Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
MARCO
I saw her, and I wanted her. Her body, her words, her thoughts. The moment she stepped out of the trees, she crossed the line and stepped into my territory. And I wasn’t talking about the tangible boundary wall made up of barbed wire and metal barricades lining across the Capizzi property. There was something in her that called out to my broken and malfunctioned heart. It wanted her and all the sinful sighs she would echo hereafter. Insanity sputtered in my veins like the hard throb of a pounding headache. This woman was mine . She was weak in her body but a fighter in her mind. Her strong will and determination shone through the grubbiness of filth and starvation like a diamond unspoiled.
For three fucking days, I had watched her. She was like a precious little bird. Il mio passerotto. Always twirling her head around and ready to fly off at the slightest sound. Yet her spirit shone through of an eagle hiding under the guise of a sparrow.
I couldn’t really pinpoint what it was about her. Was it her fucking body? Big tits were my wet dream, and she had that and more. Or was it because she reminded me of someone I used to be? Or perhaps her strong mind? Whatever it was, it made me want to pick her up and hide her within my suit-clad body.
She was sex on a stick, even though her cheeks were hollow and her eyes sunken in. I could see what she would be like with good food for a week. Fuck! I could see exactly what she would look like down on her knees with those pretty pink lips wrapped around my thick cock.
She was smart, light, and flexible. None of the other men seemed to have noticed her. Which didn’t bode well for my security. But she couldn’t outsmart me. I’d seen her three nights ago, creeping out of her hiding place behind the trees.
My first instinct should have been to yank her by her ear and kick her cute tush back to wherever she had come from. Except I’d allowed indecision to sweep in, and I let her hang around.
Maybe it was because she reminded me of myself. Twenty-five fucking years ago, grubbing around the household garbage until Antonio caught me and yanked me off the bin by my ear. We were the same age. But I don’t know what pissed me off more. Poverty, starvation, or the fact that he could kick my ass even though I was bigger. He hammered me into a puddle, took the bin, and smashed it on my head, and just when I thought it was going to be my final moment, he yanked me inside, pushed me into a shower, and shoved a warm plate of food under my nose. Before the hour was up, he had introduced me to his father as his friend. All of this before he’d even asked my name. I thought I didn’t belong anywhere. Turned out, at ten years old, Antonio thought I did. As the right-hand man to the future Consigliere of the Mafia. He made me his family, and I him.
But it didn’t stop the never-ending ache of loneliness of growing up as an orphan. Of carrying a surname that had no meaning and no link to a father. A moment of thought or a whiff of a smell if the wind blew in the wrong direction and I was right there. Sleeping in ditches and prowling in garbage bins. Just like when I saw her. The stink of old food and the ache of an empty belly drilled through my big body like a cement drill on my chest.
My master plan had been to give her food for a week and kick her out. I needed her away from the house. Antonio and his family’s protection was my only priority. A little Rromani girl hiding in corners, no matter how sexy, wasn’t going to cut it.
Except I changed my mind after half a day. I learned a few things about her. She knew the grounds too well. This wasn’t her first visit here. She must have been caught the last time because she was clearly terrified of stepping inside. So, after two days, I took the food out of the equation and lured her in.
I’d let her eat and make her comfortable and see what she would do. I had only planned to sit in the corner and watch. But I hadn’t calculated an idiot into my plans. Acid burned in my gut at the memory of Peppe’s words and deeds. Spineless fool. Peppe had always been an irritation. He was a coward. I knew that even before today. But he’d never downright angered me before. Which, in itself, notched up my agitation with the man.
As if my rage latched onto him, the man himself strode over and plopped the food on the table with a thud. The noise was loud in the quiet room. My hand twitched. The imbecile had no care for his own life and was on a mission to get himself killed.
I killed men for the Cosa Nostra . I did it without a second thought or a guilty conscience. But killing one of your own was a different thing entirely. It wasn’t something I took lightly. If it wasn’t necessary, I avoided it. The question remained if I could let him live for putting his grubby hands on her. He was only clearing up my questions with his actions.
I leaned back in my chair, trying to create a physical distance between him and my hand itching for my gun on my right side.
“Dov’è il vino, idiota?” I tried to curb my anger, but it shot out of my body in unprecedented waves.
The girl watched us with her enormous hazel eyes. Her skin was so pale that her eyes shone like marbles from her translucent face. Peppe hesitated for a second. A matter of life and death. He made the right decision. With a huff, he went down to the cellar, his boot-clad thuds echoing in the kitchen.
Fuck. I wasn’t in the mood to kill him now. Well, no. That was a lie. I was in the best damn mood to kill him. Would have done it instantly. I just didn’t want to do it in front of her. Even though she had probably seen far worse, for some reason, the dark bruise on her neck was pissing me off. That and she looked like she expected me to shove my dick in her face any moment.
“Come ti chiami?” I growled.
A flicker of recognition sparked in her eyes before she hid it and pressed her pretty pink lips into a thin line.
A shiver of annoyance coiled in my gut. Did she think I was as much an idiot as the usual men she associated with? “Cut the crap. I already know you understand us. Don’t think I’ve not seen you listening to the maids talk.” The ancient legs of the chair quivered as I rocked in an effort to cool off. “Now, let’s try again. Your name…” she opened her mouth, “and don’t fucking lie to me.” Her mouth snapped shut.
Her face turned red, and her teeth gritted behind her closed lips. Indecision swam in her eyes as she wrestled with her inner thoughts. Then she wrenched the word out, “Florina.”
She didn’t lie. Even though she wanted to. She didn’t. That brought me a spark of joy. If there was one thing I could spot a mile off, it was a lie. I could have said it was a sixth sense I developed in the Cosa Nostra . But I already had it long before I met Antonio or his set of men. When you were poor, you were invisible. Yet it gave you the clearest vision of others and their fucking lies.
“Not so difficult, was it?” I mumbled, even though I didn’t expect an answer from those tight lips. “Now eat.” I nodded towards the food.
Her eyes narrowed, and her mouth squeezed into a frown. She didn’t trust me, but the plate in front was too tempting. I knew the feeling. Pride fighting over hunger. The thing was, hunger always won. Just when I thought she would be the exception, she surprised me and, as per her usual habit, ditched the silver cutlery and started stuffing her mouth.
A stifled groan erupted in my mouth. How can a woman gobbling down pasta with her bare hands be so fucking sexy?
My daydreams of her were interrupted by Peppe coming back up, holding a bottle of wine and a glass.
I glared at him. Would it be so bad to get rid of the fucker? His hands froze right above the table.
“Thump it down and there’ll be a hole where your mouth was.”
His eyes were wild, locked on the gun I was pointing at his mouth. To be fair, I hadn’t even realised I was doing it. The girl, Florina, looked up between the two of us and went right on eating. This one had a shitload of guts in her. Peppe swallowed audibly and placed the bottle and glass softly on the table like he was putting a baby to sleep.
“Open it,” I ordered, waving the gun in his face.
He pulled out the wine opener from his pocket. The cock popped, and the Bordeaux sloshed all over Antonio’s grandfather’s dining table as he tried to pour it, staining it red. I hissed and whacked the jerk’s head with the metal in my hands.
“Clean the mess up and get the fuck out of here before I slit your body into pieces.”
My head was too clouded. Would Peppe even be noticed if he was missing? Explaining it to Antonio would be a bitch, of course.
The woman in front of me was the epitome of calmness while he fumbled like a gawky teenager. She emptied the wine from her glass in one gulp and continued shoving the food like it was a competition. While she chewed and Peppe mopped the table, I focused on the Bordeaux drip edging on the right corner of her lip. The urge to lick it off brought a new level of self-control.
The table was clean, and Peppe's hovering was pissing me off. I wanted her alone. All to myself.
“Fuck off.” The fool almost stumbled in his rush to get out of the room. The door banged on his way out as he rushed off to the servants’ quarters on the right side of the house.
Finally, it was just me and her. There was a shift in the air like we both became aware of it at the same time. It was heavy and electric. Her hands quivered ever so lightly even though her eyes were bold, watching me while she ate. I couldn’t tell if she was scared, anxious, or turned on. Her hair was greasy and dark. I wondered what the colour would be when it got a good wash. Dark brown, I thought. Would it feel soft if I wrapped my fist around it? My cock gave a painful jerk at the thought of it.
She finished her food off in record time. No surprise.
In that time, I had made two decisions.
Florina. I was going to call her Rina. It would sound so much better on my lips when she rode me. Which automatically brought me to the second decision. She was coming with me.
I shoved the chair back and stood up. She immediately jumped up, her body on full alert. I was a big man. Broad and tall. Six feet four, which meant I towered over almost everyone. So, the fact that she was small was no surprise. Something she tried to hide by pulling her chin up and stiffening her stance. It only made her look fragile, like I could break her if a huff of my breath touched her. It didn’t stop me from wanting to try.
“Wash your hands.” I jerked my head towards the kitchen. “And then you’re coming with me.”
She didn’t argue. She was more resigned, like she knew her fate. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
I followed her movements as she walked over to the sink. She washed her plate and glass clumsily, like she hadn’t handled either in a very long time. Her dress used to be some other colour but was now brown and in tatters. It was three sizes too large on her tiny frame. My imagination ran wild with what she would look like without it.
My tongue darted out, and I licked my lip just as she turned around to wipe her hands on the towel. Her lips stiffened, and her eyes darkened. Is she scared, or is she turned on? I wasn’t sure which one I wanted it to be. Both, perhaps?
“Let’s go.” I pulled the kitchen door open and waited for her to walk out. And just because she was il mio passerotto , I grasped her arm when she passed me and held her in place. Wouldn’t put it past this one to make a run for it, and that would be too bad, wouldn’t it?
We left the main villa behind and trudged through the gravel path. Her breath was shallow and uneven. Mine was calm and deep. The night was dark, and the air cool. Our men lurked around in the shadows, so I kept her to my left between the side parapet wall and my body, hiding her from view.
I knew better. I should have knocked on Rosa’s door and handed her over to her. Antonio’s trusted maid, with her lifelong service to the family, would have been a good mother figure for Rina. It would have been better for her than coming with me in the dark like my dirty little secret. But I guess even though my suit was clean, my intentions were just that. Dirty.
We were at my little house on the outskirts of the inside boundary in a matter of a few minutes. The front door creaked as I shoved it open, and the dim light painted the tiny hallway with a warm glow. I didn’t get attached to many things in my life other than Antonio and his family. But I could say I was oddly attached to my house. It was tiny compared to the villa. But it was mine. The day that Antonio wrote this house under my name was one of the best days of my life. I locked the door behind me and strode further into the living room. Her footsteps followed behind me meekly.
The moment I entered the living room, I heard a soft thud and turned to find her on her knees. Fuck me! My brows furrowed even as she reached for my belt. Cazzo! I glared down at my hand, fisted in a death grip on hers. “What the fuck you doing?”
I might as well have yelled those words out because everything came to a standstill. My heartbeat, my pulse point. Except for my cock, which throbbed behind the zipper of my pants.
When I found her eyes, they were big and almost luminous as she stared at me with a cooked eyebrow and defiance. “Thanking you.”
Disgust crawled all over my skin. I couldn’t get away fast enough. Lurching back, I shoved her away from me. Agitation whirled inside me, but years of training made me only show my indifference. “If you want to thank me, use your fucking words,” I scoffed. Liar. My dick jerked behind my zipper, and my heart pounded in my ribcage like a racehorse galloping to the win.
What the hell was all the jargon falling out of my mouth? Didn’t I want her fucking body? Fuck! Of course I wanted her.
But not on her fucking knees as a thank you, like she’d thanked all the men before her.
“There’s a guest room upstairs with a bathroom,” I muttered through my gritted teeth. “Find it and make use of it. I am off to bed.”
As I strode upstairs, I didn’t know who I was more mad at. Her for offering her services or me for wanting her to want me more than as a mere fucking thank you.