3. Massimo
I’d indulged myself in her for hours, lingering in the private, safe haven of the suite with Evelyn in my arms. I’d held her, kissed her, and promised her that she was safe with me.
She’d drifted off to sleep a while ago, exhausted by the morning’s violent events and the intense orgasm I’d given her in the shower. Soon, I’d have to make sure she was awake and ready to attend dinner with Stefano. I anticipated that she wouldn’t be too happy about it. She’d made it clear that she wasn’t comfortable around the cartel.
But this dinner was too important to miss. It was imperative that I secure the alliance with Stefano and his Colombian partner, Adrián Rodríguez. I’d made a vow to my friends that I would see this through, and my job was to maintain a friendship with the cartel kingpins while Gian and Enzo finished setting up the infrastructure we needed back in Italy. They would be placing bribes at the ports and arranging the payment to our new criminal associates in the Americas. In return, Stefano and Rodríguez would ship us their product at a fraction of the cost it would take to acquire cocaine on the existing European market. We would all be richer and more powerful than we’d ever dreamed.
Gian and Enzo could finally usurp the boss back home: Cesare Salerno, the callous bastard who ruled our Camorra clan with an iron fist. I’d sworn my fealty to the brothers decades ago, forming a pact when we were all boys living in poverty together, fighting for survival in Le Vele di Scampia. Everything we’d worked toward for years was finally coming to fruition. I wouldn’t fuck things up for us now, not even for Evelyn.
I could protect her and honor my promise to my friends at the same time.
She wouldn’t be happy about attending dinner with Duarte, but she was mine, and she would have to become accustomed to my lifestyle. Letting her go wasn’t an option; I was too addicted to her beauty, sweetness, and innocence to allow her to leave me. So, she would go wherever I went. Whether she liked it or not.
She always became more pliable when I touched her. I would make sure to spoil her and drive her wild with ecstasy. She would do as I said, and she would be glad to obey me. To give me whatever I desired if only I would allow her more pleasure.
I stroked her silken, platinum hair, and she snuggled closer to my chest. Her warmth pulsed over me, and her light, floral scent calmed me like a drug.
Even though I was accustomed to violence, my adrenaline had spiked when Evelyn had been taken from me. And I’d had a powerful orgasm of my own when she’d boldly stroked me to completion in the shower.
Her hair was so soft beneath my fingers, and her sweet scent lulled me into relaxation. My eyelids grew heavy. I allowed them to droop closed, just for a few minutes…
My mother’s elegant fingers handled the fruit with care, making sure not to bruise the precious product. She was helping my father tidy the grocery store—something that the owner didn’t mind as long as she didn’t damage anything. It would be another long shift for him, so she’d brought me to see him. I was old enough now to understand that she missed him when he was away, and she was eager to help out at the store so that she could spend some time with him.
My fingers tightened around a peach as resentment coiled my muscles. I could hear boys laughing outside.
Laughing at me?
My cheeks heated. Whatever amused them, I would never know. I was an outsider, a pathetic weakling.
I was constantly under my parents’ watchful eyes, never allowed to interact with the other boys in the neighborhood. My mother insisted that it was too dangerous, and I needed to dedicate myself to my studies at home. She told me that an education was my way out, and if I kept my record clean, I’d be able to move away from Le Vele one day.
While the other boys were out enjoying their freedom and learning how to become men, I was sheltered. I watched them from the window in our dingy studio apartment that my mother tried to make into a home for us. They were growing tall and strong, while I was skinny and too short for my age. My father promised that I’d hit my growth spurt in the next couple of years, and I shouldn’t worry about such things at the age of eleven.
I shot a furtive glance at my parents. They were having a quiet conversation near the check-out counter, where my father was stationed. My father grinned, and my mother tucked her hair behind her ear with a shy smile.
I rolled my eyes. They were so in love that it was nauseating.
A real man wouldn’t be so devoted to his wife that he did whatever she said. My father could be out earning real money to support us, but he remained in this dead-end job at the grocery store because it made her happy. We barely had the resources to put food on our own table, but he sold it to others. It was a joke.
They were so lost in their little flirtation that they might not notice if I slipped away. I could still hear the boys, jeering and laughing.
I peeked through the glass door and noted five of them outside. The biggest one leaned casually against the wall of the building across the street. He tipped back a bottle of clear alcohol and took a swig, barely grimacing as he swallowed down the cheap liquor. One of the other boys held out his hand, demanding his turn with the drink.
The biggest one—clearly their leader—cuffed him on the back of his head and snapped something, nodding at the other three. They were all clustered around a motorbike.
The bike roared to life, and they cheered.
I wasn’t stupid; I knew it didn’t belong to them. They were one of the baby gangs that terrorized Le Vele. They took what they wanted and lived lawless, adventurous lives. If they were lucky, one day they would become camorristi, and they would escape this hellish neighborhood.
The leader glanced around furtively to check if there were any witnesses. Dark eyes paused on me, narrowing with suspicion.
I swallowed hard but tipped my chin back. My fists clenched at my sides as I tried to make myself look as big as possible. These boys only understood strength, and any show of cowardice on my part would probably end in a beating.
If I impressed them, they might ask me to join them outside. They might let me have a taste of the wild freedom they enjoyed.
The big one straightened, and the others snapped to attention. They strolled across the street, approaching the shop. I stood my ground, waiting for them.
“Massimo!” My mother’s voice was more frightened than chiding. She grabbed my upper arm and dragged me back from the glass door.
I tried to remain staunchly in place, but she hauled me behind her.
My face burned with embarrassment, but I was too weak to resist even my slender mom. She was humiliating me, and I scowled at her.
“Let me go. You’re making me look like a pussy.”
She gasped. “Where did you learn that word? You know better.”
“Don’t talk like that around your mother.” My father snaped at me, but a note of fear made his voice hitch too.
The bell above the door chimed, signaling the gang’s entrance. I struggled to step around my parents, who were trying to shield me with their bodies.
But I wasn’t a child; I wouldn’t hide behind them. If I did, the other boys would tear me to pieces out of sheer contempt.
“What are you looking at?” the leader demanded.
“Nothing,” my father insisted. “We don’t want any trouble.”
I managed to edge around my mom, so that I could at least see what was happening. The boy’s eyes were so dark that they were almost black, and they narrowed on me.
“Are you telling me that little shit,” he jerked his head at me, “didn’t see anything? Because I think he did. He was watching us like some kind of freak.”
I looked him dead in the eye and said, “I didn’t see anything.”
I didn’t say it out of fear, and my voice rang out clear and calm. I wouldn’t tell anyone about the theft I’d witnessed. They could trust me. I could be one of them.
My father tensed, his bulky frame seeming to expand to fill the space between us. Despite the muscle that roped his body, I knew he wouldn’t step up and fight. He was a self-proclaimed pacifist, a pitiful value he’d tried to instill in me.
The gang didn’t know that. They saw a threat, and they acted without hesitation.
The leader drew a gun from his belt in one smooth, practiced motion. The shot rang out before I could draw in a breath to shout a protest. My father fell, a crimson stain blooming on his crisp white shirt.
A red haze descended over my mind, protective fury overriding fear. They were attacking my family. My mother was screaming.
As she threw her slim body over my father’s in an attempt to shield him from further harm, I grabbed a bottle of beer from the shelf beside me. The glass smashed against the metal shelf, creating a jagged weapon in my hand. I launched myself at the leader, slashing in wild, feral rage.
Three gory gashes shredded his face. Another shot rang out as he shouted in agony.
The other boys grabbed their broken, sobbing leader and dragged him away. I stood my ground, breathing hard. The broken bottle was still gripped in my fist, my enemy’s blood dripping onto the cream tile floor.
“Massimo.” My mother said my name in a broken whisper.
I rounded on her, my body still thrumming with violent energy. I should go after the motherfuckers who’d threatened my family. If I didn’t make them pay, they might come back. They would kill my father, and…
His pale blue eyes were glassy, staring up at nothing.
My mother’s body was draped over his. She reached for me, her blood-soaked hand shaking as she removed it from the bullet wound in her belly. A red stain grew on her sunshine yellow dress, soaking the material until the blood spilled over to pool with my father’s on the floor.
Her caramel eyes were tight with agony as she stared at me, taking in the weapon in my hand.
Massimo. Her pale lips formed my name, but no sound came out except a wet death rattle. Her eyes went as dull as my father’s, but her jaw remained slack with horror, my act of violence the last thing she’d ever see.
She was utterly still and forever silenced, but I heard my name in her pained whisper over and over again. It echoed through my mind, shredding me.
“Massimo. Massimo, wake up.”
Soft hands grasped my shoulders, shaking me gently.
“It’s just a dream.” Evelyn’s melodic, soothing voice, promising safety and warmth.
I turned into her and buried my face in her silken hair, breathing in her addictive scent. She pressed a tender kiss to my chest and murmured my name again, the sweet sound layering over my mother’s final, horrified rasp.
I gathered Evelyn into my arms and held her close, allowing her gentle warmth and sweet scent to ground me to reality.
I wasn’t a scrawny little boy anymore. I was strong enough to protect this fragile woman. No one would harm my delicate little butterfly. I wouldn’t fail again.