Even though he was eating the food Jax’s chef made and drinking the wine Jax’s personal winemaker had brought in from some fancy vineyard that Jax owned, Sonny’s mood was good.
After the month long trial that nearly saw him shipped off to Pentonville on murder charges, new evidence had come to light, the charges had been dismissed and he was back on easy street. The last few days he’d spent cooking in his kitchen, catching up on the legitimate side of his business life and keeping his volatile wife out of trouble.
The first two he could do in his sleep, the last one required infinite patience. She’d faithfully sat in the front row of the courtroom during his trial, donning conservative power suits and looking appropriately like the wife of a wrongly accused man. He didn’t know if the show of tears and warm supportive hugs had done any good, but he’d appreciated her unwavering support. The first night home, Carly had wanted to celebrate. She’d wanted to throw a big party, if only to show up the town that hissed at him behind his back. He’d wanted none of it and so Carly, disappointed, had declared to all staff that Mr. and Mrs. Corinthos would be spending a quiet evening together, happy to have their family unit back under the same roof.
He’d cooked for them both, a lovely shrimp linguine with pesto, and fresh bread he’d insisted on baking himself. Everything had been done from scratch and painstakingly watched over by his careful eyes. It had been delicious, and after a classic film, they’d retired for the evening.
Sex had never been a problem for Sonny; he could do his best tricks in his sleep. He and Carly were good together and had a rhythm and a mutual hunger that worked well. They were good when they were happy, but even better when they were pissed at each other. That night, they didn’t connect either way, Sonny went through the motions and Carly knew it although neither gave voice to it. Afterwards, he rolled out of bed, restless and frustrated, donned a pair of loose fitting black pyjama bottoms and padded down the stairs. He made his way to the French doors leading out to the back garden and pulled them open, welcoming the cool night air as it washed over him. He stepped out, the pads of his feet protesting the harsh chill, but he ignored it, tilting his head up to look at the stars he’d been missing every night while in lock-up.
The silence of the night calmed him and as he gazed up at the dim winks in the sky, a face came to mind, almost like a thunderbolt.
ADA Dara Jensen.
The woman who’d spent the last six months building the murder case that was suppose to finally imprison mob king pin Sonny Corinthos. The woman who’d given him nothing but hard stares on the rare occasions their eyes met. The woman who’d come to his attorney when the DNA evidence and eye witness testimony proved not only false, but tampered. There had been rumblings after the upset that the DA would replace her with someone else, that she would be taking the fall for the failure to convict. He remembered her passionate argument when the judge had been incredulous at her presenting the new evidence that would no doubt end the trial.
“I cannot and will not suborn false evidence,” she’d declared in the judge’s chambers. She’d been crestfallen, but held her chin high, without a trace of shame or embarrassment at the travesty of not being able to imprison one of New York’s most well known mobsters.
She was beautiful, elegant and refined with a ferocious intelligence that Sonny normally steered away from in the women he pursued. As he thought back, more memories of the woman flooded his mind, from the way she walked, to the purposeful manner she spoke and connected with the jury. The way she would issue a well timed smile and the warmth it radiated or the way she wore her suits and the hint of curves that he would catch from time to time. Her long, shapely fingers as they held a pen as she scribbled on a notepad or as she pointed out a fact she wanted the jury to pay close attention. The gentle waft of perfume that he’d smell on the rare occasion and how much it relaxed his wiry nerves, he could almost smell it now.
He blinked from his reverie to find his body had responded to his thoughts in a way he hadn’t anticipated. The tenting in his pyjamas and the fact that his body was now warm had almost horrified him. Dara Jensen had nearly sent him up the river for the rest of his life! What was wrong with him?
And yet, with shame, his hand slid beneath the waistband and began to stroke his member and thoughts of Dara returned once more. He gave his head a quick shake and yanked his hand from his pyjamas. He came back inside the home, shutting the doors firmly behind him. He needed release, and he needed to quash the desires swirling in his veins for a woman he should rightly despise. He shed the pyjamas upon entering the bedroom and gently woke Carly from her slumber. That night, he vainly tried to push Dara from his mind as he pulled Carly closer. He’d had nearly nightly dreams about Dara since then, dreams that had grown more intense than the last. Each night he ravaged Carly, trying desperately to get back to the man he knew, the man who was happy with Carly and wanting nothing more than to be with her. It was as if each dream was pushing he and Carly further apart, hammering the wedge deeper in the chasm between them. They fought relentlessly, bringing up old betrayals and wounds that had never fully healed. To cool down, Carly would storm from the house, purse and driver in hand. These days, retail therapy was the only thing that dampened her tantrums. Sonny was the one left alone in an empty house, wondering just who he was becoming.
Being unfaithful to Carly was not something he was proud of in the past. Fidelity had not been a high priority for either of them, but what he was feeling now was different. He didn’t just want to sweat between the sheets with a pretty face and a nice ass for a couple of nights here and there, only to return to his marital home.
This was different, this was an all consuming feeling he couldn’t fight off. He wanted to leave her. To let Carly go and go after this need that was demanding his attention, that was calling to him.
Giving his head a shake, Sonny rose from his seat and glanced around the busy charity gala Carly had dragged him to that night. They’d argued in the limousine on the way over and after smiling for the cameras, she’d gone off in a huff and in the 45 minutes they’d been there, he still hadn’t seen her, or more importantly, heard her penetrating voice carry across the ballroom.
Grabbing a glass of wine, he headed for the doors to his immediate left, knowing they’d take him onto the outdoor alcove and away from the bustle of the party inside. He gave the wine a sip and as he’d done every night now, gazed up at the stars.
To his right, came a not so subtle cough. Sonny turned just as Dara Jensen stepped from the shadows. As if on cue, his guard quietly shut the double doors, effectively silencing the party to a dull murmur. Sonny nearly dropped his glass as he stared at the vision before him. Donning a midnight red gown, no doubt a high end label, he couldn’t help but slowly rake his gaze from foot to head, openly admiring her. The dress looked gorgeous but it was her who made the ensemble breathtaking.
Her expression was neutral as she waited for his eyes to meet hers. “Mr. Corinthos.”
He gave a small nod. “Ms. Jensen.” He paused, his mouth suddenly dry as his mind raced to say something appropriate. “You look very nice this evening.”
“Thank you.” Simple. To the point. She didn’t offer anything else but a steady gaze. Silent seconds ticked by as Sonny’s mind raced for something to say. Dara glanced at the shut doors and shifted towards them. “Well,” she said briskly, “I’m going back inside.”
“Thank you Ms. Jensen. For what you did for me during the trial.” Dara had taken two steps towards the doors before stopping suddenly at his words. She swiveled to face him, her expression no longer impassive. “I didn’t do that for you,” she said, her voice tight and pained. “I did it because I’m an officer of the court, I took an oath and I believe in the law.”
Despite his conflicting feelings, a stab of indignation coursed through Sonny. “I know that!” he bit out.
“So don’t thank me!” Dara snapped back. She raised her hand, pointing a well manicured nail at him. “Just because you were actually innocent of those killings, does not mean you are not a criminal. I know exactly what you are and one day, you’ll pay for the things you’ve done.”
Sonny stilled at her words. “You think you know who I am?”
Dara simply glared at him.
Sonny swallowed and shoved his hands into his pockets and looked away, suddenly ashamed. “Maybe I am those things,” he said softly. “I know there’s a day that has my name on it. I know this.” He paused, collecting his thoughts before continuing. “I’m not proud.”
Dara opened her mouth to deliver a scathing retort but stopped herself. His demeanor had changed, ever so slightly and for some reason, she didn’t have it in her, right at that moment, to drill home another negative remark. “I’m not your priest; you don’t need to confess to me.”
Sonny looked back at her. “You’re a good person. I respect you. I’m glad my daughter…” his voice trailed off.
Heat filled Dara’s cheeks. Was he complimenting her? Why was she even still standing here having this conversation with him?
An awkward silence filled the distance between them. This was an area neither had anticipated being in even 5 minutes earlier. What should she say? Walking away, right now, was the best option and yet she stayed firmly rooted in place. A stiff breeze swept past them and her bare arms trembled, goosebumps rising up across her mocha colored skin.
“You must be freezing,” Sonny said. Unconsciously, his hands reached up to unbutton his jacket coat. Dara rubbed her arms as she turned to look back inside, the warm glow of the gala beckoning her. “I was only coming out for some fresh air,” she admitted. Her head turned back to find Sonny had stepped into her personal space. Without realizing, she took in a breath, her eyes locked onto his dark orbs. A moment later, she was enveloped by warmth as he gently rested his coat over her shoulders. “Oh!” she said, surprised. A faint trace of his aftershave filled her nostrils, mingled with his own scent and a flutter ran through her.
Sonny didn’t move back, his hands still held the bottom of the coat, almost as though he was going to pull her to him, and for a long moment, he almost did. He studied her without even realizing it. Was it possible that she was even more beautiful in the moonlight?
“What are you doing?” Dara finally asked her voice unsure. She wasn’t frightened of Sonny, but this was a surprise to be on the receiving end of a gentlemanly act from him, of all people.
“I thought you were cold,” he murmured. He still hadn’t let go of the coat. Her full, ruby stained lips parted ever so slightly and the air around seemed to crackle with a new kind of tension.
Dara’s mind raced, a sudden quiver of fear filling her. She should not be out here with him, not wearing his coat, not with him standing so close she could reach up and touch his jaw line if she wished.
Did she wish? She flicked the question from her mind in haste. “Mr. Corinthos,” she said, finding her voice.
“It’s just a gesture,” he offered gently. “Even I can be a good man for just a moment, can’t I?”
Her resolve softened, her whole body sighed at his declaration. “I suppose you can,” she replied, her voice just as gentle as his.
The door opened with a firm click. “Boss? Sorry to interrupt but Jimmy can’t find Mrs. C. He thinks she got on the elevator with some guy. He can’t get up to the penthouse suite without a special key fob.”
Just as the fragile bubble enveloping them had enclosed, so quickly did it burst. Sonny’s body stiffened and Dara stepped back, shrugging the coat off her shoulders, glad for the biting cold.
“Shit,” he hissed, not only for the interruption, but for whatever nuisance Carly had surely dived headfirst into. He turned regretfully to Dara and she held out the jacket, keeping him at arm’s length.
“Don’t let me keep you from your wife,” she said, the last two words emphasized with meaning. Sonny nodded, his face closing off as he took the coat and slipped it back on. He waited a moment, wanting to say something, but her expression and his own guilt overshadowed whatever it was he wanted to tell her. “Have a good evening,” he managed before striding back into the gala, followed closely by his guard.
Dara stood for another 30 seconds before finally letting out a slow, shaky breath. “Jesus in heaven, what the hell was I thinking?” she chastised herself. The memory of just what had happened washed over her in flashes. What if someone had seen them? Her job was already on thin ice, and these days with Twitter and Instagram, anyone could have snapped a shot of them and posted for the whole world to see.
“There was nothing to see!” she whispered crossly to herself, but her inner voice immediately and emphatically disagreed. It hadn’t been an innocent moment. She closed her eyes, suddenly wishing for a distraction of any kind. She couldn’t think about the risk she’d put herself in tonight, both professionally and personally.
As if answering her silent call, her phone chirped, signaling a text message. She opened her clutch and pulled the Iphone out. She let out a gentle laugh as the text revealed Jerry Jacks taking a selfie, his finger crooked in his direction, a roguish smirk playing about his lips.
Just outside. Write a cheque and let’s bugger off like lunatics, luv
Dara tilted her head up to the night sky. “Thank you,” she whispered. Her donation had already been submitted long ago. She entered the gala and quickly said her goodbyes to close friends and colleagues before briskly walked into the foyer of the majestic hotel. She spotted Jerry reclined against his silver Porsche 918 Spyder, his newest toy, and offered him a beautiful smile.
Jerry grabbed his chest, mocking a heart attack as she stepped through the entry doors. He let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “You are criminal for looking so lovely tonight!”
“Thank you darling,” she said with a laugh as he tugged her close, bussing her cheek. He pulled away, and looked down at her. He frowned ever so slightly, “everything alright?”
Dara blinked. “Of course, why do you ask?”
He tilted his head, trying to decipher just what it was. “Dunno. You feel flushed and look a bit rattled.”
God, was she ever. She took in a breath and pushed all of that from her mind. A slow, knowing smile came over her visage and Jerry raised his brows at her change.
“Jerry, I haven’t had sex in over six months. Of course I’m rattled and flushed.”
Jerry let out a bark of surprise. “I’m sorry to hear that Dara. What can I do?” he asked, a devilish smirk on his face.
Dara’s smile deepened as she moved past him and slipped into the passenger side of the Porsche. “Well, for one, take me for a ride in your new car.”
Jerry jogged around the car and hopped into the driver’s seat. He put the key into the ignition and turned it, the vehicle roaring to life. Releasing the emergency brake, he placed his right foot on the brake pad, the left hovering over the clutch. “I can do that.”
She placed her hand on his knee. “Then?” she instructed, her voice dropping to a throaty, seductive demand. “ Take me for a ride in your bed.”
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