Chapter 17 - Arko
I snuck into the house after watching my men leave for the pier, where the rescue mission was already underway. They left to check the status and report to me in the morning. Today had been a long fucking day for the whole lot of us, but at least it ended well for those innocent women.
If I could bring back to life that trafficker I shot dead tonight, I’d do it without thinking. And maybe next time, I’d kill him in slower ways. Lucky for him, I was exhausted, and a bullet seemed like the quickest way to bed.
I locked the doors to the side entrance behind me, shutting out the sounds of the crickets outside. The house was dark and quiet, not a soul awake.
I skipped dinner, and the staff had already wrapped up for the evening.
Usually, I would have raided the fridge, but tonight, even the thought of grabbing a snack from the kitchen felt arduous.
Besides, my back hurt like hell. I’d been on my feet the whole day and had a strange crick in my neck that travelled down my spine.
I winced as I climbed the stairs to head up, careful not to let my feet land too strong. I didn’t want to wake Beatrice, who I figured was already fast asleep.
I walked into my room and froze.
Beatrice was sitting on my bed, perfectly poised with one leg crossed over the other, her fingers steepled over her knees. And she was staring right at me, like this was an inquisition I’d unwittingly walked into.
“Beatrice…” There was a question in my voice as I carefully closed the door behind me. “I thought you’d be asleep.”
The last person I expected in my bedroom at this hour was Beatrice, especially after our argument yesterday. For a moment, I thought she was here to talk about that. But looking at the hour, it made no sense.
“What are you doing here?”
“The question is,” she asked, rising to her feet.
That flimsy little robe she had on parted at her collar, the swell of her breasts rising through the thin camisole she had on under.
I held back a groan and forced my eyes not to linger any lower, to those baby-shorts that had no business being on a grown woman. “What are you doing back so late?”
I flicked my gaze up to meet her stormy brown eyes, which at this moment reminded me of a dust storm. She meant business, except I had no idea what this was about.
“I was working late.” I tried to give her the truth, the only way I knew how.
“Really?” She cocked her hip, planting a hand on it. “Killing men in pool houses is business now?”
I froze, my brain scrambling to put two and two together. None of my people would spy on me and report to her. She couldn’t have known about that … unless she was there.
“Fuck, Beatrice!” I strode forward in a rush, the pain in my spine worsening. I rotated my neck, standing a mere foot from her. “You shouldn’t have followed me out tonight! Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”
“I’m fine, aren’t I?” She looked up, glaring at me. “Can’t say the same for that guy you killed.”
“It could have gone sideways,” I hissed, running a hand through my hair in frustration. “What if there were other men? Dangerous men? What if I were alone and taken by surprise?”
“Don’t change the subject,” she said, in a voice so fierce it made me stop.
“I saw you kill that man. I heard everything you said afterward. I’m so sick and tired, Dante, of being kept in the dark about what you do.
Why the hell are you so damn intent on keeping me safe when you’re walking into trouble all the damn time? ”
“God, Bea.” I couldn’t help but let my voice rise. “That’s my job!”
“Your job is to kill men trafficking women?” She crossed her arms, her eyes dazzling with fury.
“Last time I checked, mobsters didn’t go around saving the world.
I don’t get it, Arko. On one hand, you let the world think you’re so damn ruthless.
On the other hand, you push everything aside to save innocent women. What game are you playing?”
I stalked toward her, agitated. “It’s not a game,” I hissed.
“Then what’s your deal? Explain it to me. I’m right here. Your wife by right, and I want to know exactly who I’m married to.” She took a step closer. So close, in fact, I could see her lashes sweeping over her cheeks when she blinked.
“There’s nothing to explain here,” I defended myself, shaking my head. “I might be a mobster, but that doesn’t mean I have to be cruel. It’s not in me to turn a blind eye to something as horrifying as sexual slavery. So. I did what I had to do to rescue those women.”
Beatrice’s eyes narrowed. “So you draw the line at sexual exploitation, but kidnapping for leverage is fine?”
“Those women were in a position where they had no one looking out for them, Beatrice.” I clenched my fists, my patience wearing thin. “They were going to be sold to evil men, men who wouldn’t care how they lived or died.”
I saw her chest rise and fall, the confusion on her face as she tried to understand. “Look. I never said I was a good man.” I lowered my voice and moved a step back. A sharp pain shot up my spine again, like whiplash, and I choked back a groan.
“I’ve had to make decisions that weren’t always good for someone else,” I said. “I was going to have Alisa before your brother took her. So yes, I kidnapped you. I wanted to weaken Dante, to show him I could take what was his because he did the same to me.”
“So like…revenge?” she asked, wincing at the word.
“Everyone plays the game, Beatrice. Families like ours take people and call them leverage. But we don’t hurt innocent women.
Those girls being trafficked? They were headed for something much worse.
They had no choice, no power, nothing.” My face turned with anguish at the thought of such bleak lives.
“What you did today was amazing,” she said, her voice softening slightly. “I was proud of you, for once, Arko. But why do you hide the good in you?”
“I don’t know.” I shook my head, then grimaced, my hand reaching behind my neck, where the pain now spiraled out of control. “I suppose I don’t want to look weak.”
Beatrice’s eyes travelled from mine to where I clutched my neck. She gasped, her eyes widening as she moved toward me. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” I grunted, straightening up and trying to mask the pain. “Just a crick.”
“I don’t think so,” she said softly, all the anger gone from her voice. Her hands fluttered to my shoulders, soft and light as she tried to feel the ridges of my muscles. “Let me see.”
“I said I’m fine,” I insisted.
“Stop being obstinate,” she said kindly, like she was talking to a child. With her hands on my shoulders, she led me to the bed. “Sit. Stop being stubborn and let me help you.”
I caught her wrists, but didn’t push her away. We stood like that for a moment, locked in a silent battle of wills.
“On the bed, now,” she said again, cocking an eyebrow at me. “I mean it.”
I was so tired, the pain was so bad, and most importantly, I couldn’t bring myself to say no to her. It felt good not to have her mad at me. Having her look at me with such care. Just having her here, not walking away.
I released her wrists and let my arms fall to my sides as I sat. “Fine.”
She smiled, a knowing little one, like she knew she had just won a round against me. She reached with delicate hands for the buttons of my shirt, and as she undid them, I tried not to moan at how good her fingers felt against my skin.
Instantly, just like that, all the pain faded from my neck. Her touch burned through me, causing agony of an entirely different kind.
Once my shirt was off, she pointed to the bed. “Lie down, will you?”
I raised an eyebrow, giving her a small, knowing smile of my own. “Lie down?”
“I’m offering you a massage.” She rolled her eyes, but I noticed the hint of color rising in her cheeks. “Don’t flatter yourself by thinking it’s anything more.”
I felt the corner of my mouth twitch. “Uh-huh.”
She made a play move to whack my shoulder, and I ducked, falling to my side on the bed, laughing as I heard her giggle. The quick move made my neck crick worse, but this time I hardly noticed. It was good, us joking and laughing together.
“I need access to your neck.” She smiled down at me, getting into bed and sitting upright on her knees, hovering over me. I took a mental snapshot of that picture, her in my bed, then tried to think of anything but her just to keep my dick in check.
It was better, I thought, for my restraint, to turn face down and not see her gorgeous, smiling face at all.
I closed my eyes, settling into the bed. The mattress dipped as Beatrice sat beside me. She stilled for a second, hesitating, before I felt her hands on my shoulders.
“Tell me if I hurt you,” she said softly.
I bit my tongue to not tell her that nowadays, the only time I didn’t hurt was when I was with her. She and I had been through our ups and downs, and tonight, I didn’t want to push her any further.
Her hands were soft, but powerful for a woman so tiny.
I felt a smile on my face as she gently worked through the knots in my muscles, teasing out the tension.
She started at the base of my neck, her fingers massaging outward, before both hands reached for my shoulders.
With each touch, each move, I felt myself drift further and further into myself.
It had been a long time since anyone had touched me with such love.
She moved down my spine. Inch by inch, thumbs pressing into knots while her fingers moved outward in soft circles. God, it felt incredible.
“Where did you learn to do this?” I groaned, my voice muffling in the pillow.
“Elena used to have terrible migraines when we were kids,” she said, her thumbs pressing into a particularly tight spot that made me hiss. “I’d massage her neck and shoulders to help her sleep.”
Her hands moved lower, working the muscles along my spine, reaching my lower back. The pain in my side began to dull, replaced by a pleasant heaviness in my limbs. I found myself relaxing more than I had in months, maybe years.
“Those girls,” Beatrice said after a while, her voice barely above a whisper. “Will they really be safe?”
“Mm-hmm,” I mumbled, softly, finding myself in that sweet spot between being half-awake and half-asleep. “They’ll be okay.”
“Good,” she whispered, so low that I think I must have dreamt it up. The last thing I remembered was the touch of her hands, still going strong as I drifted off to sleep.