The Family Affair

By Teffeteller Myart

Raquel Burtonelli has never been as ruthless or powerful as her older siblings. She prefers to spend her days posting on social media, being a waitress at her family's casino...and taking boxing lessons from her sister's future husband. Things remain innocent until one monumental night on the Burtonelli estate...after which there's no return for Raquel to her simple life before...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jan 2, 2022
• ISBN: 9781716042690

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Copyrighted Material

The Family Affair

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, places, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Any trademarks used, products named or featured are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference.

Copyright 2022 by Teffeteller Myart

978-1-716-04269-0

Cover image by ANKBOOKDESIGNS on Etsy

Other books in the Burtonelli Siblings Trilogy:

Her Innocent’s Reckoning

The Noble Assassin

Other books by Teffeteller Myart:

The Winter Suites Series:

Lipstick and Heartbreak (Winter Suites Vol. 1)

What Happened in Reno (Winter Suites Vol. 2)

Coming Soon:

A Winter Suites Novel (Not Yet Titled)

Soap Star Scandal (A Winter Suites Novella)

The Catharsis Series (Coming Soon)

Absolution (Catharsis Series Vol. 1)

Duplicitous (Catharsis Series Vol. 2)

Chapter One

    Good, now come at me again.

    Clive Sinclair stood in the center of the boxing ring, gloves up, waiting for his opponent to make her move.

    The young woman stepped back before springing to action with a jab at his right side, which he easily deflected. However, the woman bounced back and came at his right again stronger, and he nearly missed fending off that particular blow.

    She blew out her breath in frustration. Clive loved that furrow between her brows, as she frowned, trying to figure out how to have him flat on his back on the mat. Of course, her efforts wouldn’t put him out, but she’d been known to get in a punch or two, sometimes bruising him, although he never told her about it...Clive and his opponent’s sister, Leah Burtonelli, would laugh about it later in bed, Leah sitting behind him, rubbing his sore shoulders and making fun of him for being bruised by her little sister.

    Raquel isn’t as delicate as she looks, Clive would say, leaning into Leah’s ministrations, moaning and closing his eyes. Leah Burtonelli always knew just how to touch him,  like it was  her mission in life to be a woman who knew how to please men, the joy she gleaned from life, being sensual and erotic in every aspect of her existence, from the boardroom to the bedroom…

    Then Raquel made a quick jab at his left and a harder at his right, making contact with his ribs, so hard that she knocked the breath out of him.

    Instead of reveling in her victory, Raquel Burtonelli dropped her gloves and grabbed his arm. Oh, I’m so sorry, Clive!

    He laughed through his breathlessness, as Raquel helped him to the corner of the ring, so that he could lean against the side and catch his breath. It’s okay, Raquel. Truly. The goal is to get a punch in.

    I didn’t mean to hurt you, she said. Here, sit.

    She pulled a seat into the ring and helped him down onto it, although he truly didn’t need her help...but he leaned over, putting his head between his knees, once sitting...so perhaps he’d needed it more than he had realized.

    Are you going to be alright? Can I get you anything? she asked.

    Then she leaned down beside him, peering into his face. She reached up to brush back his sweaty hair. Her concern was palpable, and it embarrassed Clive.

    He caught her wrist. I’m fine, Raquel. You’re too sweet. I got distracted and it’s my fault.

    I shouldn’t have—

    You did exactly what you should have done. How I trained you.

    She stood, standing behind him and rubbing his back. I don’t want to ever hurt anyone, though.

    Then maybe you’re just too sweet for this sport, Clive said, looking up at her since he’d regained his breath, and was feeling stronger.

    He smiled, wishing she’d stop touching him, though...her touch was far too much like her sister’s, and he hated what it was doing to him, elsewhere...lost breath was the least of his problems if she kept that up.

    Being horny was what had gotten the breath knocked out of him in the first place.

    And thinking about Raquel that way...absolutely not. She was Leah’s baby sister, his fiancée’s baby sister, and she was absolutely forbidden, even if he hadn’t been engaged to Leah. However, he was a man, and Raquel was a beautiful young woman…

    A woman who—again—was absolutely forbidden.

    She gripped his arm as she came back around to face him. I’m not as sweet as people tend to believe me to be. You of all people should know that, Clive.

    She gave his bicep a tight squeeze before letting go, smiling down at him.

    While the family resemblance was there between her and Leah, Raquel definitely favored their late mother, with her more petite frame and softer facial features. While Leah was statuesque and classically beautiful, Raquel had a softer face, more rounded features, slightly chubby cheeks in stark contrast to her hard, fit body, trim and toned from the many hours she spent in the gym and the boxing ring. Her hair was the same deep shade of black, but with a more reddish tint, more wavy than curly, as Leah’s hair was.

    Also unlike Leah, Raquel wasn’t tall. She was shorter, around 163 centimeters. She was much younger, having only been a baby when their mother had been killed on a New York City sidewalk by a drunk driver who had jumped the curb, so she had little memory of their mother, but had thus been less affected than her older brother and sister by their loss. She was nineteen years old, and a proper socialite in ways that Leah never would be, and that Marcell—their brother—never could be.

    So, you’re truly okay? she asked.

    I am, but I think we’ll quit there for today. You need to get ready for the party.

    She nodded. So...do you mind if I post about knocking the breath from my coach to social media? she asked, giving him an impish smile from her cherubic face.

    That sweet, innocent face that truly didn’t fit with her body. She was a full-grown, vibrant woman, and Clive couldn’t deny that fact, which wasn’t eased by the fact that he often saw her in skimpy workout outfits, covered in sweat, breathing hard, looking feral at times…

    All of which he should have been ashamed to admit he’d noticed. Not only had he known her since she was a child, but she was not only his fiancée’s sister, but was his student. She trusted him as a mentor, and it was screwed up for him to have any thoughts of her that were anything less than professional and pure, no matter what his body tried to tell him.

    He nodded. Of course. You earned it.

    He watched her slip beneath the railing of the ring and hurry to her gym bag, retrieving her phone...forcing himself to tear his eyes away from her perfectly perky butt, nearly hanging out the bottom of her gym shorts, as she turned back around and brought her phone into the ring.

    She unlocked her phone and was saying something to him, when she glanced up, seeing the look on his face, and stopped, concern instantly replacing the satisfied look on her face.

    Clive?

    He could barely bring himself to look at her...the way she said his name tugged at something deep inside him. He didn’t know what was wrong with him.

    Yes?

    She chewed her lip, which didn’t help matters at all. Are you sure that you’re okay? You look like you’re in pain.

    Oh, he certainly was in pain, and she’d put him there, but not in the way she suspected. If she knew what he was really thinking, he knew she’d be heartbroken and she’d feel betrayed. She would never want to see him again, and she certainly wouldn’t trust him to coach her anymore...she might not even trust him in relation to her sister, and that was the last thing that Clive needed.

    I’m fine, Raquel. Stop worrying about me. I’ll have a bruise, but a little bruise never hurt anyone.

    She kept frowning. You’ve never bruised me.

    No, darling, and if I did, I would never forgive myself. Besides, your brother would kill me, if your sister didn’t, first.

    She laughed. Leah would kill you long before Marcell. I doubt he’d even care.

    He would, love.

    She considered his words for a moment. Right. I guess so. It’s easy to forget, sometimes.

    Raquel…

    It wasn’t as though there was anything that Clive could say to ease any of the familial discord surrounding the Burtonelli family, though. Being a mob Family was a challenge in itself, but adding the casino business to that only complicated things further.

    She waited a moment. When she picked up on the fact that commiseration was all he had to offer her, she smiled her sweet little cherub smile again. May I get a photo?

    Of course, darling.

    She stepped closer to him, and he wrapped her arm around her waist as she prepared to take their selfie…

    Raquel was all innocence and wanting to be a proper socialite with her perfectly calculated social media, but there was Clive, pulling her closer, enjoying the feel of her strong, muscular body beside him, pressed against him, her soft breasts pressed into his side, her arm wrapped around his waist, her hot, sweaty body…

    She snapped a few photos, then pulled away. He released her a little too slowly, but she didn’t seem to notice, as she was already choosing which photo was best.

    I guess I’ll be seeing you tonight, he said.

    She glanced up at him. Pardon?

    At the party, love.

    She smiled, then. Right. See you. And please, if you get to feeling worse, text me and let me know. Are you sure you can make it home?

      Yes, darling, I’ll text you and make you feel worse than you do, already.

    She wrinkled her nose as she looked at him...irresistible.

    I’m joking, but I am fine, Raquel, and I will remain fine. If I need help, I’ll ask your sister. Don’t worry. Just don’t expect to get in another punch like that again.

    I wouldn’t dare.

    Dare, Raquel, he said, taking a step closer to her. I want you to be able to protect yourself.

    Against someone who I need to protect myself from, yes, but not from my coach. I’m sorry.

    There’s nothing to be sorry about. Again, I’ll see you tonight, darling. Don’t worry so much.

    Yes, Clive, she said, ducking under the railing and grabbing her gym bag. See you.

    As he watched her leave, Clive hated the pain he felt in his groin, ashamed of himself, wishing she’d kicked him in his groin rather than hitting him in his ribs.

    It was what he deserved, after all, having impure thoughts about his fiancée’s little sister…

Chapter Two

    Raquel got back up from the gym in the basement of the estate to her private wing—her apartment—and she was still feeling guilty about hurting Clive.

    She was feeling far guiltier, though, about the thoughts she had about Clive, and the admitted crush she’d developed on him over the years...especially after he’d started dating her older sister, and since they’d become engaged. Perhaps it was simply because she’d felt so bad about hurting him that she had mistaken tenderness she felt for him for something more...because yes, he was ridiculously handsome, and from training in boxing with him, she’d felt his strength and it was a turn-on, for sure...but she had to let those thoughts go.

    He was her sister’s fiancé, for heaven’s sake! Her tender thoughts about him had to go by the wayside, along with her far-too-insistent memory of how it had felt, as he’d had his arm snaked around her waist, holding her tight against him...she’d been in his arms more times than she could count, throughout their training together, and he’d held her by the small of her back as he’d helped her perfect her form, as she trained with the punching bag...he’d even held her by her butt before in training, and she’d thought nothing of it.

    She’d taken plenty of selfies with him, too, as he was always willing to indulge her penchant for social media fame by being a willing participant in her documentation of her boxing career...not that she competed at all, or intended to do so professionally, but he’d been training her for years, for her own enjoyment, as well as for her own good.

    Raquel wasn’t the epitome of self-confidence, and Clive had been right...she was extremely sensitive and delicate, and she would admit to that. Marcell had been the one to insist upon Clive taking Raquel on as a student. At the time, Raquel had managed to convince herself that it was because Marcell cared about her and wanted her to be able to defend and protect herself...not that she really ever had any need to do so. When she left the estate, Marcell always sent at least one bodyguard with her, but she still tried to equate some action that her brother took with the possibility of it being an act of benevolence toward her...because he was her brother, after all.

    She needed to attribute a redeeming quality to him, to see him as more than a career criminal and a cold, cruel-hearted man.

    She quickly stripped out of her wet gym clothes and started her shower, turning on the heater in her bathroom, although it really wasn’t all that cold outside, even close to the sea, that time of year. She knew it was something more than the temperature that had her chilled...she was afraid of her reaction to Clive’s touch.

    Seeing him bested by her, having trouble breathing, had twisted at her gut and made her heart hurt...granted, she would have felt that way toward anyone she’d accidentally hurt, but something about seeing her boxing coach, the man she’d depended on for more than teaching her how to box, but he’d become somewhat of a mentor for her, giving her advice on many different aspects of life. She’d always had a little crush on him, sure, but something about the way he’d looked at her that day had been more than she could take.

    She got into her opulent shower, the head massive, spreading warm waves of water—more so than a stream, due to its size—over her body.

    She shuddered under the water, recalling how it had felt, her and Clive’s sweaty bodies pressed together, how her nipple on the breast she’d had pressed against him had hardened...oh, she hoped he hadn’t noticed. She was ashamed of herself. Her request for a photo had been entirely innocent, but his touch on her—he’d only been hugging her, which he’d done plenty of times in the past—had turned her on, and she was humiliated by how her body had betrayed her.

    Clive was with Leah, and they’d been together for years...maybe her friends were right, those she’d kept from when she was in school, who she still met up with for shopping dates or the occasional clubbing night, in telling her she needed to go on a date with a real man, that she needed to become a woman, to sleep with a man, to enter that sector of