Chapter Three
Dante
I drive back to my family home, a fortified stone mansion behind iron gates on the edge of town, and kill the engine on my matte-black, armor-plated Land Rover.
Nodding at my security detail, I waltz through the home that’s been in my family for generations, walk into the modern kitchen, and yank a cold Peroni from a six-pack in the fridge.
Clamping my hand around the bottle and twisting the cap off, I stride through the massive open living area and through the large glass doors leading onto the patio.
Collapsing into a chair, exhausted from my day of correcting people’s fuck ups and checking on our business interests, I gaze over the sprawling acres I call home when I’m not staying in the city.
Throwing my head back and taking a deep swallow, allowing the cold beer to slide down my throat, grounding me in the memories of being nothing but a foot soldier for my father.
The simple Italian beer reminds me of the boy I used to be.
Before my father made me claw my way up to becoming boss of Chicago’s deadliest syndicate. Before I was betrayed.
Before they christened me “Il Malefico”, “the evil one,” a title I’ve earned in blood.
Tonight, I’m tired but feeling restless. There’s an unfulfilled need for violence, for evisceration, or for fucking. But the idea of fucking one of the needy females readily available to me holds no interest. Instead, my thoughts are consumed by a little blonde pharmacist.
The disappointment from that trip to Hart Pharmacy still thrums in my veins. I’d gone in craving a little crimson vengeance and to make an example out of Silas Hart. To send a message to the Scarlettas, who are using Hart to do their dirty work.
The Scarletta family is becoming bold, encroaching on my territory.
My family has protected the Hart pharmacy for years.
They are part of the old neighborhood. Hell, my grandfather protected her grandfather’s business.
Now, Scarletta is thinking he can make a name for himself in my part of the city. He will have to be dealt with soon.
Ready to confront the traitor, instead of Silas, I found Evangeline Hart, a lab coat-clad pixie with defiant cornflower blue eyes.
She’s a problem I didn’t see coming.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Why does that tiny frame in an oversized lab coat and pink Converse make my pulse spike and my cock harden like steel?
Imagining her lips, her hair, and the arch of her neck, I can still see her every delicate movement responsive to the rasp and power in my tone, and it makes my pulse race in a way that is uncomfortably arousing.
I press a hand to adjust my hard cock beneath my slacks, enjoying the pressure, recalling how she stared back at me.
Bold as one of my men. She showed little fear of the man who often makes grown men piss themselves, the stench of ammonia lingering long after they’ve passed.
The man who enjoys watching men crumble and toying with his prey.
As boss of the Vescari crime family, I could farm out the torture work to some lower soldier or minion, but I prefer to handle such things myself. By doing so, I keep my head in the game, remembering where I came from, and my own soldiers respect my handiwork.
It’s a well-known fact that blowtorches are my torture device of choice, but occasionally, I like to use my knife, one inherited from my grandfather.
When I’m interrogating a threat, I find taking sharp cuts, pulling back the skin, exposing raw flesh, often helps me soothe my anger issues.
These tactics have also earned me a dangerous reputation and my nickname. Again, a title earned, not given.
But I will only kill liars and traitors. Or those who cross me. I despise any violence against women and children. Those perpetrators are scum lower than dirt, deserving every lash of pain I can conjure, much like my father had deserved the justice he was dealt.
My thoughts drift back to sweet Evangeline Hart. She stood her ground with me. Questioned me. Even Luca had laughed at her reaction to my warnings. This woman seems too innocent for our world, too pure in a place where innocence is devoured. Devoured by the debauched, such as myself.
And yet she’s inside my head. Not the buttoned-up chemist I saw today, every inch hidden beneath that lab coat, but the tiny tigress I imagine she’d be in my bed.
Her cheeks flush, freckles dancing across her nose, plump lips, moist and swollen.
Her mouth parted as though she can’t breathe while I loomed over her, my rock-hard cock notched at her entrance, wet with her juices.
Penetrating those innocent pussy lips, making her mine.
Claiming her over and over. She’d feel every inch as I pound into her.
I wouldn’t be gentle, but somehow, I know Evangeline could handle me.
My roughness. My darkness. In fact, I think she’d even welcome it.
I picture her creamy thighs trembling under my grip. Her on my bed, where she was born to be, her golden hair fanned beneath her. Her soft flesh would be like silk to my calloused hands.
And those damned blue eyes, wide, stunned, daring me. She’d never forget the weight of me inside her once I claimed her or the guttural moans I’d rip from her throat. I would take her pussy so deep, she’d be ruined for any other man.
When I finally own her, it’ll be real. Then, I’d never let her sleep alone. She’d be pressed to me, in my bed, every night. Just thinking of everything I’m aching to do to her makes me impatient to make this a reality.
One meeting and I’m obsessed with Evangeline Hart.
The sound of my cell phone shatters my erotic fantasy. I snatch it up.
“What?” I bark, irritated and needing some relief because now pre-cum is leaking from my cock, staining my pants like a damned teenager.
“Boss,” Luca growls. “I dug up information on your little pharmacist.”
“And?” I clamp my jaw, trying to sound detached, though I burn to know.
“She seems clean. A loner. No boyfriend, no friends, doesn’t even hang with her uncle. Just work and home. Weird as hell.”
“What did you say?“ I growl.
“Dude, I meant her lifestyle was weird, not that she was weird. Calm the fuck down.“ He hurriedly corrects his error. “She’s just awfully young not to have much of a social life or any social media, that’s all.”
I nod, relief and something darker flooding through me. “Good. Just keep tabs on her uncle. He’s the real problem. He’s put a target on her back.”
“Got it, boss.”
I hang up, take another long swallow of beer, letting the cold taste roll on my tongue.
My poor Evangeline. She’s alone in the world with only a leech of an uncle feeding off her name and talent.
That’s not acceptable. That ends now. From this moment on, Evangeline is not alone. She has me, and that’s all she needs.
Heaven help anyone who tries to hurt her, including the uncle or Scarletta. They won’t live long enough to regret it.