19. Elio
19
ELIO
I tore my hands from Georgia just as her cunt stopped gripping my fingers like a vise. I turned away, ripping open the door and leaving her there, red-cheeked, the bedsheets wet beneath her.
I couldn’t take another fucking second of touching her. I was going to lose it, and I couldn’t let her see. I slammed into the bathroom and locked the door. I leaned against it. The fingers that had been in her cunt screamed at me. I could still feel her wetness on me.
My other hand worked my pants down and pulled my cock out. I slid those slick fingers into my mouth and tasted her cunt for the first time in fourteen years.
Precum welled from my tip. I gripped my cock hard and pumped it furiously. I didn’t need any slow warm-up. I was going to come, and it had taken every inch of discipline I had in me to stop myself from pulling my fingers from her plump, ripe cunt and forcing my cock in instead. She wouldn’t even have had to move. She’d been perfect there, ass in the air, rosy from my spanks, her delicious hole calling to me.
She wanted me.
My topolina still wanted me.
I stepped to the sink. My balls drew up, the taste of Georgia in my mouth and the vision of her fucking my hand too much.
I came hard, jet after jet of cum striping the sink, the mirror, my soul.
Slowly, my senses rushed back. I caught sight of myself. My eyes were wild, contacts luckily still in place. My face was flushed and my clothes rumpled. My cock was red-tipped and wet. I looked unmade.
I was a fucking wreck. What the hell had I just done? Distracted her from her flying phobia by spanking her… it was already a stretch. Then I’d fingered her ass, made her come, and followed it up with this embarrassing display of weakness, blowing my load alone in the bathroom.
Hiding.
Fucking hell. I was losing it. I’d already lost it. Everything I’d worked hard to build inside myself. High fortress walls and a facade that wouldn’t crack. The comforting numbness of winter in my chest, the chill keeping feelings at bay… it was crumbling.
Anger filled me, a hot and violent sensation. Fury at her, and at myself, and at all the years that had passed between us. Anger at her father, and the De Sanctis family, and everyone who’d been involved in the sorry excuse of a life I’d led.
Before I knew it, the anger pulsed outward, and my fist was flying at the mirror. It cracked hard, the glass splintering into pieces and splitting open my knuckles. The warm, comforting pain was a welcome distraction from the situation I was in. I didn’t want to see my reflection. I couldn’t meet the man in the mirror’s eyes.
I stepped back and flexed my hand. Blood ran down my fingers and dripped onto the floor.
Blood and cum, failure, anger and violence so thick it suffocated me.
That was the ugly mess of being a person who felt too much. Of being the man she’d left behind.
I couldn’t be him again. I wouldn’t survive it. Soon, she’d be gone. Married to Jimmy De Luca. Just the thought of Jimmy touching her like I just had had me reaching for a shard of glass. I gripped it hard, and the pain sliced through that emotion. Georgia equaled pain. If I had to train my body like a fucking hound, I’d manage it. I was stronger than the frail object in my chest that used to beat. I didn’t need it. I wouldn’t be its bitch.
Gathering my composure, I slowly and methodically cleaned the bathroom, and then taped my cuts up with some bandage from the medical kit stowed in a cupboard.
Then I stepped out. She’d pulled herself together as well and was sitting in the isolated chair I’d attempted to put her in at the beginning of the flight. Looked like she’d changed her mind about wanting to sit with me. I ignored the sting of that simple gesture. Good. She should stay away. It was for the best for both of us.
The rest of the flight passed in a blur. I fell asleep, an uncommon occurrence for me outside my room, or pretty much anywhere these days.
Feeling so much was fucking exhausting.
Remember the mission, Santori.
By the time we got to New Jersey, I was calm, collected, and I’d dusted off the mask I’d taken years to develop. No. Never. Only you.
Her words were sugar-laced poison. I wasn’t biting. She was a liar. A performer. I wouldn’t fall under her spell again.
We made our way from the private airstrip to Casa Nera in an armored car. It was a relief to be surrounded by my men, trained to my exacting standards, heading into a secure compound I had designed. Casa Nera was the seat of De Sanctis power in New Jersey. There was no safer place to be for the girl who had suddenly become important to dangerous people.
She matched my silence all the way into the compound. We didn’t talk about the fact that I’d just made her come so hard she’d soaked through the mattress beneath her. I didn’t let myself think about it. I didn’t let myself think about it the whole drive home.
We drew up outside the main house, a Gothic-style rambling mansion, and the car door opened.
“Well, you’ve finally arrived,” a familiar voice said from just outside the car.
Holy fuck, today had been a long day, and it was about to get longer.
I nodded to our driver, one of my best and brightest trainees, and got out of the car, waiting for Georgia to follow.
Jimmy De Luca stood on the gravel, wreathed in smiles. So, someone had already heard that they were getting married, it seemed. Jimmy appeared to have no objections. He stepped back and watched Georgia get out of the car and gave a loud, vulgar whistle. I shot him a deadly glare, and he snapped his mouth shut.
“Take Signora Conti to the blue bedroom,” I told Ettore, one of the men waiting patiently to see what I needed done.
He nodded and reached to take Georgia’s backpack from her. She drew back, clutching it to her body. She looked at me questioningly.
“Go with him.” My command forbade argument, and for once, Georgia obliged without talking back.
She stared distrustfully at Jimmy, who was currently leering openly at her, his greedy gaze running up and down her body. I took satisfaction in the fact that he couldn’t make out much of her curves under her baggy clothes.
My clothes.
“Shouldn’t she stay with me?” he asked as soon as Georgia and Ettore disappeared into the mansion.
“Why would that be? She’s not yours yet, De Luca. Keep it in your pants.”
“But she will be. What’s the point in waiting to make it official? She might as well get used to me now.” He grinned and thrust his hips forward in a lewd display of exactly which part of him he wanted her to get used to.
“Let’s not disappoint her before the wedding. She’s flighty as it is,” I told him flatly.
Someone laughed softly behind me, and Jimmy’s face went red.
“Hey, Santori, watch your jokes, buddy, not everyone has the same sense of humor. I’m a made man, in charge of The Vetiver. Remember that.”
I reached into the car for my own bag. His words used up the very last of my patience. Men like Jimmy never learned.
“Or what?” I turned on him, dropping my bag to haul him close, forgetting my own cool for a split second.
Shock radiated over Jimmy when I grabbed him. I never reacted in anger. It wasn’t my style, and yet, I couldn’t stop.
“What are you going to do? You, the made man, the casino floor manager… compared to me ? Who the fuck are you?” I didn’t need to point out our differences. I was Renato’s sottocapo . In the event of his death or injury, the men would answer to me. I was inner circle, family.
I pressed a hard finger into his chest. “You’re nothing. Nobody. Don’t forget that. Don’t piss me off. Follow my rules until you’re married. And yes, you’re in charge of one of the smallest De Sanctis casinos. As long as you’ve not been breaking the rules… it’ll stay that way. If not… we’ll talk again.”
Jimmy nodded numbly.
I let go of him and patted his rumpled clothes back into place, harder than was necessary.
“Our lives are all about respect, De Luca. If you don’t respect me, I won’t respect you… and you know what I do to men I don’t respect.”
I turned from him, ignoring my men’s shocked expressions.
A slow clap sounded, and I glanced up at the stone steps that led into the main house.
Charlotte De Sanctis stood at the top of the stairs, still in her scrubs. She must have just left work. Despite being the new bride of the De Sanctis family, she continued her education and her work at a local hospital. The woman was determined to be the best damn nurse in the country and Renato was determined to give his wife anything she desired. Salvatore hadn’t been wrong. Charlie had tamed the mighty and revered Mafia boss, whether he’d admit to that or not. Though, the taming only related to Charlie herself, and her sister at a push.
“I’m glad you’re home in one piece.” She reached out and hugged me.
Charlie was one of the only women I could tolerate in my space. Renato had chosen her, and that made her my family, too.
“That remains to be seen.” I glanced inside, my eyes following the direction Georgia had gone.
Charlie raised a curious eyebrow at me. “Well, that’s not like you… Also, I’ve never seen you wear those contacts at home.”
I still had the brown contact lenses in. “Get used to them. I’ll be wearing them for a few more days.”
We turned and went into the house together. I had an apartment in Atlantic City, but I stayed often in the main house of Casa Nera. I had my own rooms upstairs. Right next to the blue bedroom.
“Why’s that? Don’t tell me…” Charlie trailed off and looked upward, quickly working out more than I wanted her to. “Are you hiding who you are? From that woman? The one from Italy?”
I fought not to react, but Charlie still slapped a hand comically over her mouth.
“What?” I grunted at her.
“It’s happening. The untouchable Elio Santori is breaking… She’s someone important to you, right? Oh my God, I can’t believe it. Does Ren know?”
I stared her down, doing my best to quell her curiosity, but Charlie just laughed.
“So, that’s why he sent you to get her.”
“He sent me because I’m the best,” I muttered, knowing it wasn’t the only reason.
Renato seemed intent on making me face my past head-on. Asshole.
She slapped my shoulder. “Sure, he did. I can’t wait to get to know her.”
I shrugged her hand off irritably. “She won’t be here for long,” I warned her.
Charlie just chuckled. “Sure, she won’t. God, men… you’re so funny.” She was still laughing to herself as she drifted away down the hall toward the kitchen, leaving me standing in the foyer, fighting the urge to go and visit the blue bedroom.
“Here. You look like you can use it,” Renato murmured hours later, handing me a glass of whiskey.
I rarely drank, but after the week I’d had, and now, being at home, safe in Casa Nera, I was prepared to indulge.
“The Ravellis are out for blood. I don’t know what their plan is for her — kill her or just hold her and use her to threaten her father — but they’re serious.”
Renato nodded. “I heard that the prosecutor has more on Giuseppe Ravelli than he has over Zio Sal. But she’s here now. And tomorrow, she’ll be married to a De Sanctis man, and Alfredo Bellisario will understand that ratting out Zio Sal will be the end of his daughter.”
“You told Jimmy already.” I fell short of achieving a casual tone with my complaint.
Renato waved his glass at me. “Should I not have? I needed to make sure he’d cut other entanglements before the big day.”
“He doesn’t seem displeased.”
“He wants to make his don happy. Climb the ranks. Also, she’s Italian. I’m sure Jimmy is looking forward to home-cooked food just like his nonna used to make.”
I coughed, the whiskey nearly going down the wrong way. “If he’s expecting a domestic goddess out of Georgia, he’ll be sorely disappointed. She had staff growing up, if you recall, and I’ve just seen how she was living… I don’t think she cooks much.” Or eats for that matter. Poverty was a cruel taskmaster, I knew that as well as anyone.
Renato shrugged. “I guess that’s for Jimmy to find out.” He was quiet, rubbing a finger over his lower lip absently, considering me. “I thought about holding off and waiting to see what happened when you brought her here…”
“Why would you do that?” I asked.
“To see if you had changed your mind about her being your business.”
I wet my lips, the whiskey drying my mouth. I swirled the cut ice at the bottom of the fine crystal. “She can marry Jimmy. It’s the safest thing for all of us. He might be a thieving, fucking idiot, but he’s…” whole . I couldn’t bring myself to finish that sentence.
Luckily, I didn’t have to, because a knock at the door interrupted our conversation.
“ Bene . Well, it’s time to tell the happy bride about her future. Entra! ” he called toward the door.
It swung open, and then, there she was. It had only been a few hours since I’d last seen her, but it felt like a lifetime all over again. Her eyes jumped to me, dark and expressive. I couldn’t quite read the expression that passed over her features. She looked at Renato and frowned.
“Georgia, it’s been a long time.” Renato stood to greet her. He pressed a kiss to either side of her cheeks. “How have you been?” No one could ever accuse Renato De Sanctis of not knowing how to act like a gentleman.
Georgia scoffed. “I was doing better, before you sent your trained little killer robot to drag me across the country.”
“I heard you encountered problems on your trip,” Renato said smoothly, rounding his desk to sit, leaving Georgia to sit beside me.
I pulled her chair out for her, which she pointedly ignored.
She locked Renato in her gaze. “What’s going on? Last I saw you it was the feast of St. Anthony in Castel Amaro, and now… you’re sending armed men after me. Killers.” She threw me an accusatory glare. “My father and I have never been involved in your profession.”
Renato shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong, I’m afraid. Your father was always involved. Neck-deep in the filthy pig shit of Mafia life. He just hid it from you well. I’m surprised how well. I suppose since you moved away when you got older, it was easier.”
Georgia opened her mouth to argue, but Renato had had enough of listening.
“Your father’s guilt is not in question. Neither are your future plans, I’m afraid. It’s been decided. Your father wants you protected.”
“You mean Salvatore wants me as leverage, right?”
Renato just shrugged. “It doesn’t make much of a difference either way. The outcome is still the same.”
“Which is?” Georgia asked. She was still standing, ignoring the chair. Her hands were curled into tight fists.
“You will marry a De Sanctis man and become part of the family.” Renato waited a beat. “Congratulations.”
Georgia paled. Her head started to shake back and forth, her whole body denying what he had said.
“I can’t do that. I won’t do that.”
“You can, and you will,” Ren said calmly.
“No! You know me, you wouldn’t hurt me,” she muttered, her eyes beseeching his.
“It’s because I know you that I’m not hurting you. The Ravellis — the other family your father is threatening — would probably just send pieces of you in the mail until he got the message.”
Georgia stared at me. That look was like a punch.
“You knew about this? Of course you did.”
She appeared so betrayed at that moment, I knew I’d never forget her expression. It seared itself into my soul.
“Who?” she finally asked. Her hands were still little balls of fury, and she was vibrating with tension but forcing herself to find out as much as she could.
Her eyes flew to me again.
“Is it him?” She took a step toward me. “Is it you?” Her eyes held something precious and rare.
“No, I’m afraid not. My second-in-command isn’t inclined to marry. The man you will marry is in the hall.” Renato inclined his head to one of his guards.
Jimmy sauntered in.
Georgia continued to hold my hot gaze for a long time. Even after Jimmy arrived at her side, she stared at me. I couldn’t break that gaze. I didn’t want to.
“Georgia, allow me to introduce myself.” Jimmy stuck his hand out. “I’m the man you’re going to marry.”
The man you’re going to marry.
The words were wrong on a soul-deep level.
Georgia held my gaze with burning eyes so long, I started to think she was going to ignore Jimmy completely, but then she blinked, her eyes like shining jewels. Unshed tears shone within. She turned to Jimmy and recoiled from his hand.
“Oh, it’s you,” she muttered.
Renato chuckled. “Well, a lackluster greeting is better than nothing. Why don’t you two go and get to know each other? Later, my wife, Charlie, will help you pick out something to wear for the wedding.”
“I don’t have to wear anything special. I’m fine in this.” Georgia curled her hands into the too-long sleeves of my black T-shirt. She hugged it to her like my clothes could protect her from her fate. She was wrong; nothing could.
“The hell it is! I’m marrying a piece like you, I want to show you off,” Jimmy announced, glancing around for some male encouragement. His eyes paused on mine, taking in my lethal expression, and bounced away.
He grabbed Georgia roughly by the arm.
“We’ll go and have a little date, get to know each other and all that.” He yanked her back, nearly pulling her off her feet.
I was standing before I could stop myself.
“ Basta , Elio. Lasciali in pace . Leave them in peace.” Renato waved a hand at the closing door.
“He’s hurting her,” I ground out.
“Isn’t that just what she deserves? You haven’t forgotten what she did, I assume… Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted? To see her fallen… humbled…”
No. Not like this.
I turned back to him and ignored his curious study of me. Renato wasn’t cruel toward women; in fact, he went out of his way to ensure that the fairer sex was protected. The fact that he was letting Jimmy haul Georgia around told me that he was playing a different game here.
He surveyed me from head to toe and then leaned forward and put his elbows on the desk, studying me with interest. “You know, if I didn’t know you better, I’d think you still loved this woman. The one who married someone else.”
“I don’t need to be reminded of our past. I live it every day.”
Renato nodded. “Exactly. Maybe it’s time to let some things go. A man can’t carry the past with him forever. It’s time to bury it. So, either leave Georgia to her fate… or do something about it.”
“It’s not as easy as that,” I muttered.
Renato just shrugged. “Isn’t it? I think that’s for you to decide. This time… you choose.”