Run Posy Run (Underboss Insurrection, #1)

by Cate C. Wells

I fell in love with a fantasy. My heart aches. I thought I was done mourning, but his presence brings it back.

It’s unfair that you can grieve a person who never existed, the loss of a love you made up in your head. ...

“What would it take? To stop you from running again?”

His hand moves to grip my hair, and he forces my head back so he can stare down into my face. His eyes glint. “If you run again, when I catch you, I’ll hurt you. Worse than this.” My scalp aches, and my eyes water. “I won’t run,” I gasp. His lip curls. “You’re lying. Don’t run again, Posy. I don’t want to hurt you.”

I had to wait for my openings. And I was okay with that. Why? Because when I had his attention, I had all of it. And he was fascinated by me.

It might hurt a little still, but he did me a favor when he kicked me out. He tore off my blinders. I wasn’t in love. I was deluded. I didn’t really lose anything at all.

I bet it would drive Dario crazy to lose me twice. He’s clearly knocked off kilter. I should be scared. It sure as hell shouldn’t feel even the slightest bit good that I’ve pushed a monster over the edge. Me. The girl everyone could resist. I can make Dario Volpe crazy.

Dario’s letting me leave the house? So soon? My heart kicks up a notch. He thinks he’s got me back in line. I suppose he’s right. I’m not going anywhere today. Not with Renelli looming.

When I make a break for it, I’m going to have as many ducks in a row as I can.

My spine tingles. Either Dario reorganized my clothes for shits and giggles, or he really was done with me, and then he wasn’t. What changed his mind?

“Turn the heat up,” Dario orders, his gaze never leaving his phone. “She’s cold.” This is new. He doesn’t notice, well, anything to do with my comfort.

Dario answers. This is new, too. Usually if I have a question, Ray’s the guy. Dario uses transit time to work.

“That bothers you?” He’s gentled his grip on my chin, but he hasn’t let go. I shrug. I hadn’t intended to complain. I was only being argumentative. “I guess not. I don’t care what you do.” “You wanted to talk about something?” “No.” His eyes narrow like they do when we’re playing a game, and he’s trying to figure out the method to my madness. “You want me to talk to you?” He’s not dropping it, and I don’t know what to say.

“Before, you talked. All the time.” He says it like an accusation—like how dare I change the rules now. He’s right. I was very good at filling the silences with chatter.

“Maybe I had more to say then,” I toss out. Dario leans closer to me. His sharp, clean scent teases my nose. “I like listening to you,” he says, his voice cast low.

For some reason, he’s abandoned his “take what he wants, when he wants” strategy. He seems to want my cooperation. Maybe I can work this to my advantage. “You want me to show you my pussy?” I whisper back. His eyes spark with fire. “Gentlemen. Out of the car,” he barks, his gaze not leaving mine.

Still, he sucks in a breath. Yes. I like that. “More,” he demands. I swallow.

Dario’s breath turns jagged and rough. He’s being so gentle, so tentative. He’s never like this.

“Is Sal the new guy?” “You don’t need to give a fuck who Sal is,” he growls. “Take your panties off.”

A little spasm causes flutters deep inside me. He’s being a dick, but I don’t care. I want this. I want to be the center of his world.

I’m teetering on the edge. I want to plunge over, I need to, but I can’t. I’m stuck. I’m whining now. The sound fills the car. “What’s wrong, Posy?” he asks. “What do you need?” I don’t know. My gaze flies to his, and he’s so calm and cool and in control. I’m a mess.

“I’m going to cum all over your pretty pussy. And you’re not gonna touch it. You’re gonna wear my cum tonight because you belong to me, don’t you Posy? This pussy is mine. You’re mine.” His grip on himself is harsh, his strokes almost painful to watch.

My stomach drops—they’ve all seen the video. I knew that, but with everything that’s happened, it wasn’t at the top of my mind. It sure as shit is at the top of everyone else’s.

The whole table takes Renelli’s lead and pretends I’m invisible. That might be better than the alternative, the laughter. How could Dario bring me here? My face flames.

Whoever has Dario controls the money. Money is power. And Dominic Renelli is getting old. I can almost see it. The outline is there, but I can’t quite make it out. Whatever the game is and whoever is playing, they think I’m a key piece.

Only Lucca Corso is relaxed in his chair. He’s watching Dario, a sardonic smile playing at his lips.

“If you have that video on your phone, delete it. If you feel the urge to bring it up, don’t.” His voice is unaffected, matter-of-fact. He glances over at me. His hand is still heavy on my thigh. “If anyone mentions that shit in your hearing, Posy, you tell me.” What’s happening?

“You heard the man,” Renelli says. “Get rid of it.” Hands dig into pockets and purses. Fingers fly. My stomach lurches. That video was on literally everyone’s phone.

“Why did you send me to the bathroom?” “You were upset. It distracted me. I needed to focus.” He nudges my plate. “Eat. You haven’t had anything.”

I always thought falling for the wrong man would be my downfall—like it was for my mom. Maybe it’s worse if the wrong man falls for you.

Instead, during the ride home, he alternates between staring out the window and staring at me.

No one has ever wanted me before. My dad was disappointed I wasn’t a boy. I was useless to him.

“I bought you a ring.” I sit back up. I didn’t expect him to admit it. “You did?” “I was going to propose.” “You wanted to get married?” Obviously, but it’s just so hard to believe.

“There’s nothing stopping you.” He slides me a glance. His muscles have tensed. “Only common sense and self-preservation.” “You would have said yes before. Nothing’s changed.” “Everything has changed.”

“What does money have to do with it?” “It’s why you’re with me, isn’t it?” His voice is matter-of-fact. Completely unoffended. I’d slap him if I weren’t so gob smacked by the turn of the entire conversation. “No. I wasn’t with you for your money. I told you when I moved in that I wanted to keep my job.”