Along with those things, she is brave and has looked me in the eyes when even grown men have been known to avert their gazes. I’ve been told depravity lives there, but if it does, then it’s nothing I haven’t seen my entire existence. And the darkness within me is nowhere to be found in her.
How do I reconcile this mysterious queen with the insane whore I expected to find? Simple. I will crush her, and whatever remains will be the truth.
With my hand on her ass and the other gripping her dark hair, I smirk down at her. “Is there anything else you wanted to say to me?” She shakes her head, and the action is minuscule because of my tight hold on her. “That is probably for the best,donnaccia.”
I wait for a flicker of understanding to cross her face or for her green eyes to glow with anger at me calling her a whore, but there is no response. Either she doesn’t speak Italian orla donnacciais good at hiding her emotions.
But she won’t be for long.
The saying goes, you can’t squeeze blood from a stone. Well, I beg to differ. I’ll squeeze until there’s not a drop left.
Andla donnacciais clearly not made of granite. Her soft curves are molded to my chest, and they are much fuller and more rounded than her silhouette first led me to believe. The nightgown was no help either, but it’s little more than a thin barrier and hardly one at that. I can feel every inch of her with great clarity, and my cock strains against the fabric of my pants. However, I don’t allow lust to control me.
An erection is nothing more than a manifestation of physical attraction, and even in the semidarkness, I’m able to make out the delicate contours of her face, the gentle slants of her eyes, and the fullness of her lips. Yes, she is beautiful, maybe more than I anticipated.
But it changes nothing.
I slide my hand from around her back to snatch her jaw between my fingers in a bruising hold. “Remember what I said,donnaccia. Don’t speak, not a single word.” I loosen my grip to run my thumb across the seam of her lips in a subtle reminder of how’d I’d silence her with my cock, and their tiny quivers please me. Fuck, if she doesn’t stop looking at me like this, I’ll throw her onto the bed and ruin the vow I made: I’d rather jack off than stick my cock in the filth that’s Caruso’s whore of a daughter.
However, I’m not above using the threat of sex as a manipulation tactic.
“Come with me.” I release her and step back from the bed, keeping my gaze on the young woman while she places her feet to the floor. “If you try to run, it’ll only make things worse than they already are for you. Then again, I’m not sure they won’t be more abysmal by the night’s end.”
I assume she’s smart enough not to respond, and I turn on my heel before striding to the door. I’m not sure what’s the best approach when it comes to her father, Alfonso Caruso. Would he be more enraged if she accepted her fate and submitted to me? Or would it pain him more to watch her fight me, knowing I will only subdue her by force?
Choices, choices.
All of them bring immense satisfaction, since they result in Caruso’s suffering.
Her steps are light as she quietly pads behind me. Once we enter the long hallway, she stands to my right but not exactly by my side, as if she wants to stay out of my reach. Which is foolish because there’s nowhere she is safe from me. If I can gain access to her in Caruso’s heavily guarded house, then where else could she possibly hide?
Death is the only realm.
When we descend the staircase, I study her from my peripheral vision. With one hand, she grips the banister like it’s going to keep her from drowning in the sea of evil that’s filling her home, and with the other, she clenches the nightgown, keeping it from becoming tangled in her feet. The light from the mansion’s office spills onto the marbled floor, enabling me to see her more clearly, and I’m surprised to find her attire a rosebud pink. The innocent color doesn’t quite fit with the profile of her I’ve put together.
Another inconsistency that doesn’t sit well with me.
Once we step onto the main floor, I take hold of her upper arm, and she flinches from the way my fingers dig into her skin, but she doesn’t pull away or make a sound.La donnacciamay be insane, but perhaps even a lunatic can have a moment of lucidity if a threat larger than their mind comes about.
The entire office comes into view, displaying mahogany bookshelves that line the wall behind the imperial desk at which Caruso sits, his gaze narrowed and his face flushed. From alcohol or frustration, I wonder? To one side of him is the priest, Father Aldo, who is all but strangling the black beads of his rosary. He looks at me as if I am Lucifer in the flesh, although I’ve attended mass more often than not. He is the one who hears my confessions, and perhaps that is the reason he fears me. And then there is Dante, my most trusted enforcer. My brothers, Tristano and Rafael, would’ve loved to have been here, but it’s not part of the plan, which extends beyond this night. We want Caruso to suffer slowly as his entire world falls apart, crumbling at his feet.
Starting with his whore of a daughter.
But I guess from this moment on, she’ll be falling at my feet, where she fucking belongs.
“What the hell is going on?” Caruso shoots from his chair as we enter the room, and Dante slams both his massive palms onto the crime boss’s shoulders and shoves him back down. The physical restraint may prevent Caruso from standing but not from speaking. “Why did you bring my daughter here?”
This isn’t the exact moment of my revenge, but tormenting Caruso and Emilia will have to be enough for now. Death is too easy, too quick. Anyone who wrongs my family should be made to live in agony, so punishing this man over a long period of time is the only way. Maybe I can ask the devil for a special request once I send Caruso to hell to meet him. A good Catholic knows there is no good without evil.
“Good evening,” I say. I position myself in front of the desk at which Caruso sits, keepingla donnacciaclose. His gaze flickers between us, and I’m not sure what he’s looking for, but he’s quick to dismiss her. I don’t let the confusion of that leak into my voice when I say, “Thank you for allowing me into your home and to finally meet…Emilia.”
The woman jerks in my grasp when her name hits the air. I prolonged saying it so I could see her reaction in the light, and it’s what I expected. She doesn’t like the intimacy between us that it implies, and whether subconsciously or not, Emilia slightly pulls away from me.
In retaliation, I shove her almost completely in front of me, and she stumbles, but my hold on her arm keeps her upright. Then I anchor her to me by placing my other hand low on her quivering stomach, splaying my fingers so that the tip of my pinky rests just above her clit.
Every single thing I do, from the way I hold her to the words I speak, is with great intent. I want Caruso raging over the treatment of his daughter; this will have to keep my desire for blood at bay until the time comes.
He glares at the placement of my hand, his nostrils flaring. “What the hell is going on?” Caruso repeats. Although, this time he doesn’t attempt to rise from his chair. Training him is easier than I thought it would be. That’s a disappointment. “Why are you here, Silvestri?” he asks, his gaze roving over me once again. “Are you here to do your brother’s bidding like the bitch you are? I know Tristano is the only Silvestri with enough balls to orchestrate something like this.”
