The Vendetti Soldier (The Vendetti Famiglia #7)

Chapter 13

“I’m with him. For better or worse.” “It’ll probably be worse.” “I knew that the day I met him.” - The Frozen Sea

Rorik

M y sister is crazy, and when she gets that look—the type where she obviously has a plan brewing—well, there’s no stopping her. Just like when she saw those wedding images of Dante and his wife, Mischa made up her mind she’d be the next Vendetti wife. She was selling herself short when she mentioned us being smart. She’s not only intelligent but can be sneaky and hatch one hell of a plan when she makes her mind up. Thank fuck I’m here to try and keep her out of trouble, or there’s no telling what she’d already be up to.

Leave it to the tiny, feisty Russian woman to decide she’s going after the fucking Irish for payback. It shouldn’t surprise me; with Papa getting shot, this is the least I should’ve expected from her. I can’t blame her; I want to get my vengeance on those fuckers myself. Thank God Luciano was there to save Papa. I don’t know what I’d do if anything worse had happened to him past his gunshot. It’s the hardest part of being the heir to an organization; you’re used to a bit of power, but never too much. It’s like they give you a paddle but then tell you-you can’t use it to row. It’s basically a wood stick to look at until the just-in-case happens and you finally get to break it out and put it to use.

I’m waiting for my turn to have the power, to be able to call shots and face danger when necessary. However, in order for it to happen, my father must either retire or die to pass the reins, and it’s the last thing either of us wants for him.

Finishing off my tea and snacks, I gather the dishes and take them with me inside. There’s staff to take care of this stuff, but my hands are free, so why am I going to be lazy when they already have a houseful of work to do. Plus, it gives me an excuse to head to the kitchen, which is conveniently located close to the offices.

“Rorik, how are you?”

I’m shaken from my internal thoughts by Annabella, Salvatore’s wife, my new sister-in-law. She started here as a nanny and fell hopelessly in love with the second oldest Vendetti. “I’m good, how are you?”

“Having a toddler and a baby keeps me pretty busy, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Rosa should be in pre-kindergarten, but her father won’t have it. I understand, of course, so we compromise and have tutors come.” My brow hikes, as it’s the last thing I was expecting from her. She does seem more flustered than she has the other times I’ve been around her. She huffs out a breath before explaining, “Sorry to unload. One of the tutors upset me, so I’m a little more frustrated today than usual.”

Using this to my advantage, I press. “I don’t mind; unload all you want. We’re family, is it not what we do?” I offer a charming smile. I mean every word, but I can still attempt to help myself in the process as well. “What about Salvatore? Did you ask for his help with the tutor?”

She shakes her head, quietly responding, “No, you know how tense things are right now. I don’t want to bother him when he’s so busy, literally keeping us safe. I can figure out the other stuff on my own somehow.”

I nod, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. I tuck her into my side with my free hand. “Sometimes it’s the jobs at home that suck more out of us than the dangerous ones. Most men don’t know that because they aren’t in the position to experience it. I, however, am.” I offer her a sad smile. “What could they possibly have going on that we couldn’t handle? I mean, surely we could help someway, maybe free up a little time for them to help us with the other stuff?”

“We could definitely help them with—”

“ Mio bell’uomo ?” Annabella’s cut off from finishing her sentence, and it takes me curling my fingers into a fist to keep me from sighing aloud. I was so close to getting an ounce of information out of her, and now I know it’ll never happen.

I meet my husband’s curious stare as he gestures to the dishes in my other hand. “I had tea with Mischa, thought I’d bring the dishes down.”

“Why?”

Annabella gives me a small squeeze from the side, slipping out from under my arm. “Thanks for listening, Rorik, I feel better already. I’ll let you two talk.” She walks in the direction of the arboretum, where I’m sure she’s meeting Cristiano’s wife.

I watch as Annabella disappears and then train my attention on my husband with a sigh. “Thought it would be nice to do something helpful. You know, make a good impression on the staff. I don’t want them thinking I’m a lazy slob married to the pretty Vendetti.” The words taste bitter on my tongue, hating that I’m lying over this issue when we should all be working together.

His expression softens slightly as he seems to buy my excuse, then he huffs. “I’m not the pretty one.” His hand briefly brushes against mine, sending a shiver of desire through me. I wasn’t kidding when I said he’s the pretty one. They’re all classically handsome, like someone straight out of Peaky Blinders, but Luciano takes it a step further. Maybe it’s because he’s so particular about taking care of himself. I can’t put my finger on it exactly, but he simply stands out to me when they’re all together. He glances in the direction Annabella went, asking, “Is she okay?”

“Overwhelmed with one of the instructors for Rosa. She doesn’t want to bother Salvatore about it because she feels like his work is more important.” It’s best to stick as close to the truth as possible so I don’t end up dead in a ditch from the Vendettis thinking I’m betraying them in some way.

He leans in, taking the dishes from me to set on the floor off to the side in the hallway. His hands cover mine as he shoves us just inside the doorway to his office. He quietly murmurs, “We need to keep an eye on things. If there’s something going on, trouble with any staff or family members, we can’t afford to ignore it.”

I nod in agreement, “Do you think there’s someone here working for the Irish?” Pulling me to him, he leans in, kissing just under my ear. He switches gears completely as he whispers, “Christ, I can’t stop thinking of this morning every time I look at your mouth.”

Pulling away, irritation fills me as I take in his office. I should be working, not being some ‘kept’ husband for him to do with whenever he pleases. “Why won’t you talk to me? I know we’re new in this marriage, but I’ve put my trust in you for not only me but my sister. Hell, my entire family. You saved my father, Luciano, you have my loyalty.”

His dazed expression, full of desire, is wiped clear in an instant. “What do you want from me?” he asks, his voice stern. I’ve ruffled his feathers, but seriously, what does he expect?

“I want you to be upfront with me, especially when there’s danger. I’m not a spoiled child; I’m a grown man who has helped with my father’s business practically my entire life.”

He steps forward, tugging me to him once more. “It’s my job to protect you, don’t you see? You have to be a ‘kept’ man now…” he pauses, and I tilt my head a touch, needing him to continue. To tell me why. “You’re my greatest weakness. All of our spouses are. You’ve become the most important person in my life, along with Mischa, so there’s no place for you in the line of danger. I forbid it, Rorik.”

“Y-you forbid it?” I ask on a shocked gasp. “You’re really going there; your plan is to control me when I offer everything to you openly?”

“But you’re not. You think you’re submitting to me, but you’re still fighting, still demanding. Until you see reason and understand this is the way of our life, you’ll be hurt over something that was out of your control the moment your father signed the Blood Oath . You don’t only belong to the Vendettis, you belong to me .”

Tears crest, because it feels like my heart is cracking, a jagged fissure dividing it into pieces. I knew I was in this family for the rest of my life, but to hear him make it sound like I’ll never have any of my own choices again, it’s killing me. As a man. As a human. As someone who was already falling in love with him.

He reaches for me, but I back away before he can make purchase. “Don’t touch me,” I demand on a quiet, broken breath, then I’m spinning around, rushing from his office.

“Rorik!” he shouts after me.

I’m done with him for the day. I need to be alone with my thoughts because I’m angry and hurt at the moment. Ignoring him, I hurry from the hall, round the corner, and run up the stairs. I rush around the first turn, needing to go back outside, to be in the cold air and stare at the ugly deadness of winter from the balcony.

I slam into a hard chest. “Oof!” escapes me, and then I’m falling. I don’t get the chance to land because a strong grip is pulling me back to my feet. The impact forces the tears I’d been carrying in my eyes to fall, and of course, he sees them. Of fucking course, out of everyone in the house, it has to be the one man hell-bent on breaking me down, making me bend to his will.

I expect him to smirk.

Maybe taunt me about finally learning my place…

Only he doesn’t.

Santino’s brow furrows in worry, his firm grip softening to pull me closer. “Hey, are you okay?” he asks softly.

I shake my head, chuckling, even though nothing about it is funny. Just ironic. “Not at the moment.”

“Your father?” I shake my head. “Mischa?” Again, I shake my head. “My brother?” I nod. “Is he alright, or did he upset you in some way?”

“H-he’s fine,” I choke out, my throat feeling tighter than usual. It’s hard to talk without crying, and I refuse to break down more in front of this man than I already have.

“So he hurt you. Fuck,” he curses, then he’s tugging me to him tighter, wrapping those big, muscular arms around me.

We stand there, him holding me, making me feel safe, and it’s my undoing. Tears leak down my cheeks, but I don’t move. I let them go, along with the expectations of having an equal partnership with Luciano. I was an idiot to think it would be different with him because I’m a man. I may as well have a vagina because under the Vendetti Empire, I’m just another wife .

“Shh, mio dolce ,” he murmurs, comforting me. “It’s all going to be okay.” He shifts away enough to slide one hand to my jaw, cupping it. He meets my watery gaze. “Shh,” he soothes again, this time leaning in. His nose touches mine first, his forehead lightly pressing against mine. His eyes stare into mine before closing tightly, almost as if it hurts him to see me upset, like he’s fighting his thoughts or internal emotions.

My bottom lip trembles as I tilt my head until my mouth grazes his. He swore he’d never kiss me, but in this moment, there’s nothing I want more in the world. I have to know what his lips feel like; they’re too perfect, too pillowy. I know they must feel magical. “Please,” I whisper, the word leaving me so quietly, I’m amazed he even hears it.

Santino releases a heavy breath, then he’s nodding, but it’s more to himself than to me. In the next beat, his hand slides behind my head, his mouth meeting mine. My heart opens to him, letting him inside as he kisses me whole once more. A surge of newfound desire courses through me at finally feeling his tongue stroke against mine. To taste him, his cool freshness reminding me of lemon and lime. It's as if the world falls away around us, taking all my worries and trepidations with it. His kiss is gentle enough to make me weak in the knees, yet determined, his lips moving against mine with a raw intensity that steals my breath.

I can sense the weight of his internal struggle with each press of his mouth, the conflict between what he thinks he should feel and what he truly does. It’s in the way he holds me, the tightness of his muscles, the flex each time I stroke his tongue a certain way. All pretenses seem to crumble away in this moment of vulnerability we’re sharing, and one thing stands out adamantly. I don’t want him to stop.

As we break apart, gasping for air, there’s a brief flicker of uncertainty in Santino’s gaze. A silent question lingers between us, but before either of us works up the courage to speak, he’s shoving me into the closest room. His mouth is back on mine in the next instant, and our kiss deepens. It turns my insides into a mess of fluttering butterflies for him; I no longer only want to be dominated by him but to have all the tenderness he’s giving me a glimpse of now as well. His lips move with a fervor that matches the same passion flowing through my veins, egging me on to ask him for more.

We stumble to the bed, our kiss not breaking until I’m lying on my back and he’s on top of me. Then he’s exploring me. His mouth, that glorious tease, is licking, sucking, and nipping along my jawline, down my throat, under my ear, and finally, as he tugs my shirt to the side, he sinks his teeth into the tender spot where my neck and shoulder meet.

The jolt of the sensations has me growing incredibly harder than I already am. “Please fuck me,” I manage to ask as his hand unsnaps my pants. He lowers the zipper, then his fingers are dipping inside, stroking me. “Oh, God,” I moan as he gives my cock a firm tug.

“That’s it, mio dolce. Tell me what you need.”

“Y-you. I need you. Mmm, that feels so good.” My eyes are rolling heavenward with each twist and squeeze of his hand. Then his weight leaves me as he shifts lower. His hand moves to my base as his warm, wet mouth takes my cock as far as he can. He sucks eagerly, slurping when needed, the loud sounds of my wet cock filling the silent room.

“Fuck,” I groan long and low. I should’ve known he’d be good at this; he’s good at every fucking thing, including being a moody asshole. “Fuck,” I repeat the word three times, making it my new chant with each bob of his head. One hand finds his hair, twining in the soft locks, while the other moves to my cock so I can feel each time his mouth slides all the way down. It’s my undoing. I can’t hold on because it’s too much. “I-I need to… can I?” I stammer out, and he continues to suck until tears are leaking because I can no longer hold myself back from coming no matter how hard I’m trying.

Cum explodes from my tip as my cock gorges itself on the intense sensations, soaking up every ounce of pleasure Santino’s mouth offers. Luciano has sucked my cock, but not when I was feeling so fucking emotional. No, Santino waited until I was unbelievably vulnerable so it’d feel like I was being blown by a fucking Greek god.

He swallows every drop of my cum, licking his lips after he’s drained me. “Now, I fuck you, mio dolce. Hold on tight, I’m going to take you hard after enjoying your taste and your cock so much.”