Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Nico
I stand in the bathroom for a long time, just watching Eleonora as she lies peacefully in the bathtub, eyes closed, lips slightly parted, breathing slow and even.
She’s fallen asleep. And for once, she doesn’t look like the chaotic storm that’s been driving me insane since the day I took her. Just soft, vulnerable, beautiful.
Mine.
My gaze shifts from her and drops lower, to my cock, still half-hard and streaked with her blood. Her virgin blood. I haven’t bothered to clean it off yet. I can’t. The sight of it does something primal to me, a deep, dark satisfaction that settles in my bones.
She was scared of being ruined for other men. She was right to be.
Because she is ruined now. But not for the reasons she thinks. She’s ruined because no other man will ever have her. Not while I’m breathing. The deal I made with her father, the Port, the alliance, none of it matters anymore.
The moment I sank into her, the moment I felt how tight and perfect she was, the moment she came crying my name… something shifted.
Eleonora Caruso is mine.
She belongs to me now. Not as a prisoner. As my woman.
I’ve never wanted to keep anyone before. But with her, it feels inevitable. I’m not letting her go. Not after tasting her. Not after being inside her.
I don’t care what her father says. I don’t care about the original plan. She’s not going anywhere.
I watch her sleeping face for a while before I finally move to the sink and wash off the streaks of her blood.
I dry off and walk back to the tub. The water has gone cool. I don’t want her catching a chill. I crouch down and gently brush damp strands of hair from her face.
“Eleonora,” I murmur. “Wake up, baby.”
Her eyes flutter open, soft and dreamy. “Hmm?”
“The water’s cold. Let me get you out.”
I help her stand, supporting her when her legs tremble. I wash her carefully, then I pat her dry with a thick towel and lift her into my arms. She melts against me instantly, head resting on my chest as I carry her back to the bed, lay her down, and pull the covers over her body.
I should leave.
Instead, I slide in beside her and watch her sleep. For hours. I watch the steady rise and fall of her chest, the way her lashes rest against her cheeks, the soft parting of her lips.
Eventually, when the sky begins to lighten, I force myself to get up, head back to my room, dress in workout clothes, and head down to the gym.
As I push through my sets, my mind keeps circling back to the same truth: I’m not letting her go. When her father fulfills his end of the deal, I won’t honor mine.
That decision will start a war. Marco is going to lose his mind when I tell him. But I don’t care. I call the shots. She’s mine, and no one, not Massimo, not Andrea, not anyone is taking her away from me.
I finish my workout and step out of the gym into the main hallway. Voices carry from near the foyer, Marco and Daniel, along with a few other men standing nearby.
Marco is clearly scolding Daniel, and the idiot has the nerve to look deviant.
I walk over, still wiping sweat from my neck. Daniel sees me first and stiffens.
I stop in front of him. “This is the second time you’ve failed at a simple fucking job. Guarding her. One task. And you keep fucking it up.”
“I’m sorry, Boss,” Daniel stammers. “It was late. I thought she was asleep. I went back to my quarters. How was I supposed to know the bitch was going to try and—”
The bitch.
The moment it leaves his mouth, I see red.
“What the fuck did you just say?” I growl, stepping right into Daniel’s space. “What did you just call her?”
Daniel’s face goes pale. He stutters, blood still dripping from his broken nose. “Boss, I—I didn’t mean—”
My fist flies before I can think. The crunch of bone echoes down the hallway as I break his nose for the second time. Daniel staggers back with a pained grunt, blood pouring down his face.
I give him a couple more blows, until he's bent over on the floor, couching.
I bend down and grab him by the collar.
“Call her that again and I’ll cut your tongue out and feed it to you.”
Daniel coughs, blood dripping onto the marble floor. “Sorry, Boss, I— ”
I don’t let him finish. In one fluid motion, I pull the knife from my belt and drive it straight through his left ear, pinning it to the wall behind him. The scream that rips out of Daniel is raw and guttural. Blood pours down the side of his head as he thrashes in agony.
“You’re done,” I snarl, voice low and lethal. “You’re no longer her guard. In fact, you’re off duty completely. You’re going back to the perimeter with the rest of the foot soldiers. Maybe standing in the rain for twelve-hour shifts will remind you of your place.”
I release him with a disgusted shove and wipe the bloodied knife on his shirt. The other men are dead silent, staring at me. They’ve never seen me like this before. Even Marco looks surprised. Daniel is whimpering, rocking on the floor, blood dripping between his fingers.
“Next time you fuck up,” I say quietly, “it won’t be your ear. It’ll be your throat. Do you understand?”
He nods frantically, tears mixing with the blood on his face. “Y-yes, Boss.”
I turn to the rest of them.
“This is your warning. Every single one of you. Disrespect her in any way, word, action, or look, and you’ll end up worse than him. Am I clear?”
A chorus of “Yes, Boss” echoes immediately.
I don’t wait for more. I turn and walk away.
Marco follows me down the hall, falling into step beside me once we’re out of earshot.
“What the hell was that about?” he asks quietly.
I don’t slow down. “You were standing right there. You heard what he called her.”
“I did. But don’t you think that was a little… over the top? Demoting him to perimeter duty?”
I stop abruptly and face him. “Are you questioning my authority now, Marco?”
He raises both hands. “No. You’re still the boss. It’s just… I’ve never seen you react like this over a woman before.”
I stare at him hard. He wisely shuts his mouth.
After a beat, I continue walking. “Where are we on the deal with Massimo?”
Marco falls back in step. “He reached out. He’s only willing to give us half of what we asked for. Access to one port terminal, and only for a limited time.”
I let out a harsh breath. “Call him back. Tell him I’m not joking about sending his daughters back to him piece by piece if he doesn’t meet my demands. All of them.”
Marco hesitates. “Are you… actually serious about that?”
The look I give him makes him shut up immediately.
“Fine,” he says. “I’ll tell him.”
“What about Sienna?” I ask.
“Still working on locating her and the boyfriend. No solid leads yet.”
“You’d better find her. And stop questioning me.”
I don’t wait for his reply. I turn and walk away.
I head straight to her bedroom, the itch under my skin too strong to ignore any longer.
The bed is empty, but I hear the sound of running water from the bathroom. I push the door open quietly.
She’s in the shower, back turned to me, water cascading down her bare skin. I strip off my workout clothes and step in behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her back against my chest.
She startles, then relaxes when she realizes it’s me. “Oh… it’s you.”
“Were you expecting someone else?” I murmur against her ear, voice low.
She lets out a soft laugh. “No. You just surprised me.”
I turn her gently to face me. She’s shy now, cheeks flushed, eyes dropping to my chest instead of meeting mine. It’s such a contrast to the sharp-mouthed woman who constantly challenges me.
I brush wet strands of hair from her face. “How did you sleep?”
“Very well,” she whispers.
I study her for a moment, then reach for the shampoo. “Turn around.”
She does. I lather the shampoo in my hands and start massaging it into her scalp, fingers working slow, firm circles. I’ve never had a hair fetish, but right now, with her dark strands slipping through my fingers and the soft little sighs she makes, I think I might be developing one.
I rinse her hair carefully, then pick up the body wash and start running my soapy hands over her shoulders, down her back, over the curve of her ass. She leans into me, pressing her wet body against mine. My cock is already hard, nestled against the small of her back.
She turns in my arms and returns the favor, her hands sliding over my chest, my abs, then lower. When her fingers wrap around my cock, I groan.
“Is this okay?” she asks, voice shy but curious.
“Fuck yes,” I rasp. “Tighter, baby. Like this.”
I guide her hand, showing her the rhythm I like. She learns fast, stroking me with more confidence, her thumb brushing over the head on every upstroke. I throw my head back against the tile, breathing hard.
I come with a low groan, spilling over her hand and stomach in thick pulses. Before I can catch my breath, she brings her fingers to her mouth and licks them clean, tasting me.
The sight is so perfect. I growl, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at me.
“How sore are you?” I ask, voice rough with renewed hunger.