Now Or Never (Erotic Romance) Book 2 (The DeLuca Brothers) Read online

  Now or Never

  DeLuca Brothers Book 2 - Anthony

  by Lucinda DuBois

  www.LucindaDuBois.com

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Lucinda DuBois

  Copyright © 2013

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

  This book is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Other Books by Lucinda DuBois

  Chapter 1

  Everyone in the city knew that there were two very separate DeLuca families even though they were connected by blood. One was a family of five boys, four of whom had followed in their parents’ honest, hard-working footsteps. The eldest, Frank, was a multi-millionaire businessman. Vincent was an FBI agent, as clean as they came and on the path to big things. The next to youngest was Sergio, pediatrician and known ladies’ man. The youngest, known to everyone but Mrs. DeLuca as Sal, hadn’t yet decided what he wanted to do with his life, but he was such a sweet kid that no one doubted he would do something as equally productive as his older brothers. At least, three of his four brothers.

  Thirty-three year-old Anthony DeLuca was the odd one out, the black sheep of the family. He was the second oldest of Maria and Angelo’s children, and the only one of them who was involved with the other DeLuca family. The one that consisted of his father’s siblings.

  Angelo DeLuca had broken away from the rest of his family when he’d met and married the deeply religious Maria Russo. He’d remained friendly with his brothers, Marco and Ciro, as well as his sister, Silvia, but he’d always made it very clear that his children were off-limits for the family business. When Angelo died, however, everything changed.

  By thirteen, Anthony had chafed under his big brother’s fathering attempts for five years and had grown tired of it. Against the wishes of everyone in his life, one afternoon, he’d snuck out of the house and headed down to Rizzo’s. There were two bars in the city that the DeLucas frequented. Delancy’s was where Angelo had worked on occasion and where his boys had gone for solace after his death. Rizzo’s, however, was the hub of business for the other part of the family.

  It was to this other side of the family that Anthony had gone when he finally decided that he’d had enough. At such a young age, he’d known that he never should have been able to get inside, but one look at him and no one had said a word. It hadn’t really been much of a surprise to him. Even though he’d seen that side of the family very infrequently over the past thirteen years, he’d known that they would recognize him. Even as a teenager, he’d had rugged good looks – thick jet-black hair and rich brown eyes – the kind of looks that would only improve from adolescence to adulthood. He’d been the spitting image of his father.

  Anthony’s decision had changed everything. Frank had tried to keep Anthony away from Rizzo’s, but it had quickly become clear that the only people Anthony would listen to were his uncles. By the time Anthony had graduated from high school, it had been evident to all that he would become a member of the ‘other’ DeLuca family, the one that ran most of the lower east side. There was little in the city that didn’t have a DeLuca or two involved, and that included some of the neighboring families into which various DeLuca cousins had married. Angelo had once joked to Maria that the DeLucas were as good as an old-school monarchy when it came to making peace through marriages.

  As the oldest, Marco was the head of the family, and he had a gift for putting each member into the job that was the perfect fit for them. He was the tough one who made the hard decisions, the general public face. Ciro was the businessman. With an MBA, he handled the intricacies of each little enterprise. Silvia, the baby of the family, was the family’s lawyer. With expertise in both business and criminal law, she was the one to call if there was ever any trouble. Though different in so many ways, Anthony could see a strength in his aunt that was similar to his own mother’s.

  After Anthony had expressed an interest in joining up, Marco paired his nephew with his own son, Little Marco, and the two ran errands after school. After graduation, both boys moved up to be the family enforcers. Bigger than his cousin by a couple of inches and at least forty pounds of muscle, Anthony rarely had to do much besides stand behind Little Marco and look tough. Unlike his cousin, Anthony didn’t carry a weapon and only used his fists when necessary. He may have looked like a brute, but he had a respect for diplomacy. As he grew older, he realized that it was this quality that had caused his uncle to pair him with Little Marco. They balanced each other well.

  With his cousins, Anthony found an acceptance that he felt he never got from his own siblings. He was particularly close to his three oldest cousins, Little Marco, Gio and Lucia. The four were inseparable and Anthony had often wished that they had been his siblings rather than his brothers. He loved his brothers, but had always felt like the odd one out, as if they were always judging him. Frank had assumed the role of the man of the house after their father had died and the younger three had never balked at his authority. Only Anthony had questioned and rebelled. When Vincent had announced his intentions to join the FBI, Anthony had known that things would only get worse. Frank had kept out of his business for years. Sergio and Sal may not have approved of Anthony’s choices, but they kept their opinions to themselves. Vincent had no such restraint. He made no bones about the fact that Anthony was a criminal. By the time Frank had moved to the West Coast, Vincent had announced that he could no longer spend time with the family if Anthony was around. In the years that followed, they’d established their own boundaries, ensuring that they’d never be put in a position to have to choose their work or their brother. Unfortunately, that meant that neither man spent as much time with their mother or younger brothers as they would have liked. They didn’t ask the family to take sides, though Anthony sometimes wondered what would happen if they did.

  Recent events had just proven to Anthony that Vincent wasn’t about to change. For the first time in a decade, Frank had come home. Instead of setting aside their differences and joining the rest of the family at the house a few days ago, Vincent had met with Frank at Delancy’s while Anthony had gone home. That had been one of those times when Anthony wanted to ask Vincent who the real bad guy was, the one who might have bent some rules or the one who kept his mother from having all of her kids together at the same time. Unfortunately, Anthony knew that all the question would accomplish would be pissing his brother off even more, so he kept his mouth shut.

  One of the things that Anthony and Vincent had worked out over the years was visiting Delancy’s. The old timer’s at the bar had been such a huge part of their life growing up that it had become the natural meeting place, usually for the younger two boys and one of their bickering brothers. Anthony and Vincent had an unspoken understanding about when the other one would be around and rarely ran into each other. For Vincent, Anthony supposed it was a way to keep in touch with the neighborhood without risking his precious reputation. For himself, it was a place to relax without ha
ving to worry about any of the business of the day.

  “Mr. Davis, can I get another beer down here?” Anthony asked from where he sat at the end of the bar.

  “Of course, Anthony.” The old man shuffled off to get the brand Anthony preferred.

  That was another reason Anthony liked to come here to unwind. In Rizzo’s, he was an enforcer, a member of the family no one wanted to cross. Here, Clyde Davis was genuinely glad to see him and never behaved as if he were only being polite because he was scared. One of the things that Anthony regretted about his joining the family was that it was sometimes difficult to know if people liked him for who he was or just pretended to like him because they were afraid.

  He unfolded his paper and laid it flat on the table counter. He’d missed the game last night and had been looking forward to reading about it all day. He’d never been a big reader, but he did like his sports section. He was so caught up in the column that he didn’t realize that there was someone sitting next to him until he heard her speak.

  “What was the score last night?”

  Anthony glanced up, intending to just answer the question with a polite smile. Instead, he froze. The young woman sitting next to him was in her late twenties and absolutely gorgeous.

  Her hair was long, cascading over her shoulders in waves the color of butterscotch. Her eyes were a smoldering smoky gray, lined with just enough eyeliner to enhance them. Her skin was flawless, creamy and smooth. He couldn’t look away. When her lips, full and luscious, started to move, he couldn’t help but wonder what they would feel like against his mouth, his chest… his cock. He felt a rush of blood go straight south.

  Then her eyes started to sparkle, the corners of her mouth twitched upwards, and he realized that she was trying to talk to him.

  “I’m sorry.” Anthony’s voice was gruff and that caused him to blush as much as his embarrassment over staring. That alone was almost enough to shock him. He didn’t get embarrassed, and he sure as hell didn’t blush.

  “I was just asking about last night’s game.” The woman seemed mildly amused by his reaction.

  “Oh, right.” Anthony felt stupid. He’d heard the question before. “Yankees won, four to two.”

  She scowled. “Dammit.”

  Anthony’s eyebrows shot up. “Don’t tell me that you were rooting for the Indians?”

  “Sorry.” She grinned. “Cleveland girl, born and raised. I may have just moved to the city, but my loyalty’s gotta go with my hometown.”

  “So you’re new in the city?” Anthony set aside his paper as Clyde made his way over to them. He had to remind himself to be cautious. As much as the idea of picking this girl up appealed to him, he knew he had to be careful about who he took home.

  She nodded, then turned her attention to the bartender. “I’ll have whatever’s best on tap.”

  “Put it on my tab, Mr. Davis.” Anthony still couldn’t take his eyes off of her. It was going to be hard to ignore the physical attraction if she wasn’t who she seemed.

  “That’s not necessary, Mr…?”

  “Anthony. Anthony DeLuca.” He studied her for any sign of recognition at his name. If she really was from Ohio, she probably wouldn’t know who he was. If she was undercover, trying to get something on him or the family, however, she wouldn’t be able to stop that little flicker. It didn’t happen often, but every once in a while, some rookie would get the bright idea to try to seduce one of the DeLucas into telling their secrets. It never worked but it also never ended well either. Anthony knew of at least two kids his youngest cousin, Leo, had fathered before he met his fiancée Lillian.

  The smile the stranger gave him was one hundred percent genuine, however, without a hint of recognition. “I’m Cecile MacDouglas, and it’s still not necessary. I can pay for my own drinks.”

  “A woman who passes up a free drink, you are a rare breed.” Anthony relaxed. Or, at least, relaxed on the business side. Now that he was pretty sure she wasn’t trying to play him, he was even more drawn to her.

  Cecile took a swig from her beer and turned on the barstool to face Anthony. “Maybe it wasn’t the drink, just the person offering to pay for it.” She winked at him and crossed her legs. “You seem like the type of man who doesn’t get told ‘no’ very often.”

  Anthony took his time running his gaze over her, taking in what he hadn’t been able to see before. Cecile was about average height, which still put her a good seven or eight inches shorter than him, but her body was anything but ordinary. She was plainly dressed, but her body had curves that made him desperate to see what lay underneath those worn jeans and the dark gray, long-sleeved shirt. He’d never understood men who liked women who starved themselves. He very much preferred the healthy ones who let their bodies be what they were meant to be. Cecile looked like one of those. She also looked like she could probably kick someone’s ass if she wanted to and that just turned him on even more.

  She took another drink of her beer, seemingly unperturbed by his intense perusal. “I would tell you to take a picture because it lasts longer, but I’m not sure I approve of the things you’d do with it.”

  Anthony raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you Mid-Western girls supposed to be all shy and backwards?”

  Cecile grinned. “Yeah, television and movies don’t really do a good job of portraying people from my part of the country.”

  “Does that mean I can’t ask if you want me to show you around the city?”

  “Oh, you can ask. Doesn’t mean I’ll say yes.”

  Anthony leaned forward, all thoughts of his newspaper and beer forgotten. He could almost feel the energy buzzing between he and Cecile. He’d had his fair share of hook-ups, some sober and some not so much, but there was something more than physical here. “There has to be something I can do to convince you to go out with me.”

  Cecile slid off of the barstool and walked over to the dart board. Anthony’s dropped to her ass for a moment before flicking back up. When she turned around, he could tell by the expression on her face that she knew what he’d been doing. She held out the darts.

  “If you can beat me at darts, I’ll go out with you.”

  Anthony stood, a smile on his face. She had no idea what she’d just gotten into. He’d spent hours playing as a kid and teenager. “I’ll take that bet.”

  “But what do I get if I win?” Cecile looked up at him as he took the darts from her hand.

  His fingers brushed over her palm, sending little tingles of electricity racing across his nerves. He took an unnecessary step towards her. “I think you can think of something fun.”

  This time, it was Cecile’s gaze that went from head to feet and back again. When her eyes locked with his, the heat in them made him swallow hard. He’d never been looked at like that before, not by anyone.

  “I think you’re right.” She motioned towards the board and took a step back. “Go for it.”

  The first went a little wide, partially because Anthony was thinking about what it would be like to have those eyes looking up at him in the dark. He frowned and forced himself to focus. The second one landed just outside of the bull’s eye and the third hit directly.

  “Not bad.” Cecile set her beer down on the bar and went to retrieve the darts.

  The moment she set up her stance, Anthony knew he was in trouble. She didn’t stand like most women did when they played darts, even the ones who spent a lot of time at the bar. She knew what she was doing. Her first bull’s eye confirmed his suspicions. The second just barely missed the center.

  “Last one,” he said.

  Cecile turned towards him, tilting her head to one side as if considering something. Then, very deliberately, she walked over to the bar and dropped the remaining dart into Anthony’s empty glass. “Oops. Looks like you win.” She grinned. “And it’s too bad. I was thinking of some very fun things you could do if you lost.”

  Anthony shifted as his jeans tightened. He definitely liked this woman. “Are you free tomorrow evening
?”

  “I am,” Cecile said. “I’ll meet you here at six.”

  Before Anthony could respond with anything other than a nod, Cecile was walking away.

  Chapter 2

  Twenty-nine year-old Cecile had spotted him the minute she’d walked into the bar, her eyes drawn to him in a way she couldn’t describe. She’d stood there for a minute, just letting her eyes run over the lines of his broad shoulders and back, down to his waist and then back up again. Then she’d been walking over and sitting down on the stool next to him.

  When he’d missed her question because he’d been too busy staring at her, she’d thought it was cute. When he’d blushed, heat had sparked in her belly. She’d always been attracted to guys like him, rugged faces that could never be considered pretty, but were rather handsome instead. When her friends had been going on about guys with delicate features and lean bodies, she’d always been partial to the muscular builds of football players wrestlers. Then there was that intelligence that she was sure most people dismissed because of his appearance. And there was definitely something behind those dark eyes. Anthony DeLuca was so her type.

  She’d seen on his face that he’d enjoyed the dance as much as she did, making the decision to draw things out all the more difficult. She’d considered winning and taking him home with her for all sorts of fun, but common sense won out. She was a good judge of character, but even she wouldn’t consider thirty minutes enough time to know if she trusted someone enough to fuck them. First date, maybe, first meeting, not so much.

  As she hailed a cab, she wondered what type of date Anthony would have planned for the two of them, but by the time she reached her apartment building, her thoughts had taken a bit of a turn. Even as she climbed the stairs, she couldn’t help but think about what she would have done if she’d won. She’d always been an outside-the-box thinker. It was one of the things that made her so good at her job. It also made her sex life quite interesting.