12. Julia
12
JULIA
T he next few days went the same way. We woke up. We ate breakfast together before he went to work. I spent the day planning an extravagant wedding and planting seeds with the Caputi family. There was so much to do: finding a wedding dress and figuring out a venue. I wanted it to be somewhere that made sense for the Roses so that it wouldn’t look too much like a trap, but a place that wouldn’t draw attention in case things turned bloody. Roman had mentioned something about the MC owning a farm just outside of town. That would probably be the best spot.
Despite my plans, I still had to keep up the pretense of being Roman’s loving wife. If there was a meeting at the clubhouse, he took me. Every night when he came home, we ate dinner together like a real couple before he ordered me to take off my clothes so he could fuck me within an inch of my life. We hadn’t continued our discussion about a more negotiated dynamic, but I did do the research he asked me to complete.
Most of what I found on V’s website and other various educational websites sent a jolt of heat through the center of my body and in between my legs. My hands clenched into fists with discussions of impact-play and orgasm denial. I wanted to be what Roman called me—his princess, his toy, his Caputi whore .
Then, I went to the list he’d given me and marked each item, investigating any terms I wasn’t familiar with. Anal sex, cock warming, impact, throat fucking, knife-play, it went on and on. I wanted to try most of it. I wasn’t into needles or excrement, but I had a feeling Roman wouldn’t be either. For the rest of it, I marked either yes or maybe.
When I finally gave the list to him, my entire body shook like he might take one look at it, smirk, and throw a line of insults in my direction. He didn’t. He ran his dark gaze over it, smiled with simmering satisfaction, and grabbed his list to show me.
“We’re compatible,” he said, leaning back in the dining room seat. We’d just finished a meal I’d ordered in because I still hadn’t figured out how to cook. But I had a plan for that, too. “I think we might be able to pretend for a while.”
He was right. Most of the stuff I wanted him to do to me was on his list of things he wanted to do. Spanking, hair pulling, biting, scratching, paddling, flogging, cuffing, ropes, chains, etc. He wanted to fuck my throat and cum deep inside of me, and I wanted to let him. He wanted to breed me, domesticate me, and pretend I was a fifties housewife, solely reliant on him for my pain and pleasure. Giving him that control alleviated the anxiety continuously churning in the back of my mind. Honestly, the only time it stopped was after an intense scene with him, like he was the only person I could give over to. I still wasn’t sure how I felt about that, but I decided not to examine it too closely.
“What do you want to feel during our time together?” he asked, sipping his wine.
“Cared for,” I said. “Adored. Even if you’re degrading me, calling me your slut, the fact I’m yours makes it special.”
He nodded. “I agree. And after? What do you hope to get out of it?”
“Calm,” I said. “Peace.”
“Hmm.” He must have liked the sound of that. “And I have your consent to do anything in the Y column at any time?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
His grin lit up his entire face. “Good. Now get on your pretty little knees and crawl over to me.”
I did, and he took me in the dining room nearly as rough and as furious as he had the first night. Afterward, he ran a bath, and we soaked in the tub together for over an hour, talking and plotting.
Perhaps because of this, I wanted to show him I could be the wife he wanted, that I had more use than being a Caputi heiress. So a week later, I invited Alba over to teach me how to make dinner. I figured I could spend some quality time with my cousin in addition to trying to please my husband.
“You see,” she said, pulling the chicken out of the oven. “You want to get it to an internal temperature of one sixty-five. That’s when you know it’s done.”
I’d read that in the cookbook, but having her here to show me made it so much easier.
“I feel like an idiot,” I said as I grabbed the tongs to plate our dinner. He’d be home in a few minutes, and I wanted to make sure everything was perfect for when he arrived.
“Don’t,” Alba said, pushing up her glasses. “Cooking is a difficult skill to learn. It took me forever to figure out the timing.”
“Thank you,” I said, giving her a soft smile. “For being so kind to me.”
She grinned and narrowed her intuitive gaze. “You seem better.”
“Oh?” I tried to hide my surprise. “How so?”
Alba shrugged. “More at ease, maybe.”
I ignored my burning cheeks at how at ease Roman had made me last night. “I think I’m getting the hang of this whole thing.”
When Alba turned just right, I saw Uncle Benito in her features. She’d probably hate it if I told her that, so I kept it to myself, but it reminded me I did have family here. The people I’d grown up with seemed so very far away, but Alba was my blood.
“There’s not much to it,” she said. “Especially when these alpha assholes start to get smitten.”
I rolled my eyes. “Roman is hardly smitten with me.” Except for when I took my clothes off and did whatever he told me. Except for when he gave me commands, and I nearly tripped over myself to follow them.
“I see how he looks at you when he thinks no one else is watching,” Alba said, bumping me with her hip while she scooped carrots onto our plates. “I’m sure this isn’t what you planned, but if it had to be someone in the Roses, it seems like it was a good thing it was Bear.”
It took me a second to remember Roman and Bear were the same person. “Why does everyone call him Bear?”
Alba shrugged and shook her head. “You’d have to ask him that.”
My phone buzzed and drew my attention from my cousin, and I turned my back on her when I realized it was Della.
Della: Hannah was terminated after you left. No one’s seen her in months.
My stomach dropped and my heart raced.
No.
Could Gabriella have done something to her? Could she have learned that Hannah was still leaking information to me for the Roses? I tried texting Hannah again, but this time, the message was undeliverable.
Della: Gabriella is planning an arms pickup from the Hell’s Knights in three days.
It bothered me that the Hell’s Knights were so close to Rose territory. Had they already come through? Were they still here?
Me: Do you know how big?
Della: Big. When are you coming home? When can Chesco and I see you?
Me: Soon. I want you both at my wedding.
Della: What about the Roses? What are their plans for Gabriella?
“ Are you coming to the party at the Beacon next month?” Alba’s question brought me back to reality, so I put the phone down without answering Della.
“I think so,” I said, putting it on my mental list to ask Roman when he got home. Between that and the wedding, I had a lot going on.
“It’ll be fun,” Alba said as she stacked dishes in the dishwasher and wiped her hands on a rag. “You and Bear will enjoy yourselves…if you go in with an open mind.”
“I’ve never been to a…uh…club like that before,” I admitted. I’d certainly seen my fill of naked women. The Caputis owned several strip clubs in various parts of DC, but none that catered to the kink community. Outside of Roman, no one had ever asked me what sort of things I might want to try.
“Are you nervous?” Alba asked. But she didn’t seem judgmental; more like she wanted to help alleviate any fears I might have.
“A little,” I said, deciding I might as well ask her about it. Della would be outraged if I ever brought any of this up, and Chesco would kill Roman for even considering half of it. “Are you and KC kinky?”
She laughed, and the sound made me wonder if I’d overstepped a line. “We run a camsite. So yes, we’ve done just about everything there is to do.”
“Roman made me fill out a list,” I said. “He wants to make sure I’m comfortable, that he doesn’t do anything that would harm me or overstep a boundary.”
Her features softened and sincerity echoed out of her ice-blue gaze. “That’s a good thing, Julia.”
“I’m afraid I might enjoy it too much,” I said. “I mean, what does it say about me that I like when he takes control? He’s a Rose. I’m a Caputi. It should be abhorrent.”
She snorted and shook her head. “You’re a Montgomery now. Same as me.”
That got my attention, and I thought about the last few nights, when I’d slept in his bed wearing his shirts, smelling like him from head to toe. I realized I had started to refer to myself with that name now, and I wondered when that shift happened.
Julia Montgomery.
“I think it means you’re human,” she said. “Being scared. Liking sex. Enjoying your husband. These are all normal things.”
“We’ve only been married two months.”
“So?” She grabbed the wine from the counter and put the automatic corkscrew on top before pressing the button to activate it. “KC and I were together less than that when I realized I was in love with him. We got married just over a year into our relationship. When it’s right, it’s right.”
I mulled over a response when the explosive sound of motorcycles rumbled down the street. My ears perked up, and I immediately thought Roman had arrived home.
“That’s my cue,” Alba said, winking. “If it’s any consolation, I think you two are great together. He needs someone who can go toe to toe with him, and even if you like to submit in the bedroom, you have a lot of spine outside of it.”
“Thanks, Alba,” I said. “For all of this.”
“You’re welcome.” She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into a hug, which I was grateful to return. I didn’t have much family on this side of Virginia, and as much as I missed my closest relatives, at least I had her.
Another wave of obnoxious engines echoed through the house, sending shivers down my spine. When I pulled back from Alba, I narrowed my gaze at her.
“Is KC coming to pick you up?” I asked.
“No,” she said, glancing toward the door. “He’s meeting the Roses from New England at the clubhouse.”
It sounded like at least five or six bikes had stopped outside, and I belatedly remembered Roman had taken his truck this morning because his bike was in the shop. The prospects guarding the place wouldn’t leave until Roman personally dismissed them, so who?—
All thoughts stopped when gunshots rang out, one after the other, followed by shouts.
“Get the fuck out of here!” someone yelled.
“You don’t want this,” someone else said. “Just back down and I won’t kill you.”
“This is a big fucking mis—” He didn’t get the rest of it out before another loud bang silenced him forever.
“Shit,” Alba said. “We need to go.”
“C’mon.” I grabbed her arm and yanked her through the house, pressing Roman’s number on my cell phone as we ran up the stairs. I led her into my room and shut the door, locking it despite knowing how futile that would be.
“I recognized those voices,” Alba said. “I think one is Stallion.”
My heart sank, my blood turning to ice in my veins. If that was Stallion, then that meant… No. Would they do that? Would they attempt outright treachery to prove their point? Roman’s phone went to voicemail and Alba tried KC, but that, too, didn’t work. While I attempted to get ahold of Leo, she dialed another number and a woman answered the phone.
“Sel,” she said. “Come quick. We’re at Bear’s house. Bring your guns.”
Selene didn’t ask many questions, but it didn’t matter. The sound of my brother’s voice settled some of my anxiety.
“ Mia sorella. What’s going on?” He spoke in Italian, meaning he was around people he didn’t want to know his business.
“Someone’s here,” I said. “At Roman’s house. I can’t get ahold of him, but I think they’re here to hurt me. Alba’s here, too.”
I heard muffled conversation and the deep tones of my husband in the background before his voice came through the phone.
“What do you mean?”
“Alba thinks it’s Stallion,” I said as the door burst open downstairs.
“Oh, Julia!” someone called. “Come out, you little Caputi bitch.”
I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. “Roman, they’re in the house.”
“Where are you?” His voice sounded gravelly and mean like he was furious.
“In my room,” I whispered, backing Alba up toward the walk-in closet where I’d unloaded my stash of weapons when I moved in. I’d been raised a princess, but I wasn’t sheltered, at least not when it came to defending myself. Leo and Julian made sure I knew my way around a gun by the time I was out of diapers, and I had perfect aim before I’d lost all my baby teeth. The heavy pounding of boots rattled up the stairs. “There’s a lot of them.”
“We’re on our way,” he said. “Shoot first, ask questions later. You understand?” Another loud bang went through the house, this time closer—like they were in Roman’s room across the hall. It startled me enough to make me drop the phone, even as I heard Roman’s voice call out on the other end.
“Do you know how to shoot?” I asked Alba, handing her a pistol from my dresser.
She checked the clip and cocked the chamber before nodding. I grabbed my two favorites and did the same.
“Don’t hesitate,” I said, moving to the farthest end of my closet as the crunch of splintering wood indicated they’d busted down my bedroom door. They were here…in my room…just on the other side of the closet.
“Where are you?” came a deep voice. Alba had been right. It was Stallion. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
“What if she’s not here?” That one was Reaper.
“She’s here,” came a third voice. Maybe Lunchbox. “Bear wouldn’t just let his wife go wherever she wants unprotected.”
“Are you sure this is the president’s house?” I didn’t know that voice, and judging by how unsure they were about this being the right location, I assumed they were with the Hell’s Knights. Roman had said Stallion and the others were making contact with the rogue club, and they wanted vengeance for something Crow had done decades ago.
The door handles jiggled, and I held my breath, tensing my muscles and preparing to defend myself any second. My vision narrowed. The air in my chest grew tight and heavy, my lungs suddenly unable to get enough. I tried to stay present, but the anxiety in my blood boiled over.
Suddenly, I wasn’t in the closet with Alba anymore. I was back in my room at my old house, getting ready for the day. Several men who had worked for my family for years burst into my space, grabbed me, shoved a pillowcase over my head, and dragged me out of my home. They put me in a car and took me somewhere, and as they hauled me into a freezing, dank room, I realized I had been found out. The beatings came, and I couldn’t stop it. It was my own family, my flesh and blood, that had done this to me. Just as it had been Gabriella who took Hugo from me and my father who killed Vittori. Was it any surprise that I had started leaking information to the Roses? Could anyone blame me for wanting to escape?
Gunshots brought me back to reality, where Alba stood next to me, firing off rounds into big, hulking men as they tried to get into the closet. I blinked, swallowing down the rancid fear threatening to choke me, and aimed. I didn’t care who I hit. If they were trying to get in, they were enemies, and they had to go.
“How dare you!” Alba shouted, but the bang of the guns was almost too loud for me to hear her. “You fucking traitors.”
I hit a guy in the shoulder, and he went down, but then a hot slicing pain went through my leg and I winced, dropping to my knee.
“Stop!” shouted Stallion from the back of the frenzy. “Stop shooting at her! We want her alive!”
I tried to keep up with the number of guys barreling toward me, but it was only us two, and we couldn’t rattle off the bullets fast enough to keep all of them away. A man I didn’t recognize rushed in and I tried to shoot him, but I’d run out of ammo. I grabbed my knife on my thigh, holding it out as I dared him to come any closer.
He raised an eyebrow and laughed. “You think that pigsticker is going to hurt me?”
“Why don’t you come find out?”
Alba had grabbed another gun from my dresser, holding it out like she meant to fire at them, but more men filed into my room, and we were entirely outnumbered.
“Come on,” I roared.
He raged toward me, and I tried to stab him in the midsection, but he caught my wrist and twisted me around so my hand was behind my back. His massive arms scooped around my waist, picking me up like I weighed nothing. It took two guys to get Alba to stop fighting, one grabbing her arms, the other grabbing her legs. We’d managed to take down six of them, bodies lining the ground of my once pristine bedroom. Now, blood soaked the walls and the carpet while several other men held their wounds with angry scowls.
Good.
“Now, now, you little Caputi cunt. Calm down. We’re not going to hurt you too much, not yet anyway,” Stallion said, grinning as his men wrestled me out of my room and down the hall, Alba right behind me. Stallion, Reaper, and Lunchbox trailed after us, wearing new cuts that read Hell’s Knights. Had they already been patched into a new club? How did that even work?
“You fucking traitors,” I shouted, fighting the hold the guy had on me. If I could just get loose, if I could get outside, I could run to get help. Bear and my brother were on their way, but judging by the delay in hurting me and Alba, perhaps that was what they wanted.
“Oh, quite the hypocrite, huh?” Stallion laughed and raised his hand, bringing it down on my face so hard, I saw stars. Pain exploded through my cheek and that side of my body, and my vision blackened for a few moments. When I came to, we were in the living room. I kneeled in front of them, Alba at my side. They’d restrained our hands together behind our backs with zip ties and wrapped cloth around our mouths so we couldn’t talk.
“Now, we’re going to sit here and wait for your… husband… to rescue you,” Stallion said from his spot perched on Roman’s recliner, his disgusting boots on our ottoman. I seethed with hatred for him, my body trembling with adrenaline and my chest aching with nerves. “In the meantime, let’s have a little fun, shall we?”
He glanced at Reaper behind me, a middle-aged man with disgusting teeth and horrible body odor. The former Rose rubbed his hands together and raised his eyebrows, looking down at us. “Oh, I can’t wait for him to walk in on what I have planned for you both.”