Chapter Twelve
I watched Bethany’s chest rise and lower as she slept under the covers.
My eyes slowly traced the curves of her body while I held her tenderly.
Even through layers of clothing and a thick comforter, I could still visualize her naked body.
A body that was always receptive to my touch.
Her blond hair cascaded onto the pillow and some errant strands fell on her face, framing her soft features.
Looking at her smooth porcelain skin and rosy lips made my dick swell with desire against my briefs.
Closing my eyes to settle down the urge to bury myself deep inside her, I grabbed my crotch as though commanding it to behave.
Since we arrived at my place back in Reykjavik, I’d devoured her body and claimed her until she fell asleep from exhaustion.
The whole week, I watched her every move, and when I blinked, my heart ached for her.
What hurt the most was the inflicted pain she caused herself.
She was never one to cross that line and I was the reason she did.
Flashes of Marie each time I closed my eyes made me get sick.
The scene in my mind was so vivid that I could still smell the blood everywhere.
Bethany raised her arm to rub her heavy eyelids and squirmed in pain. Slightly she opened her eyes. Her face lit up in a weak smile when she saw me looking at her.
“Don’t you get tired of looking at me?”
“Not yet,” I joked.
Truth to be told, getting tired of Bethany didn’t seem possible.
“What’s on today’s agenda?”
“I want to take you to the Golden Circle,” I replied. “End the day at the Blue Lagoon.”
I’d been showing Bethany the area and how beautiful the country of Iceland was with its Northern lights, geysers, waterfalls, and volcanoes. She loved their Viking heritage and was eager to learn Icelandic which wasn’t going well, but I enjoyed watching the effort.
As we got out of the car, Bethany began to giggle.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“It will always make me laugh how you went from those fancy sports cars to this,” she pointed to my Toyota Land Cruiser.
“It’s practical for this kind of terrain,” I scoffed. By no means was I happy about it, but I didn’t want to attract attention to myself, plus driving a sports car on these rugged roads would destroy it.
There was a pathway from the parking lot of gravel that led to the Blue Lagoon.
The pathway was made of brick but to the right and left were piles of volcanic rocks.
The gush of wind hitting my face felt nice as I was bundled up in a heavy jacket and scarf.
Once inside and got our day pass, Bethany and I went our separate ways.
I headed to the men’s locker room while she went to the women’s locker room.
It was mandatory to undress and shower using their natural spring soap before entering the lagoon water.
As I waited at the entrance of the Lagoon, my eyes observed the surroundings.
It was a habit I couldn’t shake off but now more so since having Bethany with me.
There were people of all ages coming in and out of the water.
Jealously rose within me when I saw Bethany walk out in a skimpy two piece bathing suit.
Her eyes were set on me, but I could see the men around checking her out.
The black material clung to her body so tight it looked about ready to rip.
Her self-inflicted wound healed very well.
The only bruises on her skin were from my own marking.
As she walked over to me she raised her brow, “Don’t get upset. Next time don’t take me somewhere that requires minimal clothing.”
I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her close to me. “You’re asking for it.”
She smirked, “Whenever, wherever, however you want.” Placing her hand on my bare chest she glided it down to my navel and down to the hem of my trunks.
“I will hold you to that,” I replied placing a kiss on her plum lips. We weren’t in Chicago anymore – we didn’t need to hide or be afraid to be caught.
The Blue Lagoon was a breathtaking sight as the sun began to set, casting a soft golden light over the surreal landscape. The air was crisp as we stepped into the warm, mineral rich water; the geothermal heat enveloped us like a comforting embrace, creating a perfect contrast to the cool air.
Steam rose gently into the air from the blue water, blurring the edges of the surrounding lava fields making it hard to see other people around us.
The lagoon had piles of volcanic rock strategically placed creating different sections for people to explore.
We entered a little cave that blocked the wind and held the steam which created a foggy area.
We stood in the center face to face as the velvety feel of the water warmed our skin.
As we walked deeper into the lagoon, the milky blue water shimmered around us.
The atmosphere was serene, with the only sounds being the gentle lapping of water and the occasional laughter of other visitors.
I looked at Bethany, her face illuminated by the soft light, and felt a rush of warmth in my chest. We found a quiet corner of the lagoon, where the waters were a deeper blue, almost like a hidden oasis.
Taking a moment to admire Bethany’s beauty, her hair clung around her wet body, droplets of water glistening on her skin.
Somehow, without words or touching, it felt as though our connection strengthened in this very moment.
I leaned closer, our foreheads nearly touching, and whispered, “What do you think?”
Bethany smiled, her eyes sparkling with joy. “It’s like a dream,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
As if responding to the magic of the moment, she leaned in for a soft kiss, the warmth of the water surrounding us adding to the intimacy of the setting.
Her cheeks were flushed as the warmth between us was electric – an undeniable magnetism.
As the sun continued its descent, painting the sky with shades of pink and orange, I brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear.
My fingertips lingered against her skin. “You’re beautiful.” My intense gaze locked onto hers.
The world faded away as we both solely focused on one another.
I cupped her face into my hands, my thumbs brushing against her cheekbones.
Our breaths mingled as the moment stretched between them heavy with anticipation.
Leaning into one another, our lips met with a soft kiss that quickly deepened into a more passionate one that had our tongues in an entanglement.
My hands moved to her waist pulling her close while her fingers threaded through my hair.
Time seemed to stand still as an unspoken shared dream to have this moment become a permanent reality danced around us.
When we finally pulled away, both of us breathless and smiling, the last rays of sunlight cast a golden glow over her face.
Leaning my forehead against hers, our hearts raced in unison.
“I could stay like this forever,” Bethany whispered softly. “Please say it’s possible.”
It wasn’t possible for me to promise such a thing, but I couldn’t disappoint her either. This was a moment suspended in time, defined by love and the serene beauty of this woman before me.
“Anything can be possible.”
A sincere smile crossed her face. “I’ve never been happier.”
“You don’t miss Chicago?” I asked.
She shrugged, “I’d much rather be here with you.”
Rephrasing it, “You don’t miss your family?”
“Just as much as you miss Cassie.” Her emerald eyes sparkled through the mist of fog.
Seductively, Bethany swayed her hips in the water as she glided toward the open area outside the cave.
Following behind her, I breathed in the thin crisp cold air.
My eyes wandered from observing the area and Bethany.
Six months out of the lifestyle yet I couldn’t shake off all the years I spent being Consigliere.
The constant people watching, looking over my shoulder, taking extra precautions.
We sat on a ledge in the water waiting for our masseuse to get us.
“What would make you the happiest right now?”
It was a random question. “I have all I want right here.”
“How long do you think Luca will allow this?” Her voice dipped low.
Sensing it was a real concern, I held her hand and kissed the top of it. “Let’s just enjoy the moment.”
“I don’t want it to end.”
“We’ll always have Iceland,” I grabbed her chin and placed a kiss on her lips.
It seemed to have helped ease her mind for the time being.
“Should I pick a name as well? You go by Jim so I need a name too.”
“What are you thinking?”
“Something Viking-ish.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’ve thought about this already so just spit it out.”
“Freya.”
“Not bad.”
“Mr. Albertsson are you and your guest ready for your massages?” An attendant approached us.
We were taken to a secluded area where there were two masseuses waiting by two floating mats and light background music.
Instantly, I was regretting this but there was no going back now.
Bethany wanted to try this in-water massage that one of the spa techs stated “unlocks higher levels of well-being for your mind, body, and spirit with the revitalizing powers of geothermal seawater.”
I feel like an idiot floating on this mat draped in a warm blanket with cucumbers on my eyelids but my body felt relaxed for the first time in what felt like forever.
There was a sudden change in music from a soft melody to a lyrical song.
The more I listened to it, the more it sounded familiar.
Honing in on the words, I realized it was in a different language.
It’s Sicilian. That’s odd to be playing it here.
La mafia e li parrini (The Mafia and the priests)
Si déttiru la manu (Shook hands with each other)
Poviru cittadinu (Poor citizen)
Poviru paisanu (Poor villager)
When I realized what the words were, I ripped the cucumbers off my eyelids throwing them into the water and quickly got onto my feet startling everyone.
“Is everything okay?” My masseuse asked.
“What happened?” Bethany questioned.
I huff, “Nothing. Just fell asleep and woke up.” Playing it off as best as possible.
Was I just being paranoid? Laying back on the mat, I tried to relax again.
The masseuse placed the cucumbers back onto my eyes but I threw them into the water.
She didn’t say a word when I gave her a look, just a tight smile.
Unu isa la cruci (One raises the cross)
L'autru punta e spara (The other points and shoots)
Unu minaccia 'nfernu (One threatens hell)
L'autru la lupara (The other the shotgun)
It was a Sicilian song sung by Rosa Balistrei and written by the poet Ignazio Buttitta.
The song was to call out the connection between the mafia and many priests during that time.
Why would they play that here? My heart pumped in my chest, my mind immediately went to Cassie.
Was this just a coincidence or was someone playing mind games with me?
I was all too familiar with the strategy of mind games to instill lingering fear within someone.
The air was thick with the smell of espresso and the distant sounds of clinking glasses. A flickering overhead light cast shadows on the dark wooden table where Marco in a sharp suit, leaned back in his chair, a cigar nestled between his fingers. Across from him, I sat anxiously.
“You want to be a player in this game, Emilio? You gotta learn how to play with minds, not just muscles.”
Confused, I question what I did wrong, “I mean, I’m no mind reader.”
Marco chuckles softly, the kind of laugh that carries both amusement and a hint of menace.
“It ain't about readin’ minds. It’s about plantin’ seeds.
You see, people are like gardens. You just gotta know what to plant and when to water it.
” Marco takes a slow puff from his cigar, contemplating his next words.
“Let’s say you want to send a message to Giovanni, the butcher.
He thinks he runs this neighborhood. You want him to know you’re the one in charge, but you don’t want to spill a drop of blood.
You don’t just go up to him and tell him right? ”
He offered me a cigar, which I knew I couldn’t decline even though I wasn’t a fan of them. So I took it and lightly puffed on it.
He says, “You see, words are powerful, but actions? They speak louder than a thousand whispers. You let him see something.”
Marco reached for the newspaper then slid it across the table.
I picked it up and read the front page revealing an image of the local butcher shop, its glass door shattered, blood staining the sidewalk.
This sent more than just a message to the butcher, it was a warning for anyone else who wanted to test Marco’s father.
My eyes widen, the weight of the implication sinking in. “So, that was you.”
“You don’t break his legs, you break his confidence. You let him know that if he's not careful, he might end up like that door.”
“What if he goes to the cops?”
Marco leans back, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “That’s where the games get interesting. You make him doubt. You make him think he’s being watched, that he’s surrounded. You send a little bird to whisper in his ear— there are eyes everywhere.”
“What if he calls your bluff?”
“Fear is a tool, Emilio. Use it wisely. But remember, you can’t just threaten; you have to charm as well. Make him think you’re the friend he never knew he needed. Get him to trust you while you’re tightening the noose.”
I nod, absorbing the lesson, but a flicker of doubt crosses my mind. “What if it backfires? What if he doesn’t care?”
Marco leans forward, his demeanor shifting from mentor to predator. “Then you remind him who he’s dealin’ with. You show him just how deep the roots of this garden run. Never forget, Emilio—every king has his pawns, but it’s the king who controls the board.”
He extinguished his cigar with a finality that echoed through the room.
“Rachel tells me you’re street smart and I trust her judgment. I also don’t forget those who helped my family. My wife is grateful that you saved her sister that night.”
“I would only hope if one of my sisters were in that position someone would do the right thing too.”
Marco taught me a lot of things and I’d only grown to perfect the art of mental warfare.
Finding out who the target’s closest friends were.
Got to know their weaknesses. Then planted seeds and watched how they grew.
I’d made a name for myself from it, so I knew the signs of them and I guaranteed it was being done now to me.