Chapter 11 – Liam
The emotions bubbling inside me were a black chaos. Sticky and thick, they popped like boiling tar. There was no outlet, no place to release them. The five opportunities had been stolen from me, adding to the putrid mess inside me.
Fucking Vincenzo, playing the shining knight.
I sauntered through the capo’s house, looking at Deluca’s shit, knowing it was useless.
His office was a miserable mess. There was nothing interesting there.
I spent my nights searching and still came up empty.
The obsessive need to know everything about the Morelli Famiglia drove me.
I didn’t trust any of them, my bride included.
She was part of that dangerous nest of rodents.
They were setting me up, and I wasn’t going to let them take me out.
I controlled everything.
The family snoozed on the second floor, but the one I was after was one more flight of stairs above.
I climbed, stepping carefully, having learned the path during the other visits.
Pushing through the side door, which wasn’t cut properly to fit the frame, I slipped inside.
A blue nightlight glowed on the wall, casting a chilly hue over the space.
It was enough to see her, though, and I crept to the side of the small bed.
“Such a little fucking innocent—” I rasped. “Look at you, lying there.”
So fucking peaceful. Dreams filled with flying ponies and shite.
I hunched against the tapered wall. Only in the center, where the ceiling evened out for a couple of feet, could I uncurl to my full height. If I lay on the floor, stretched my arms over my head, I could damn near touch each of the walls. The length wasn’t much longer.
Why was a mafia princess in such a tiny, drafty, dump of a room? It was too bleeding hot up here. The AC unit in the window whined to keep the humidity away. That thing was ancient.
I shifted uncomfortably. It was a surprise to see this, but more surprising was my reaction.
I don’t like underestimations.
That was all. It wasn’t that I felt bad for the sweetly sleeping bird, stretched out in her nest of faded blue covers.
Seeing Gabriella like this, tucked away in the damn attic, proved that something was going on with this family. I didn’t trust them. Not one bit. But…what did sticking in her in such a ratty space have to do with me? Hopefully nothing.
My fingers brushed over the thin indent under my shirt. The metal chain was warm against my skin. I could have given it back to her, but then I would only have her memory to keep me company when we were apart.
No, I preferred to keep the thin gold chain safely around my neck where it couldn’t be stolen.
Pulling a small flashlight from my pocket, I cast the beam of muted light over the floor.
A threadbare rug was tucked partially under the bed.
The nightstand had three books: two religious tomes and a title about a housemaid.
It was a work of fiction. A thriller, and quite popular online.
Such an interesting reading choice for a good little girl.
Padding silently to the dresser, I put the light between my teeth.
The drawers caught, not wanting to slide out.
Socks and plain, unimaginative underwear were tucked in neat rows. I felt around, finding nothing under them. My fingers paused over a pair of white panties with little black dots. They were a sensible cut, not lacy or provocative. But…they were hers.
Time slowed a fraction. My pulse jumped as I unfolded them. An image of that pretty little body wearing these drifted through my mind.
I brought them to my nose, breathing deep. Clean. Too clean. There was no trace of her on them.
Still….
The tip of my finger ran along the elastic waist. My blood warmed.
Deciding quickly, I tucked them into my pocket and closed the drawer.
Neatly folded shirts were in the next, and pants were in the bottom.
I shoved the drawer with a soft growl. The room felt sterile and scrubbed.
Lonely. There was nothing of her here. My search proved once again to be an exercise in futility.
Gabriella stirred, whimpering softly, and rolled onto her side.
I held my breath, glaring at her dark shape. Come on, cailín, where are they?
Everyone had secrets. Most people kept bits of themselves in their personal space. It only took a trained eye to look. Yet this place didn’t hold one personal memento of her life. No pictures framed on the dresser top, no knickknacks on the walls.
I crept to the hook on the back of the door.
There was the canvas bag she had at the park.
Sure enough, her journal was in there. As I began to page through it, I wondered where the others would be.
People who put their thoughts on paper normally had volumes tucked away.
Yet there was only one journal. Surely, she hadn’t just taken up the hobby.
But that was how it seemed.
My eyes scanned the pages, and my gut twisted.
The words were those of a blithering idiot.
The newest pages were the same sort of entries she’d scribbled before.
There were pages and pages of shite scrawled across the lined pages.
Meditations, exhortations on living a virtuous life.
I didn’t believe them for a second. This didn’t match the woman with hunger in her eyes and fire in her veins.
She wasn’t some meek cow with her head bowed, ready to submit to the wishes of her parents—or her husband.
A few words seemed out of place in the sentences.
I hadn’t noticed the difference before, too tense over the possibility of her waking up and discovering me.
But Gabriella slept like the dead after a closing shift.
I kept reading, noticing the strange breaks in the cadence of her thoughts.
Pausing, I reread the page. Those words that were out of place weren’t indented the same.
It was as if she’d pressed the pen hard for the entire passage, but these random words that made the sentences extra long, extra wordy, were inked lighter.
Going back to the top, I read just the strange words.
He is the most precious gift. We will be reunited. I’ll take him. We’ll run. Never look back.
Finally. A secret.
My molars ground together. This girl was clever. A little sneak, she thought she could have her way. The journal snapped close with a forced clap.
I pulled the panties from my pocket, rubbing the material between my fingers. If I had to judge the inhabitant by the contents of this room, I would think Gabriella was some goody two shoes.
The room was a lie.
She thought she could deceive everyone around her with the veil of piety. But what she didn’t know was that I thrived in sin. Like a hound, I’d scented it. Found the proof. And now there was nothing stopping me from tracking it to the source. Whoever was etched on her heart was dead.
It was a bad night to begin with, but seeing those coded words sent me over the edge.
Whatever she was planning, it wasn’t going to happen. I was her lord now, ready to drag her to hell with me. Stepping close to her bed, I watched her sleep. The sorrow that she wore like a pricey perfume was gone. Her face was smooth.
I wanted to see it break.
I slid my hand to my dick, palming the length as I stood over her. He liked that dark plan. Soon, I promised him. He strained, hard and aching against my jeans.
Gabriella sat up with a gasp.
Surprised, it took a split second before I reacted. Had she sensed me? I hadn’t made a sound!
Whatever. It didn’t matter. The jig was up.
I pounced.
To her credit, she struggled—hard. I pinned her easily, but not before she kneed me in the gut, making the muscles cramp. The pain sucked deep in my belly, and my dick throbbed in protest, even though he’d been out of the line of fire.
“Stop wriggling, cailín!” I hissed.
Her hot breath fanned over the glove. I felt the faint brush, despite the damaged nerve endings.
“You!” she muttered.
“Me.” I curled my fingers and ran the gloved knuckles along her jaw. “I warned you what happens to girls who tempt monsters.”
More muttering, most of it in Italian. I continued to stroke her cheek until she finally bit out, “I don’t remember tempting you.”
Every fecking day, cailín.
I changed the topic. “I’ve brought you a gift.”
She scoffed. Tipping her hips to the right, she pressed her belly against the iron rod in my pants. “A gift?”
I swallowed a groan. Jaysus, this woman was going to give me the biggest case of blue balls before our wedding night.
It would almost be worth it to relieve the torture. Right here. Right now.
Yanking her hands, I sat up. “Stay quiet.”
She hmphed.
I fished around in my pocket, momentarily handicapping myself as I searched. I couldn’t silence her quickly enough if she decided to scream.
She didn’t.
Under the stolen pair of panties—which I was going to fuck hard the moment I got home—I plucked the slim band of metal, brought it out, and pressed it against her finger. It slid down the slim length.
A perfect fit.
“There,” I breathed. “Now feel free to gouge my eye out.”
Gabriella clasped her hand over the other, feeling the ring. “Let me get this straight,” she snapped, voice a low, vicious lick of fire. One that made me fucking burn inside. “You broke into our house just to give me my engagement ring?”
“Yes, but I’m taking something in return.” My heart thumped in anticipation.
“What?” she hissed, her body tense and wary.
“This.” My mouth crashed on hers.
Gabriella tasted of peaches and sin, a toxic combination I was powerless to resist. I kissed her hard, swallowing her strangled protest. Holding her shoulders firmly in place, I devoured her mouth.
Those lips were pure velvet. Soft and pliable.
I never liked to kiss. Too personal. But her?
I was in danger of liking the intimate act.
With a soft, throaty sigh, Gabriella opened her mouth to mine.
My body shuddered violently. My dick leaked into my boxers. And I had to forcefully pull myself back before I took things further. I ran my tongue over my lips to enjoy the last taste of her.
“Now, if I knew you kissed like that,” I rasped, “I would have done it a lot sooner.”
Leaning over, she brushed her palm over the tent in my jeans. “See you at the altar.”
“How do you know I won’t be back?” I breathed.
Her grip tightened. “Because, next time? I’ll be armed.”
With that, she gave my dick a vicious twist.
I bit my tongue hard enough that blood flooded my mouth. It still wasn’t strong enough to silence the bellow.
There was a thump in the next room over. The old maid stumbled.
“Out!” Gabriella hissed. “Out the window. Now!”
She shot out of bed as she spoke, going to throw the thing open and pull the AC unit free. I limped after her. But before I disappeared into the night, I bent to whisper, “You’re going to kiss it and make it better.”
Gabriella snorted. “Sure you trust my teeth around you?”
I hooked my finger in her jaw and tugged. “You’ll learn, cailín.”
When her top lip pressed down, when she fucking sucked, I came. Came in my fucking pants like some teen. I shouldn’t have been able to with that disabling pain, but I did.
The maid knocked on the door. “Gabby?”
My bride scraped her teeth against my finger. “Out!”
I did. But as I scrambled down the roof, in fair danger of breaking my bleeding neck, I realized the toxic emotions were silent.
The only thing swirling inside me was a raging lust—my bride had no idea the manner of nightmare she’d unleased with that little act of violence.
And I couldn’t wait to fucking show her.