Alfonso wasn’t weak. He was built like Carlo, broad, solid, and his body spoke of experience. The way he moved, the way he struck, showed he knew how to fight. But even with all that, he didn’t last two minutes. One brutal punch from Carlo dropped him like a rag doll. He didn’t get back up.
I couldn’t lie to myself. A part of me had enjoyed it, watching Carlo step in, claim me as family, as his, right in front of everyone. It made me feel like I mattered. Like I belonged. But I wished I’d left the room before the skull-crushing ceremony began.
Somewhere deep down, I believed Carlo wouldn’t hurt me. But that didn’t mean I trusted my instincts. My past had taught me how wrong I could be about people, and I hadn’t known Carlo long enough to feel safe. He wasn’t the type to explain himself. He wouldn’t chase me, comfort me, or ask how I felt. I was another variable to him, something he’d handle if necessary.This was mine to carry. Alone.
And yet, he was all I had. I couldn’t afford to lose his protection. I needed time. Time to accept the truth: That I was sleeping with a man who enjoyed spilling blood, and that I foundso much pleasurein letting him ruin me.
The raw power in him, the violence beneath the surface, it should’ve terrified me. But it didn’t. It thrilled me. Maybe I wasn’t as different from him as I liked to believe. After all, I came from a Mafia bloodline too. Maybe this madness was in my veins.
***
A few days passed. Carlo kept his distance. He’d slip into bed late, say nothing, and by morning, he was already gone. Every night, I could smell traces of blood clinging to his clothes, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what he’d been doing.
Meanwhile, I drifted through my days, reading, watching TV, playing games. The usual distractions. They were starting to feel hollow. I had access to his private gym, but most of the machines weren’t made for me.
I stuck to the treadmill. One thing kept bothering me: For a mansion this massive, there was no swimming pool. I think it was too old to have one.
After a workout, I stepped out of the gym, drenched in sweat, slinging a towel over my shoulder as I made my way down the hall to my room. That’s when the bar door creaked open, and out came Aida. Her hair was a tangled mess. She tugged her too-short skirt back into place, and the smug glint in her eyes said it all. Her red lipstick was smeared, her lips swollen and shiny.
She spotted me and threw me a slow, mocking smirk as she strutted past, clearly savoring the moment. A punch of heat hit my chest, like someone had stuck their hand inside me and started squeezing. My breath hitched. The sting of disappointment was sharp, but what really burned was the rage. The betrayal.
I knew Carlo hadn’t made me any promises. We weren’t a couple. But it still felt like he’d cheated on me. I stormed to the door, yanked it open and what I saw inside left me speechless.
There were six guys, all with their dicks out. Some were sitting, some standing, all of them pointing their guns straight at me. Two were butt naked. Three wore shirts but no pants. The last one, of course it had to be Maxim, had his zipper down and his cock hanging there.
He finally snapped out of it, shoved himself back into his pants, and said with infuriating calm, “You really shouldn’t go barging into rooms like that, sugar. If you so much as get a paper cut, boss will hang us all by our balls.”
The others relaxed, lowering their guns and scrambling to get dressed. I silently stood there. Trying to wrap my head around how six guys could all be with one woman. Before I could form a single thought, a hand clamped around my wrist and yanked me back.
Giorgio.
He looked like he wanted to murder someone. “Why do you always bring me trouble?” he grumbled. “Why’d you go in there? Now I have to deal with your traumatized ass for a whole week again.”
“How was I supposed to know you guys were shooting porn in there?” I shot back. “Seriously? Six men? One girl? That’s not even physically possible.”
“You sure paid close attention. If you’re that curious, I can ask Aida to give you private lessons every day.”
I glared at him. He didn’t care.
“You’ve made my life miserable, you know that?” he griped, tugging me down the hallway. “If boss finds out you witnessed six hard-ons at once under my watch, he’s going to kill me. Your name shouldn’t be Emily, it should be Trouble.”
“Believe me, I didn’t get any pleasure from seeing six dicks at once. Not everyone’s as horny as that woman.”
He opened the door and practically shoved me in. “Stay in the room, and for the love of God, try not to cause any chaos for one fucking day.”
Instead of answering I stuck my tongue out at him. His eyes widened like I’d just slapped him. Then he sighed and slammed the door shut behind me. I flopped onto the bed, grinning.
Relief flooded me, Carlo hadn’t been in that room. I was floating. But the high didn’t last long. Aida was still a problem. Carlo was mine, and as long as I lived under this roof, he had to stay that way.
NINETEEN
Emily
I stood in front of the mirror, brushing mascara over my lashes, watching them grow dark and dramatic. My short dress hugged my curves, showing off the right amount of cleavage. A swipe of bold lipstick. A spritz of perfume behind the ears. Hair down, soft waves falling over my shoulders. A full transformation.
It was late, and Carlo still hadn’t come home. Boredom gnawed at me. I poured a shot of vodka, knocked it back, and browsed through his DVD collection until I found a music disc. I slid it into the player, dimmed the lights, and hit play.
The room filled with a beat I didn’t recognize, probably Italian, but it pulsed through my veins like electricity. I let my body move, slowly at first. The rhythm took over, and I let go, dancing across the room with the second shot in hand.
