Chapter Forty-two
Ciro
A s always, I wake up before the sun. It’s a habit, and I’m still trying to figure out if it is a good or bad thing. But today, it’s different. It’s a morning like no other I’ve had in my entire life, and I am glad I beat the sun awake. I get the privilege of being the first to see her.
As I open my eyes, I turn to look at Vida. Her body is curled up against mine under the covers, her hair splayed on my chest, pillow and a part of my face. It’s a mess, a very beautiful untamed mess.
I turn on my side, resting my head on my hand as I study her. I trace the freckles around her face, fixing the dots they form like a constellation. I’ve memorized every inch of her face already, but I still find myself taking in every feature of hers with my eyes again. My gaze dances across the curve of her nose, and the softness of her light brown and pink lips. I chuckle lightly as I watch them part just enough for her quiet snores to slip through.
I try to fix her hair a little, but her curls have other plans, the strands sticking up in all directions. But this is her hair, hers . . . and I can’t imagine her any other way. It’s a crown that was made just for her head and no one else could rock it like she does.
Without even realizing I’m doing it, my thumb begins to stroke across her lips.
Soft. So damn soft.
A part of me wants to wake her up, to pull her into me and kiss her until she begs for more and her body craves mine as mine does hers. But I don’t. I can’t. As I watch her, her peaceful expression screams of peace, one I’m not familiar with, but feel as I watch her sleep.
So, I stay where I am, staring at her eyebrows, tracing their curve with my eyes and admiring how they are carved. I stare for what feels like forever, making sure I’ll never forget any of it. I let my thumb linger on her lips a moment longer before sighing and slipping out of bed. I have work and never in my life has that felt like a chore more than it does now. I just want to be in bed with her, smelling her scent, and staring at her like a lost puppy in the rain.
I grab a sheet of paper from the desk, scribbling a quick note on it before leaving it on the pillow beside her: I’ll be back soon, little chaos. Behave.
The mahogany table gleams under the dim chandelier in the club where we have most of our meetings. The men are already seated when I arrive, their conversations cutting off the moment I step through the door. After giving them a quick nod, I take my seat at the head of the table, with Cito and Franchesco by my side.
I lean back in my chair, fingers intertwined as my sharp gaze moves from one man to the next. On the agenda is the Moscow orphanage. The annual visit is coming up, and preparations have to be made. We are benefactors and the organization’s biggest supporters, at least that is what everyone knows.
“The annual charity drive for the orphanage in Moscow is set,” one of the older men says, his voice rough and stern. “Shipments will arrive next month; school supplies, furniture, and food.”
“Good.” I nod, turning to the man at the far left of me. “And the . . . donations?”
He quickly clears his throat, glancing briefly at the everyone else before replying. “Secure. They’re inserted into the desks and chairs as planned. Once the items reach the storage facility, our handlers will extract them before distribution to the children.”
“Make sure no one gets sloppy,” I tell him. “Any delay, any mistake, and we burn the entire supply chain. Understood?”
I look around at all of them, making sure they know how dead serious I am. They each murmur their agreements, shifting uncomfortably in their seats as my gaze lands on each of them. They know there is no room for delay or mistakes.
“And the transfer out of Moscow?” one of the older men asks and I smile.
“Our buyers are already in place. Once the fundraising auction begins, the stones and other things will be repackaged and sold. Clean, simple, and untraceable,” I reply plainly.
As my men discuss logistics, my mind drifts. I should be focusing on the details, the shipment schedules, security measures, and all the things of high priority right now. But as usual, all I can think about is my wife, and I’m not complaining.
I can hear the sound of her laughs, feel how her lips felt on mine. The way she trembled under me last night, her body arching in ways that still make my cock twitch just thinking about it . . . Fuck!
I shift in my chair, clenching my jaw. Focus, Ciro. But it is impossible to. She is everywhere, in my head, under my skin, consuming every thought I have and making me want to leave everything I have planned to go fuck her in ways a virgin has never been fucked before.
“Boss?” one of my men calls, drawing me back to the present. I give him a stiff nod, masking my distraction with a cold smile.
After giving my last instructions, the room falls into a heavy silence as I stand up to leave. Fixing the sleeves of my jacket, I turn to them.
“Remember, I won’t tolerate any mistakes and if you make one, you’re worthless to me. Do your jobs and do them fucking well,” I say coldly, getting a nod from everyone in the room before I turn and leave, heading to the next thing for the day.
The drive to the warehouse is long. I need a distraction, the type that won’t give me a hard-on while I drive with Cito and Franchesco. So, I reach into the glove compartment and pull out one of Vida’s books. It’s one of the three I’d taken from her room this morning.
It isn’t considered stealing if the owner belongs to me, is it?
I turn to the synopsis of the book and realize how the storyline doesn’t match the cute flowery cover it has. It’s an erotic one.
Of course it is.
I flip through the pages, stopping at the places she’d underlined.
I’ve read to her once before and had thought that was erotic, but what my wife has highlighted in this one is plain as porn. The vivid imagery sends heat to my stomach as I read it, my mind immediately conjuring images of her, of us, doing exactly what these two are doing in this book.
I can picture her clearly, and fucking hell, I forget how to breathe.
I can picture her on her knees on the bed, holding the headboard like a lifeline, while I pound all of her desires out of her . . . Oh, I have plans, plans to make her feel everything in this book and so much more.
My poor wife, so unaware that her book fantasies won’t come close to what I have coming for her.
“Ciro,” I hear Franchesco call. I’d forgotten the bastard was here.
I tear my eyes away from the book I’d somehow gotten lost in and turn to him, waiting for him to continue.
“You do realize we’re here, right? And we’ve been waiting for you?” He arches his brow, looking at me like I’m mental.
“Reading.” I wave the book in his face. “I was reading, something your brain isn’t too familiar with, I’m sure.”
I put the book back and get out of the car, closing the door behind me and rounding the car before I stop beside Cito.
“Did you just make a joke?” Franchesco laughs. I hate this man. “I didn’t think I’d live to see this day.”
He laughs harder, making faces at Cito who just has his work face on.
The warehouse is cold and reeks of fear. My men have done their job well, the informant is tied to a chair with a bruised and bloody face. He is still conscious, which just makes this more fun.
I walk in, taking my time. The man’s eyes move to me, and go wide with fear, as I circle him like a vulture around its meal.
“Where’s Donato?” I ask, my voice low and sharp.
He was amongst the men that strolled in with Donato at my wedding. He must be one of the stupid ones to have the guts to roam around freely.
He stammers, spilling excuses and pleas, but I’m not interested in excuses. I need to find Donato and put a bullet in his skull.
Pulling out my knife, I lean in close, whispering coldly, “you have one chance to make yourself useful.”
The first cut is shallow, a warning across his cheek. Blood pours out immediately making him scream, his voice echoing in the empty warehouse.
I hate the noisy ones.
“Where is he?” I ask again.
Is he crying? This fucker.
I watch as the man sobs, muttering something incoherent. Useless. I drive the knife into his thigh, twisting it just enough to make him scream again. Still, I get nothing.
Minutes pass, maybe more, and as my blade cuts through his second finger, the best idea hits me!
Book shopping!
As I straighten, eager to leave this fool and go to the closest book store in town, I look down at my hands. They are stained with blood, and the informant is a trembling mess in front of me.
Sometimes I get lost in the things I love . . . and I’m not referring to my wife.
“He knows nothing,” I tell Cito and Franchesco.
They nod, watching as I wipe the blade clean before driving it into the man’s chest. He gasps with his eyes wide open, almost like he’s shocked I’d do this. He lets out a wet, choking sound as I watch the life drain from him.
“Clean this up,” I say to one of the men, straightening my tie.
“Where to next, boss?” Cito asks, glancing at me as we exit the warehouse.
“Home, but you’ll be following Franchesco in the second car,” I say.
“Where are you going?” he asks, arching a brow at me.
“Looking like that,” Franchesco chips in.
“Bookstore,” I reply before looking down at myself. “Plus unlike you folks, the book store won’t discriminate against people’s appearances.”
I smile, feeling proud that Vida would approve of my reply.
Cito blinks at me, clearly caught off guard. “Bookstore?”
“Yes, can I have the keys now?” I stare at him with my hand stretched out.
“My wife loves books,” I say simply. “So I’m going to get her some. Keep up.”
His confusion is obvious and it almost amuses me to see him like this, but I don’t bother explaining further. So I take the keys and head to the car.
Excitement bounces in my chest as I drive, thinking about her reaction when she sees the books. The way her eyes light up and how her lips curve into that smile of hers always leaves me breathless.
Fuck! For her, I’d buy the whole damn bookstore.
I step towards the bookstore, eager to fill my car with books for Vida. I have no idea what she’d like, but going through her little stack in her room would be very useful. Just as my hand brushes the door handle, I hear my name coming from a way too familiar voice.
“Ciro!”
I turn, already looking for ways to make this conversation as short as possible. I watch as her heels click against the pavement as she closes the distance. She’s wearing a bright smile, and her hair bounces as she reaches me.
“Dr. Lucia,” I say, giving her a warm smile.
“Oh! Formalities,” she laughs. “Well, it’s nice to see you too, Mr. Ballera.”
She smiles with the greeting, planting a soft kiss on my cheek. The urge to swipe my hand across my cheek is almost consuming, but I’m not ready for her drama, so I only nod.
“It’s been a while. I’m sorry I can’t stay to chat,” I tell her, trying to end this quickly.
“I understand. I’ve been avoiding you really, though I’m sure you didn’t notice,” she says, smiling awkwardly.
“Work.” I shrug. “Why the avoidance?”
Though I hope it’ll stay that way, to be honest, I am somewhat curious as to why she’s been avoiding me.
“About the last time we saw each other, I just wanted to apologize,” she begins. “I didn’t mean to overstep. I just thought . . . well . . . I thought you needed to cool off, from work and . . . marriage.”
I raise an eyebrow, my eyes narrowing slightly as I study her.
“There’s nothing wrong with my marriage,” I tell her, my tone sharp enough to make sure she understands that my priority is my wife. She needs to know that before anything else.
“I understand.” She smiles.
“Thank you for your apology. I owe you one too, for disappearing like that,” I say, trying to extend the nice gesture. “But, my wife wouldn’t really like you being touchy next time.”
Lucia’s lips turn up in a smile, and for a moment, she seems to consider my words.
“Noted,” she says, giggling lightly.
“I’ve got to go,” I say, turning back to enter the bookstore.
“You can’t say you’ve forgiven me if you won’t even walk me to my car,” she says, stopping me from proceeding.
Damn this woman!
I turn to her, flashing her a half-smile. I sigh and step closer.
“I apologize,” I mutter, gesturing in the direction where I notice her car is parked.
As we get closer to her car, something begins to feel off. I make a quick scan of the area trying to find what might be out of place. As I look at Lucia, who walks beside me, she seems fine too. I take out my phone, an instinct for when something feels off.
“See you soon?” Lucia asks, bringing me back to the present and stopping me from sending an SOS message.
“Sure thing,” I reply, giving her a brief hug before turning to leave.
Before I can take a step back, I feel sharp pain in my neck and my hand instinctively shoots up, the world around me beginning to spin.
“Ciro? Are you okay?” I hear Lucia ask. The damn woman injected me with something and is asking if I’m alright?
Fuck! With my shaky hands I tap the red button on my screen, glad I’d opened it before she did that. It’ll take twenty minutes to get here from the house, but at least they’ll find me.
My legs begin to wobble, and before I can understand what is happening, I feel her supporting me, helping me into the back seat of her car as everything goes black.
I wake with a jolt, my head pounding as my body screams in pain. I try to shake off the blur in my eyes, quickly noticing my hands are tied to the ceiling. My chest is on fire, almost like my ribs are broken, and hanging from here for however long isn’t helping the pain in my shoulders.
How much of that drug did she put in me to knock me out so bad that I didn’t feel them beat me?
I can smell the metallic scent of blood, and don’t doubt for a second that it is mine. As I look around me, taking in my surroundings, I notice her. There, kneeling beside me, is Lucia.
She’s crying.
Her soft sobs are very ironic, funny since I’m the one beaten and tied up. I just stare at her. I know she’ll have a lot to say, so I just wait. I’ve been through far worse, so this is just another day for me.
I just hate the fact that I didn’t get Vida’s books to her.
Lucia looks up at me, her eyes wide with what seems like disbelief.
“He was right,” she whispers, her voice breaking.
“You never loved me, Ciro. You never did,” she cries, shaking her head like she can’t believe the realization.
My lips part and a dry chuckle leaves me, but I don’t reply. I just listen.
“It was supposed to be you and I, Ciro. Like always!” Her voice begins to sound angry. “Even after your father forced you to . . . to marry her, I still thought we had something! He was right about you.”
She points at me, her mascara smudged, making her look like a retired zombie.
“You’re pathetic,” I finally mutter, my words barely audible.
But Lucia doesn’t stop there. She leans in closer, her hands shaking as she reaches out to touch my chest, her fingers brushing over the bloodstains on me.
“I tried, Ciro. I really tried. I thought you’d come around, but now . . .” she pauses, her eyes darkening with anger. “Now I know the truth. I know you never really cared. Not for me. You just used me. I was nothing but a way to cool off! To blow off steam.”
My eyes narrow as I stare at her coldly, unbothered by the shit she’s saying.
“He was so right about you, but not her,” she says with a dry scoff. And I realize she’s said ‘he’ too many times.
“What did you say?” I ask, my voice low, raising my head to look at her better.
Lucia turns, a smile plastered on her face.
“An old friend of Vida’s . . . or should I say your wife, ” she grits out. I don’t need any further explanation. I know who it is.
“His business is with her and mine with you,” she laughs bitterly.
“You’re working for Donato? I didn’t think your taste in men would be so repulsing,” I smirk, feeling the dry blood on the corner of my lip move with the action.
“Fuck you, Ciro! I’m not working for him. We just had a deal,” she shrugs.
“What deal?” I stare at her, not liking where this is heading.
“Bring you here while your rescue team comes to get you,” she says with a sickening smile. “And I will go have dinner with that bitch.”
The admission makes me want to strangle the life out of her for daring to call my wife names.
“Don’t you dare,” I warn, wanting to break free from these fucking ropes.
“You can’t threaten me, Ciro. You’re the one hanging. What is it with you Ballera’s thinking you can give orders wherever you please? And to think your stupid wife picked up on my feelings so easily, warning me to keep my hands off of you,” she scoffs in disbelief. “How dare she.”
I can’t help it, my chuckle escapes my lips as the surge of pride floods through me. That’s my girl right there, marking her fucking territory: me!
Fuck! I almost get hard thinking about her marking me. Owning me. Taking me.
“Smile all you want, but I’ll kill her. I’ll make sure Vida suffers for daring to take what’s mine,” Lucia yells, and I don’t think I can hate anything more than her at this moment.
My smile doesn’t falter, it only grows wider.
“Your jealousy is pathetic,” I sneer, voice cold and laced with disdain. “I held you in high regard once, after all those years your family spent serving mine. I thought they raised you with dignity. What a disappointment.”
Her lips tremble, but she doesn’t back down.
“She doesn’t deserve you,” she hisses. “She’s just some . . . some fragile thing. You’ll come back to me. You’ll see, Ciro. I’ll make sure she’s gone, and then you’ll come back to what’s yours.”
I inhale deeply, so annoyed that I didn’t finish my trip to the bookstore to make my wife happy, just for this pathetic bitch to cry wolf? What fuck is this? A circus show?
All I can focus on is Vida. She’s the one thing in this world I will protect with my last breath.
“Vida is everything to me,” I tell her, my voice stern as a rock, making sure she hears each syllable of what I’m saying.
“And if you lay a hand on her, Lucia . . . I’ll make sure it’s the last thing you do.”
“You’ll be with me,” she says hopelessly, making me laugh.
“There will be no me without her,” I say.
Lucia stares at me, her eyes flickering with confusion. “What are you talking about?”
My lips curl into a cruel smile as I look at her dead in the eyes.
“You’re painfully foolish, Lucia. It hurts to watch.” I say. “If Vida leaves this world, I’ll follow her. Because wherever she goes, that’s where I belong, not here, not with you.”
“What . . . what are you saying?” she asks, her voice trembling and her face pale.
“You’re really stupid, it’s exhausting,” I say. “If she dies, I die. Don’t flatter yourself thinking I’d stay for you. So, go ahead and make your move. Try. But know this, you won’t win.”
I watch as her expression shifts from disbelief to something more dangerous, anger, frustration, and maybe even fear.
“I will end her, Ciro! I will!” she screams like a lunatic.
“And I will tear this world apart for her. So don’t fucking test me,” I warn through gritted teeth.
Lucia flinches as my words hit her.
“If anything happens to Vida, you will be the first to feel my wrath. And trust me, it’ll be the last thing you ever feel.”