32. Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-One
Alessandrio
I have spent years of my life pulling enemies apart with my hands, tormenting them for answers. Never have I ever pulled one apart to put them back together—repeatedly. I wasn’t able to see her face the first time, watch the truth bloom in her eyes the way her sweet sex bloomed. That same mistake would not be repeated. I test her physical limits, how wide her legs can part, how high they can go, how far her back can arch off the bed. She takes it all and gives back when I taunt her. At one point, her tiny hand finds its way to my throat, nails pressing into my flesh beneath my fur. I fuck her harder for that and watch her eyes roll in the back of her head as she screams at how deep I go. I even press my lips to hers, forcing her full ones apart so my canines clash with her teeth in a rough, commanding kiss. It’s not pretty, but neither am I, and neither will she be when I am finished with her.
When we are both finally spent, and I know she can take no more, I pull my cock from her and hear her gasp. My breath catches in my throat when I reluctantly stand and look down at her. Amongst the crumpled sheets, she’s never looked more beautiful. Her cheeks are flushed from exertion, golden hair clinging to her neck, delicious pussy all puffy from my rough fucking and still dripping with my cum. I raise a quizzical brow as she scrabbles for the sheets, trying to cover that body, neck still red and indented with my teeth.
“Bit late for that,” I murmur and am rewarded with her deepening blush.
I enter her ensuite and start a bath. When I emerge, she raises her brow in question.
“You’re going to be sore tomorrow. A bath will help ease some of that,” I say with a shrug and see surprise ignite in her eyes.
When she tries to stand, I scoop her up, enjoying the weight of her in my arms as I carry her into the steaming bathroom. I feel her eyes on me as I check the temperature of the water.
“What?” I huff, unable to stand this new gentler silence.
“I just didn’t take you for the sweet lover type.” Her voice is deliciously raspy from being fucked so hard. I know her throat hurts from screaming.
“I wouldn’t say I am a sweet lover, would you?” She drops my gaze.
“Well, your actions are at odds with… that.”
I can tell she’s uncomfortable. Even now, the way she is trying to cover her body with her hands, it spikes a dark curiosity in me, one I am not sure I want answers for, but I have to know.
“How many people have you been with?”
Her eyes flick to mine. “One.” I don’t know why that makes me happy, but I won’t deny it.
“Good.”
“You?” I can see she truly doesn’t want my answer and nor do I want to give it.
I cross the gap between us. Her hand comes up to my chest as my own rises, tipping her chin up so our eyes are level. Tonight was inevitable. She is a temptation I was doomed to give into, a culmination of all that hatred and budding desire. My cock grows again and I see her eyes widen as it brushes her stomach.
“Don’t worry princess, I want to ruin you slowly, not all in one night.” I press my forehead to hers, eyes boring down into that grey depth.
I pull myself away and turn the taps off before turning to leave.
“Will you stay?” The words are tight and uncertain.
“Stay?” I spear her with a confused look.
“Here.” She points to the bath. “And with me tonight?” She won’t meet my eyes and for a moment, all I can do is stare like a fool at a loss for words.
Stay? She doesn’t want me to leave? This girl, with all her fire and dislike, wants me to stay with her?
“Like a sleepover?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest. “You want me to braid your hair while we apply face masks or something?”
She shoots me a withering look. “You could just say no.”
I don’t want to say no, though. Even before this curse, I was never invited to spend the night—I would only stay with someone else on occasions when the drink made it too hard for anyone to leave. Now I’ve had her, I want more already, but as much as there is temptation, there is also a healthy dose of caution. We can’t change who we are, and if I stay, won’t that start something? My chest tightens uncomfortably. They do, however, say keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Crossing lines and allowing this intimacy to blossom might actually benefit me. I want to know all her secrets and allowing this bond to form will help me get them. Silently I watch as she steps into the bath, easing herself down into the water, sighing as its warmth undoubtedly eases some of the tenderness left in my wake.
“It’s not a good idea,” I say quietly, watching her face and noting the lick of disappointment. “But I guess I am breaking all the rules at the moment.”
Wide eyes meet my own as I sit beside the tub and watch her between the steam of the water. There is an indent between her brows, but the rest of her face is soft and glistening, her cheeks still pretty and rosy.
“You don’t want to get in?” she asks.
“You want a wet furred monster sleeping beside you?”
She grimaces. “Good point.”
We sit in this new quiet, one born of curiosity and a fledgling something that I try to swallow down. Nothing good can come of it. And yet when she climbs out, I am there with the towel, helping her to dry off. She tries to wrap herself in it, but I toss it away and point to her bedroom.
“Fair is fair.” She glares at me but turns on her heels and storms back into the bedroom and I enjoy watching her well-shaped legs and her pert ass moves with each step. My whole being tilts on a new axis, however, as she climbs into the bed, moving to the far side and making room for me. Before I can think and allow the idea to tear me apart, I climb in beside her.
“I’ve never slept beside someone else,” she whispers as I settle on my side, only a hand’s width distance between us.
There is a low growl in my chest at her words, one of appreciation and primal approval. “Then let me be your first and go to sleep, or else I might just change my mind about ruining you slowly.”
Those pink lips part in surprise, and my gaze narrows on them before dragging up to her eyes, noting the spark that has kindled there.
“How do you know I won’t ruin you?” Her hand crosses the divide, fingers twining in the fur of my chest.
She could ruin me if I let her. In so many ways, she could fuck my entire life up, but I would see her destroyed before ever allowing that to occur. Right now, however, I want to test the challenge she has claimed. Gripping her wrist, I roll on my back, tugging her closer, cock tenting the sheets at my waist.
“Do your worst. I am not afraid of you Olivia.” A half truth .
A challenge fills her eyes as she sprawls across my chest.
“That is the first time you have said my name without malice,” she says, climbing on top of me.
The sheet at my waist is the only thing between us, her heat covering my length. I offer her my most vicious smile and she returns it with one that is both devastating and knowing. Her hands trail down my arms, fingernails scraping beneath my fur as they make their way down to my wrists and I bite down on the shiver at the feel.
“Did you have these tattoos before you were cursed?” she asks, tracing a finger down the snake on my wrist.
“Yes,” I grind out.
She lifts both my hands, staring at the black patches of letters across my knuckles.
“Hell Bound?” A delicate brow raises. “Final destination, hmm?”
“The only heaven I will be allowed into is the one between your thighs,” she gasps as I buck my hips, grinding my rigid length against her warm heat.
“If I ruined you, it could become your own personal hell.”
My monster stirs at her words and I sit up fast, hands now gripping her wrists and bringing us to eye level. She flinches back at my sudden nearness, my glare boring into her pretty face.
“Is that a threat?” I can’t keep the growl from my voice.
Our breaths mingle, her golden hair tumbling around her shoulders is lit from behind. She is too fucking beautiful, with her ragged breathing and her face a mask of open uncertainty. She is the most dangerous game I have ever played. I can’t tell her motives, and that scares me.
“No,” she breathes.
Her eyes rove over my face, but I glare at her hard, daring her. There is a heartbeat before her mouth collides with mine. Our teeth clank as her honeyed tongue slides precariously into my mouth. A growl rises in my chest, an answer to her desperate hands as they grip my face. A storm swirls inside of me as her needy hands sweep down to tug the sheet away. I help her mount my cock, marveling at how ready she is to take me again, like our verbal sparring was the only foreplay she needed. It’s only then she breaks the kiss to cry out and I swallow the sound, bringing her closer.
It isn’t rough, but it isn’t gentle. It’s disturbingly urgent. My hands on her hips help her find a rhythm. Our mouths remain close as I whisper praise, tasting her cries of passion. I feel when her body reaches its limits. Her cunt grips tighter, and my body begins its descent into oblivion. Urgent hands clutch at my shoulders and I pull back to watch her face, the ridges making her movement impossible. Her swollen lips part in abandon, dark lashes rest on flushed cheekbones, and the column of her delicate throat moves as she pants. The impact of the picture she paints moves something inside me. It feels unfathomable, and yet entirely possible.
“You are a force,” I grind out in a moment of weakness, kissing the skin below her jaw.
Grey eyes flutter open, piercing and full of awe. Shaken and raw from this evening’s events, I lift her off me. Our bodies protest the separation, but our mingled release aids in my resolve. It’s too much, too dangerous and yet I know I won’t be able to leave even if I wanted to. Olivia tries to sit, but I press her down, marveling not for the first time at the contrast between her creamy skin and my monstrous hand.
“Are you okay?” Her voice is uncertain.
“Fine.”
I slap the lights off from the side of the bed and curl around her, the darkness hiding my unease. At first she’s rigid, the silence once more tight with avoidance—I let it drag. I cannot allow what is happening to cloud my judgement, but denying anything more than one night will be impossible. I chuckle darkly in disbelief and feel her coil tighter. My lips find the soft spot behind her ear to soothe her, and tighten my grip. I have to ruin her before she can ruin me. I will ruin her before she can ruin me. And maybe, just maybe, if I do it right, Olivia will be bound to me, body and soul. With a new challenge laid out before me, I wait her out, feeling her body relax and her breathing even out. This feels good, too fucking good, and I allow myself a moment of peace in the presence of chaos.
“De Luca’s reins on the Hanged Man are slipping,” Emilio says what both Lorenzo and I are thinking.
“So why didn’t he just put a bullet in the creep’s head and be done with it?” I say between a set as my brother spots me on the bench press.
“It seems all is not as stable in the Outfit as they like to appear,” Lorenzo says from his own bench. “Marco Galdano’s popular. His family is powerful. He has never been De Luca’s man entirely. His position was by choice and the other bosses of the Outfit love him. Leonardo cannot act freely; if he kills him, it might seem like he was waiting for this chance to take Marco out of Chicago and weaken him. The other bosses will see the action as a weakness on De Luca’s part, and there will be a war.”
“And what if I kill him?” Because I so fucking badly want to.
“You won’t without a good reason,” Emilio says over the bar. “I don’t need a war right now.”
There is strain on my brother’s face. When he arrived, his mood was dark, his words clipped. I didn’t think this stuff between De Luca and Galdano would affect him so much. I heave the bar up and he helps me set it back on the rack. He’s not the only one distracted by an inner war.
I make my way over to the rack of dumbbells and pick up a pair, curling them with the ferocity of a man who’s trying to fight an addiction. Olivia Dolmino. Olivia Dolmino. Dolmino . I chant it over and over in my head. How long has it been? Six hours? Twelve? I have lost track of time in the fucking need of my body. I dreamt of her, woke up beside her and had to rip myself from that bed and take a scalding shower just to distract myself from her. Not fucking good.
Then we made breakfast together —how fucking domestic. But I couldn’t resist Olivia’s offer as she slid my white shirt on. It was surprisingly charming, and the sight caught me off guard. That was until she threw my pants at me and demanded I stop distracting her. It was a hard task keeping my hands off her, we are treading dangerous waters. My priority, however, will always be my family, and they always come first. So when my brother asked for a meeting, I jumped at the opportunity to put some space between us.
I stare back at my reflection as I curl the weights, glaring at the hideous face on the mirrored surface. She asked this to stay. This thing with his hard features hidden by so much fur. She kissed this mouth with those fucking teeth curving against my lower lip. She took everything I threw at her and didn’t flinch. Why? To what end will she go? My eyes occasionally flick to the door, as if I can see beyond the wood into my apartment. Straining my hearing for any noise beyond it, realizing too late my gym has gone completely silent. I spear my guests with a look and catch them in a silent conversation of raised brows and quick glances in my direction.
“What?” I snap, dropping the weights.
I don’t turn to face them, just meet their eyes in the wall of mirrors, annoyed.
“You seem tense,” Lorenzo says with an innocent shrug, and I glare at his reflection.
“You keep staring at the door like you can see through it,” Emilio adds, and I turn my ire on him.
“How’s your fiancée ?” Lorenzo inquires.
“You got something to say, old man?” I snap and he puts his hands up.
I walked right into their trap. Emilio laughs, and I feel relieved to see his humor spill into the room even if it is at my expense. Lorenzo joins in, and the two clowns have a joyous laugh at my stupidity.
“Ha fucking ha,” I say, picking my weights up again.
“You are too easy to work out Drio,” my brother says, wheezing.
“I don’t know what the fuck you are talking about,” I snarl, pleading the fifth.
For the rest of our session, I curb my habit of looking at the door, not wanting to give these fools a reason to mock me. Lorenzo’s phone rings and he excuses himself from the room. When the door opens, I take a moment to check she isn’t in the kitchen as he leaves. Turning back, I find my brother staring at me hard, slipping his sweatshirt over his head.
“You fucked her, didn’t you?” There is no accusation in his tone, just quiet curiosity.
“Is it that obvious?” I huff, pulling a t-shirt on.
“Obvious? More inevitable.” I shoot him a weary look. “I have never seen so much tension surrounding two people before,” he reiterates with a shrug.
“It could have been all that hatred.”
“When you spend so much time denying something, it’s easy to get powerful feelings mixed up.”
“And what, dear brother, do you think I was denying?” I ask incredulously.
“She is beautiful.” He shrugs. “She also seems to be unafraid of you. I would say that both irritated and intrigued you.”
“You forget who she is,” I reply, feigning boredom. “Maybe I decided to fuck her to keep our enemies close.”
That shuts him up, but only momentarily. “Have you read her file yet?”
I shake my head. My words were born of spite, but they left an unpleasant taste in my mouth. None of what happened last night felt like it was forced, calculated, or planned. It was compulsive and born of a need I had been denying since I took her.
“I have a hard time believing, if that file is true, that she would have anything to do with Riccardo and his machinations,” he says simply.
I narrow my gaze but keep my mouth closed as Lorenzo reenters the room.
“There’s a family event this weekend,” he says simply at my brother’s questioning eyes. “You wanted to accept every event for this season,” he points out to Emilio, who looks less than enthused.
“No kids?” Emilio asks.
My uncle shakes his head no. Thank God for that, I don’t lavish the idea of giving children nightmares. Emilio’s face, however, gives me pause. A deep valley has appeared between his heavy brows, his mouth a hard line around his own sharp canines.
“It would have been an excellent test,” Emilio says finally, eyes distant.
I shoot Lorenzo a look, but he’s watching Emilio, a knot now formed between his own brows. We share the same concern. The pressure is mounting on my brother’s shoulders, and the longer that Riccardo lurks in the shadows, the more it will eat away at Emilio. My concern melts into anger—something needs to be done, and fast.
“Call a meeting with the Dolmino associates,” I tell Lorenzo and watch the shadows flee Emilio’s face.
“Why?” Emilio questions.
“We need to amp up the pressure. We get Olivia to meet with them and show her brother and the Outfit she is serious. Show them we mean business, and Riccardo cannot ignore that kind of slight.” Even as I force the words out, I feel my stomach knot.
“She’s not ready,” Emilio replies.
“She will be. I will ensure it. We need access to Narciso Dolmino’s last will and testament, proving she has the money backing for such an undertaking. Do you have a list of the last known Dolmino associates? Ones who haven’t given allegiance to Riccardo?” I address Lorenzo feeling a renewed sense of purpose since my brother took me off duties.
“After his last play for power, most of those who sided with Riccardo were buried.” Lorenzo pauses, and a shadow hangs over us all.
“Good, we don’t need any snakes in the grass threatening her.” I don’t need it either.
“Are you sure about this, Drio?” Emilio asks finally, and I feel stripped bare beneath their eyes.
“She was brought here for a purpose. It’s one thing to say she will take the seat. It’s another thing to actually put her in it.” The words feel heavy.
They share a look of doubt, but I set this path for us when I took her.
“Make the calls,” Emilio tells our uncle, who nods in understanding, before turning on his heels and making his way out of the room again.
“Are you sure?” he asks again quietly. “He will not stop until she is dead.”
“And I won’t stop until he is. I can protect her. Like you said, the safest place for her is with me.”
He nods in agreement. “Read her file. Whatever this thing is between you both, you need to know what you are dealing with.”
With nothing left to say, he turns and leaves. I take a ragged breath and, not for the first time, feel the weariness of Mafia life. If I were normal, I would never get involved in organized crime, knowing what I know. The only way out is in a body bag. That knowledge makes the highs truly high. When you live life on the edge of death, everything is more vibrant. That same knowledge also means that attaching yourself to someone else is more risky; betrayal and weakness are usually the only outcomes. Lucia’s abduction proved my brother will always live in fear because of her. I cannot allow Olivia to be my own Achilles’ heel.
Closing the door to the gym, I take a seat on the couch and pull out my phone. Pulling up the files Jimmy sent me, I flick back through the ones that kept me going from the start—her school photos. The same haunted look lingered beneath a smile I can now identify as falsely perfect. Each year, she evolved into the beauty she is today. Exiting the file, my claw-tipped thumb hovers over the encrypted file that tormented me with unknowing. Not knowing what was in the file was maddening. Then it became a blessing. I input the password and find more files, labelled for every year of her school life. The first one I tap opens up to a newspaper clipping. It’s a small section, barely a few paragraphs. The heading: Quadruple homicide leaves NYPD baffled.
It’s baffling because it’s a classic mob hit. Two elderly landlords, a young Russian immigrant and her five-year-old daughter. No weapon, no witnesses, no apparent motive, and no suspects. The next slide of my thumb reveals the truth of it all. A little girl. Covered in blood, on what appears to be a hospital bed, and I know it’s her without even looking too closely.
“Fuck.” The word is harsh and full of anger.
Beneath the photograph is a medical report, listing zero injuries, but fears for the child's mental health.
Olivia Anya Stepanova was found clinging to her executed mother. Plain clothed police officers delivered her to the hospital, where she was isolated for questioning. At the time she was nonverbal, a translator was provided if her native language was Russian, but the child remained silent. Doctors diagnosed her with PTSD and Traumatic Mutism.
The report ends there. Nothing more was said about the child. It’s like she vanished into the ether, and the way she was listed as a victim in the article smells of a coverup. I can make a few assumptions. The Mafia might be a corrupt organization, but they don’t deploy the manpower for a hit on the innocent. Undoubtedly, Olivia or her mother were the target, the landlords were just collateral.
The files are years of visits to the school health facility. Notes from counsellors, and specialized psychologists paid for by what appears to be an alias. My throat constricts at the years of diagnosis, night terrors, major depressive episodes, and intermittent explosive disorder. It feels like night and day to the woman currently living in my home. She refused medication after the age of fifteen. Her mentor noted that running and exercising seemed to destress and allowed the patient to exhaust herself into sleep. Now I know why she truly likes to run.
Olivia and I are cut from the same cloth it seems, only children when the world we were born into tried to make us into villains. She seems to have fought against it, and found a way to beat her own monsters back into the shadows.
“That’s enough,” I huff and close my phone.
Emilio is right. It’s hard to see her being a double agent when I have a feeling Riccardo was the reason her mother had to die and her father put her in that school. The chance of me getting the full story of what occurred that day died with Narciso. I’ve regretted none of my kills, but in this moment I wish he was alive if only so I could get the story from his mouth before putting him in the ground again.
I’m on my paws and leaving the room in a heartbeat. A desperate need overwhelming and demanding to be remedied. I turn the handle of her door without knocking and let it swing wide. She jumps at my sudden appearance, clutching her chest, eyes wide. Leaning against the door frame, as I find myself suddenly at a loss for words or actions. My eyes feast on her. She’s propped up in her bed, hair wrapped in a towel and a pair of pink pyjamas covering her body.
“Are you watching Twilight ?” I question, disbelieving.
She flushes and smiles sheepishly. “Guilty.”
I stare at her long and hard, banking every memory from last night. Carving a spot for her in my brain that will be hard and potentially painful to scour from it later. She shifts and pats the bed beside her.
“You want to watch it with me?” Her voice is still husky from last night.
Tomorrow I can play the Mafia game, tomorrow I can break the news that we need more from her, for now I just want to be near her.