Boss (Chianti Kisses #2)

BOSS

Chianti Kisses series

Book two

TARA OAKES

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

First edition. March 31, 2015

Copyright c. 2015 Tara Oakes

Written by Tara Oakes

Published by Twelve Oakes Publishing, inc.

Book Cover: Image by Tatiana Vila, www.viladesign.net

TO MY LAMBCHOP, MY LOVE

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

BABY V, book one in the Chianti Kisses series, has done so much better than I could have ever hoped. It has truly surpassed all expectations. Thank you so very much to all of the readers that have embraced this new series. I’m so grateful to be able to create this little world for all of you to enjoy. I hope book two, BOSS, is everything and more that you’ve all been waiting for. 

As in all of my previous books, there are so many people behind the scenes to thank, so here goes.

To my PA, Alicia. Thanks so much for giving your all day in and day out. We work our butts off, I’m so grateful for every single thing you do.

To my editor, Laura and my new proof reader Karen. Thanks so much for making it work with yet another tight deadline.

To my street team, the Trollops. You gals make me laugh.

And a special mention to a few special ladies. CBB, I’m so glad to have you in my corner. Your graphics are insane, and beautiful at the same time.

Des, Christy, and all the chicas that are there at the drop of a hat to help with anything I need: You guys rock.

Thanks so much to all of the bloggers for your constant support. And most of all… Thanks to each and every one of you readers who take time from your life to give an indie author a try.

Please enjoy
BOSS, Book 2 in the Chianti Kisses series
and don’t forget to post a review on Amazon as well as Goodreads. They help more than you know.

PROLOGUE

The definition of a BOSS:

1.    
   n; A person in charge of a worker or an organization.
   

1.   
   v; To give someone orders in a domineering manner.
   

1.   
   a; A person who makes decisions, exercises authority, dominates, etc.
   

1.   
   v; To be master over; manage; direct; control.
   

CHAPTER ONE

DOM

“Welcome home!” little John calls out to us, feet moving fast, before we’ve even cleared the security gate completely. He’s not so little anymore, though.

V drops her bags at her feet, freeing her burdened arms to catch the little boy mid-leap as they collide. His two sisters with their shorter legs and slower pace decide against joining V and their brother in an overcrowded group hug, and redirect themselves, making a bee-line to my legs.

I feel my eyes widen as the oncoming assault of pigtails and dresses approaches. I don’t have enough time to drop the bags I’m carrying and risk having the girls trip over them, so I clench onto them, close my eyes tight, and brace myself.

“Uncle Dom!” CRASH.

My body bounces and sways from the impact of my tiny nieces.

“Hey, guys! Whoa... easy. I’ve got all of Aunt V’s makeup in my hands.” I lift my arms and the three bags in them to make my case.

V hears my claim, and moves quickly to discredit it, “Oh stop! You know damn well those bags
do not
have my makeup in them.”

“Vincenza!” my new mother-in-law, Aunt Marie, as I’ve always called her, admonishes her youngest child. “The babies are here, no talking like that.”

Her broken, heavily-accented English catches my wife’s attention. V flushes, but appeases her mom.

“Sorry, momma.”

Aunt Marie nods, satisfied. “Come, babies. Let them breathe.”

The three young siblings reluctantly break free of their favorite aunt and uncle to obey their grandmother. I extend my hand over to my gorgeous wife to help her up from her knees, even though random wicked thoughts fly through my mind. This is one of my favorite positions for her. I shake my head to clear the thought quickly before my body starts to react to it and I’ll have a massive erection to hide.

Her large, brown, doe-like eyes dart up first, locking with mine. They dip quickly to the part of my body I’m worried may betray my thoughts. The corner of her mouth crooks minisculely, giving away that she knows exactly what naughty thoughts have overcome me… and that she’s having those same thoughts herself.

“Hey, bro,” V’s oldest brother and father to the gaggle of children that just attempted to topple us over calls out. He takes the biggest of the pieces of carry-on luggage from my arms. “How was the flight?”

V lifts herself up on her toes to kiss her brother’s cheek. “Hey, John. Missed you, too.”

John rolls his eyes at his baby sister, “I was gonna get to you next.”

She squints her eyes and nods, pacifying his reasoning, “That’s OK. We all have our favorites,” she playfully jabs at him. “Speaking of which… Hey, Tony!” she calls over John’s shoulder and abandons us.

I watch her move, her rear end flexing as she walks. The pink shift dress she has on compliments her recently tanned skin and her legs… my mouth starts to salivate as I admire her body. You’d think two weeks of doing nothing but making love to it in between sight-seeing would have been enough. Apparently not.

“Over here, lover boy,”  John attempts to regain my attention.

“Yeah, yeah. Did the Lockhart packet get sent out on time?” I ask him, not as a brother-in -aw, but as his CEO. If he wants to rain on my parade, then I’ll rain on his.

He concedes, “It’ll be out in the morning. I’m just tightening up the claim.”

I squint my eyes and nod sarcastically. It’s not a terribly important packet, but it’s always good to keep him in check.

Tony and V backtrack to join us, arm in arm. They’ve always been the closest of all the Lombardi kids, so much so that Tony and his wife, Cecily, made V the Godmother for their little baby girl, Gia. As Tony’s best friend, I’m the Godfather.

I slap my palm into Tony’s and we grip hard, pulling each other in to back slap. The heavy thuds crack through the air as we try our best to strong-arm the other. Tony’s gone a little soft since his baby was born. I’ve got some bulk on him, so I win. But, he gets ten points for enthusiasm.

“How’s the kid, T?”  I ask about my oddaughter. Even though my new bride and I have been out of the country the past few weeks, we’ve been in constant contact. The baby’s been sick the past few days from what we’ve been able to gather.

Tony takes another of the bags from my arms, leaving me with one lightweight roll-along to cart.

“She’s better. Doc put her on some meds. I actually managed to get some sleep last night. Cecily’s sorry she couldn’t be here.”

I wave off his unnecessary apology. “Don’t sweat it.” 

I look around at our welcoming party. Once we clear the security area, Momma and Nonna can be seen seated in the lounge area. Nonna’s in her early nineties and lately, she’s been starting to show her age. I’m glad she’s resting, but I would have rathered that she stay home where she’s comfortable.

Theresa is near mom, deep in conversation on her cell, but catches my eye and waves. I’m not surprised she’s here. I’m sure she wanted to come anyway, but the fact that we’ve landed in the early morning hours on a Tuesday, smack in the middle of a workday, must have really sealed the deal. My sister will use any excuse to get out of the office.

I bend down to give Nonna a kiss on the cheek.

“Domenico! Happy you are home!”  her frail voice lets out.

I smile warmly at her, “I missed you too much. Couldn’t stay away any longer. I missed your cooking, too.”

That made her day. Her shaky, thin, hand reaches up to touch my cheek. I cover it with my own palm. Her skin is cold, her fingers delicate. Momma stands from her seat next to Nonna and kisses my available cheek.

“You look so happy, so well rested! Now where’s my daughter-in-law?” she takes stock of her first born.

“Thanks, momma. She's right behind me.” I turn to point to my wife making her way toward us, surrounded by the kids.

My mom’s eyes light up, looking past me. She holds her arms open wide and leaves me in her dust.

“Vincenza!”

V folds into momma’s arms and the two rock back and forth as Nonna and I look on. Nonna winks her eye at me. “Beautiful bride.”

I nod in agreement. “Yes, she is.”

~*~

We leave the girls behind to catch up as the men make our way to the baggage claim. I don’t get to do this that often, as I usually take the company jet whenever I travel for business. But V lost her mind when she heard I was going to book the jet for our honeymoon. She refused to step onboard unless it was actually for a business trip, so Ellen, my secretary, had to scramble around to book us airfare just a few days before we left.

John rents one of the rolling luggage carts from the gated dispenser and meets Tony and me at the conveyor belt.

“Are we missing a certain able-bodied pair of arms to help lug baggage?” I ask, looking around for V’s third, and last, older brother.

Tony chins over to a coffee stand nearby, “He’s trying to get that flight attendant’s number.”

I shake my head at the last bachelor in action. I bend my tongue to my lips and whistle loudly across the carpeted room. Mikey’s pulling out all the stops, trying to get the pretty blonde to give up her digits. He hears my piercing call through the crowd and waves in our direction, signaling that he’ll need another minute. Yeah, the kid’s gonna need more than a minute. The leggy model-looking woman is more interested in her cup of coffee than him. But God bless his heart, he’s not a quitter.

The conveyor belt hums to life as the onlookers gather closer to spot luggage. As first-class passengers, our luggage is one of the first to come by and is piled high on the rolling cart easily enough. We hadn’t left with as much as we’d returned with. V couldn’t stop shopping for gifts and souvenirs for everyone. I needed to buy two new suitcases just for all of that.

Mike finally joins us, just when his services would no longer be needed.

“Got it!” He waves his cell phone in victory.

Tony, John, and I eye each other warily.

“Let me see that,” Tony plucks the phone from his younger brother’s clutches, and quickly hits the send button to call the last entered number. He makes sure to hit the speaker icon so that we can all get in on the action.

It answers on the third ring, “Dr. Wexler’s office. Arlene speaking, how may I help you?”

With a smug look, Tony ends the call and hands the cell phone back to his humiliated brother.

“Yeah, you got it. Now push the damn cart, Casanova.”

~*~

The pile of luggage and shopping bags creates a mound of leather in the entryway. It’s daunting, and one thing I think I’ll leave up to the new lady of the house.

The staff has set out a spread of coffee and sandwiches for our return, and the table is surrounded by Lombardis and DiBenedettos. The scales may have tipped, with the Lombardis losing one and the DiBenedettos gaining her, but it’s still the same crowd.

I grab a pre-made chicken salad on wheat from the platter and make a quiet exit to my office to deal with the ever-growing cache of email growing in my inbox. V is centered in their tight-knit circle, recounting the PG-13 details of our trip. That won’t be easy… it’ll require heavy editing on her part.

My office is just how I’d left it. Other than the two conference calls and trying to keep up with email, I’d made a promise to V to put business on the back-burner. Now that we’re officially back, I have to make up for lost time. Even if that means tearing myself from her arms and those luscious lips of hers. And it means I won’t get to listen to her try to make our visit to the L’ Ultima Cena in Milan sound, um… respectable, when in fact it was anything but.

I sit in my well-worn chair fumbling with the papers in my hand, but I can’t concentrate on them. I keep seeing her spread out in front of me on the steps of the spiral staircases of the Palazzo Contarini del Bovolo in Venice, taking everything I give her as I pound deeper to satisfy her begging.

I shift in my seat to release some of the tension building, as I remember my hand discovering that she left her underwear back in the hotel room on our guided tour of the Pantheon in Rome.

Crap.

This isn’t going to work.

I need to find a way to distract myself from her, from thoughts about her and memories of her, or I’ll never get anything done. It was bad enough when we were just dating or engaged, but now that we’re married and she’s officially mine… it’s proving more than difficult to not think of all the different ways I can make every inch of her body scream for me.

A small cream-colored envelope on the pile of unopened mail catches my eye. No stamp. Hmmm... I take the sharp metal letter opener from my narrow top drawer and begin to work on the linen fibered paper, simply addressed to
Domenico
.

The lone slip of paper enclosed within is folded, creased down the middle, with typewritten lettering centered. I look closer, touching the letters. Yup, they were made by a typewriter. Who the hell owns a typewriter anymore?

The letters are cryptic, spelling out a web address. That’s it, nothing more. A tight knot winds itself inside me. My better judgment tells me not to go further with this, but the intuition that has gotten me this far in business tells me I must.

Powering up my laptop takes seconds, and the mysterious address is carefully typed in. The page is black, save for an enter button. My finger hovers over the keyboard, second guessing itself. I feel my jaw twitch, a deep heat building. I have a growing suspicion that I know what’s in store if I hit that button, and the scenario is not a positive one.

I snake my hand back from the keyboard and dial my cell phone instead, sitting back against the plush, worn leather of my chair back to stare at the rectangular screen in front of me with its threatening “enter” command.

The call is answered before the first ring is complete. Damn right it is. I pay this man six figures a year to answer at any time of day or night. He hasn’t disappointed yet.

“Hey, boss. Welcome back. What can I do for you?”

I multitask, clicking on the laptop while talking “I’m sending you a link. I want to know who it’s registered to, and everything you can find out about it. I didn't open it. I want to know who it’s from first. You leave no stone unturned.”

I can hear his fingers working on his own keyboard from his end. “Got it. I’ll start on it right now.”

I nod to myself, “Good. Send me what you have, no matter the time.”

Once the call is ended, I turn my attention back to the thick paper set down next its matching envelope. I inspect it once more, before using the intercom to call down to the guardhouse.

“Jim here,” the head guard calls into the speaker.

“Jim, this is Mr. D,” I inform the long time guard of who he’s speaking to. “I have a delivered envelope in my hand with no postage. Did we have any couriered deliveries to the house while I was gone?”

I hear papers rustling on his end. ”Uh, let me see, here. Just a couple of packages from FedEx, signed for here at the gate. Wedding gifts, I think?”