Chapter 5
Chapter Five
LEO
“Some people have dicks, some are dicks, and an unlucky few fall into both categories.”
S he is more gorgeous than the last glimpse I got of her and I hate her for it. This should not be so hard. She doesn’t deserve her beauty. Not when the blood that runs through her veins pinkening her cheeks is responsible for so much destruction. Not only the devastation of Claire’s life, but the reason I barely have memories of my mother. I see a challenge staring into her beautiful brown eyes full of mischief. I know I can break her. Her eyes tell me that she is testing me on purpose. She wants to see what the Angel of Death is capable of.
This is a battle of wills, and this will be so much easier if I can get her to willingly submit to me. There are many rules that I will bend and break for my revenge but I will not cause physical harm to a woman or child. Just because she is the enemy's daughter does not mean she is an exception to that rule. While I would never force submission in the bedroom, most women yearn for the chance to bow to me and I am careful. What I provide is a safe, fun, and adult game filled with unbidden pleasure and pain mixed like the perfect cocktail. I don’t touch women who are not of age and absolutely willing for a night of pleasure brought on by me. The image of her on her knees sends blood to my cock causing me to lose focus on what skin she currently is exposing to me. How beautiful it would look tinged red while she cries out-
“Which of the family goons did you get to run a background for my medical information? I doubt you did it yourself,” she interrupts my train of thought. It makes me smile to see her so feisty. This bratty attitude does nothing to help my pants straining my erection right now. Her accusation isn’t necessarily wrong but where is the fun in admittance? I did have someone get me the info, but it's my best friend and I knew that any information obtained would be safe.
“Don’t worry, daddy dearest handed over the background information without so much as a warning to me about its use. He didn’t want me to accidentally kill his baby girl,” I laughed. This isn’t necessarily a lie. He did send an email to let me know what she was allergic to even if it is only one brand of laundry detergent that I don't use and a general distaste for exotic foods. I don't care about her comfort. She is an adult and can give herself the softness she seeks; mine died with Claire’s innocence.
“As if he cares,” she mutters and shuffles in her seat, clearly uncomfortable with my comment but also not denying it. I should be glad that his actions are not unusual or unexpected even by his daughter. This means that what he provided me is most likely accurate information and will help me keep her caged and alive. Before I have the opportunity to comment on her utterance, our waitress comes by with the platters and I smile as her eyes get wider.
The large spread of traditional Italian food being laid on our table is a sampler of each of my family’s recipies. With each dish a pride piece from Italy, most recipes go back generations. I can cook everything here flawlessly and I need to know my bride-to-be's favorite for when she is agreeable. This is the best way to share food with someone new as it includes; garlic bread, gnocchi with pesto, mushroom ravioli, butternut squash ravioli with sage brown butter, spaghetti and meatballs, and whatever today's special is. I cannot look away from her even to blink as she sets down her wine in awe of the entire table of food choices and picks up her fork. Her eyes flit to me for a moment before moving, as though she is asking my permission to eat. Nodding at her, it hits me that maybe she can be a good girl after all.
Watching her take the first bite of my family’s mushroom ravioli and moan is enough to make sure my dick is back to standing at attention. I pick up my fork to try the special for the day and by the look of the special it is the Petrale sole with a cream and citrus sauce.
“The mushroom ravioli is best eaten like a topping on the garlic bread for the full effect. You don’t have to impress me with your etiquette, our fathers already agreed to our betrothal. There is no going back now,” I speak frankly before taking my bite. The flavors explode just the way that they should, a perfect culmination of the citrus and oil with the cream sauce. The bite is enough to make me lose focus for a moment. It tastes just like when my mother made it the first time in my childhood. She made every minute with me count when she was stateside. Shaking the thoughts away, I watch her to see what she grabs next. She is cutting the butternut squash ravioli in half like she hasn’t been free to just eat before. It's ravenous the way she is going at the food, like a starved animal. What kind of diet does her father have her on? I feel the familiar rage boiling beneath the surface, but for a new reason. Something isn’t adding up and I am going to need to get to the bottom of it.
“Since we are supposed to be getting to know each other, what would you like to know, Mr. Death?” she quips between bites. Oh, so if you give her some butter words start to fly out of her mouth. Well two can play that game, my delicate little pest.
“Well, Butterfly, if you could run away and do anything in life, what would it be?” I question with a smirk. Her fork stops in its tracks. But for what did she pause? Was the depth of my question more than she expected or is she displeased with the new moniker? She sets down her fork for the first time this evening and I see her hand slightly tremble when she reaches for her wine.
“That depends, is this personal knowledge or are you going to tell my father what my answer is?” She asks flatly. It seems like it should have had more bite but it doesn't. Is she hiding things from her dad, and if so why? She is known as his Princess, his diamond daughter.
“Personally, we all know the only person here who is friendly with your father is your bodyguard, but he is too far to hear us,” I answer with more honesty than I thought I would. While I fear my father, the mystery of her relationship with hers is a part of this game that I am too unfamiliar with. I am going to need more intel because I need to know how much she will fight me on this.
“I would be a writer. If I were not part of this life I would write my books and travel the world away from all the darkness and death that comes with who we are,” she responds softly. Her brown eyes dance with the soft lighting in the room and are filled with hope. This is her true dream and she just shared it with the Angel of Death . I watch her walls come back up brick by brick before she continues to eat. I cannot take my eyes off of her. She has surprised me in ways that I never could have imagined.
“What about you, Prince of Darkness?” she asks with a playful smirk. She is back to taunting me about my title. The name I was forced to take. The first part of our agreement that set the stepping stones for today.
“I can say that I have never dreamed about anything outside of my lifestyle except a cold drink on a beach without responsibilities,” I answered truthfully. Ever since my mom died and I made my promise to Claire, that has been my only goal. I will do whatever it takes to keep that promise to her.
She surprises me by asking “Why me, why would you want to marry me?” I freeze at her question. I don’t know her well enough to tell her the truth but I want to be honest. I take a sip of my drink before I answer “I have my reasons.”
Watching her turn cold and almost robotic is enough to set my veins ablaze. I cannot tell a gorgeous snake in the grass my plans before she is in my cage. I don’t know how well she gets along with that bodyguard but if he is the same man who attends to her father, he cannot be trusted. I do not know who she mistakenly trusts and there is too much at risk.
“I understand that was not the answer you were looking for, Butterfly. But I promise when the time is right I will tell you. I know it is getting late and I have plied you with so much food already, but can I ask you for this one favor? Will you share dessert with me?” I ask empathetically. She seems to have enjoyed tastes of many of the foods and watching her dive into the meal has calmed the primal urge to satisfy this goddess made flesh. She may or may not be working for her father but my gut is telling me that their relationship is worse than it appears from the outside.
“If you insist, Mr. Angelini,” she answers me coldly. I waive our waitress over for some cannoli to enjoy with my Butterfly. The way that her bodyguard relaxed at her aloof posture has me thinking that he is involved in this on a more personal level. After this meal I will call Rome. I need more information.
Dessert is almost uncomfortably quiet while she eats her cannoli. Once she swallows the last bite with some water she exits her space in the booth and I follow. Reaching for her hand, I bring it to my lips. My gaze slides to her guard and I can see the muscle working in his jaw. Good. He should know that she is mine even while she remains under her father’s roof.
“I know the ending to this evening was not what you had planned but everything will come in time Butterfly, I promise.” I speak candidly. She gives me a small smile and turns away from me. In time I will tell her more, but right now I need to call my friend and get some answers. I watch her walk to her car with her guard and drive away before turning to mine.