresses, moaning rhythmically, her hands clenching and unclenching within the sheets. She was very close, he knew, so he slowed just a bit – not changing his rhythm or pressure at all, just being less frenzied, so that the very end would be longer and more intense for her. And it was. Lily thought she was going to die when he changed his pace, but the timing couldn’t have been better, because that final, unbearable tingle had just begun, and he drew it out until she almost collapsed from it, but instead her body imploded violently and she just had to grab the back of his head and press his face into her so that it would go on and on and on and on. He was in no hurry to leave her, and milked every last drop of sensation from her, careful not to linger too long though, knowing that, afterwards, most women – even those who were multi-orgasmic – were ultra sensitive right after an orgasm. So he paid very careful attention to her and eased off as soon as she began to jerk spasmodically when he touched her. He didn’t withdraw to the other side of the bed, as a lot of men did – if they did this particular thing at all. Instead, he simply lay his cheek on her and stroked her flank soothingly for a few moments, then he moved up to gather her against his side and rock her, rubbing her back and keeping her

close. Lily was . . . there, but she wasn’t there. She was aware of what was happening around her, but didn’t feel like she could do anything about it. If the house was on fire, she was dead meat. Her whole body was completely relaxed. He was holding her and comforting her, but she literally couldn’t return the favor – she didn’t have the strength left. What he’d brought her to had taken too much out of her. And it had been wonderful. She was barely able to lift her head from his shoulder and look into his eyes, whispering a tiny, “Thank you,” as her eyes drifted shut of their own volition. Victor’s smile was a rare one – gentle and warm, with none of his usual cynicism lurking just beneath the surface. “Oh, we’ve just barely scratched the surface, honey. Part two is still to come, if you’ll excuse the pun.” One eye peeped open. “Part two?” she asked, almost in mock horror. He chuckled. “You don’t have to do a thing, unless you want to. Just lie there and let me love you.” And she did. And he did. Everything he did that evening was slow and careful and designed not to make her want to bolt. Even when he slid between her legs with a more masculine purpose, letting his bareness settle against her for a minute, his stiffness tucked into her slit but not inside her, making friends, as it were, getting her a little familiar with him before the actual act. She was docile right now and he took full advantage, indulging himself – albeit with her delicate sensibilities in mind – by suckling and licking and possessing every inch of her that he could get his hands and mouth on. She was his – and he was laying claim to her, in the most elemental of ways. When he couldn’t stand being outside her any longer, he

reached down between them to present the head of himself against her slick opening. Lily’s eyes were wide open when he looked back up at her – they both sensed the import of this moment. “You’re mine. No one else’s ever,” he said on the guttural moan that escaped him as he entered her. She was so tight he could barely keep his sanity, especially when her body clamped down on him spasmodically, with the involuntary remnants of her orgasm. He pressed himself into her fully – to the hilt – with the first stroke, trying to remember to watch for any signs of discomfort from her, but not doing very well at it, admittedly. But then, he also wasn’t seeing any. Lily looked a little startled – probably at the size of him and the unusual sensation of stretching as her body accommodated him. Lily felt full. So full. Very close to uncomfortably full, but then, if the feeling was uncomfortable then why didn’t she want it to stop? Oh, dear God, he was moving . . . ! And dragging against her insides as he did it, making her that much more aware of his control over her – of her submissive position, receiving him, surrounding him, welcoming him back inside her over and over. Victor was appalled to realize that he wasn’t going to last very long at this. Nope. Not long at all. The only thing that saved him from being totally humiliated was her innocence – she would probably have no knowledge of how long this experience should last. And that – he thought with a harder thrust than he’d intended – worked just – another rather forceful plunge – fine for him. Two more mindless, seeking thrusts and it was all over for him – he poured himself into her with several violent spurts that drained him, softened him in more ways than one, until his head collapsed onto the soft slope of her breast. Gasping for air and nearly in mid moan, he growled, “I love you.” Lily bit her lip, wanting desperately to say it back, but unable to simply throw off her concerns and her innate wariness. Instead, she settled for hugging him tightly to

her, but, in the abnormal silence of the room, they both felt the loss.

Chapter 8

To her surprised delight, he stayed with her the rest of the night. Lily knew he didn’t necessarily do that – he liked to be home with family at night, in general, even if he didn’t pull in until two or three in the morning. It made them feel safer, and satisfied his need to take care of his loved ones, to be there with them, just in case. But he was there, snuggled up to her back the next morning, snoring so loudly she thought she was going to get a headache. So she moved around enough to make him change his position slightly, and she had about three whole minutes of quiet until he started in again, sawing enough wood for several winters. Finally, she gave up the lure of a leisurely morning cuddle and went into the kitchen to brew herself a morning pot of coffee. When she started to walk, shouldering into her robe, she realized that she ached in some unfamiliar places – not just the obvious, previously untried area, but the insides of her thighs – and her butt! Once she got the coffee started, she ran to the bathroom and hiked up her robe, curious to see if he’d left any trace of the previous night’s punishment. She blushed when she thought that she was still carrying the evidence of last night’s loving between her legs. She had been so wet last night that she was still oozing a little this morning. There they were: purple and red lines striping horizontally across her cheeks, with several more of them decorating her otherwise alabaster thighs. Experimentally, she ran her hand over them, feeling the ridges he’d left. “Hopefully, those will teach you a lesson,” came the gruff, masculine comment from where he was lounging negligently against the doorjamb, completely unconcerned at his nudity, his muscular arms crossed over his broad chest. Lily frowned back at him, not wanting him to get any reinforcement for having disciplined her like that. She tried to brush by him, but his hand shot out and grabbed

her upper arm, pulling her up against him, then turning so that her back was against the wall. He laid his forearms next to her head, and she had nowhere to go but into him . . . which wasn’t really much of a hardship. “How are you feeling this morning? Any aches or pains I can massage away?” “More like create, you mean?” Lily suggested, trying to slip stealthily away but not having any success at it. He was busy nuzzling her neck avidly and groaning. “Mmmmmmmm. That sounds wonderful . . .” But before he let himself get too involved, he pulled back. And it wasn’t easy. “But, I would bet that you’re pretty much sore all over this morning, aren’t you?” Lily grimaced. How the hell was he so right all the time? How would he know how sore she was? “Well, why don’t you go take a long, hot shower. It’ll help all of your various aches. I’ll make us some zeppolis.” When he put it like that, she couldn’t resist, and dashed off to the bathroom – well, crept was more like it - before he changed his mind. Zeppolis were the only thing that Victor could cook – not that he was ever really called upon to cook anything, considering the vast culinary experience of the women in his family. But they were an occasional sweet treat he concocted whenever he felt like, and, most traditionally, on Christmas morning, so that everyone else had a chance to have a leisure cup of sweet, hot coffee and then get to work on the Christmas feast. Zeppoli was fried sweet dough that was covered in a coating of sugar – which ever one preferred, in their family – granular, powdered, or cinnamon. They were totally sinful, and melted in your mouth with every soft, crunchy bite – the perfect morning after breakfast. Lily sat back in her office chair and sighed. It had been several months since he’d hand fed her bits of that sweet treat over cups of steaming hot coffee. Since then, they had seen each other as often as possible – not just for sex – which was, unbelievably, growing hotter each and every time – but to catch movies and attend baptisms and go out to dinner, as well as

occasionally spending time with friends. “As often as possible” was relative, however. Victor was a very busy man, and even when he was with her, he sometimes got called away, and almost always – except in the middle of the night – got a call he couldn’t refuse to take. Lily did her best to be understanding, but apparently something fairly big was going down, because when she asked him about it casually – if he was always this busy, in a very careful tone she made sure did not sound accusing or whiney, he stopped midstep to look back at her, then turned and tipped her chin up to him. “No. Are you missing me, little one?” She loved it when he called her that, or used any kind of endearment. They all – even “hey, you” she swore – made her melt into a gooey puddle at his feet. Lower lip between her teeth, she nodded, her eyes skittering away from his. “I’m not trying to cling or anything – “ Victor snorted and kissed her wrinkled forehead. “Honey, you never cling. I almost wish you would a little more – then maybe I’d be able to keep better track of you.” He was referring in part to her great escapes which she hadn’t repeated since the caning – but also to the fact that sometimes he would drop by – at all hours of the day and early evening and she would be gone, making him do the embarrassing thing and have to call whoever was guarding her at the time to find out where the hell she was. She was self-employed, and worked at home, but was never there, it seemed, and that kind of irked him at times. More than he’d like to admit, frankly, and a lot more than he was going to ever let on to her. “There is a lot of stuff going on right now, Lily-pad. I promise I won’t always be this busy.” He did leave out the gory details that his own protection had had to be stepped up because of a botched clip, but then, he didn’t want to worry her. But his life was now in danger much more than hers was – there one of the other families had a beef with him that they hadn’t the guts to bring directly to him, so lately,

just so that he wouldn’t be putting her into the potential line of fire, he’d been keeping his distance a little – at least physically, not seeing her as often as he might, or as often as he used to. But he called her whenever the mood struck, and they chatted online frequently. Most women would have kicked up a fuss immediately, but not his Lily. She held it all in, probably figuring it was something she’d done, taking the weight of the world onto those slender shoulders. That was her habit. Lily – even at the tender age she’d come into his life – tried to handle things for herself. As a result, she had ulcers by the time she was fifteen. She didn’t run to anyone; she calmly solved her own damned problems, while they quietly ate out the lining of her stomach. She nodded and leaned against him a little more. That was as close to a demanding fit as she got. Victor had had girlfriends use their nails – translation: claws – on him, going for his face, for much, much less, and it just made him want to give her everything and smother her in love. And she didn’t want it, and would never let him do that. The irony of it made him smile.

So, here she was, alone again with her computer and her work and her absentee boyfriend, feeling out of sorts and somewhat abandoned, although she’d die before she ever admit it. Maybe what she needed was a night out with the girls. Within the next hour or so, she found herself on a good old fashioned pub crawl with a handful of close friends. Lily knew a lot of people. It was kind of hard not to after having been raised as an accepted part of Victor’s big extended family, even though her close friends were not from the family, they were either old school friends or work chums, or a combination of the two. And she was pleasant and cordial with everyone she met. But she didn’t have a lot of friends beyond this small group of two or three that she’d known for what seemed like forever. They were all of the same age, and going through the same things – worries about career, parents, boyfriends, marriage, lovers . . . and they had

known each other long enough – through their first periods or the alarming lack thereof, through diets and eating disorders and breakups and engagements – that there were no more pretenses; no one felt the need to impress anyone else. They had all dressed down in jeans and sweats and comfy sneaks, so they would be comfortable, and had a designated driver who almost never drank, but even if Cat decided to indulge, Lily knew she could always call Tony DiSimone’s car service and get someone to come and take them all home – free of charge. Money was always an issue with all of them – even though the girls were always needling her about not really needing money because of her “connections”. They hit O’Hannity’s and had green beer – that place had it year round, not just on St. Patty’s Day – Margaritas for some Dos Equis, and Mei Lei Wah for both the spicy kung pao beef and the Tsingtao. If that wasn’t enough, they hit Joe Schmoe’s and had cosmopolitans – which didn’t go well with all that beer and Chinese food, for some of them. Then, when someone suggested dessert, they all trooped to an Olive Garden and got plates of tiramisu, black tie mousse cake, and cheese cake, along with sour apple martinis. Cat, bless her heart, was able to resist everything but the sour apple martinis. She had three of them in too short a time to do any of them any good when it finally came to them that they were getting too old for this and they all needed to go home – despite how completely polluted they were and all of the hassle they were going to get from their boyfriends, significant others, etc. Lily frowned. There wasn’t anyone at her house to give her any trouble about staying out late and getting drunk. Victor would never even know, and probably wouldn’t care, anyway. The amount of alcohol she’d consumed made her feel bolder than usual, and she decided that she was quite capable of driving a car, even though she was definitely impaired – no one else there was rightheaded enough to dissuade her, and none of them wanted to drive. Luckily, the car was a big Lincoln that Cat had bought off her parents, and when she lost control of it and drove it into a ditch no one was hurt – except the car. They called Triple-A and got it towed, well before she called

the car service, and walked back into town. Some of them were in favor of stopping and calling at the nearest open business, but Lily knew that questions would be raised by whoever the limo driver was to the nearest open business, which happened to be a small grocery store, to meet the car. Within about ten minutes – before some of them had stopped throwing up in the bathroom, Poochie showed up with a big black stretch limo and all five of them poured themselves – in various state of inebriation – into the back. Lily, who had the most experience with limos, rolled the window between the back and the chauffer down and gave Yvette’s address first. “You’re out kind of late, aren’t you, Lily?” he asked, giving her the eye in the rear-view mirror. It was only then that a fissure of concern dribbled down Lily’s back, but it was nicely dulled by the alcohol. This was why she almost never drank – she hated not having complete control of her faculties. Would Tony rat her out? The drunk in her shrugged the idea off, but, in the back of her mind, she knew he would. That it was inevitable that her drunken spree would get back to the power that permeated all of their lives. But at least he wouldn’t know the real story. All he’d know was that they had had a car come and pick them up – the small accident was completely cleaned up before she’d called Tony’s, and had happened a ways away. Victor. The intellectual question that she didn’t quite have the capacity to grapple with at the moment, was, would he care that she’d gotten drunk? It was too much for her to think about right now. She couldn’t focus her thoughts – her head was buzzing uncomfortably. God, this was an exceptional reminder of why she hated to be drunk. At least she had the presence of mind to gulp down several glasses of water when she got home, and continued drinking all night from the glass of water she kept on her nightstand to try to help balance her electrolytes and offset the hangover she knew she was due the next morning.

Still, she slept fitfully – all of that water made its way through her rather rapidly and she ended up having to get up multiple times to get rid of it. But, long about five or so, she fell into a deep sleep until something tickled her nose a couple of hours later. Lily swiped her hand across it, figuring it was a fly or a mosquito or something, but, if it was, it was annoyingly persistent. The next time she wasn’t as careful about where she waved her hand, and it connected with something that was definitely more solid than a fly. She opened one eye tentatively, then closed it immediately when she realized that Victor was sitting on the edge of her bed, looking incredibly dark and masculine against her flowery coverlet. “Open your eyes, honey.” Judging by his tone of voice, he didn’t sound too happy, so she did the unusual and did what she was told to do. Those bleary eyes said it all. He’d heard through the grapevine that she’d gone out and gotten completely plastered with a group of her friends. And one of her friends had had to have her car towed . . . but the tow driver described the girl behind the wheel as a fair blonde . . . when Cat was an almost maroon red-head. All in all, he smelled a rat. A naughty rat, who was trying to avoid a punishment she knew very well she had coming since she’d driven drunk. But, he tried to be a fair man . . . whenever possible. If she had a good explanation – if she could look him in the eye and tell him that she wasn’t the one who was driving Cat’s car when it went into the ditch, then he’d believe her. He’d never known Lily to lie to anyone, and didn’t imagine she’d start with him. He was taking a chance being here. His boys were still working on taking out the crew that was sent to hit him, and he really didn’t want to put her into any more danger that she was already getting herself into, apparently. “I here you girls had quite a time last night.” Her eyes closed on a tired sigh. Clearing her throat loudly, she sat up and arranged her covers fussily, looking anywhere but at him.

That was his first clue. Lily was like he was – she looked people in the eye – always. “Uh, yeah, we had a lot of fun.” All of her fidgeting was driving him crazy. It was so unlike her. Finally, he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. “And you had to call Tony’s to come get you? Didn’t you have a designated driver?” Lily’s lips pursed into a pout. “Yes, but Cat decided to have something when we went to Olive Garden.” There was a muscle ticking in his jaw. “So all of you were drunk by then, I take it.” Lily felt like a particularly nasty bug he was considering stomping, and tried to squirm away from him, but he wouldn’t let her go. “Answer me, Lilliana Marie.” “We were all enjoying ourselves, Victor.” Her tone had just the slightest touch of censure, as if she was questioning his right to grill her like this, but it steered away from being openly disrespectful. “It was a girls’ night out.” His chin dropped to his chest so that he was looking up at her from under those heavy, dark, tightly drawn brows. It was a look that was meant to intimidate, and it worked, which was unusual with Lily. She didn’t intimidate easily. But then, she’d never really done something wrong like this – driving drunk, having a car accident and hiding it from Victor was something Patty would do, not Lily. “I suggest that you start telling me the absolute truth, Lily, because you know that if you spin me something now, and I find out something different later . . . “ He deliberately left the end of the sentence open so that she could draw her own conclusions about what might happen. She’d been seeing him long enough to know how he was likely to handle something like that, and he could tell that she had drawn the correct conclusions because she was squirming madly. “All right, all right. We all got a little snockered and . . . but I thought that I was okay to drive. I really did.” She snuck a peek at him and regretted it completely. This

was not going to be a fun experience. “I – I only drove about three miles or so outside of town when someone spotted a deer and I got distracted and we went into a ditch.” Her meager little speech sounded puny even to her own ears. “I’m sorry. I know that I should never have gotten behind the wheel. I know it. I knew it even then, I just . . . “ “You were drunk. Your judgment was impaired.” “I wasn’t falling down drunk – I thought I would be okay.” She didn’t know why she was trying to defend her undefendable actions to him – if the situations were reversed, she’d be saying and doing the same things he was . . . well, saying them anyway. The idea of her spanking or punishing the Victor Scalia – taking him over her knee and blistering his bottom like he was very likely to do to her within the next five seconds – would have made her giggle in a different situation. In a less defensive, much more subdued voice, she said, “I’m just glad that no one was hurt.” “So am I,” he ground out. “Tell me the rest.” “Well, we called triple-A and they came and towed the car, then we walked back to and called Tony’s.” Victor drew a long, exasperated breath. He’d gotten the gist of the situation immediately. “You had the presence of mind to finagle it so that Tony didn’t get the impression that you’d had an accident, in which case I would have heard about it more immediately than I did.” “Seems to me that you’ve heard about it quick enough as it is,” she grumbled. “I have my sources,” he said cryptically, but then Victor was cryptic about a lot of things by necessity. It wasn’t good for too many people to know specifics about his business. The family knew that he was a business man in the import/export area. Beyond that, he didn’t much elaborate. He leaned back and considered her, making Lily extremely uneasy. “You realize you’re in a great deal of trouble – this behavior is very much along the lines of going behind my back to work with the police.” Lily’s draw dropped. “It is not!”

He gave her the evil eye, although it had never really worked on her. It was a force of habit. He’d spent most of his life giving it to Patty just before he set fire to her butt. Like lightening, he struck quickly, before she had a chance to think, practically dragging her over his legs. Her panties and nightgown were not an impediment for longer than five seconds, and then she was hanging – bare to the wind. But not for long. Her rump was covered by his hand, over and over, as it struck in rapid, crisp, stinging succession. Victor was just about as close to out of control as he had ever been – probably at least as close as when his family had been in danger and Lily had gone behind his back. He was inches from totally losing his mind. As it was, he spanked her for much longer than he had intended, until her poor butt and down the backs of her thighs were an angry, mottled red all over and she had stopped protesting in favor of merely laying her forehead against the bed and sobbing piteously. Lily wasn’t really even protesting the punishment that much – beyond what he would consider the usual – she wasn’t accusing him of being wrong about his assumptions or pleading innocent. He had been listening for the true outrage that would signify that perhaps his information had been incorrect and she was somehow – and he’d be very interested in hearing just how – not guilty of doing what he’d thought she’d done. But no such protestations were forthcoming, despite the severity of the roasting he’d given her. She hadn’t out and out admitted her wrongdoing – he would work on that – but Victor no longer had any doubt in his mind at her meek acceptance of his discipline. He would have had to make a hard decision, anyway, even without the drunk driving bit – and make the choice between spanking or not spanking her for going out and getting drunk. He’d never had a girlfriend who indulged in pub crawls, or went out with her friends and drank. Come to think of it, that wasn’t a behavior that he would have associated with Lily. While she was still in that ignominious, childish position, wiping her other cheeks and pushing the hair out of her face and sniffling, Victor put the question to her: “Do you go out with the girls like that often?”

If she had been feeling better, Lily would have given him back the evil eye that he had given her earlier. But giving it with red, almost swollen shut eyes would kind of reduce the effect, she imagined. And she was hurting to much to make the effort. “D- do you mean do I have a drinking problem? No. How could I have hidden that from the rest of the family, Victor?” She snuffed hard. “I go out with the girls every two or three months, and – you can ask them – I think I’ve only ever gotten drunk one other time. I’m usually the designated driver, because I’d rather drink lemonade or Diet Coke or coffee. They’re usually the ones doing the tequila shooters and drinking Grateful Deads.” “So . . . what was the difference this time?” At first, Lily had a hard time recalling just why it was that she’d decided to get everyone together. It seemed so long ago when one was considering one’s motivations as one’s bottom melted into painful oblivion. “I was just feeling a little down and lonely, so I called the girls.” He sighed, and let her up, finally. He knew that their necessary separation was making him surly and cranky and generally hard to live with – his guys told him that often enough – some within earshot and some not, depending on the cajones of the person who was talking. “I’m sorry you were feeling lonely. There are some things going on that make it not so easy to be with you – I’m not at home much, either. Work is busy.” He always used to say that whenever things came up in his job that he couldn’t really explain, but that took him away from the family. Lily nodded forlornly. “It’s okay.” Victor tipped her face up. “If you’re lonely or scared or just want to talk, you can come to me, you know. You can always call me. You have all my numbers – even the ones that the Feds would give their eye teeth to have.” She gave a small giggle. “You can call me at any time. I’ve been missing you, too,

but I didn’t go out and commit a crime because of it.” Her facial expression, and the way she deliberately stuck her tongue out and bit down on it, told him that she was exercising a lot of restraint about that comment. “I’m sorry. I should have been smarter and just called Tony’s or a cab or something.” “Or me. If I couldn’t come myself, I’d’ve sent someone.” “Yeah, I know.” She leaned back gingerly on her abused tail, arranging the bedclothes around her. “There’s more to come of this, you know. I can’t deliver it right now, but I will as soon as I can. I’m sorry for the delay, but it’s best because I’m very unhappy with you, and some distance will probably save your bottom a world of hurt in the long run – “ “My bottom is IN a world of hurt right now – “ “It can always get worse,” he threatened gently but seriously. Lily shrank against the pillows, pulling the covers up to her chin. “I know.” He didn’t know what it was about that pose . . . it just got to him. She looked so innocent and solemn and . . . only partly chastised by the spanking. At that moment, his love for her nearly overwhelmed him. It made his heart swell so much that it nearly choked off his breathing. This was probably not the time nor the place for this, but he was going to do it any way. Lily watched in awe as Victor slipped off the bed and assumed a discomforting position on one knee beside it. He reached into his coat and pulled out a black velvet ring box, opening it to hold it up to her. He took her right hand in his and kissed the back, then started to talk. “I know this is a strange time to do this, but I just have to. I’ve been carrying this ring around with me since the day after our first date. I went to Tiffany’s the next morning to buy you a diamond because I knew I had to have you. Despite the fact that you grew up in my house, we’re still getting to know each other on an adult

level. But I’ve loved you with all of my heart since the moment I laid eyes on you. And that love has only grown and changed and strengthened over the years. I loved the little girl you were – your sad eyes pulled at my heart every time I looked at you. Little Miss Perfect. So sad and quiet, those big eyes drinking in everything.” He reached out to stroke her cheek softly. “But now, as an adult – I love you even more. You’re smart and funny and not afraid to tell me what you think, and even if you have become more disobedient now than you were then, I love you and I want you. Totally and completely. Will you please do me the honor of becoming my wife, Lilliana Marie Cannizarro?” Lily’s mouth hung open in what she was sure was an entirely unbecoming manner. It had been open so long her tongue was dry before she clamped it shut with a snap. He’d asked her to marry him. It was everything she’d ever dreamed of. He was everything . . . although she’d never much wanted to marry a gangster – him, yes. A gangster, no. Now what did she do?

Chapter 9 The warm, mellow sun streaming through the lacy sheers in her old room at the Scalias’ house was what awoke Lily. She sat up and hugged herself, then rolled very quickly onto her side and off of her seared butt. It was her wedding day, and she was going to tromp down the aisle wearing the marks of disobedience he’d put there just yesterday morning. They knew they’d be separated that evening after the rehearsal dinner – her girlfriends were going to take her out – sedately, they’d promised him in all seriousness, and none of them were going to chance pissing off the mob boss she was marrying – and he was going to spend the evening with his crew, drinking and playing poker. Lily shuddered when she remembered the licking she had gotten for driving drunk that time a few months ago. He had smacked her bottom with a different implement for three nights in a row – starting the same day he’d spanked her and proposed, which was an odd enough combination. She had taken her own sweet time saying yes to him. In fact, she refused to give him any answer when he’d asked, although he insisted that she give him some kind of a hint. Lily had softly confessed that she loved him, and his face had lit up like she’d never seen it before. He looked as close to angelic as someone of his occupation could manage. “But – “ she’d said, and Victor’s throat had clenched closed. “I know you know that I know what you do.” He tilted his head in affirmation of that fact. “And I know how a lot of men in your . . . uh . . . situation treat women who aren’t their mothers or daughters.” “You mean that Italian men tend not to treat their wives very well? That’s an ethnic slur right there.” “I mean men in your line of business tend to have access to a lot of pretty women – money and power are powerful attractants. And even if you weren’t who you

are, even if you were dirt poor, you’re so blasted good looking that you could have any woman you wanted anyway.” His eyebrow was arched so hard it must’ve been painful. “Besides the fact that I would prefer not to marry a man who was probably going to end up in jail or bleeding out in a back alley somewhere, I think that even worse than that would be if you felt it was your right or privilege to keep another woman on the side. Or, God forbid, that you felt the need to.” Victor had risen to sit on the side of the bed next to her and took her hands in his. “I know. I’ve had women throwing themselves at me for quite some time. You might not know this though, but my father was considered a bit touched by some in the family – despite his position – because he was faithful as the day was long to my mother. How could he not be? And I believe that I can promise that I will be completely faithful to you, also. I would never want to treat you disrespectfully, Lily, and to me, keeping a goumad would be very disrespectful.” He had never lied to her, and all she could do was trust him, just as she would any other man. Temptation was there for anyone who was on the lookout for it. As to what he did on the job . . . for that she had to seek other counsel. She went straight to Mama Scalia and asked her point blank. Mama knew what the men in her family were into. She didn’t bury her head in the sand or complain about it. Mama had told her that all she could do was love him – the good, the bad, and the indifferent – and hope that her love could change him or at the very least soften him – that he would see the error of his ways. “Even sinners need love – they need the purity and hope of love more so than anyone else.” Her advice helped Lily give Victor a “yes” answer when she saw him next . . . that night when he came back to begin the three days of hell he’d promised her. The paddle was the first implement he used – the belt and then the cane were next over the next two days. Lily had never, ever dreaded seeing him. Even when she was at

her most intimidated by him – when she had first come to live with them, she had always been intrigued by him. But not then. Getting a fierce paddling that first night was bad enough – it had left her with bruises everywhere, and her whole backside was swollen and achy with every movement. But then the next night was the belt and the experience was unbelievable. She had come extremely close to turning tail and running when she heard it snick out of the belt loops of his pants. But where could she go? He’d already positioned her in that depressingly familiar position over pillows on the edge of the bed with her bottom sticking up. And he never took any consideration of the fact that she was already hurting. Not one iota of thought went to that. He laid that belt onto her like the flesh he was decorating was absolutely pristine. Lily had been reduced - humiliatingly quickly – to out and out screams within the first couple of volleys that fell against her already tenderized skin. Before he was through, she was hoarse from yelling – begging, crying, promising things she’d never be able to live up to if he would just stop! When he finally did lay the belt down next to her, it was only to roll her over quickly and press his mouth against her most intimate spot while his hands clenched spasmodically on her throbbing rear. Two fingers pressed themselves into her, leaving her even more vulnerable to the advances of his tongue and lips. “That’s it, baby,” Victor had encouraged gruffly, drinking in every nuance of her reactions to him. Touching her like this was extraordinary. She was different from any other woman he’d had – she wasn’t hard and sophisticated, so she didn’t – or couldn’t – try to hide her responses. She was incredibly wild and uninhibited. She simply reacted, as a natural woman, without any sort of concerns. An uncontrolled Lily in his arms was more than he had ever hoped for. Victor made her work for it – contrasting the pain he was creating by rubbing the welts left from the paddle and the belt, squeezing and occasionally pinching her, bringing her down from the high he was creating with his mouth and fingers, pulling her back a little and dragging out the pleasure unbearably, if one could judge from her

moans. He also liked the contrast between the moans he’d elicited with the belt and those he was conjuring now – they weren’t far off. He had taken a bit of a chance, rolling her onto what was obviously going to be a very painful bottom and doing this to her. She might not have gotten into it at all. But he had had a pretty good hunch that she would, and when his fingers slipped up inside her and were drenched by her love juices, he knew he would succeed at bringing her to the ultimate in pleasure. And he had. Twice, despite how sore she was. He would have done exactly the same thing after the cane, but it had left her a little more towards hysterical, and he could understand that. So at first all he did was hold and soothe her, rocking her gently against him and tucking her under the covers of her bed and cradling her in his arms. But the gentle, butterfly kisses eventually turned into more heated ones, and he ended up inside her, and, to his surprise again, even that seemed to enervate her. At first Victor thought that Lily was just arching up to meet him because of the way the sheets rubbed against the angry ridges he’d laid into her, and that was probably part of it at first. But then she’d started to be more aggressive, and was almost riding him to her own completion. Victor almost exploded right then and there when she opened her eyes and stared up at him, grabbing the scruff of his neck and pulling him down to her to lock her lips onto his. On impulse, he rolled and positioned her above him, keeping their intimate contact through the movement with expert skill, until she could ride him to her heart’s content. He had found that this position extended his staying power. Eyes closed dreamily, she had thrown her head back and was completely involved in the movement of her hips. It seemed to startle her when his hands cupped and hefted her breasts, but she slid back into her reverie with a guttural groan as he began to pinch and roll her nipples. They both skyrocketed to completion when he reached

one hand down to tease that straining nub between her legs. Lily’s rhythm had increased and Victor had had a hard time paying attention to what he was doing for her with his middle and index fingers as his mind turned to jelly and they both screamed out their ecstasy at the same time, in one long, pleasurably agonized voice. She snapped out of her daydream about past events and stood up, rubbing her bottom and contemplating more recent events – such as yesterday morning, when she had grumbled – apparently once to often – about him going out with the boys after the rehearsal dinner, the night before their wedding, even if it was only to play poker. She’d known everyone he was going to be with that night since – it seemed – before she was born, and that knowledge didn’t lay any of her concerns to rest in the least. Victor was nearly out the door of her bedroom when she made her thousandth disparaging comment about him going out tonight. He turned and looked at her, trying to see things from her side. She was probably just experiencing the usual bridal jitters and was probably worried about the wedding and whether everything was going to come off the way she wanted it to. He had told her not to spare any expense – that she could have anything she wanted, and of course, his mother had wanted something elaborate and extravagant. But Lily’s tastes were more subdued, and what they had ended up with was smaller and more elegant than anything he’d ever seen. She’d chosen a pale, sherbet orange and pale celery green as her colors. They were accented with the occasional splash of cream or soft, pastel blue. Her bridesmaids were in either sherbet or celery – and she had very carefully chosen dress styles that were complimentary but not the same, and also that the members of the wedding party – who were the same buddies she’d gotten in trouble with on the pub crawl, plus Patty as her maid of honor – would be able to wear the dresses again. They were not typical “bridesmaids” dresses with a lot of poofy stuff and bows. They were classy cocktail dresses that were reasonably priced and wouldn’t just hang in their closets as wasted money. The flowers were roses – her favorite, with lots of baby’s breath, and complimentary colored ribbons. The church was gorgeously decorated, and the reception was being

held at the restaurant that was owned by a friend of Victor’s. It was understatedly done with subtle bouquets and lace tablecloths – everything was very tasteful and incredibly classy. All in all, even with the frazzle of getting a wedding together in what he had considered a reasonable amount of time – which, he had informed both his mother and Lily when they’d formally announced their engagement to the family – was not several years. He wanted them to be married within six months. Three female jaws had dropped instantaneously to the floor, and the flurry of activity that had resulted from that small statement was akin to the maneuvers of the UN in Bosnia, with his mother as Commander-in-Chief. But, typically Lily, she had not let her surrogate mother take over completely. Victor had told her that the only thing he cared about was that she was there on the date of the wedding. He told her he’d wear what he’d referred to as a monkey suit, tie and tails, whatever she wanted. He didn’t want any say in planning the wedding at all – although he told her that he would be quite willing to give his opinion any time she might want to ask it. His only stipulation about the whole she-bang was that the word “obey” was to be left in the ceremony. For her, of course. And, being as old-fashioned Italian as he was, no one in the gathered guests would be at all surprised by it, either. And they weren’t. He – and his groomsmen - wore black tie and tails, but with a vest in a complimentary tapestry pattern that incorporated her colors very nicely, and never gave her one bit of trouble about fittings or it being feminine to wear peach and green . . . He didn’t care. He wanted her, and was doing everything possible to get her, in his bed every evening. He had considered suggesting that they live together beforehand, but he knew that his mother would be scandalized – even in this day and age – especially because it was “her” Lily. That was the majority of his reasoning behind the six month limitation. If they hadn’t planned a wedding – as he’d known they wouldn’t be able to resist doing – he would have kidnapped her off

to Vegas and married her in an Elvis chapel, if he had to. But come hell or high water, they would be married in no longer than six months. All of that work, all of that hurry and hustle and worry, came down to this morning. Mama Scalia had tapped gently at her door with a tray with a steaming cup of highly creamed, highly sweetened coffee and a buttered English muffin. Lily was going to refuse the muffin, pleading nerves, but the older woman gently bullied her into eating it anyway. “You need something on your tummy this morning, my girl. It’s too big a day to face on an empty stomach.” She was right. Later, in the church, when Lily stood looking down the aisle, bouquet in hand, Mama on her side in lieu of a father walking her down the aisle, her heart filled. When she was a lonely, quiet little girl in her father’s house, she’d dreamed of having a big family and lots of people who loved her. When she’d gotten it, along with the threat of discipline her father had never raised, she’d almost avoided it, as if it was too precious for someone like her to have. But now, looking at all of those loving faces, most of all Victor’s, she wanted to cry, and, indeed, she had tears streaming down her face as she got closer and closer to the love of her life. The ceremony was very traditional – and included the “obey” he insisted upon, of course. Several members of the congregation tittered at the use of the word, and Victor smiled at her as she said it. When it came time for them to walk back down the aisle as man and wife, he picked her up in his arms and carried her down the rosepetal strewn aisle, and their guests gave them a standing ovation.

They spent their wedding night at the Plaza in New York City before flying to the Bahamas for their honeymoon. It was in the middle of all that luxury that he stood her in

front of him, away from the end of the bed, to really take a look at her in all of her wedding finery. She looked breathtaking, with that halo of blonde hair loose down her back. Her veil had been a small Juliet circlet cap with tiny flowers and seed pearls around the edge with a filmy lace veil that fell all the way to the floor. The train of her dress was bustled prettily at the small of her back, although the dress itself was exquisitely simple white lace that hugged her bodice then fell gracefully to the tips of her ballet slipper covered toes. She was incredible, and she was all his. She was the first woman he’d ever had that always had been and always would be only for him. He could see the love in her eyes whenever she looked at him. Lily always seemed to look past his gruff exterior – the mobboss-face he wore most of the time and showed to most people – to the real him. He was still dominant with her – that was too ingrained in him to stop. But he was able to be loving with her – in a way that was at least as deep and reverent as the love he had for the rest of the family, but was still incredibly different. He had never felt more able to be himself than he was with her – there was no need for pretense. She wasn’t impressed by his wealth or power, and didn’t expect anything of him but that he love her. And he did, with all his heart. With every cell of his being, and he tried to convey that to her every day, but that day most especially, when she declared publicly that she had chosen him above all other men. He had danced every dance, and smiled until his face hurt. He’d kissed more cheeks and babies than a politician . . . he’d always figured that mobsters and politicos were brothers under the skin. Now he knew it. He’d barely tasted whatever food it was – although he knew it was wonderful from all of the compliments by the guests. But his eyes had been solely for her. He imagined he was the only one who knew why she sat down so gingerly each time, and that, as they danced the first dance together, her bottom was throbbing as the fabric of the dress rustled against it. She’d whispered that last into his ear, and he’d nearly dragged her out of the room to ravish her in the coat closet, promising her hoarsely as he nibbled her ear

none too gently that tonight, he was going to make her scream . . . endlessly . . . With pleasure. And he was better than his word. It seemed they couldn’t get enough of each other. Lily was floating on a cloud of wonder that this man loved her enough to marry her. It was the fulfillment of the dream of the starchy, pinched-faced little girl she still was sometimes inside – the one who didn’t want to trust or love too much, in case it got taken away from her somehow. But he was here, now and forever, in her arms, and she swore in her own heart that she was going to do her level best to let him know that he was loved. Always. Epilogue The fire was lazily casting shadows on the lush, overstuffed couch they’d positioned directly in front of it in their cavernous master bedroom suite. Victor Scalia leaned forward and filled the two glasses with sparkling cider, then handed one to his wife of one year, as of today. “Happy anniversary, Lily-pad.” Her smile lit the room as she cuddled back against him. They were spooning on the enormous couch – it almost rivaled the size of their custom king bed. His big hand landed right where she wanted it – protectively covering the swell of her tummy. “I felt her kick today,” she announced casually, and Victor nearly dumped her in surprise. “Isn’t it too early for that? Is everything okay?” He almost smothered her to death with his constant concern. Lily patted his arm. “It’s fine. The next time I feel it, I’ll let you feel it too.” She had never thought that he would be this involved in the birth of his child, but as soon as he had heard she was pregnant, he made sure he could accompany her on every doctor’s visit and also made room in his calendar for Lamaze classes. He

wanted to be involved in every single aspect of bringing his child into this world. He had been concerned about spanking her, so she was getting a bit of a nine month reprieve, but Lily knew he was keeping a list somewhere – if not just mentally – of all of her transgressions, and that, at some point in the future, she would be paying for all of them . . . like sassing him – which she seemed to like to do lately, and she brazenly blamed on the baby. This kid was helping her get away with some stuff, but it was getting her into trouble in other ways. Victor wanted to wrap her in cotton for the whole nine months. She wanted to conduct business as usual – do all of her normal stuff – she even had the doctor tell him that it was okay for her to do everything she was comfortable doing. Her pregnancy wasn’t showing any signs of a problem whatsoever – its only real side effect, beyond the weight gain he found sexy, was that it had scrambled her brain somewhat and made her more scattered. The doctor had reiterated for Victor’s benefit that there was no need for her to be restricted in any way, as long as she took her vitamins and kept her doctor’s appointments. It was the keeping the doctor’s appointments that had gotten her into trouble. Twice. Victor was still seething about those two missed appointments – especially since he’d been there for them himself and she couldn’t bother to show up. No amount of excuses had helped any. She knew he was inches away from spanking her anyway, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, after the second time, she got a very stern lecture as well as the worst punishment he could think of besides a spanking: he told his mother that she’d missed another appointment and then brought her over to visit and left the two of them alone. He knew his mother would give her what for again, at least as well as he had. She was more excited about her new grandchild than they were, he swore. Lily relaxed, almost asleep in her husband’s strong arms as they squeezed around her. She could not have been happier. She hadn’t been trying to nudge Victor into anything legitimate – she didn’t really feel that was her place, especially since she knew what he was when

she’d married him. She had talked to him about her concerns not long after they were married, and he reassured her that she and any offspring they had would be well taken care of in case anything happened – which had only served to throw her into hysterics. Then he had set about convincing her that he was as careful as a man in his position could be. He wasn’t a young gun any more, and didn’t have to get his hands dirty. Large parts of his business were completely legitimate. But he also stated emphatically that there was no way out. He was what he was – till the day he died, either by natural causes or not. There was no resigning, no quitting, and no time outs. Lily knew all of that, and had already come to terms with it. It helped her to know that he didn’t have to impress a boss – because he was one.

They had been casually trying to get pregnant, in consideration of his mother’s age, but he had been as surprised as everyone else when she announced it at a small family dinner. Surprised and fit to burst with pride. He was still that way. Sometimes when he looked at her, she thought she was just going to melt into a puddle, baby and all. Lying here, now, in their home with family around, she thought her life couldn’t get much more perfect. And she was right.

THE END