“Do not forget this lesson. Because if I have to teach it to you again, I will be far less gentle. And you will receive only pain, no pleasure.” He shifted and glanced down my naked form, his attention dropping from my face. “I wonder how much pleasure you took from this time around,” he mused as if he were saying all this over brunch. He put away his switchblade and dipped his fingers between my legs, raising them again to show me the moisture there. Raising one dark eyebrow, he smirked down at me, licking my wetness from his fingers. “Mmmmm. So tasty. Nice to know you enjoyed this as much as I did.” He thrust his prominent erection into my stomach. “Do you feel that? Do you feel what you do to me?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?” he asked almost lazily, but I knew if I failed to follow his instructions, his reaction wouldn’t be lazy at all.
“Yes, Romeo.”
His smirk morphed into a cold smile. “You will receive more messages from me, and I want you to heed them. Do this for me, and I’ll give you the kind of gift that doesn’t come in a box.”
With that, he retrieved his knife again and snipped the zip ties. Then, after undoing the knot of his tie, I was free. I didn’t move a muscle, though.
“You’re learning already,” he said, his face lighting as if I’d been a student who’d answered a difficult equation correctly. “You may move once I leave.”
And only after the door had shut firmly behind him did my lungs relax enough to let me breathe.
6
Romeo
As I returned from my delightful foray in Lucia’s room, I heard a noise and edged back so I wouldn’t be detected. I squinted through the dim hallway and made out the profile of my brother Marcello coming out of one of the twin’s rooms—Chiara was in that one if I remembered correctly. I paused long enough for him to make his way back towards the stairs to return to his room, then caught sight of another familiar shadow. This time, it was my brother Savio. Like me, he appeared to be waiting so as to not be caught. Yet unlike myself and Marcello, he was entering a room—Alessandra’s—rather than leaving it.
I almost laughed out loud. Oh, what a tangled web we Cavetti brothers wove. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one obsessed with a Bonifacio princess.
Swinging by the dungeons to check up on the Bonifacio men had been a habit of mine ever since we’d gotten some astonishing helpful details out of Antonio. I kept hoping he’d show some spine and come back to himself enough to enlighten us about more secret caches, but every time I jaunted past his cell it was the same. He’d either be babbling to himself like a toddler or drooling out the side of his mouth.
It was aggravating to know that a more deft touch could’ve prevented this.
Then, as usual, I’d meandered on down to Giorgio’s home sweet home. He stared a hole through me as I approached, his eyes were gray like the twins rather than Lucia’s brilliant sky blue, dull like concrete. I didn’t know the guy, but I figured he was just as dense. Perhaps because of what had been arranged for later today, I couldn’t go by without rattling his chain. Literally.
“Enjoying our five-star accommodations? Nothing but the best for the Bonifacio heirs.”
His mouth, bloodied by a recent beating, warped into a snarl.
“Got something to say, Bonifacio? I’m listening.” I put my hand around my ear facetiously, bending slightly as if trying to hear like an old granny.
His gaze grew a substantial number of degrees colder, but he said nothing. Just what I thought. The Bonifacio men were both imbecilic weaklings. Dickless. Still, I couldn’t resist one last gibe.
“Want me to give Lucia your love when I go up to fuck her later? Oh, wait. Maybe then wouldn’t be the most appropriate time to mention brotherly love. My bad.”
He jerked his body forward, swinging around the limited give we left in his chains, growling at me like a grizzly. Finally, a reaction worth my while. Nice. I snorted, then offered him my most obnoxious shit-eating grin.
“Ta-ta for now. Be back tomorrow.”
Tangling with Giorgio left me in such high spirits that I whistled on my way to my meeting with my father. It was a meeting I requested he hold, and I’d been looking forward to bringing my ideas forward as the future leader of our clan.
Before letting me take the floor, Angelo stood at the front of our meeting table, his gaze falling on each of his sons in turn. “This is our time,” he said loftily. “We have defeated the troublesome Bonifacios, proving to Chicago that we are no longer an underdog but the top dog. I’m counting on each of you to uphold this legacy.” His gaze flitted to me last, and I knew he meant for me to consider marrying and producing heirs as an integral part of my duties to thefamiglia.
In typical Angelo Cavetti fashion, there was no praise and no heartfelt sentiment. If my father ever had any of this inside of him, it had shriveled on the vine when my mother died. Still, as he seated himself and nodded at me, I nodded back deferentially. He had, after all, provided me with an amazing segue into my topic of discussion.
“Tonight, we Cavettis are holding a dinner that will bring all the mob leaders from the greater Chicago area to our table.”
Savio frowned. “Curious that this is the first I’m hearing of it.”
The more reserved Marcello, who was also the beefiest due to his love of weightlifting, frowned. “Yes. Me, too.”
“Well, all I can say is you’re hearing about it now,” I said, shutting down any further dissension. Then, I filled them in on mine and my father’s plan.
That evening, the seven other Chicago crime lords sat at our polished cherry dining table and regarded us with a mixture of expressions ranging from cautious to outright cocky. The Rossis, the Espositos, the Romanos, the Marinos, the Lastras, the Giordanos, and the Costas were all in attendance.
