Vegas Pete - A Mafia Romance 2 (Completed)

Chapter 5: Part 1

We didn't mention the Sylvester party incident again and a few days later, we had to leave for Chiang Mai to attend Dante's wedding. My cousin Nat looked absolutely stunning in his wedding suit. The wedding wasn't a big affair like ours had been, but still, close to two hundred people attended from the Outfit and the Famiglia. I smiled as I watched Dante and Nat during their first dance. The ballroom of the hotel had been decorated with pink and blush roses, and the atmosphere was almost relaxed. Vegas squeezed my hip. "You didn't look this happy during our wedding dance." I laughed. "I was terrified of you." Nat didn't look like he was scared of Dante, but he was older than me by five years and had been married before. I supposed the consummation of his marriage didn't hold the same terror for him. When the dance floor was opened for the guests, Vegas pulled me into his arms and led me along to the music. It still surprised me how well he could dance despite his height. I beamed up at him and his thumb stroked my back, the only public display of affection he would probably allow himself. He was still cautious but I didn't mind, because he never held back with affection when we were alone and that was all that mattered. As was expected, I had to dance with Dante and Vegas with Nat. I'd danced with Dante before and barely tensed when he took my hand, but when he pulled me against him and touched his palm to my back, I shivered from the too familiar gesture. Vegas kept throwing possessive looks my way as he danced with Nat. While Nat had looked perfectly fine with Dante, he appeared absolutely tense in Vegas's hold. "Nat looked happier dancing with you," I said with a smile. Dante's fingers against my back tightened and his expression darkened. Possessive and dominant, not so different from Vegas, when it came down to it.

Macau took over from Vegas and Dante released me. I declined a dance from an Outfit soldier with a quick excuse, not wanting to test Vegas's patience and needing something to drink and a break from the possessive dominance surrounding me, but then Nat laughed loudly at something Macau had said. They were dancing closer than was appropriate. Vegas narrowed his eyes at his brother, but he wasn't the one I was worried about. Dante had a look in his eyes I knew from Vegas. Ignoring my thirst, I hurried to the dance floor and stopped beside Macau and Nat. "Why don't you dance with me now, Macau?" Nat's eyes moved from me to his husband and realization filled his face. He stepped back from Macau, who sent him a grin before he gripped my hand and jerked me against him. I gasped from the impact against his muscled chest. My indignant look only made him grin wider, and he pressed his palm without hesitation against my back. He and Tay would kill each other, that was a given. For Macau everything was a game—he thrived on provocation and chaos. With anyone but him I would have worried about Vegas's reaction but since this was Macau, I relaxed in his tight embrace and let him twirl us around the dance floor. Tay stood off to the side, a scowl on his face when Macau winked at him in passing. I dug my nails into his shoulder, bringing his attention back tome. "Don't hurt him." It came out sharper than intended, almost an order. Macau's face became guarded. "Or what?" I squeezed his hand and softened my tone. "Or you will never win him over. He might act all strong, but he has grown up as sheltered as me. Please treat him with kindness." This was Vegas's brother and I was well aware that kindness wasn't his forte, but if Vegas could be kind to me then I had to hope Macau could do the same with Tay. "I have no intention of hurting Tay unless he's into that kind of kinky shit." I rolled my eyes at him but when he looked at Tay again, I could tell that his gaze held a flicker of warmth. Tay's didn't. He looked like he would rather chop his hands off than marry him. It worried me. 

***

I rolled over and reached for Pete but touched an empty bedsheet. My eyes flew open and I sat up, looking toward the clock on the nightstand. It was only six thirty in the morning on a Sunday and we'd returned late from Chiang Mai. Where was he? Why wasn't he still asleep? That I hadn't even noticed him getting out of bed showed how deep my sleep was beside him. Fuck. I swung my legs out of bed, staggered to my feet and reached for my Beretta and stuffed it into my sweatpants. When I stepped onto the first floor landing, the sound of Pete's humming reached my ears. I went down the stairs and found Pete in our open kitchen, barefoot and dressed in his night wear. The counters and the floor were covered with white powder and so was Pete. It smelled distinctly burned. "What's going on?" Pete cried out and whirled around with a hand over his heart, his eyes wide. The tip of his nose and cheekbones were covered in white too, and my lips turned up at the sight. A smile broke on his face. "I baked a cake for you." He moved toward me. "Happy birthday, my love." Fuck, it was my birthday. I'd forgotten. I didn't really celebrate that day. Pete stood on his tiptoes and I bent down, molding our lips together. I tasted flour on his lips—so that was the white powder. I pulled back, letting my eyes assess the mess. "I don't want to sound cruel, but past experiences proved that you being in the kitchen isn't a good idea." He pursed his lips. "I practiced with Marianna when you weren't around." "You practiced?" "I wanted your birthday cake to be perfect," he said softly. I stared then raised my fingertips and brushed the flour off his cheeks. The spot on his nose would have to stay. He looked too fucking gorgeous for words. He stepped back, took mittens and opened the oven. The cake that he pulled out didn't look half bad, even though it was on the dark side. "It's a chocolate cake with cream-cheese filling," he said as he set it down on the counter. He grabbed a knife and cut off two pieces, put them on a plate before he set them down in front of me. He pressed up beside me.