Chapter 9
Vince
T he meeting with the Colombians is supposed to be a negotiation, but I should have known better. As soon as I walk into the abandoned warehouse, I can feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating.
Marco, ever loyal, has insisted on coming with me. Now, as I watch him fall to the ground with a cry of pain, clutching his bleeding leg, I realize how badly I've miscalculated.
"Boss, get down!" Marco shouts through gritted teeth.
I dive behind a stack of crates as bullets whiz past my head. The sound of gunfire is deafening in the cavernous space. My heart pounds in my ears as I pull out my own weapon, returning fire when I can.
"You thought you could expand into our territory, Vincenzo?" a voice calls out in heavily accented English. "You forget your place."
I grit my teeth, anger surging through me. This isn't just about territory. This is about power, about respect. Everything I've built over the years.
But as I crouch here, the acrid smell of gunpowder filling my nostrils, a strange calm washes over me. In this moment, staring death in the face, none of it seems to matter anymore. The empire, the money, the power - it all feels hollow.
Instead, my mind fills with images of Emily. Her smile, the way her eyes sparkle when she laughs, the feeling of her lips against mine. I think of the life we could have had if I'd made different choices. A normal life, free from violence and fear.
A bullet grazes my arm, and I hiss in pain. The wound is superficial, but it brings me crashing back to reality. I'm pinned down, outnumbered, and rapidly running out of options.
For the first time in years, I feel real fear. Not for myself, but for what I'm leaving behind. For who I'm leaving behind.
"Emily," I whisper her name like a prayer. In this moment of clarity, I realize that she's the one pure thing in my life of darkness.
If by some miracle I survive this, I vow to myself that I'll make it right. I'll leave this life behind, no matter the cost. Because a life without Emily isn't a life worth living.
With renewed determination, I take a deep breath and prepare to make my move. I may die here, but I'll die fighting for a chance at a better life. A life with Emily.
As I emerge from my cover, gun raised, time seems to slow. In this suspended moment, I see my life for what it truly is - a series of choices that led me here, to this warehouse, to this crossroads.
The gunfire resumes, a cacophony of chaos. But amidst the noise and danger, I feel a strange sense of peace. Whatever happens next, I know what truly matters now.
Emily. It will always be Emily.
I take a quick survey of my surroundings. Marco is still conscious, his face contorted in pain as he applies pressure to his leg wound. Gio is behind us, pinned down but unharmed. The Colombians are spread out, using various pieces of machinery and crates as cover.
"Marco," I call out, keeping my voice low. "Can you move?"
He nods grimly, his jaw set. "Just... give me cover."
I take a deep breath, formulating a plan. There's a door about thirty feet to our left - if we can make it there, we might have a chance.
"On my signal," I tell Marco. He nods, bracing himself.
I reach into my jacket and pull out a flash grenade - a little insurance I always carry for situations like this. With a silent prayer, I pull the pin and toss it over the crates.
The bang is deafening, followed by shouts of confusion and pain. I leap from my cover, firing rapidly to keep the Colombians at bay. With my free hand, I grab Marco by the collar and haul him to his feet.
"Move!" I shout, half-dragging him towards the door.
The Colombians are recovering quickly, but the flashbang has bought us precious seconds. Bullets pepper the ground around our feet as we stumble towards our escape. Gio shouts for us to hurry.
I slam my shoulder into the door, bursting through into the cool night air. A black SUV is parked nearby - our getaway vehicle. I silently thank whatever instinct made me insist on having it ready.
"Get in!" I yell at Marco, practically throwing him into the backseat before jumping behind the wheel as Gio climbs in behind him and shuts the door.
The engine roars to life as bullets shatter the rear window. I floor the accelerator, tires screeching as we tear out of the parking lot.
In the rearview mirror, I see the Colombians emerging from the warehouse, but we're already turning onto the main road, quickly disappearing into the night traffic.
My heart is racing, adrenaline coursing through my veins. But beneath the fear and excitement, there's a steady undercurrent of resolve.
"You okay back there?" I call to my guys.
Marco grunts in affirmation. "I'll live.” Gio nods, eyes wide.
I'm quiet for a moment, my eyes fixed on the road ahead. Then I release the deepest sigh of my life. "It's time for a new direction. No more of this bullshit."
Marco and Gio glance at each other. Gio speaks up first. “What do you mean, boss?”
As I navigate through the city streets, my mind is already racing ahead. I need to get Marco to our private doctor, secure our assets, and most importantly, I need to see Emily.
Because now I know - with absolute certainty - that she's the only thing that truly matters. And I'm ready to leave everything else behind for a chance at a real life with her.
I explain everything to the guys, and somehow they understand.
The next morning I drive to her apartment, breaking every traffic law in the process. But when I get there, it's empty. I can tell she hasn't been here in days. Panic sets in, a feeling so foreign and overwhelming that for a moment, I can't breathe.
I call in every favor, use every resource at my disposal to find her. I have my men check hospitals, police stations, even morgues. The thought of her hurt, or worse, because of me, is unbearable.
It's Gio who finally brings me the news, his face grim. "Emily Bennett booked a flight to Paris four days ago," he tells me. "One-way ticket."
I’m elated to learn she’s safe. But then the words sink in, and hit me like a physical blow. She's gone. She left without a word, without giving me a chance to explain, to make things right. I've faced down rival gangs, corrupt cops, even death itself, but nothing has ever felt like this.
But as quickly as the despair hits, determination follows. I'm Vincent Russo. I've built an empire from nothing. I've faced down rivals and enemies alike. I won't lose Emily without a fight.
In the car, on the way to the airport, I make a call. "It's Russo," I say when the line connects. "I need a favor."
The voice on the other end hesitates. "Mr. Russo, I'm not sure-"
"I'm calling in all my markers," I interrupt. "Every last one. I need a clean slate. A legitimate business, paperwork that'll stand up to any scrutiny."
There's a long pause. "That's... a tall order, Mr. Russo. It'll take time."
"You have until I get back from Paris," I say. "Make it happen."
I end the call, feeling a weight lift from my shoulders. It's a start. A way to build a life that Emily can be a part of without fear, without compromise.
As the plane takes off, carrying me towards Paris, towards Emily, I allow myself to hope. Hope that I'm not too late. Hope that she'll give me a chance to explain, to show her who I can be. Who I want to be. With her.
I close my eyes, picturing her face. "I'm coming, Emily," I whisper. "Wait for me."
The city lights fade below, and I feel like I'm leaving behind more than just my empire. I'm leaving behind the old Vincent Russo. The man who thought love was a weakness, who believed he was better off alone.
∞∞∞
The Parisian morning air is crisp as I step out of my hired car. My heart races, a mix of anticipation and fear coursing through my veins. After a week of searching, my team finally tracked Emily's phone to this quaint café in the 6th arrondissement. The charming streets of Saint-Germain-des-Prés stretch out around me, but I barely notice the picturesque scenery. My focus is entirely on the café before me.
I pause outside, taking in the scene through the window. And there she is, standing in line, her honey-blonde hair catching the sunlight. Emily. My Emily. The sight of her steals my breath away. She looks tired, a little thinner perhaps, but still achingly beautiful. I drink in every detail - the way she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, the nervous tap of her foot against the polished floor.
I watch as she reaches the counter, hesitating. Even from here, I can see the frustration on her face as she struggles with the French menu. A small smile tugs at my lips. Some things never change. I remember our first meeting in that New York coffee shop. It feels like a lifetime ago.
Taking a deep breath, I push open the door and step inside. The bell chimes softly, but Emily doesn't turn. I move closer, close enough to hear her halting French as she tries to order. The familiar scent of her perfume reaches me, bringing with it a flood of memories - the charity galas, the museum, nights spent tangled in each other's arms.
"Un café, s'il vous pla?t," she manages, her accent making me smile despite the tension of the moment. "Avec... um... lait d'amande?"
Before the barista can respond, I step up beside her. "Elle prendra un grand latte au lait d'amande avec un trait de vanille et une pincée de cannelle," I say smoothly in French. "Et un espresso pour moi, s'il vous pla?t."
I feel Emily freeze beside me, her breath catching. Slowly, she turns to face me, her eyes wide with shock. A myriad of emotions flicker across her face - surprise, fear, anger, and something that looks suspiciously like longing.
"Vince?" she whispers, her voice a mix of disbelief and something else I can't quite identify. Hope, maybe?
"Hello, Emily," I say softly, drinking in the sight of her. Up close, I can see the shadows under her eyes, the slight pallor to her skin. She looks like she hasn't been sleeping well. The thought that I might be the cause of her distress twists something inside me.
The barista clears his throat, breaking our intense eye contact. I hand over some euros, not bothering to wait for change, and guide Emily to a small table in the corner. She doesn't resist, but I can feel the tension radiating off her.
We sit in silence as we wait for our drinks, the weight of everything unsaid hanging heavy between us. When the barista brings our coffees, Emily wraps her hands around the mug, as if seeking warmth. I watch as she takes a sip, her eyes widening slightly in surprise.
"It's exactly how I like it," she murmurs, almost to herself.
I nod. "I remember everything about you, Emily. Even the little things."
Her eyes meet mine, a mix of emotions swirling in their depths. "How did you find me?" she finally asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
I consider lying, but I've come too far for that. "I had my people track your phone," I admit. "I know it's an invasion of privacy, but I was worried. You disappeared without a word."
Emily's eyes flash with anger. "You were worried? Vince, I found out you're a criminal! That you've killed people! What did you expect me to do?"
I lean forward, my voice low and intense. "I expected you to let me explain. To give me a chance." I run a hand through my hair, frustration seeping into my tone. "Do you have any idea what it did to me, thinking I'd lost you for good?"
Her eyes soften slightly at this. "Vince, I-"
"I love you, Emily," I interrupt, the words bursting out of me. Her eyes widen in shock. "I love you, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I'm sorry I kept things from you. But I'm here now, and I want to make things right."
Emily shakes her head, tears gathering in her eyes. "How, Vince? How can we make this work when your whole life is-"
"Was," I correct her gently. "My whole life was criminal activity. But not anymore."
I pull out my phone, scrolling through my messages before handing it to her. "Read these," I say. "They're from Marco."
With trembling hands, Emily takes the phone. I watch her face as she reads, seeing the disbelief, the hope, the fear all warring for dominance. Her eyes scan back and forth, widening as she takes in the information.
"You... you're going legitimate?" she asks, her voice shaky.
I nod. "I've been working on it since you left. Called in every favor, used every resource I have. It's not complete yet, but it's happening. I'm dismantling the illegal operations, setting up legitimate businesses. It'll take time, but..." I reach across the table, taking her hand in mine. "I'll do whatever it takes, Emily. You're the only thing that matters now."
A tear slips down her cheek. Without thinking, I reach out, gently wiping it away with my thumb. The familiar softness of her skin under my touch sends a jolt through me. "I can't promise it'll be easy," I say softly. "I've made a lot of enemies. But I can promise that I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe, to be the man you deserve."
Emily looks at me, really looks at me, for what feels like an eternity. I hold my breath, waiting. I can see the conflict in her eyes, the battle between her heart and her head.
Finally, she speaks. "I missed you," she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. "I tried not to, but... I missed you so much, Vince."
Relief floods through me, so intense it's almost painful. I stand, pulling her up with me and into my arms. She comes willingly, burying her face in my chest. I hold her tight, breathing in her scent, relishing the feeling of her in my arms again. It feels like coming home.
"I missed you too," I murmur into her hair. "More than I thought possible. When you left... Emily, I've never been so scared in my life."
Emily pulls back slightly, looking up at me. There are still questions in her eyes, still doubts, but there's love there too. It's a start. "I was scared too," she admits. "Scared of what I'd found out, scared of losing you. I didn't know what to do."
I cup her face in my hands, my thumbs stroking her cheeks. "I understand. I should have told you everything from the beginning. No more secrets, I promise."
She nods slowly. "We have a lot to talk about," she says seriously.
"We do," I agree. "And we will. I'll answer any question you have, tell you anything you want to know. No holds barred."
Emily's quiet for a moment, then nods. "Okay," she says softly. Then, with a small smile, "So... you speak French?"
I chuckle, the tension breaking slightly. "I speak six languages. Comes in handy in international business, legitimate or otherwise."
Emily shakes her head, a mix of exasperation and fondness on her face. "You're full of surprises, Vincent Russo."
"I aim to keep you on your toes, Emily Bennett," I reply with a grin. Then, more seriously, "Where are you staying?"
"Hotel du Louvre," she answers. "Why?"
I take her hand, lacing our fingers together. The simple contact sends warmth spreading through me. "Because we have a lot to talk about, and I'd rather not do it in public. Plus," I add with a smirk, "I've missed you. A lot."
A blush creeps up Emily's cheeks, but she doesn't pull away. Instead, she squeezes my hand. "Okay," she says softly. "Let's go."
As we leave the café, stepping out into the Parisian sunshine, I feel lighter than I have in weeks. The streets of Paris stretch out before us, full of possibility. I flag down a taxi, holding the door open for Emily.
In the back of the cab, Emily leans into me, her head resting on my shoulder. It's such a simple gesture, but it means everything. "Vince?" she says softly.
"Yes?"
"I love you too," she whispers. "I should have said it earlier. I was just... scared."
I press a kiss to the top of her head, my heart soaring. "We're both learning, Emily. We'll figure it out together."
The door to Emily’s hotel room in Paris clicks shut behind us, and I can barely contain myself. The past few weeks without her have been pure hell, and now that she’s here, back in my arms, I don’t intend to let her go again. I grab her, pulling her into a kiss that’s anything but gentle. It’s fierce, punishing, fueled by the emotions I’ve been holding back since the moment she walked out of my life.
“Vince, I—” she starts, but I don’t let her finish. I silence her with a bruising kiss, my hands gripping her arms tightly, holding her in place.
“You need to be punished, Emily,” I whisper in her ear, my voice dark with the promise of what’s to come. “For making me worry. For making me think something had happened to you.”
I can feel her shiver in my arms, and it only spurs me on.
Before she can say a word, I spin her around, pull her over my knee as I sit on the bed, and lift her skirt up to her hips. The sight of her perfect ass in that flimsy little thong only fuels my fire.
With one sharp motion, I rip the thong off her, the sound of the fabric tearing satisfying something primal inside me. “You’ve been a very bad girl,” I growl, my hand coming down hard on her bare ass. The sting of the slap echoes in the room, and she cries out, but I know she loves it. I can feel the way her body responds to me, the way she arches her back, pushing up for more.
I spank her again, harder this time, and her moan sends a surge of lust straight through me. “Do you like this, Emily?” I ask, my voice rough as my hand continues to rain down on her, each strike harder than the last.
“Yes,” she gasps, her voice trembling with need. “I love it, Vince… Please…”
“Please, what?” I demand, pausing just long enough to hear her beg.
“Please, don’t stop,” she whispers, her voice desperate. “Punish me… Make me yours again.”
Her words drive me wild. I bring my hand down one final time, the hardest yet, and she cries out, her body shaking with the force of it. But I know she’s not just feeling pain. She’s feeling exactly what I want her to feel—submission, desire, and the undeniable truth that she belongs to me.
When I’m satisfied that she’s learned her lesson, I pull her up and off my lap, turning her to face me. The look in her eyes—the desire, it feeds my soul.
“You belong to me, baby,” I growl, my hands moving quickly to strip the rest of her clothes off. I need her naked, vulnerable, completely at my mercy. I need to remind her exactly who she belongs to.
She doesn’t resist, letting me pull off every scrap of clothing until she’s bare before me. I waste no time stripping off my own clothes, the need to feel her skin against mine almost overwhelming. When we’re both naked, I push her onto the bed, positioning her on her hands and knees. The sight of her like this, waiting for me, trembling with anticipation, nearly pushes me over the edge.
I move behind her, gripping her hips, pulling her back against me. The feel of her soft skin, the way she’s already wet and ready for me, drives me to the brink of madness.
“Do you want this?” I ask, my voice low, dangerous.
“Yes,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “Please, Vince… I need you.”
That’s all I need to hear. I thrust into her hard and deep, and the way she cries out, the way her body shudders, tells me everything I need to know. She’s mine, and I’m going to take her as hard and as long as I want.
I grab a fistful of her hair, pulling her head back, and the slight pain in her gasp only heightens my pleasure. “You’re mine, Emily,” I growl, my voice thick with dominance. “Say it.”
“Yours,” she gasps, her voice breathless, needy. “I’m yours, Vince.”
Her submission, the way she gives herself to me completely, drives me wild. I thrust into her again and again, my pace punishing, relentless. I’m not just fucking her—I’m claiming her, body and soul, and I won’t stop until she knows that she’s mine forever.
The sound of our bodies colliding, the rough, animalistic need in my grunts, the way her body tightens around me—it’s all too much. I can feel the tension coiling inside me, ready to snap, but I hold back, wanting to savor every moment, every sound she makes.
“Come for me,” I command, my voice low, rough. “Come for me, Emily, and know that you’re mine.”
Her body obeys, shuddering violently as she cries out, her release washing over her in waves. The sight of her losing herself to me, the feel of her pulsing around me, pulls me over the edge. I thrust into her one last time, my own release crashing over me, and I let myself fall, lost in the pleasure, in the knowledge that she’s the only one for me.
When it’s over, I pull out of her gently, turning her to face me as I gather her into my arms. “You’re mine,” I say again, my voice softer now, but no less firm. “Never forget that, Emily.” She smiles up at me, her eyes shining with love, with trust. “Never,” she whispers, resting her head against my chest, her body fitting perfectly against mine.