21. Niko
CHAPTER 21
The following day, I’m exhausted, angry, and overworked. Shane left promptly after dropping the body in the vat, not even waiting to make sure his first victim fully dissolved, and I’m sure there will be more. He seemed too pleased with himself not to kill again. The man he murdered did eventually turn to a floating fatty goo, and he and the vat remain, seeing as I need a different way to get rid of bodies now.
I pull the collar and leash out of my desk where I put them before our wedding. I thought it was in poor taste to have them on me, and I didn’t want to offend her, but all I can think about this morning is offending her, and I’m so fucking hard at the thought. I track her through the house, following her scent. She just took a shower and put on her perfume, and she’s like a sensual beacon.
When I find her, I know this won’t go well. She’s looking at herself in the mirror, doing her makeup. She is such a pretty princess, and I can’t wait to muss her up. I walk up behind her, the picture of innocence as she applies her lipstick. She smiles at me for one moment before I shove her hips against the counter and wrap the leather around her neck.
The shock on her face makes my dick jump, and she whines when she feels how bad I want her pressing against her ass. She struggles but doesn’t speak as she fights and thrashes like the first time I put it on her. She scratches me a bit, but ultimately, she’s no match for me, and that makes me all the harder. Gianna has to take me the way I want to give it to her.
As she fails to my superior strength, she finally catches my eye in the mirror. She tips her chin up in submission and lets me close the clasp and clip the leash into place.
“God, you’re fucking pretty,” I tell her, lips spread against her skin as I try to taste every inch of her exposed shoulder she’s been teasing me with all morning.
“I thought you weren’t going to keep this up?” Her pout is perfect, and I yank her head to the side to taste that too, kiss and bite her lips. Her hips still dig into the sink in front of her, and she shimmies against the pressure. Her reflection reveals the world’s most suckable tits.
“I don’t know why you thought that when I told you I would.” I yank the leash and force her to turn around. I touch my nose to hers and tease her with a kiss I don’t land. “You don’t trust me to do what I say I’m going to?”
“I trust you, but I’m not some whore for you to play with. I thought you might think better of treating your wife this way.” Her little chin sticks up, and I can’t help but kiss her under her jaw, just on the edge of the collar. She smells so fucking good.
“You’re not a whore. You’re my whore, and playing with you is exactly what you’re here for.”
Her cheeks flood, and she whines in response, so I lead her back to the bed so she can get what she wants rather than embarrassing her more, as she will most certainly accuse later. I climb on, lying flat, and let her take a look at how hard my cock is. I leave some slack in the leash, letting her fall into a false sense of security as she tries to look angry but manages something more like hunger.
“Tell me you don’t want to be my whore.”
“I don’t want to be your?—”
I yank the leash, cutting her off.
“Too bad, princess. What’s done is done.”
Instead of making her strip, I yank her by the leash until she’s forced to climb on top of me. My cock slides against her panty-covered pussy, and the wet spot on them tells me how she really feels about being my whore. Then I slide those panties to the side and slip deep inside her.
“Fuck, you’re wet for not wanting to be my little whore,” I groan, my eyes rolling back as I feel every inch of my wife.
“Obviously, it doesn’t matter what I want. I’m yours.”
Yes. The fuck. She. is.
When my phone rings, I ignore it in favor of staying inside her sweet cunt. She’s so tight on me, so good. I dig my fingers into her hips and love the way they leave marks in her soft flesh.
My phone rings again, but I stare at her swaying breasts, where my cock impales her cunt.
“Maybe you should answer it.” Her whole body tenses as the noise distracts her.
“No, Mrs. Bouchard. I should keep fucking you.” I drive my hips into her harder to bring her attention back to me.
Another call, a text. Fucking hell.
“Niko, seriously, who would call you like this if something wasn’t wrong?”
“No one, but I don’t fucking care.”
I thrust into her, but she shifts her hips so I slip out.
“Ow fuck!” I complain.
My hard cock hits her pubic bone. She’s unaffected and giggling as she hops off my cock, grabbing my phone herself. I yank her by the leash, bringing her back to my side, but I stifle my knee-jerk reaction to snatch it from her. She’s entitled to my secrets, which I now worry is just as dangerous as having a confessor, maybe more so.
All the laughter is gone from her voice, and her face pinches in concern. “Niko, get dressed and head down to the restaurant now.”
She’s already putting her own clothes on and she better be removing the temptation of her nakedness because she’s lost her mind if she thinks I’m taking her down to the restaurant now.
“What is it, Gi?” I demand, but she just hands me my phone.
Jean Paul: There’s a man in the restaurant with a gun. Someone called the cops. You need to get down here.
“Fuck!” I shout at the top of my lungs as I launch myself into action, grabbing my clothes and shoving them on. My still wet dick sticks to my underwear. “Fucking goddammit.”
“Who's going to deal with the police? I’m assuming you’re going to talk to whoever is in the restaurant.”
“Domalachego,” I grit the single word, knowing no one else would be stupid enough to try to pull this.
“Domalachego is going to deal with the police, Niko? What the hell are you talking about?”
Pure, blinding rage fills my field of vision, and I want to kill. I would enjoy killing him.
“Police?” I ask, barely having heard what she said.
“Who is getting rid of the fucking police while you deal with Domalachego?”
Her cheeks are still pink from the fucking. Is she suggesting herself? I wouldn’t endanger her in a million years, for anything.
“They won’t show up here. They know better.” I have an understanding with local law enforcement, though I’ll be hearing about those phone calls. Scrubbing them from the 911 operators’ memories might cost a pretty penny.
She relaxes a fraction. Without the threat of police presence, she slows how quickly she’s shoving on her clothes, probably realizing there isn’t a chance in hell she’s coming with me since she doesn’t need to play diplomat with the authorities. I don’t share her relief and only grow angrier by the second. How fucking dare he come here and make a scene. What is he playing at?
I kiss her goodbye at our bedroom door, not wanting her near the front if the property isn’t secure. The restaurant is on the other side of the property, and I would walk if things were leisurely, but I don’t have time to wait, so I drive. A few minutes later, the restaurant comes into view, beautiful with ambient lighting. You wouldn’t even know there was a problem except for the line of frightened restaurant patrons who haven’t been allowed to leave.
My hired guns surround the outside of the building and keep them all in a line.
“They can go,” I tell them. If some of them belong to Domalachego, it really doesn’t matter. This is between him and me now.
I pass my own soldiers and enter the restaurant with off-white walls, deep red, and burnt orange flashes of color. Domalachego sits at a table with a plate of pork so similar to what I served Gi. Beside him rests a pistol on the table as he eats.
I shut the door behind me and watch for a minute, thinking through my plan to shoot him dead right here or possibly kill him with my own hands. He cuts himself a chunk of pork and chews, pretending he didn’t notice my entrance as a shitty power play. I have plenty of time to kill him while he fucks with me. Whether I should or not is the issue, but before I decide to make a move, he speaks.
“How does it feel to be openly disrespected, Mr. Bouchard?” He leans back in his chair and gestures to the room around him. “Do you enjoy the treatment as I have?” The vicious glint in his eyes tells me he’s only more angry since we last spoke, not less. “Is it bitter?”
“I don’t give a fuck how you feel about the nuns in my territory, and you’re not welcome on my territory. How’s that for disrespect?”
“Not bad. You’re ungrateful of my patronage, sure, but you and I both know this isn’t about the nuns. Rather, it’s about you and Stefan believing you can play me for a fool.”
“I assure you no one needs to play you for it. You’re quite naturally talented.” I gesture around to my restaurant. This choice, above all else, proves he’s stupid and suicidal. I’ll make him pay for this.
“Mr. Bouchard, do me a favor and cut the crap. You’re married to Gianna Gemelli, which directly conflicts with arrangements Stefan and I made.”
“We’re not?—”
“Five years!” he shouts, cutting me off. “Five years without a realized deal, and you fucking marry her? Do the two of you think I’ll back down that easily? He owes me. Stefan will pay up.”
“You’re wrong about my wife. Whatever deal you had with Stefan is your problem. You should never have trusted a man who would betray his own children. Now that you’ve learned that difficult lesson, you need to leave before you’re dead.”
A wicked flash of excitement lights his dark eyes like he’s daring me to act.
“Oh, trust me. We are not like the Gemellis. If I wind up dead, you will pay for it. My family accepts no trades.”
“I’m not like the Gemellis either. You need to go.”
This is going the way he expected. His eyes shift to his gun, and I think he really considers killing me and being done with it. If he so much as twitches for it, I’m shooting him in the hand.
“What kind of man doesn’t claim his own wife? What kind of a man marries a woman and hides her away because he’s too weak to admit what he’s done?”
I wish I could say something in my own defense, but I have nothing. There’s nothing I want more than to claim that woman and show her off to everyone. I’m not hiding her. I’m protecting her.
“My wife is none of your fucking business, and I know nothing about Stefan.”
He stands, and I pull out my gun in case he makes a move, but there’s an entire restaurant worth of people waiting outside to see what happens. I can’t kill him, not now.
“You still haven’t said out loud that she’s yours, but it’s a relief you’ve stopped denying it.” He steps up to me, but he leaves his gun on the table.
“Fine. She's my wife.” A furious flash in his eyes. “Gianna Bouchard is now my problem. Stefan Gemelli is yours. Let’s not confuse matters.”
I could tell him right now Stefan is dead, but I’ve made a real enemy of Domalachego this time, and it's best if his attention is directed elsewhere.
“Watch yourself, Mr. Bouchard. You have such a beautiful business here and so very much to lose.”
He gestures toward the gun. “A gift from Stefan’s stores, a message.” And he walks out of the restaurant. I pick it up and take a careful look. The gun is Italian-made, but since I’m not crazy, I’m not sure what the message could be.
After my confrontation with Domalachego, I gather my top men and tell them about my marriage to Gianna. That Stefan is missing, and no one knows where he is because I can hardly claim I killed him when there are no bodies, and I can’t say where they’ve gone. With that, I start the war with the Russians.