20. Matteo
Matteo
Not for the first time, the thought crossed my mind that the wrong twin died.
Though they shared identical DNA, my father and my uncle could not have been more different.
Dominic Bellini had earned the respect of his men by serving beside them in the trenches before taking on the mantle of Don.
Dario remained on the sidelines, instead leaning heavily on the fear that came with his powerful bloodline.
My father was strict but never cruel when it came to raising his sons.
Dario . . . Well, Dario took a different approach to child-rearing.
Since we grew up under the same roof, I had a front row seat to the verbal and physical abuse my cousins suffered.
Never once had he attempted to hide his contempt for Gemma, constantly pointing out that by virtue of being born a girl, she was practically useless, her only value reduced to what she could buy us in terms of an alliance through marriage.
Though he tried to literally beat it out of her, she held onto her inherent spark, eventually using it to escape the life she’d been born into.
Enzo hadn’t fared much better, coming to the dinner table with a split lip and a black eye more times than I could count.
There was absolutely no love lost between Dario and his children.
Adjusting my painfully hard cock, I sealed the secret passageway and walked to the office door, pulling in a deep breath before opening it.
“Took you long enough,” my uncle said in way of greeting as he pushed past me and into the room.
I closed the door and turned to lean against it, arms folded. “What do you want, Dario?”
He kept his back to me as he helped himself to the wet bar, pouring a glass of fifty-year-old scotch before bringing it to his lips. “Times are changing. We need to pivot our business model.”
There was no containing the bark of disbelieving laughter that burst from my chest. “And what qualifies you to make that decision? Pretty sure I’m the one with the MBA.”
Dario scoffed. “Your fancy degree doesn’t outweigh my decades of experience.”
I decided to humor him. “All right. So tell me, Mr. Experience, what’s wrong with our current business model?”
With his free hand, he gestured toward the casino floor visible through the glass wall. “With the rise of legalized sports betting and online casino games, all of this will become obsolete.”
We’d been monitoring that development carefully, especially once laws allowed residents of Illinois to place bets via mobile apps.
While we’d initially seen a decrease in revenue, both inside the physical casino and through our bookies—Dario’s domain—it had bounced back within a matter of months.
Mainly because we offered something those online platforms didn’t—the ability to borrow the cash needed to gamble, instead of the bettors being restricted to what rested in their bank accounts.
Directing my attention to the room full of powerful men willing to drop half a million for the chance to score a seat at one of our ultra-exclusive tournaments, I countered, “Can’t do this online.”
A grunt sounded as Dario moved to stand at my side. “Eighteen mil once a quarter is peanuts.”
“Are you forgetting this isn’t our only business? We have several legitimate enterprises that will remain untouched by the changing legislation regarding online gambling.”
Ice clinked against his crystal glass as he swirled the liquor inside. “Can you honestly tell me those ‘legitimate’ income streams hold a candle to the ones that require doing business in the shadows?”
I clenched my jaw, unwilling to verbally admit he had a point. Though we made a killing in real estate, I wasn’t blind to the fact that there were far more profitable illegal pursuits.
“Where would you have us shift our focus?” The minute the question left my mouth, I knew I wouldn’t like the answer.
“There’s a certain appeal to pharmaceuticals.” That was code for drugs. He was suggesting we venture into distribution.
Even if I weren’t already opposed to the idea, the threat that Gemma laid down the day of my father’s funeral would be enough to shut it down.
She’d told us in no uncertain terms that if she ever caught a hint of us dealing, she would turn us into the feds.
Since I wasn’t interested in watching my daughters grow up through bulletproof glass, that was going to be a hard pass for me.
“Not interested.” Two words slammed the door shut on that suggestion.
Dario hummed. “The skin trade is another option.”
That had my head whipping around. “Are you out of your fucking mind?” I roared, my blood pressure spiking.
“It was just a suggestion.” He casually brushed off my rising rage.
“Just a suggestion,” I huffed. “In what world do you think I would agree to selling girls into sexual slavery when I have two of my own at home?” My stomach lurched at the mere idea of Bianca or Serafina being held captive, drugged up, and forced into prostitution against their will.
A haze of red clouded my vision.
“Get the fuck out of my office.” The command was uttered in a low, lethal tone.
That’s when Dario’s cool facade slipped away, and the ugliness of the man beneath surfaced.
“You need to stop playing with your new piece of pussy and do what’s right for the future of this family!” Saliva hit me in the face with the force of his words.
One second, my uncle was standing opposite me; the next, he was on the floor, and my right hand screamed in agony.
Crouching down, I grabbed a fistful of his shirt. “If I so much as hear you whisper Summer’s name ever again, I will cut out your fucking tongue and shove it so far down your throat you choke on it. Now get the hell out of my office before I change my mind and kill you on the spot.”
I let him go with a shove, relishing the sound of his head cracking against the floor.
Glaring up at me with murder in his eyes, Dario turned his head and spat blood on my expensive Persian rug, muttering under his breath something about men being weakened by women. Then he rose to his feet and hobbled out the door.
Vibrating with fury, I poured my own glass of scotch with trembling hands. I needed a minute to calm down before I rejoined the woman waiting for me downstairs.
Summer was blissfully unaware that I wouldn’t hesitate to kill in her name. And I would do everything in my power to keep it that way.
“Strip.”
Instantly, I obeyed Summer’s command, shucking my tuxedo jacket and letting it fall to the bedroom floor. It would get wrinkled as all hell, but that was the dry cleaner’s problem. My focus remained firmly fixed on the goddess in red silk standing before me.
My shirt was discarded next, then went my pants and boxer briefs. Before long, I was standing naked, my cock standing proud, pointing toward the object of its obsession.
A wicked gleam entered her brilliant blue eyes as she shoved the straps of the gown off her shoulder, allowing the fabric to pool at her feet like a puddle of blood.
It was symbolic in a way, representing the blood I would spill if someone so much as breathed wrong in her direction.
She was mine now. And I would stop at nothing to protect her.
The dim lighting cast shadows over the peaks and valleys of her mouthwatering curves as she stepped closer.
When she stopped so close that I could feel the ghost of her skin pressed to mine, my fingers twitched, desperate to dig into that soft flesh so hard there would be marks left behind come morning.
It took everything in me to hold back, but I was a man of my word, and tonight, I’d given her complete control. She’d do well to use this free pass wisely, because I was almost certain she wouldn’t be granted another.
A fingernail scored a line between my pecs, making me hiss.
Summer’s burning gaze lifted. “What am I?”
There was zero hesitation. “My queen.”
One corner of her lips tipped up. “That’s right. I am.”
My cock fucking wept at hearing her own that title.
She circled me slowly, her footsteps muted by the thick carpet beneath the heels still strapped to her feet. “And where does a queen sit?”
Oh, I liked where this was going.
“On her throne,” I replied.
“Once again, you are correct, Mr. Bellini,” Summer purred.
Jesus, her sultry voice alone was enough to bring me to my knees. I was beyond ready to worship at the altar of her body.
I jolted when her hand came down on my ass with a reverberating crack before she issued a sharp order. “Get up there.”
You didn’t have to tell me twice. Like I was shot out of a cannon, I bolted for the bed, positioning myself flat on my back, ready and waiting.
The mattress dipped beneath the weight of Summer’s knee as she crawled closer, positioning her body so that her pussy hovered directly over my face. Heat radiated from her core as her scent washed over me.
With paradise poised above me, so close I could practically taste it, I let out a whimper.
The sound had her peeking down at me. “Need something?”
My head fell back on a groan. “You know what I need.”
Humming, she teased, “Not sure that I do. Better use your words.”
“I need to bury my tongue in that sweet cunt. I want it to fucking drown me when you come down my throat.”
She considered my plea, pursing those plush lips that matched the pink of the lower set hovering over my mouth.
“Have you been a good boy, Matteo?”
I swallowed thickly, my voice coming out husky. “You know I haven’t.”
A tsk sounded. “Naughty boys need to be punished.”
“Then punish me, dolcezza .”
“Oh, I was planning on it.” Her hips lowered so that my nose brushed her clit. “I’m going to make myself comfortable on my new throne, and I won’t be getting up until you’re on the verge of suffocation. Do I make myself clear?”
My mouth filled with saliva. “Crystal.”
At my verbal acceptance of her punishment, all her body weight dropped onto my face. Plunged straight into heaven, I began to devour the feast set before me.