Chapter 23 Allie
ALLIE
The elevator door dings and a thrilled pang of excitement flutters in my stomach.
It’s kind of pathetic, actually. I’m like one of those dogs trained to drool when a bell rings. The second the elevator shows up, I’m bouncing in my seat, excited to see Mass.
Rosie’s asleep. It’s starting to get late, and I crave him so badly.
But instead of my dark, beautiful, brooding husband, an explosion of boxes tumbles out into the hallway.
“Motherfuck.” Mass appears behind the boxes, kicking some of them out of his way.
They’re unmistakably from high-end stores.
Most have logos and names emblazoned on their tops and sides.
I gape at Chanel, Dior, Kiton, Brioni, Loro Piana, and more.
Mass pulls a cart behind him piled high with even more bags.
“What is all this?”
He glances at me as he gets everything into the entry hall before gesturing at the insane pile. “Presents.”
I laugh at that single word. “What are you talking about?”
“I bought you some things.” He steps back, frowning at the sheer amount of stuff. “I might have gotten too much.”
“This is insane. How’d you even get this stuff here? Aren’t we on some random island?”
“Planes. Boats. I have my ways.” He walks to me, pulls me against him, and presses his mouth to mine.
The kiss is an even bigger surprise than the high-end clothing and just as welcome.
I return it with an eager little whimper, hating myself for how badly I want this and how much I’ve been missing him all day.
“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, touching my cheek gently.
“Did you get all this stuff for me?”
“Some is for my daughter. But yes, most of it is for you.”
I grin, unable to help myself. I grew up in a beautiful mansion, but it was falling apart. My family never had any money for actual high-quality clothing like this. I mostly dressed from thrift stores and hand-me-downs.
“Can I take a look?”
“Please do.” He kisses me again. “I expect a show.”
I’d hate to disappoint my husband. I gather up a bundle of boxes, not really sure what’s in any of them, and carry the whole lot up to the bedroom.
Mass waits patiently downstairs with a glass of wine while I tear open tissue paper and unwrap cashmere sweaters, silk dresses, loafers, travel bags, skirts, and blouses, all of them obscenely well-made and trendy.
I’m giddy as I pull a few outfits on and stare at myself in the mirror.
I barely recognize the girl looking back.
There’s a soft knock at the door. It opens, and Mass appears leaning against the doorframe. I’m in a short black dress with my hair pulled back. He lets his eyes roam down my body.
“You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.” I feel myself blushing slightly as I smooth the fabric. “I’ve never had anything like this before.”
“Really? I find that hard to imagine.”
“It’s true. My father never had any extra money for stuff like this.” I tug at the hem, flattening it over and over. “I was always just sort of there. Not earning anything, not useful for much. Our family hit hard times a little while back, and life was slowly wasting away.”
“But the Russo name is still good in our world.”
“Maybe the name is, but the business sure as hell isn’t. Papa was always a stressed-out nightmare, and my brothers were doing their best to hold it all together. Momma treated me like a burden.”
Mass comes up behind me. He puts his hands on my arms, lightly trailing his fingertips down the bare skin and back up again, one hand moving down my chest to rest lightly over my racing heart.
“You’re not a burden. Nobody should ever treat you like that.”
“It was true though. The men worked. They earned their keep. While I was just… a problem.” I smile and lean back against him.
His hand slips lower, over one breast, rolling around a stiff nipple.
It feels good. “I snuck out. Went dancing. I was trying to live a little, but I knew it was only causing trouble for my parents. People saw me. They knew what was going on, and you know how our world can be.”
“They talked.”
“Stupid rumors. You know the sort of stuff.”
“But that young man I found you with…” He trails off. His fingers dig into my skin slightly.
“He never did that before.”
“Nobody ever will again.” Mass pulls me around roughly. He stares into my eyes. “You’re mine now, Allie. I know it’s been hard for you to accept, but no matter what happens, I’ll never let anyone get close to you. Your old life is over.”
I close my eyes as he kisses my neck. I feel him getting hard against my ass. I let those words play through my mind over and over. My old life is over… my old life is over…
He’s right. Those days are gone. I pretended like I wanted to go back, but what is there for me in New York? A family that doesn’t want me. A mother that doesn’t care. A father that tried to sell me once, all because I had shamed them.
But here, I have Mass. A man who cares about me. A man who will do anything for me.
The father of my daughter.
I turn and kiss him hard. It’s sudden and intense.
I need him badly, more than I’ve ever wanted him before.
I devour his mouth before dropping down to my knees, eagerly ripping at his slacks to get at his stiffening cock.
He’s almost entirely hard when I get to him, and I take him into my mouth, sucking at the last of his softness.
He stiffens between my lips.
“Fuck, Allie, I love getting hard in your mouth,” he growls, gripping my hair.
I feel crazy but good. It’s all too much. This place, this luxury. The way he treats me.
I find myself wanting it. Needing it.
Missing Mass when he’s not here.
I suck him harder, sloppy, stupid, stroking and moaning as I do it. I make him groan, glowing with the power of how I’m the one giving him pleasure. When he’s thrusting into my mouth and his words are only garbled gasps of bliss, I pull back.
“Fuck me,” I plead, kissing him hard. “Don’t come yet. Fuck me first.”
His eyes blaze as he throws me onto the bed.
The poor, pretty silk dress gets ripped from my body.
He devours me, kissing my neck, my breasts, licking my pussy hungrily, before grabbing me and yanking me to the edge of the bed.
His muscles glisten in the half-light streaming in through the window as he sinks his thick cock deep into my pussy with one easy thrust.
“That’s my good girl,” he moans, eyelids fluttering. His long lashes are gorgeous. He gives me soft, bedroom stares as I lift my arms above my head and take his cock deep between my legs.
“Keep going,” I plead, pushing back against him. “I need to feel you.”
He fucks me faster, filling me to the brim. I’m right on the edge, glowing, my body on fire for him. Mass is everything I need. He’s controlling, dominant, beautiful, and tender. Strangely soft when he needs to be. And the way he looks at Rosie is too much.
This man’s more than I ever imagined. More than a killer. More than a criminal.
I lean forward, up on one elbow, and kiss him hard. He keeps thrusting, fucking me deeper and deeper, our moaning twisting together, and I feel the glow building. I can’t deny it much longer.
“Come with me,” he whispers, pleading, the edge of insanity in his voice spurring me to greater heights. “I want it, baby. I need to hear you finish all over my thick cock.”
It pulls my trigger and finally breaks me. I orgasm at the same time he growls and thrusts, filling me to the brim. We finish together, breaking into pieces and rebuilding in each other’s arms.
My poor dress is tossed onto the floor, ruined and worthless. But there are probably ten more where that one came from, and Mass doesn’t seem to care. He climbs into bed and pulls me against him. His low voice rumbles as he mutters something about loving the way I feel.
I smile and cuddle up against him.
We stay like that for a while. I probably drift off at some point. When I come back, I realize it’s late and Mass is deeply asleep. We’re naked, on top of the sheets, and I didn’t do any of my evening routine.
I don’t want to move. I’m so comfortable in my husband’s arms. I don’t know when that happened, but I like it here in his bed. I know Rosie’s safe in her nursery and I’m safe here with Mass. It’s enough to make me forget everything else, at least for a little while.
But something’s ringing nearby.
It’s annoying. I want it to shut up. Mass stirs, grumbling. The ringing won’t stop. I’m trying to ignore it.
Until I realize.
The sound is coming from the living room.
My heart skips a beat and suddenly I’m wide awake. Adrenaline slams into my system. I roll away from Mass as quickly and gently as I can and slip out of bed. He doesn’t wake up when I sneak out of the room and hurry back downstairs.
I find the phone shoved into the couch where I last left it.
“Hello?!” I answer in a rushed whisper, mostly just to stop the thing from ringing. I’d forgotten all about it again, and a part of me resents the phone for forcing itself back into my life.
A man’s voice comes from the other end, almost like it’s at a great distance. “There’s so much you don’t know. There are things he’ll never tell you. There are secrets—”
“Who is this?” I ask, trying to cut in, but the man keeps talking.
“—and layers and so many lies. You don’t know Massimo Cardone and you never will. There is a man in the west wing, Allie. You have to find him. Speak to him. He’s the key to everything. Find him, Allie.”
“Who is this? What do you want from me?”
“The man in the west wing. He’s a prisoner. He’s been tortured and beaten to within an inch of his life. What they’re doing to him, it’s a nightmare. You have to help him, Allie. You can’t trust Massimo. You can’t trust any of them.”
“Stop it. I don’t understand. Slow down!”
“There’s no time. Find the man in the west wing. Help him get out of here. The code is 842891. I repeat, the code is 842891. The code will now repeat until the line goes dead. 842891. 842891. 842891…”
“Please listen to me. I don’t understand what you want! Who is this?!” But the person on the other end keeps saying those numbers, over and over again. I listen for a little longer, memorizing the code, and try to ask more questions, but nothing changes.
I end the call and sit alone in the quiet of the living room.
I don’t want this.
Upstairs, in that dress, with Mass’s hands on my body, I could picture myself living here with him and Rosie. I could imagine being his queen.
I don’t want hidden rooms. I don’t want tortured prisoners.
But I heard the singing coming through that door. It sounded so familiar and it’s still bothering me now.
If there really is someone inside that room… if he really is being tortured by Mass…
I have to find out the truth.
Even if it breaks me in the process.