Exhaustion kept me from responding out loud, but in my mind, I heard my own voice:I won’t forget. I don’t want to forget.
SIXTEEN
Carlo
Maxim’s punch slammed me into the ropes. I bounced back fast, ducked under his arm before he could corner me, and threw him down hard onto the mat.
He grinned up at me, cocky as hell. “That was close. Still got your brain stuck in that virgin cunt you wrecked last night, huh?”
I cracked him across the jaw. His head jerked sideways, and he groaned, but that irritating smirk stayed right there. With one rough shove, he slipped out from under me and got back on his feet.
He wasn’t wrong, and that pissed me off more than the punch. I kept thinking about her. I’d fucked her twice last night, and still, the second I opened my eyes this morning, I was already buried in her again, starving for more.
She was half-asleep when I pushed inside, still dazed, but her pussy was soaking wet. My cock throbbed remembering it. She wanted me, always did. Wanted me so bad, she pushed past all that fear she carried to give herself to me. I hadn’t meant to go rough on her, but once I was inside, it was game over. Her moans lit me up, made me drive into her like a man possessed.
When I came, I emptied myself inside her again, watched it spill onto the sheets, and felt something I hadn’t in a long damn time. It wasn’t about her being a virgin. I’d had virgins before. That wasn’t new.
What threw me off was that I actually liked this one. And that shit was new. Every woman before her had been nothing but a body, a hole to fuck and forget. I never cared about their sounds, their pleasure, their names. I took what I needed and left them with nothing.
But last night, watching her fall apart around my cock, hearing her scream my name, feeling her claw at me while her body shook—fuck, it was the best show I’d ever had.
In the middle of all the bullshit Tony and that blonde whore stirred up, Emily felt like peace. My own private drug. But even drugs run out eventually. I’d fuck her until she was out of my system. That was the plan.
I stepped out of the ring, dropped onto a bench, and started peeling the tape off my hands. “Any word on Giuseppe?” I asked.
Giuseppe, that worthless son of a bitch, had been trying to turn the underbosses against me. The first one he went after was Lucia’s father, pushing some bullshit about how her escape proved I wasn’t fit to lead. Said we needed a new team to “preserve order.” What he meant was,replace me.
But Pietro wasn’t stupid. He called me the same day. A few others came forward after that, saying Giuseppe had tried to contact them too. The rest stayed quiet. Which meant either he hadn’t reached them yet… or worse, they were hiding it from me. That meant they were considering siding with him. This wasn’t politics, it was treason. And treason had to be hunted down and bled dry before it spread.
So, I paid each underboss a personal visit. Looked them in the eye. Pushed them, pressed them, studied every reaction. Pier’s son, the underboss in Naples, handed me a recorded conversation between his father and Giuseppe and asked me to kill the old bastard.
Rumor had it Pier had been a living nightmare at home. Beating his wife. Screwing around. Making life hell for his kids. But as long as they didn’t mess withmyfamily or my business, I couldn’t care less. Now that he had? Now that he was backing a traitor? He had to learn.
If my father were still alive, he would’ve torched Pier and every last one of his relatives. I wasn’t like him. I believed in punishing the guilty, not the innocent. I didn’t care if you were a man or a woman, a friend or a stranger. If you crossed me, I’d make sure your last breath came with regret so thick, it’d drown you before death ever touched you.
Massimo, his son, made a deal, his silence and the tape in exchange for sparing his mother and sisters. Smart move. That was the kind of loyalty I respected.
He knew what mattered. And that made him the man for the job. So, I hunted Pier down. Shattered every bone. Cut off his cock. Burned him alive. And made Massimo his successor.
Maxim climbed out of the ring, grabbed a water bottle off the bench before answering me. “Nothing yet. He’s still sniffing around Brando, but Brando’s not biting. Word is, he’s not interested in Giuseppe’s pitch. I say we go ahead with the ceremony.”
“Not until my father’s dead. I’m not stripping him of the rank he earned. He’ll die a Capo.”
“The ceremony locks everything in place. You’d know exactly who’s against you.”
“I already know.” A slow, wicked grin spread across my face. “And trust me… I’ve got some unforgettable surprises lined up for them.”
Maxim’s eyes lit up, sharp and hungry. That’s what I liked about him and Lorenzo. They didn’t just accept blood. Theycravedit, thrived on it. Violence was in their bones. Same as me.
“What about Brando? You know he’s not going to take the oath. If you let him slide, it’s going to make you look weak.”
“He will. I know Brando. He’s not going to risk his life over this.”
“And what if you’re wrong?”
My jaw clenched. “Every man’s fate is written by his own hands, Maxim.”
He nodded and didn’t press further. Giorgio walked in a second later.
