Chapter Twenty-One – Vieri
The moment the call drops, I toss the phone across the room. It clatters hard against the marble floor, but it doesn’t break. Pity. I needed the release.
My glare sweeps the room like a loaded weapon. Enzo sits on the edge of the table, teeth gritted as he presses a blood-soaked cloth to his hand. Alfio stands beside him, still breathing hard. Omero leans against the wall, arms folded, eyes sharp.
“I’m sorry,” Alfio starts, voice low.
I cut him off. “I asked for one thing.”
My voice isn't raised, but it vibrates with heat. The way fire simmers before it explodes.
“One fucking thing. Don’t lose her.”
“We didn’t lose her,” Enzo groans, shifting his weight. “She was kidnapped.”
His face is pale, sweat pearling at his brow. Blood runs sluggishly through his fingers, soaking the cloth. Omero places a firm hand on his shoulder, muttering, “The doctor’s on his way. Just hang on.”
I ignore them.
My chest heaves, not from exertion but fury, cold and heavy in my ribs. My hands don’t shake, not even as I walk to the gun rack and unclip the gun. The weight of it grounds me. I chamber a round with one flick of my wrist.
“Lapo wouldn’t just take her out of the blue,” Enzo mutters, voice tight. “What did you do to him?”
I turn slowly.
Omero straightens. “He’s got a point. That bastard’s a parasite, but he doesn’t move without motive. What aren’t you telling us?”
I stare at them both.
Then I walk to the door.
Enzo stands abruptly, swaying. “If you’re going after her, I’m coming with you.”
I stop in the threshold, head tilting back just enough to see him from the corner of my eye. My voice comes quiet. Controlled.
“Sit. The fuck. Down. Before I break your legs myself.”
He blinks, stunned into stillness. I don’t wait for him to answer.
Turning fully to Omero, I nod toward Enzo. “Get him patched up. Keep him in bed. The house is yours until I get back. Try not to lose it like you lost her.”
Omero scowls but doesn’t argue. He moves toward Enzo and catches him by the elbow, easing him toward the hall.
“You okay?” he murmurs. Enzo shakes him off but leans on him anyway.
I shift my focus to Alfio.
“Come with me.”
****
Rubber screeches against asphalt as we tear out of the driveway. Alfio mutters something beside me—maybe a curse but I’m not listening. My grip on the wheel is white-knuckled, the leather biting into my palms. I don't blink when we run the first red light. Or the second. Horns blare around us, tires squeal in protest, and a car veers off the road with a terrified honk.
“You’re gonna kill us,” Alfio breathes, bracing one hand against the dash. “Slow down, Vieri.”
By the time we pull up to Lapo’s estate, the tires spit gravel in every direction.
I don’t park. I leave the car door hanging open and head straight for the gates.
A guard steps forward, his rifle raised. “You can’t—”
My fist connects with his throat before he finishes.
He gags and crumples.
Another lunges. I drive my elbow into his jaw, duck a swing, and slam his head against the wrought iron fence. Bone cracks. He drops like dead weight.
Alfio’s beside me now, moving clean and fast. He takes out a third before I even turn around, his blade slipping between ribs like he’s buttering bread.
We both pause and we watch the front doors swing open.
More guards pour out—this time armed, their guns already raised. Ten. Maybe more. My chest heaves, but my hands stay loose by my sides. Blood stains the cuffs of my shirt.
Then Lapo strolls out, swathed in a robe like this is his fucking birthday.
“Vieri,” he drawls, arms open, smiling like we’re cousins meeting at a family barbecue. “Friend. Must you cause a scene? Me and my missus were just at it—”
I stalk forward. Alfio doesn't stop me.
Lapo’s guards tense, guns lifting a breath higher, but I stop just short of their reach. My jaw clenches. “Where is she?”
Lapo’s smile widens, but his eyes twitch. “I’ll show you. But first…” He wags a finger. “What I asked for.”
“I don’t own the ports,” I say, “I just run them.”
His brow dips.
“I’ll do something when I see her.”
He weighs me for a long second. Then he shrugs. “Deal.”
He turns on his heel like this is just business.
Alfio and I follow, every step a war cry. I count the seconds. One foot after the other, down polished halls that shine. He stops before a thick wooden door.
Lunetta is kneeling on the floor, knees tucked under her body like she folded into herself. Her wrists are tied behind her back. A blindfold covers her eyes. Her face—God, her face—is streaked with red. Her cheeks blotched. The bruises from the slaps look fresh, her lip cut.
I step in without a word and walk over to her. My shoes echo too loud on the tile. The door clicks shut behind me.
My knees bend as I crouch in front of her. One hand hovers by her shoulder. The other reaches up, slow as fog and I slide the blindfold off her face.
Her lashes flutter. I kneel there, hand still hovering by her cheek, staring into eyes that have no reason to trust me… but do.
My fingers brush the corner of her mouth, where the skin’s swollen. My thumb lifts beneath her chin and tilts her face up, slow enough not to frighten her more.
She blinks up at me, pupils unfocused. Her gaze struggles to settle—and when it does, it lands on me. That innocence. That fear. That goddamn calmness in the wreckage.
Gone is the red haze from the drive here. The roar of Alfio’s voice, the screech of tires. I smooth the back of my fingers along her cheek, brushing over the heat left behind by palm strikes. Someone slapped her, hard enough to split her lips.
Behind me, Lapo chuckles nervously. “She was being a rude little wretch,” he says. “You know how they are. You get it, right? Women—they push, they mouth off. I had to discipline her a little.”
I rise to my feet, slow and steady, the weight of my stare settling on the man in the sling. He shifts where he stands. I step past Lunetta, now behind me.
“This is about him, isn’t it?” I ask.
Lapo shrugs. “You took my man. Not cool, Vieri.”
My eyes flick to the man. “Gold, was it? Did you tell him why I took you?”
The man looks away, he hasn't told Lapo anything yet.
“I apologize. I acted on impulse. Let me make it up to you,” I say to the man.
He narrows his gaze, confused.
“Come work at my port.”
His lips part. Lapo stiffens beside him.
The offer is gold in itself—more pay, less risk. Working ports means connections. He would no longer be Lapo’s attack dog. Gold knows that. I can see it dawning in his eyes.
“Don’t be hasty now,” Lapo starts, raising a hand.
I raise one in return. “I’m getting to you.”
My eyes lock with Gold’s. “You start tomorrow. My men will have your file.”
He nods, breath catching. “Deal.”
I nod back. “Now. I want his face to match hers.”
Gold swallows. “You mean—?”
“Whatever he did to her. Tenfold.”
Alfio exhales, looks away.
Gold chuckles, dark and low. “Why would I? Lapo’ll kill me.”
“No, he won’t. Not if I tip the Dons. Or the cops.”
Lapo’s mouth opens. No words come.
“About your fish farm,” I say looking at Lapo. “Or should I say, organ harvesting?”
The color drains from his face.
“You… You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lapo says, voice barely above a croak.
“I do,” I reply calmly. “And so will the Dons, if I have to open my mouth. You want to play god? Fine. But don’t try to outmaneuver me, Lapo. I’m three steps ahead. Always.”
Gold shifts beside him, the grin on his face widening.
I give him a single nod. “Do the honors.”
Gold whistles, and two men emerge from a side door. They nod to him, then step behind Lapo. His shoulders stiffen.
“Have fun with the old man,” Gold says, voice low. “After this, we’re free, brothers.” He looks at me. “You better beat it. I have a few minutes to rough him up and dash out before his goons come to check on him.”
I turn and walk back to her. Alfio meets me, blade in hand.
I kneel again and cut the binds on her wrists. The rope leaves deep lines in her skin.
I take her hands in mine, gently this time, and pull her up. She sways—so I hold her close, an arm steady around her waist.
We turn toward the door when a figure steps into our path.
The wife.
She’s wrapped in a thin robe, dark hair loose, face bare. Her eyes widen at the sight of me. Then they land on Lunetta.
I move to step past her, but Lunetta tugs my arm.
She faces the woman, voice hoarse but clear. “You have an hour to run,” she says. “He won’t find you for a while.”
The woman stares at her confused. Her mouth opens.
A tear runs down her eyes and she says, “Thank you.”
Then she turns and runs up the flight of stairs at the corner, sobbing.
****
The drive back is dead quiet.
She sits beside me in the back seat, her hands in her lap, head resting against the window.
I lead her inside, past the front door, up the stairs. Alfio’s limping a few paces behind, nursing the bruise spreading beneath his eye.
I lead her straight to my room, and when we get in, I shut the door.
She stands in the middle of the room like she doesn’t know what to do with herself. Her shoulders are hunched forward, her thick arms wrapped loosely around her body. Her hair is a mess of curls and her cheeks are raw, swollen. Blood dried on one corner of her mouth.
She looks like she’s trying not to cry.
I walk up to her. “Are you hurt anywhere?”
She doesn’t respond.
“Do you need a doctor? Your cheek—your lip—did they hit your ribs? Tell me where it hurts.”
She raises her hand, slow, like she’s afraid I’ll pull away. Her palm presses against my chest, right over my heart.
“I’m fine,” she says softly. “Really.”
I look down at her. She’s not fine. Not even close.
I pull her to me and she comes into my arms like she belongs there. All softness and weight and trembling warmth. I wrap my arms around her and press her to my chest, one hand cradling the back of her head. She’s solid against me, all curves and comfort and heat.
“Thank you,” she breathes against my collarbone. “For saving me.”
“My brothers are fucking idiots,” I mutter, closing my eyes as I hold her tighter. “They had one job.”
She chuckles, a sound so light and quiet, I nearly miss it. But it hits me hard, she has never laughed before. I pull back a little, just enough to look at her.
Her cheeks are red, lips cracked and swollen, and that smile—fragile, trembling, real—breaks me apart. It lights up her whole face. Makes her eyes softer.
My hand slides along her waist, fingers spreading wide across the generous curve of her side, anchoring her against me. She’s plush and warm, her body molding against mine in all the ways I shouldn’t notice—but I do. She smells like sweat and blood and her. And somehow that makes me want her more.
I dip my head and lean down to her. I feel the tremble in her hands resting on my chest.
“Stop me,” I whisper, voice brushing her skin. “Say no, and I’ll go. Say that I’ll hurt your split lips if I kiss you.”
She swallows. Her eyes don’t leave mine, wide and glassy and unsure—but not resisting.
She doesn’t speak.
My lips press to hers, soft at first—just a question. A warning. Then deeper. Her mouth parts beneath mine, and I taste her breath, her fear, her warmth. I pull her in by the waist and cup her jaw with one hand, angling her face to mine. She leans into it—hesitant, but willing—and I kiss her again.
Her mouth parts against mine and her breath grows heavier—just like mine. I edge her toward the wall, guiding her by the waist, feeling the softness of her full curves press into my body, grounding me in a way I didn’t expect. Her back touches the wall.
I tug gently at her torn cardigan, my fingertips brushing her arms—bare, warm, plush. My mouth finds the skin there, kissing the curve of her arm slowly, reverently, before I ease one strap of her dress from her shoulder. The fabric slips down and reveals more of her. Her skin is smooth under my lips, tasting faintly of soap and something faintly sweet.
My teeth graze her neck and she arches slightly, a soft sound escaping her lips that goes straight to my chest.
“Tell me to stop,” I murmur against her skin. My voice is caught between a plea and a threat. I’m giving her the out I never give anyone. I wait—but her fingers tangle in my hair, pressing me closer. Her body moves with mine, full and yielding, and she throws her head back with a gasp.
I trail my mouth down and her collarbone rises and falls beneath my lips. I take my time, tracing the edges of her body like I’m memorizing every dip, every softness. The second strap slips down, revealing more of her chest. My palms smooth up her waist, splaying over the generous curve of her ribs. I glance up once—her eyes flutter shut, lips parted, cheeks flushed despite the fading bruises. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I lower my head again and brush my mouth over the swell of her chest, reverent, careful. Her body trembles under me, her hands gripping the front of my shirt like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.
Moans spill from her lips as my tongue grazes one nipple, firm and full beneath my mouth, while my hand caresses the other with reverence. Her body arches into me, bold and unashamed. I ease the straps of her dress down her shoulders, dragging the fabric slowly over the curve of her hips until it pools at her feet. She stands before me, naked.
I press into her, my body hard and burning with need, molding against the softness of her frame. Our mouths meet again—wet, urgent, and tasting of something sweeter than sin. My hands trail down her thighs, parting them slightly to feel the heat waiting for me there. She gasps as I nip her skin, a mark left behind, possessive and primal. Her arms tighten around my neck, pulling me deeper into her orbit.
Breathless, I draw back, chest heaving. My eyes drink her in—flushed cheeks, trembling lashes, sweat curling the strands at her temple. “Have you ever done this before?” I ask, my voice low.
She shakes her head, unable to speak. I kiss her gently, letting our lips say what words cannot. Then I reach into the drawer beside us and pull out a small bottle. Her gaze flicks to it with wide-eyed curiosity.
“Do you trust me?” I ask.
She hesitates, then nods. I take her hand, guiding her to the bed with care. She lies on her back and I hover above her, pressing soft kisses along her neck, across the tender lines of her body. Stretch marks, dips, curves—every inch of her is art, and I worship it all. Her fingers clutch the sheets, her legs trembling slightly beneath my touch.
I lower my pants, and my cock springs free—thick, heavy, and already slick with anticipation. I grab the bottle, pour a generous amount of lube into my hand, and coat myself with slow, firm strokes. The contrast of the cold gel on my flushed skin makes me hiss through my teeth. I stroke my shaft once more, watching it gleam under the low light, then toss the bottle aside and crawl between her legs.
One hand braces beside her head, the other glides down to her hip, fingers splaying across the smooth flesh. My cock drags across the inside of her thigh.
“Tell me if you need me to stop,” I whisper, voice hoarse with restraint.
Her legs spread slightly, thighs parting like a promise, her slick folds glistening with arousal. She’s fucking soaked.
I line myself up, the head of my cock brushing against the swollen lips of her pussy. Her breath hitches, chest freezing mid-rise. I pause, press a soft kiss to her neck, letting her feel my weight, my presence.
“This okay?”
She nods, whispering, “Yes.”
Her skin is burning under my touch—neck to chest to the trembling softness of her thighs. Sweat clings to her, and her scent hits me—musk and sex and her. I guide myself lower, my tip nudging into her entrance. Even with the lube, she’s tight. Fucking tight. Her pussy clamps around the tip like she doesn’t want to let me in.
Her hips jerk, just a little, and I kiss her shoulder again.
Her hands fist the sheets.
I push in slowly, stretching her open, feeling her tight heat inch by inch. Her pussy grips me hard, a wet suction pulling me deeper. Her face twists, brows pulling together, and a sharp gasp rips from her throat. She jerks beneath me and I freeze.
“You’re okay, you’re okay,” I whisper, cock throbbing, buried halfway in her heat and barely holding back.
She nods again, tearful but determined. Her nails dig into the mattress, and I feel her muscles trying to relax around me. I thrust in deeper—slow, deliberate. Her breath catches again, sharper this time. Her pussy tightens down on me like a fucking vise. My jaw locks, cock twitching, her body too tight, too hot, too damn perfect.
I grit my teeth, resisting the urge to slam into her.
One more slow thrust, and I’m fully inside. Buried to the hilt.
Wet heat wraps around me. Her pussy milks my cock, trembling, sucking me in.
She lets out a soft cry, and I hold perfectly still, feeling her walls fluttering around my shaft.
My hands slide to her waist, palms rough against her skin. “You’re doing so well,” I murmur, voice strained. “I’ve got you.”
She nods, eyes fluttering. Her hands slowly release the sheets, tension melting. Her pussy clenches once, hard, then eases. I feel her open up around me, just enough.
She tilts her hips.
That’s my cue.
I pull back, just a few inches, then sink in again, dragging my cock through the tight, wet channel of her cunt. Her face contorts, lashes clumped with tears, teeth biting her lip as she takes me.
My cock slides in with a slick, obscene sound. I watch her sweat bead and slide down her temple to her neck. My balls slap lightly against her ass with each slow stroke. Every thrust is calculated, testing her limits—and mine.
Her body starts to yield. The tension in her legs ebbs. Her hips move in time with mine, tentative but there.
“That’s it,” I whisper, brushing a damp strand of hair from her cheek to the curve of her back. “You’re doing so well.”
Her hips are round and soft, her thighs plush against me, wrapping around my hard frame as I grind into her. Every time I bottom out, she gasps—high, sharp, needy.
“You feel incredible,” I growl against her shoulder. “So fucking tight. You’re squeezing me like you don’t wanna let me go.”
She gasps, her nails raking across the sheets.
“I know it hurts a little,” I murmur, licking sweat from her, lips dragging down her body. “But baby, you’re taking me so damn good. Let me take care of this pussy.”
I guide her hips higher, lifting her slightly. She shifts for me, trusting, and I groan at how the angle punches deeper. Her slick heat clutches me even harder now.
I lean in, cradling her face in both hands, our bodies still connected.
“There you are,” I whisper, rocking my hips into hers. “Just like that.”
She meets my eyes, cheeks flushed, lips swollen, her breath stuttering. I press a deep kiss to her mouth, tongue sliding in to taste her, claiming her all over again.
She whimpers into the kiss, legs wrapping tighter around me. Her cunt grips my cock with more ease now—slick, hot, made for this. I fuck her slow but deep, watching her face for every twitch, every moan.
“You’re perfect,” I whisper into her mouth.
Her legs tremble against my sides, slick with sweat and arousal. I lift her knees, guiding them up, spreading her wide until they frame my shoulders. She cries out as I sink in again, her body folding up, her pussy stretched around my cock.
I kiss the inside of her thigh, slow, messy licks. Her taste is salt, sweat, and heat.
“You smell so fucking good,” I mutter into her skin.
She moans, loud, head rolling back into the pillow, curls plastered to her forehead. Her hands claw at the sheets, her entire body arching beneath me as I slam into her—deep and raw. Our skin slaps wetly with each thrust.
“Look at me.”
Her dazed eyes blink open, locking onto mine. I slide my fingers up her cheek, then slip two into her mouth. She sucks, moaning around them, tongue swirling.
I fuck her harder now, thrusts long and brutal. The room echoes with our sounds—slap, moan, gasp, breath.
Then she stiffens.
“I—I feel something,” she chokes out.
I nod, drenched in sweat. “I feel it too.”
I lower her legs and wrap her in my arms, pulling her tight against me as I shift into a grinding rhythm. Slower. Deeper. Hitting every sensitive spot inside her.
She cries out, nails digging into my back as her cunt clamps down. Her entire body convulses, muscles locking as she comes—hard. Her pussy flutters and pulses around my cock like it’s trying to pull me in deeper.
“Oh God,” she sobs. “I can’t—”
“Yes, you fucking can,” I growl. “Come for me. Give it to me.”
And she does.
Her body goes wild, and I follow, one final thrust driving me over. I come hard, cock jerking deep inside her, hot spurts of cum flooding her tight pussy. I hold her tight, every muscle locked as I empty into her.