13. Chapter 13 - Cole
T he Russians freeze as soon as they hear the tune coming from Alessandro, and I take my opportunity for what it is and punch one of the guys in the throat. I hear footsteps headed my way, and then there’s a gun pressed to the guy’s head. The other guy in front of me stays still, barely breathing, as Emiliano pulls the trigger.
“Fuck,” The remaining Russian grits out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck .”
“You shouldn’t have come here,” I tell him, stepping forward with my scalpel and slicing his neck from one end to the other before he can react to my words.
Emiliano looks at me with a smile on his lips, and for just a split second, I smile back. That is, until I remember what he said to me last night, and I narrow my eyes on him instead. His eyes widen, probably realizing I’m still angry, and he offers me his hand. I look at it, then walk past him.
“Cole!” Emiliano yells after me. “There are clothes for you in my office.”
I laugh, stopping in my tracks right in front of the doors that lead back inside the club. “And how did you manage that?”
“Don’t ask,” he replies. “You need to clean up.”
I nod, not arguing for once. I just sliced someone’s throat, and I feel his blood all over my face and clothes. I need a shower. Thankfully, Emiliano’s office has one. Not that I want to go in there right now, but it feels like I have no choice. The men hit my body and not my face. My ribs hurt—they’re definitely bruised—but it’s nothing I can’t handle. Prison was fun in the way that I was always getting into fights.
Alessandro pulls out his cell phone, calling a clean-up crew, and before Emiliano can get another word in, I slip through the door. I make it all the way to his office without anyone seeing or stopping me, and for that, I’m grateful. I’m also glad I have some clothes to change into because I plan on going back to the dance floor, whether or not Emiliano wants me to.
His office smells like him—vanilla and spice—and I breathe it in greedily. Who knew I’d be such a junkie for the man, but the truth is, one hit only made my addiction worse. Now I know what it’s like to be with him; the memories will haunt me for the rest of my life. It doesn’t change the fact that I need to hate him, though. In order to protect my heart, I need to stay the hell away from the man. Otherwise, I won’t survive.
As soon as I get back to the penthouse, I’m leaving. He said we’re a mistake, and Matteo won’t come home because I’m there. So it only makes sense to leave. I’ve already looked for an apartment out of his building, away from him. I don’t want him to be able to keep tabs on me. I want him going crazy, out of his mind, wondering what I’m doing every day. Who I’m fucking. What trouble I’m getting into. Or maybe he doesn’t give a fuck and I’m delusional. We are a mistake, after all.
I strip out of my bloody clothes, leaving them on the bathroom floor for Emiliano to pick up. I won’t do him any favors; in fact, I’m going to do everything in my power to piss him off the way he’s pissed me off. I will get a reaction from him if it’s the last thing I do.
Turning on the shower, I wait until it’s hot, then get in. I make quick work of washing up, getting every nook and cranny. Even going as far as washing under my blunt fingernails. I wash my hair and face thoroughly, then hear the door creaking open. I tense. Fuck, I forgot to lock the damn thing.
The glass door makes the image slightly distorted, but I can tell it’s Emiliano. He’s looking down at the clothes on the ground, and I smirk even though I can’t see his face. He comes in and closes the door though, and I see him place the clothes on top of the sink’s vanity. He’s quiet, but soon enough, the water starts to get cold, and I shut it off.
I grab the towel and begin to dry myself, just for the glass door to swing open. Emiliano scowls at me, a move that shouldn’t make him look this attractive, and I look away. Focusing on drying myself, I bend over and get my legs and feet. He sucks in a sharp breath, but I ignore it as I wrap the towel around my waist. Except there’s no way out of the shower with him standing in the way.
“I’m not talking to you,” I say simply, hoping he will move, even knowing he won’t. He’s a stubborn motherfucker. “Move.”
We lock eyes, and his mouth is set in a tight line. “You will hear me out.”
“Is this the Don or Emiliano speaking?” I ask him sarcastically, and he huffs.
“This is the man who fucked you last night until you couldn’t move.”
I laugh loudly, my whole body shaking with it. “Fuck off, Emiliano. You don’t get to remind me of that.”
“For as long as I live, I won’t let you forget about it,” he growls, stepping forward and wrapping a hand around my hair, yanking back roughly. I grimace at the pain, and he seems to love that, if the wild look in his eyes is any indication. “It’s going to haunt you for the rest of your miserable life— I will haunt you.”
The problem is that he’s not wrong. He’s so close to my reality that I wish I could put myself out of my misery and slit his fucking throat already. But I can’t, because deep down I know I will always care for him. I’ll always be in love with him, and that doesn’t bode well. “I’ve already forgotten,” I lie.
“You’re not leaving me,” he says through gritted teeth, and the image of my suitcase and bags on my bed flashes through my mind. I smirk. “You’ll go home and unpack right now.”
“No, Daddy ,” I purr, knowing he hates it when I call him that. “I will do no such thing.”
His grip on my hair tightens, but I give him no reaction. That seems to piss him off. He steps into the shower, shoes and all, and slams me against the tiled wall. “You’ll do as I say.”
“Or what?” I raise an eyebrow. “You gonna spank me?”
Before I can process what’s happening, my cheek is pressed against the wall, and the towel is pooling around my feet. There’s a loud crack, followed by pain, and my body jolts. He actually did it—he fucking spanked me.
I snarl, and he does it again—harder this time.
There’s water running down my back and to my ass cheeks from not drying my hair, and it makes the sting even worse. He spreads the water, then spanks me harder than the last one. I’m panting and my traitorous cock is rock hard. I could come just from that.
“Safe word,” he growls, and I frown. “What’s your safe word? Otherwise, I won’t stop until I’m satisfied.”
A shiver runs down my spine as he soothes the tender skin of my ass cheek, and I groan, “Yes.”
“Yes is your safe word?” he asks with a smirk. “That’s depraved, even for you, Cole.”
I’m silent.
“Tell me, my prince,” he says softly, and I tense at the pet name. He shouldn’t call me that when it means nothing to him. “Do you get off on me forcing myself on you?”
Again, I don’t say anything, but I do whimper when his hand unexpectedly cracks against my skin once more.
“No?” he asks, and I look at him over my shoulder. He’s soothing the sting once more, but even I know I’m going to bruise. I probably won’t be able to sit down for at least a few days. “Let’s try again. Do you like it when I hurt you?”
His hand comes down on my ass yet again, but I’ve lost count of how many times he’s spanked me. All I know is that my skin feels raw. “No,” I lie.
“Tell me to stop,” he groans, his cheeks flushed, his bottom lip between his teeth as he spanks me once more. “Tell me, Cole.”
“No,” I moan, and this time, when he spanks me, my dick jumps.
“You’re making my cock so fucking hard,” he groans, spreading my cheeks. He leans in, licking my rim, and I stand up on my tiptoes. “Where are you going, Cole? There’s nowhere you can run to that I won’t find you.”
His breath is against my hole, and I close my eyes when his tongue comes back to it. He prods roughly until his tongue slips inside, and I moan loudly. I vaguely remember how fucking angry I am at him, yet I’m not strong enough to put a stop to this either. I’m fucked up.
Emiliano pulls away. “Do you think you can take four more?” he asks me, his voice soft, like he doesn’t want to spook me.
I nod.
“Do you think you can come from it?” He smirks, and I look away as my face heats. “Do it, Cole. Paint the wall with it.”
I wrap my hand around my cock, jerking it slowly as he squeezes my cheeks roughly, then lets go of them.
Crack .
My fist tightens around my cock, and I jack it off furiously.
Crack .
My balls rise and tighten.
Crack .
A shiver runs down my spine, and my cock thickens even more.
Crack .
I come with a shout, painting the wall just like he told me to.
Emiliano soothes my raw skin once more, then bends down and kisses it. It feels hot and swollen, and my body feels weak and heavy. My head is fuzzy, like I’m floating. He seems to sense it and helps me out of the shower. He opens the bathroom door, guiding me toward the couch across from his desk. He sits down, bringing me on top of him until I’m straddling his lap, and my breathing turns shallow.
What the hell is he doing?
He runs his fingertips over my back lightly, making me tremble at the sweet gesture, and I close my eyes and lay my head on his shoulder, refusing to look at him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and I frown. “I should’ve never said that to you. You’re not a mistake—you’re not.”
Tears prick the back of my eyes, and I shudder in his arms, trying not to break down. I make a weak little sound at the back of my throat, and I fucking hate myself for it. For showing him weakness.
“Please forgive me,” he says, and I shake my head. “Please, Cole, I didn’t mean it.”
Fuck, is he begging right now?
“It just—it just felt like I betrayed Matteo, you know?” he continues. “You’re his big love, and how the fuck am I supposed to take that from him?”
I’m quiet, just letting him talk to himself.
“But it’s no excuse for how I treated you.” His arms wrap around me tightly, and a traitorous tear escapes and lands on his shirt, soaking it immediately. “I’m sorry.” His voice breaks, “Please, Cole.”
“I can’t let you hurt me again,” I tell him, voice shaking. “I refuse.”
“I can’t make you any promises,” Emiliano says, and I suck in a sharp breath. “I don’t know how to want you without feeling guilty.”
I nod, but I don’t know how to reply. The general consensus is that he won’t let himself have me, and if I keep insisting, he’s going to break me. And I’m afraid that if I let him, I won’t be able to gather the pieces of my heart and put them back together after he’s done with me.
I can’t let that happen.