Chapter 28
Enzo
M y eyes shoot open in a panic, and my heart is beating way too fast. I can feel sweat beading on my forehead and sticking to the sheet beneath me. I’m gasping for air, like I was just released from a chokehold. I wrack my brain for a clue as to what just woke me up, and I realize I was having a dream. A nightmare, really.
It’s a recurring one that I wish I could get rid of, but I have no idea how to do that. In the dream, one of the Family elders—never the same one—breaks into my house or comes to the club and kills me. Sometimes it’s an exact replica of the night I killed my father: in his office at the club with an injection of potassium chloride. The bastard went into cardiac arrest and never stood a chance. Other times, it’s completely different. But every time, I’m the victim, and his cronies are avenging him.
Tonight, Vito was strangling me, which explains why I couldn’t breathe when I woke up.
For the millionth time, I wonder why I let all those old assholes stick around. Part of the problem is I can’t just kill them all. That would draw too much attention from law enforcement and might cause some of the people currently loyal to me to question my leadership. But they’re almost always more trouble than they’re worth. They question every decision I make and give the newer Family members a hard time just for the fun of it.
No one would blame me for getting rid of them and securing my power and authority. They’re a constant threat to my position at the head of the Family, and, honestly, no one really likes them all that much. They’ve alienated everyone outside of their little clique.
But the idea of forcing them to stay in line is so much more appealing and ultimately wins out every time I have this debate with myself. I fucking love that they’re forced to follow my direction because of the oath they swore to the Family. That oath automatically switches to the new leader when there’s a power transfer, which means they’ve sworn an oath to me, whether they like it or not.
Of course, they suspect that I’m responsible for my father’s death, but they can’t prove it. The only people who know the truth are Sal, Frankie, and Joey, and I trust them to take that secret to their graves.
Thinking about the level of trust I share with those three brings my thoughts back to Elise. Everything always goes back to her. It’s unhealthy, but I can’t help it. If I could forget about her and get her out of our lives, I would. She’s a weakness and a liability.
And she’s sleeping right down the hall.
Before I know what I’m doing, my feet are on the floor and I’m moving towards her room. I pause outside to press my ear against the door and make sure she’s sleeping, but it’s the middle of the night, so I’m not surprised to be greeted with silence.
There have been plenty of nights where I woke her up because I needed to fuck her. Tonight, I want to let her sleep. But I still need her. Just being near Elise helps me relax. And based on the way she found me in my office this morning and offered herself up to me on a fucking silver platter, she knows that.
Is it concerning that she knows that she’s exactly what I need? Of course. But for right now, there’s nothing I can do about it.
I push the door open as softly as I can. She’s sleeping on her side and facing the window. I walk all the way up to the side of her bed before I pause and study the way her hair falls over the pillow, illuminated by the moonlight. The curve of her hip under the blanket draws me in, but I stop myself from touching her. Let her sleep , I remind myself. Just being in her presence is sufficient to help me calm down from the nightmare that woke me up and all of the tumultuous thoughts that followed.
Knowing that I won’t be able to stop myself from touching her if I stay too close, I move to the chair in the corner of her room. This is better anyway; I can see her face, peaceful with sleep and what I hope are pleasant dreams. The curves of her body draw my attention again, and my cock stirs in my boxers.
Subconsciously, I slip my hand under my waistband and give my shaft a slow pump, but it’s not enough. I lift out of the chair enough to slip my boxers down to my thighs and recline in the seat, watching the rise and fall of her chest while my hand moves in time with her breaths. In my mind, I can see her on her knees in front of me, teasing me with gentle licks. Even in my imagination, she’s too enticing for her own good.
I move my hand faster, and my fantasy shifts to one that’s more familiar. It reminds me of the night I chose her at the club. My hands are on either side of her head, holding her in place while I fuck her mouth. There are tears running down her cheeks, which are quickly becoming streaked with mascara. The look on her face suggests she almost isn’t enjoying herself. Almost.
I know her well enough by now to see right through the facade. She would never admit it—at least not to me—but she loves it rough.
A reel of all the times I’ve taken her roughly since she moved in plays in my mind, and, before I know it, my hand is covered in cum. I start to wipe it off on my boxers but then I have a better idea.
She’s still sound asleep when I stand up and make my way over to her bed. With my pinky, I smear a little bit of my release on her lips, silently claiming them as mine. But it’s not enough.
As gently as I can, I write M-I-N-E on her chest where it’s peeking out over her blanket. I have no idea if she’ll notice it when she wakes up, but I’ll know it’s there when I’m back in my bed tonight. I’ll know that she belongs to me, even if no one else does.