16. Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Fifteen
Alessandrio
S he flops like a rag doll back onto the chair, all the fight having left her, and I have to admire her attempt—as pathetic as it was. She threw pliers and a knife at me. Sure, she has some balls, but that doesn’t change what she is, or who she is. Olivia Dolmino . Dolmino. Riccardo Dolmino. Albenia Dolmino. Narciso Dolmino. Hatred burns through me as I stare at her face. Her eyes remain tightly closed, as if she can block out the immensity of her situation by refusing to accept it.
“Olivia Dolmino,” I start and watch her flinch as my voice fills the room. “You have two choices in this. You can do as you are told, or you can fight it and, much like your piteous attempt at escape, you will fail in that as well. If I were you, I would save myself a world of hurt and just do as I am told.” Her brow furrows. “You have all of tomorrow to think about how you will spend your time with us.”
I pull her arms behind her back, marveling at how easily my hand wraps around both her wrists, enclosing the fine bones between my monstrous fingers. The contrast is stark. All I would have to do is apply a little pressure and I could break them. Despite the dark trail of my thoughts, a kernel of disgust settles in my gut. Quickly, I tie her wrists, brooding about how well this all started for me. I was so fucking certain of how this experience would go that I was eager to be near her. Now I want nothing more than to be away from her. She is poison, just like her family. Bleeding into me with the perfection of her, confusing my body with her responses. I need her gone. Despite me wanting to claim her end, my brother can decide her fate and let her become someone else’s problem.
“Fuck,” I snarl, throwing myself back from her.
She jumps in the chair before trying to make herself as small as possible. I spin away and leave. The door whines as I forget my strength and its vulnerability. It finally gives out and falls with a crash to the tiles, making Olivia cry out. Without a backward glance, I storm down the hall, radiating tension and unspent energy.
“How’s it going, captain?” Lorenzo asks.
Shit. It’s the response I want to give him, but that might not be true.
“She’s terrified.”
“To be expected,” he replies.
“But tomorrow, she meets her maker and she will become Emilio’s problem.”
“Emilios problem, huh? Sounds like she’s given you a harder time than expected.” My uncle really knows how to poke the bear.
“Her presence alone is a problem to me,” I grind out. “If she weren’t our only lifeline to her brother, I would have given her to my men to be done with.” Even as I say the words, they sour my mouth.
Hurting women is not a pill I can swallow lightly, nor is the thought of it. Never have I been able to kill or hurt a woman. Too many times, my hand has frozen. That’s why Emilio and I were cursed. I was right beside him, gun in hand, when Albenia started exhaling her noxious words with their magical weight into the ether. With my gun, I could have snuffed those words and her life, but my finger paused against the trigger. Lorenzo, my saving grace, noticed my predicament and put her in the ground. But it was too little too late.
“Let’s hope she does as she is told then.” Let’s hope. “I also called to tell you, Riccardo has gone dark again. Our tech guys can’t find any digital footprint anywhere.”
Hope blooms in my chest. Riccardo going dark is a good sign. He’s probably gotten notice of his sister’s disappearance from that school of hers. It most likely means he wants the element of surprise attempting to rescue her. With the Outfit in the city, he will have some allies amongst the New York families. Let him think he will be safe. Let their presence lull him into believing he is untouchable. It will make ending him even sweeter.
“The Chicago Outfit is arriving here soon. If he’s got word about her disappearance, Riccardo will be setting up camp amongst their numbers,” I reply, not bothering to hide my excitement. “I’ll give you some names to give to our guys to look for.”
The Mafia might be an old world organization, but that doesn’t mean we can’t move with the times. Some of the old dogs of our world still worry about basic things like phone tapping and plain clothes detectives. Our new generation knows other ways of tracking, more sinister ways that are untraceable and hard to stop. Because everyone has a digital footprint, and Jimmy and his team are the best of the best in tracing—that’s why we pay them the big money.
“On it,” Lorenzo replies, and the line dies.
I tap a claw against my marble bench top. Lorenzo’s hard work lies in ruins behind me. His reach didn’t end at my kitchen, but blended into my living room. It was perfect, too perfect. Like my old couch, the new lounge is now pressed up against the glass. But the rest had to go. The coffee table was giving Vogue Living and the prick even added a dining table, like who the fuck am I entertaining?
“Hello. Welcome to my home,” I mumble sarcastically, sweeping my hand back toward the destroyed furniture.
Yeah, well, he can fucking blame her for all his hard work going to shit. The ridiculous dining table lays in pieces on the balcony along with the shattered television I ripped from the wall. It was therapeutic, much like sparring with my brother was. I can’t let him beat the shit out of me now, so I had to resort to destruction to relieve some of the rage and tension. I enjoyed that pathetic chase a little too much. From the angry fire I saw burning in her eyes, to the way she offered her wrists in submission. My fingers flex involuntarily with the memory of her delicate bones trapped between them.
“Fuck.”
I throw myself from the bar stool and storm into my room. I want to text Monique, get her here so I can lose some of my body’s needs on her, but I don’t want to see Olivia’s face as I exorcise my demons. With drinking off the table, fighting out of the question and fucking a no go, I grab my keys. Maybe some distance will clear my fucking head of her.