Even though I should have moved out of his touch, away from him, a breathless noise escaped my lips as his finger slid inside of me.
He leaned in closer, his mouth next to my ear, and my eyes closed. “Any of these animals think they’re going to claim what’s mine will know. They’re going to smell me on you. And they’re not going to think anymore. You belong to me,Rosalia.” He sucked my earlobe before he bit down a little. A shiver tore over me at the feel of it. “I’m your only oath.”
Our eyes met as he slowly pulled his finger out of me. The same look that had been in his eyes when he was face to face with Ben was back.
The thrill of the hunt.
I watched as he picked up my dress and underwear from the floor, taking them to the back of the room. He used the same key to open a part of the wall that looked just like the wall, except it had an iron decoration that fit the key. The space behind it almost reminded me of a laundry chute. He pressed something on the inside, and what seemed like an inferno came to life.
He flung my things in, and they caught fire as soon as the ravaging heat touched them. The flames lit up his face and body in an eerie glow that highlighted not only him, but the humid smoke drifting around the room like a massive ghost.
The fire in his eyes was no longer in the deep depths, but close to his surface as he watched the things he seemed to hate burn, while his body had gone back to being stone cold.
12
Aniello
It was only 9:00 o’clock in the morning, and I was drinking whiskey.
The woman had gotten so deep under my fucking skin that she was on a path to destroying my mind—a vein away from driving me insane.
“Ask me nicely and I will.”
I took a drink, watching from the window in Big Bismo’s office as she moved slower than usual toward her car. She was pulling at the neckline of the dress, trying to fan herself.
Maybe she’d think twice the next time she thought about showing the world what belonged to me.
It wasn’t like her, but lately, she’d been doing things that caught me off guard.
My eyes found a man walking toward the club, close to her. My mind worked, going over some stats. Arlo was his name. He was a freelance hitter. He was also an underground Bratva fighter. A beast inside and outside of the ring.
I dismissed him from my thoughts as he disappeared from my sight. That was all I’d been waiting for—the distance between him and mine.
That was where my attention landed and held.
She stopped when she came to her car, digging in her bag. For a second, she stilled. She felt someone watching her—me—and looked behind her.
Workers were coming and going, some shifts beginning and some ending. Some of the women huddled together, probably gossiping about her. Probably talking about the dress she’d worn and how she’d changed. She didn’t look directly at them, but at the building.
After a second, she shook her head and pulled out her keys. She must have sat in her car for five minutes before she started it and took off.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and pressed the side button to get to the screen, then opened the app that tracked her. She was headed toward the bakery she frequented. She’d order a dozen donuts. Four glazed for her, four chocolate-glazed for that little monster who lived with her for the time being, and four lemon-filled for them to share. Two coffees. She took hers with plenty of sugar and milk, and so did the little monster. Rosalia would even bring the dog donuts they made specifically for pets.
Scrolling to another map, I checked on the dog. She was where she needed to be. Every one of her collars were equipped with a device to track her movements. I wasn’t sure why a dog needed so many collars, but she fucking had them. But if nothing else existed in that woman’s life—that dog went wherever she went.
Footsteps sounded down the hall. I made sure the alerts were on and then took a seat in one of the two chairs that were before the desk. I set my glass of whiskey down just as Big Bismo ambled in, a cup of coffee in his hand.
Gerardo Giuffrida, better known as Big Bismo, was what the women who worked at Club Desolation called a wizard. He was the man behind the curtains, pulling all the strings.
We had a complex relationship, me and Big Bismo.
Nothing happened behind these walls that I didn’t know about.
Nothing happened behind these walls that he didn’t know about.
I was his boss, but it was his job to rat me out to the higher powers if I did things that blurred the lines. Not when it came to killing, but to fucking.
To me, though, a rat was a fuckingratto.
