Chapter 44 – Gabriella
Icouldn’t bear looking at my phone to see if my sister messaged.
Perhaps that made me a coward. I’d told Liam he could have whatever he wanted if he stopped the violence.
But my father walked out of dinner alive and well.
And furious. Some Made Men hit their wives, but so did normal, law-abiding citizens.
Abuse was a cancerous rot. Those inflicted hurt the people they should love and cherish.
It was something that happened, and it wasn’t talked about.
I tried to do something. I thought I had a solution.
But while I was safe, I’d only made the problem worse.
Now that his don knew, Papa would receive some kind of slap on the wrist. A minor scolding. And he would want vengeance.
There was no way my mother was escaping unscathed.
Papa left our disaster of a dinner party and best-case scenario, he laid low for a few days.
Or he headed straight home to unleash his fury.
If Don Morelli followed up with Mama, she would smile, hide behind her makeup, and say that Papa was a good husband and a doting father.
She needed to stop lying and covering for his sins.
She never will.
I thought I had an answer. I made a bargain with the devil, bound myself to him, made peace with the fact that he might demand I stay by his side forever, and if that was what it cost to end the demonic sonofabitch and keep my sisters safe, I would gladly pay.
But Papa still breathed.
There was only so long I could hide from my debt. I played outside with the dog for an hour, but eventually I forced myself to return to the house. It was quiet. The McDonagh crew had left.
I thought Liam might have gone with them, but the light from the library said otherwise. Knowing it was time to face the music, I slid the door into its pocket.
Liam’s back was to me. He stared into the front yard, mask in his gloved hand, whiskey in the other. “I was wondering when you’d come back.”
My heart lurched, slamming unexpectedly into my ribs. His voice was…forlorn.
“Liam, about the tracker, I can explain,” I started to say.
He let out a rough laugh and threw back the remains of his drink. “No need, cailín. We’ve heard everything we needed to know.”
I paused. “Heard?”
Liam nodded then slowly looked over his left shoulder. “Connor’s a wicked good spy.”
I slumped against the doorframe. “You knew? This whole time?”
“We knew enough.”
Anger lashed through me. “What kind of man hears about an abusive bastard and does nothing?”
Liam spun around. A storm cloud brewed over his face.
“Don’t be accusing me of sins I haven’t committed.
” The mask clattered on the bar cart, and he wrenched the bottle, debated pouring some, then abandoned the glass.
He put the bottle to his lips and took a long pull.
“We didn’t know your father was that vile until Connor caught you pointing a gun at him.
Deceptive? Traitorous? Yes, but not that he was capable of laying a hand on his family. ”
That lilting accent was thick. It curled over his tongue in a delicious, melodic way that would have made me eager to feel it against my skin.
I shook off the tempting warmth and latched onto the anger. “Oh, you showed him alright. I asked you to help us. You did nothing.”
Liam glared at me. “Nothing?”
He didn’t see it.
Dio sopra, he didn’t understand. He’d only made the matter worse. He thought he was being helpful by involving Don Morelli.
I should have been more specific. I should have—
I sighed. A thousand regrets flitted through my mind. It was no use.
“What’s that going to cost?” I demanded, shifting against the frame.
Liam swung the bottle between his fingers, considering the way the honey-colored liquid swirled. “I want the truth.”
The truth.
“If you wanted that, you should have killed my father,” I muttered.
“Bloodthirsty.” The devil smirked. “I love that about you, cailín.”
Papa’s death. I thought that was what I’d agreed to! But no, I remembered every word. I hadn’t been specific enough. It was all in the fine print.
I wasn’t even mad at this point. Liam did exactly what he said. I was safe. And he’d used the opportunity to make a power move by revealing that the Italian capo had been tracking him. It could have been so much worse for Don Morelli. But Liam stayed his hand.
A merciful beast.
No, if anything, I was numb, despairing that things were out of my control.
Liam prowled over. I forced myself to hold still as he stopped in front of me. Meeting his eye, I didn’t shrink from the gnarled visage that was his right side.
“A truth.” He held up one finger. “You’ll give me that much.”
Such a small thing.
I tipped up my chin. “What do you want to know?”
“Who’s your lover?” Something in my face must have given me away, because he reached for me but fisted his hand a moment later, dropping it to his side in a hiss. “I know there is someone. Who the fuck is he?”
“Was,” I corrected. “Augustino Renaldi was my lover. But that’s not the right word for it.”
Liam cocked his head. “What’s the right word?”
I didn’t want to point out that I’d already given him his one truth. It was better we bury this issue once and for all.
“Fuck boy?” I searched for another label to cover the pain, the betrayal, the rage that demon left behind. “Player? Entitled prick with sickly sweet words?”
“Augustino.” Liam tasted the name and dropped his hold. “Not Luca?”
My heart stilted. He didn’t earn that.
If it was the last thing I did, I would protect that name.
Maybe I wasn’t so honorable after all.
“No. Augustino Renaldi, age 21, buried in St. Vincent’s cemetery last September if you care to check.” I dropped the details like acid.
The truth was supposed to feel freeing.
Speaking about that vile asshole made me want to hurt him all over again. His death had been too quick. Not nearly painful enough to sate the wounds he’d given me.
I reached for the whiskey bottle.
Liam lifted it out of reach, eyes lighting with a dark fire. He tsked and made a motion with two bare fingers.
“On your knees, cailín.”
The velvet of his words made me shiver. And because I was sick of hurting, because I wanted to feel good, I dropped to the ground.
Liam flicked the button on his jeans, pulled down the zipper, and released his thick, straining erection. That cock was a thing of beauty, and my mouth watered in response.
“Rest the tip on your tongue.”
I gave him a wry look but obeyed.
“Open your mouth.”
Holding his cock with two fingers underneath the shaft, he created just the right angle. Only then did he tip the bottle and let the whiskey flow. Most of it fell on the floor, but some slid along his length, past my lips, and down my throat.
It was probably the hottest mess I’d ever made.
“Fucking beautiful,” he rasped, lifting the bottle. “You were never meant to survive me. Now look at you.”
My thighs shifted together. That did nothing to soothe the ache.
I closed my lips over the soft tip and sucked. Survive him? I’d never felt more powerful than on my knees, having him at my mercy.
I sucked harder. Swallowing his length, I moaned. He tasted so good.
Above me, Liam’s breath hitched. He tangled his fist in my hair, held my head in place, and thrust deep into my mouth.
I choked but didn’t stop.
This had never been about survival. Here, living with this masked devil, I had the chance to flourish. I was free. I was safe.
I was freaking obsessed with my husband.
Stroking my tongue against the soft underside of his shaft, I let him use my mouth. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes. I had to draw carefully timed breaths every time he pulled back.
“Enough,” Liam barked and slid his cock out of my mouth.
I dropped forward with a huff. “Liam.”
“Yes, cailín, I’ll give you what you need.” He joined me on the floor and pressed his lips to mine.
It was a fierce kiss. His touch consumed me. Those strong, brutal hands were everywhere at once, ripping at my clothes, while his tongue thrust into my mouth. It was like he was chasing the whiskey’s burn.
I whimpered.
My body shook.
The numbness evaporated in the rush of heat.
There wasn’t enough oxygen. The air was fuel to the fire raging between us. Adrenaline crashed through my veins. I tried to reach for him, to undress him like he was doing to me, but he eluded my grip.
The next thing I knew, I was on my back.
“Stay still,” Liam growled. “Let me play.”
My pants were gone, and Liam scooted between my legs. He buried his face there and started to lick. To suck. To devour.
Moaning, I reached for him. I wanted to reach under his shirt, to see if he wore the necklace, but part of me worried it wasn’t there.
He said he never took it off.
Sliding my fingers down the back of his neck made him shiver. His eyelids closed, and he moaned against my pussy. I smirked. But that wasn’t why I did it. I reached, and then my fingers brushed against metal.
It was there.
Right where he said it would be.
Pulling my hands back up his neck, digging into the flesh, I pressed my touch firmly against his skull. He didn’t resist when I raked my nails across his scalp. Those soft lengths of jet-black hair threaded through my fingers. I tugged—hard.
Didn’t he know how much I loved doing this? With him, I was me. This was a part of myself I would never keep when I left. It existed because of him. But he would never believe me if said that.
No, when I left, he would blame himself. When that was the furthest thing from the truth.
I think you’re beautiful.
I wished I could stay.
Liam was more animal than man. He scored my clit with his teeth, sucked the bundle of nerves hard enough to make me moan, and then plunged two fingers into my channel without warning.
My hips arched off the floor in a flood of sensation.
I writhed, struggling to meet his thrusts with the motion of my hips. The pleasure built to a full-bodied shudder. But then—
The strange urge deep in my core pulsed.