16. Angelo
16
ANGELO
My angel slept.
Blonde hair spread over the pillow.
Tracks of salty tears dried on her face.
Wrists and ankles pink from her struggles, but not red and raw, thanks to my suggestion to switch to fur-lined cuffs.
Sheets rumpled beneath her from where she struggled.
An emerald jewel at her belly, the same color as her eyes, begging me to lick around it.
Gorgeous fuckin’ tits, aching for me to touch them.
Her pretty pussy bared and open to me, begging for me to walk in and devour her.
“Fucking hell,” Valentin muttered as we watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest from the doorway as she slept. “She’s going to fight us the entire time.”
“Think of how delicious she’ll be once we tame her.” I hated the way she drove my control away with one heated glance. Hated the millions she’d cost Valentin. Loved that she was tied up and helpless for me to play with however the fuck I wanted.
“And then what?” Valentin asked quietly.
My gut clenched at the thought of anyone else handling my angel, but I couldn’t tell him that now that I had her, now that I’d seen her crawl to me, I didn’t intend to ever let her go. I didn’t tell him that I’d told the doctor who’d examined her in her sleep to remove her IUD because I had to tie her to me.
“I need to get back to Yorkfield,” I said, instead of answering his question.
“She’s not an object that can be kept,” Valentin hissed. “No matter how much we tell her that.”
“Then what?” I snarled back. “We give her to the Tchérnovs? Fuck no.”
Valentin wrapped his arms around my waist and propped his chin on my shoulder so we could stare at Ana together.
“Don’t pretend you don’t want her too,” I continued, my eyes narrowing in irritation. Valentin needed her, even if he was too fucking stubborn to admit it.
His fingers tightened on my abdomen before abruptly relaxing. “I told her we’d make her our toy.”
“In exchange for?”
“In exchange for nothing. She has no choice.”
“Then why the fuck are you telling me to give her up?” I struggled to hold back my anger.
“Jealousy,” Valentin admitted. “You look at her like she’s the only thing you care about.”
I turned to face him, then cupped his cheek. “You and she are the only things I’ve ever cared about.”
“You don’t know her,” he said. “You’ve had less than a handful of conversations with her in her entire life.”
“I’ve watched her for a decade,” I protested. Paying private detectives to take pictures of her. Hacking cameras. Stalking her social media.
Valentin scoffed. “Against my advice.”
I shrugged. She was a drug I couldn’t quit, a drug I didn’t want to quit. And Valentin didn’t either. He might have given her to me, but keeping her, slowly training her to accept the pain she craved? That was my gift to him.
“We’re taking her back to Yorkfield with us,” I said firmly.
“Once we can trust her to run into a friend without accusing us of sex trafficking,” he answered dryly.
Relief washed through me. He wasn’t going to fight me on this.
“But she has to behave,” he added. “Or I’ll sell her off to the highest bidder.”
He wouldn’t. Valentin would never do that to me. He was softer than he liked anyone else to know. “She will,” I promised, the thought of instilling discipline in my sweet angel making me hard.
The thought of having American operations to defend from those Russian fuckers boggled my mind. I’d returned to Italy with our father almost twenty years ago and enforced his rule with an iron fist. What the fuck was I going to do with an operation of my own?
Ana whimpered in her sleep, then thrashed in the bed, her movements increasingly panicked. “No, please, no,” she cried out, before dissolving into unintelligible pleading, fighting her bonds but unable to escape.
I pulled away from Valentin to sit on the side of the bed, stroking Ana’s hair. “Wake up,” I murmured, but she didn’t, instead jerking her face away from me and whimpering in misery.
My heart broke for the beautiful, strong creature before me. Ana would hate knowing I’d witnessed her distress while she slept.
I slapped her face. “Wake up.”
Her eyes sprung open, and she looked around wildly. “Uncle Angelo?” A strange pressure appeared in my chest when she visibly relaxed at my presence.
“That’s Sir to you now,” I told her quietly as I stroked her hair out of her face, then kept on stroking her forehead, unable to resist the siren’s call to touch her.
She blinked again, sweet in her sleepiness, then tugged on her wrists before realizing she was still trapped. Her pulse fluttered at her neck.
“I was having a nightmare,” she whispered to me, as if I were a loving parent, come to chase her monsters back under the bed.
But I wasn’t.
“You’re safe,” I promised her, even though I was sure she’d dispute that when she realized what I intended for her.
“I have to pee,” she said.
“I have to pee, Sir ,” I corrected her gently, cupping her face with my palm.
She stared up at me with those clear green eyes that hid every thought. She’d been trained well to be a mafioso’s wife. And what a glorious fucking wife she would be.
To someone else.
Fuck.
“Please,” she said, her voice soft and vulnerable from sleep, even as she visibly fought to wake up.
“Ask for it,” I said. “Using the correct honorific for me.”
She pressed her lips together in a hard line as she shifted in the bed, unable to move to relieve the pressure on her bladder.
Valentin sat on the other side, dragging his fingers down her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.
“I’m going to piss the bed,” she said flatly.
“Then you’ll lie in it,” Valentin told her, putting gentle pressure on her pelvis.
“What are you—? Hey, stop, asshole!”
“ Ma?tre ,” Valentin corrected. “You’ll address me as ma?tre .” French for master.
“Fuck you both,” she snarled. He pressed harder on her pelvis, and she moaned, her face flushing red with embarrassment. “Please,” she murmured. “I have to pee so fucking bad.”
I continued to stroke her hair, not moving.
She shifted in the bed, and we waited. And waited.
“Please, sir,” she said finally, her face red with embarrassment. “I have to pee.”
Valentin met my eyes. She wasn’t asking. She wasn’t begging. But it was close enough for this first go around.
We unlatched the cuffs, stroking our fingers down her body as we moved from her wrists to her ankles. The moment she was free, she swung her feet around, her eyes darting wildly around the room.
I caught her wrist before she could do anything stupid. “This way.”
Opening the door, I showed her the bathroom. We’d removed anything she could use as a weapon, even the mirror. Ana wasn’t a trained fighter, but she’d been raised in the mafia all the same. She wouldn’t go down without a fight.
She yanked away from me and dashed to the toilet. “Out!” she shouted, her eyes narrowed and angry.
“No,” I told her, folding my arms over my chest and leaning on the counter, admiring the flush that spread over her chest and the rosy nipples that begged for my lips.
At a loss for words, she stared at me. “You want to watch me pee? Is that your … kink?”
Oh, sweet angel, if only you knew. “My kink is owning every part of you and everything you do, from your cute, flushed cheeks, to your hard nipples, to when you piss.”
“Get out,” she snarled, her cheeks flushing more red than pink. Fucking gorgeous.
“No,” I said, raising an eyebrow.
“Then I’m leaving,” she said, standing up.
I held her shoulders down. “Absolutely not. No one abuses my property—including you. You are not going to treat yourself poorly just because you’re angry with me. Empty your bladder.”
Her eyes widened, then narrowed again. “Don’t you dare pretend this is about me, you sicko. I’m your niece .”
“That’s right, angel. And because you’re my niece, and my toy, I’m going to protect you. Even from yourself.”
She snorted, but didn’t move. When she didn’t relieve herself, I reached over and turned the faucet on.
Ana swore as piss splashed down into the toilet beneath her, unable to stop her body’s reaction. She reached for toilet paper, her entire body red with embarrassment. I kept my eyes on her the entire time as she patted that sweet cunt dry. When she stood, I moved aside, freeing her shoulders so she could rinse her hands.
She splashed water on her face, then looked down at her body, noting the bandages on her wounds. Her fingers fluttered over the band aid on her cheekbone.
“Who cleaned me up?”
“Valentin and me. They beat you up pretty badly. A doc took a look and gave you a clean bill of health. No STDs, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
She scoffed, but her shoulders relaxed minutely, and pleasure shot through me that I could give her that, even if I was going to rip it away as I trained her. Ana looked around the bathroom, her brow furrowed. “No towel?”
I laughed. “Absolutely not.”
She turned to stare at me, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her curves. So distracted was I, I didn’t reach out to stop her before she slowly and deliberately wiped her hands on my shirt.
My breath caught at her audacity, and then at the privilege that she felt safe enough around me to be a brat. The warmth in my chest was unfamiliar, and I quashed it ruthlessly.
I cocked my head and looked at her, as if I could dive deep into her soul through the force of my gaze, until my stare unnerved her and she stared at her feet, her regret at her actions obvious.
“Toy,” Valentin murmured out from behind me. “I know you’re not stupid, so you must be looking for a punishment.”
Ana’s face paled, but before she could speak, her stomach growled.
“I’m hungry, sir. May I please have something to eat?”
My breath caught in my chest, I was so delighted with how quickly she learned. Until Valentin’s amused snort reminded me how fucking smart she was.
Ana wasn’t acquiescing. Ana was playing our game until she figured out how to escape. Or win.
She lowered her eyes, trying to hide the calculation in them, and waited.
“Yes. If you follow the rules,” Valentin said.
Ana didn’t bother to hide her eye roll. “You’re ridiculous. Do you really want a sex slave?”
She watched me, calm, proud, defiant, her breathing steady, the fire in her eyes banked as she waited for my response. My heart expanded in my chest, an odd sort of pride stealing over me as I admired her confidence that she’d be safe with us.
Too bad she didn’t understand the price of her safety. Not yet.
For a heartbeat, I regretted the path Valentin and I would take with her, regretted that I wouldn’t see her easy confidence again for a long time, then prayed she’d bend instead of break.
And then I imagined her lips around my cock as I stared into the eyes of my lover as he plowed her from behind, her ass red from his belt, tears streaming down her face, and I shoved the guilt down to the bottom of my soul. After ten years of waiting, she was finally mine. And I intended to enjoy every moment.
“I’m not a good man, angel,” I said, taking a strand of her hair and stroking it between my fingers.
She jerked her head away, only to cry out in pain when I closed my fist around her hair, holding it tight.
“I expect obedience,” I continued. “And if you disobey, we’ll punish you.”
She straightened and lifted her chin, every inch the proud mafia princess she was raised to be, acting as though she wasn’t naked and vulnerable, covered in bruises. Fucking beautiful. But that core of inner strength? Stunning.
Valentin wrapped his arms around my waist and propped his chin on my shoulder. “Punishment’s the fun part,” he murmured. “And spanking gets her wet.”
A flush worked its way across Ana’s face and down her body, until even the curves of her breasts were rosy with her embarrassment. Her posture remained stiff as she watched the two of us, her eyes revealing nothing.
Ana’s stomach growled again, and my lips quirked up into a smile. She was so goddamned cute, and she thought she was fooling me.
“C’mon, pet, let’s get food,” I said.
Ana followed me out of the bathroom, her head lowered but her eyes flicking around the apartment, cataloging every weapon, every escape.
She turned to the window, but we were too high to make jumping out reasonable. The door was coded to our handprints, and even if she were to escape, we’d lock the building down before she made it down ten flights of stairs.
Knives in the kitchen, guns laying out on the coffee table, a duffle bag of designer drugs sitting by the door. We were fucking idiots—we’d cleaned up the bathroom but not the common areas. It’d been a long time since either of us had trained a submissive, let alone a reluctant one, and neither of us enjoyed brat training. Our instincts were off.
Valentin snatched Ana’s right arm and dragged her to the small table in the kitchen.
“ à genoux , princess,” he snarled. On your knees. “Give me a set of handcuffs,” Valentin said over his shoulder, jerking his head toward the sitting area where we’d dropped our gear.
My lips twisted in amusement. “You think Ana’s a danger?”
His laugh was startled and short. “I know she is. This apartment isn’t brat proofed, not yet.”
Ana’s chest heaved. Fuck, she was beautiful, on her knees before him, her face red with fury, outrage sparkling in her emerald- green eyes. I searched for the cuffs and handed them to Valentin.
He snapped one around her wrist, and then the other to the leg of the table.
“Don’t move.”
She was a temptation, naked and angry, making quiet noises of fury, but too determined to fool us into thinking she was submitting to actually protest.
I dropped into the chair beside her and stretched my legs out beside her. “Valentin thinks you’re going to escape the moment you see an opportunity.”
Ana sniffled, and my gaze shot downward. Her shoulders shook briefly before she stilled again, and when I tilted her chin up to look into her eyes, they were hazy with tears.
She blinked once, twice, and her gaze cleared, that brilliant emerald hardening as we stared at one another. “This is insane. You’re insane.”
She wasn’t scared of us, not yet. And as bad as it was going to get for her, I admired her courage. We’d indulge her as long as she behaved, and then when she didn’t, we’d begin her training in earnest.