48. Angelo
48
ANGELO
Ana hadn’t complained when I pulled the silk dress from her wardrobe or when I’d told her to kneel. She hadn’t complained when I slid my fingers into her sopping cunt and made her taste them to be sure she’d scrubbed that upstart’s cum out of her. And she hadn’t complained when I left her wet and wanting, panting with need and unfulfilled.
She opened the door to Luca fucking Russo, wearing a goddamned suit, looking smug as fuck after what he’d done to our girl that morning, an oversized bouquet in one hand, a white pastry box in the other, and a black duffle bag slung over his shoulder.
What the fuck was Valentin thinking, inviting him? Ana was ours , whether I’d let Russo fuck her this morning or not.
Jealousy wound through my gut like poisonous snakes, angry and hissing, alongside desire as I remembered the sight of his cock plunging into her this morning while Ana exploded with pleasure.
Russo’s eyes roamed over Ana’s body, snagging on her pert nipples, pinched and painful from Valentin’s clamps, down her curves, to her bare feet, and back up again.
“Hey there, beautiful,” he said with a smile. He offered her the bouquet and the box, and she accepted them with a blush, stepping aside so he could enter the apartment.
I hated him.
I envied him.
I couldn’t believe Valentin’s assessment of our gorgeous little slut’s needs included a third man to keep her happy. But if that’s what it took to bind her to me so tightly she’d never leave, even after we destroyed Tchérnov, then that’s what I’d fucking do.
Russo rooted around in his bag and handed me a very expensive bottle of whiskey. “A peace offering,” he murmured.
A grunt was the only response he was going to get to a ridiculous comment like that. He was here tonight because Valentin thought it would make Ana happy to show off her hard work to him. And that was it.
“Let me put these in a vase,” Ana said softly, busying herself in the kitchen with her flowers.
“Ana,” Russo said firmly from the entryway, where he waited.
Her eyes widened, as if she weren’t used to that tone from him.
“Come here.”
She looked at Valentin beside her in the kitchen, and then at me, standing beside him.
“Come to me like you come to them, baby.” His voice had gentled but was no less commanding for its softness.
Ana set the flowers on the counter, her shoulders bowing inward. Was she embarrassed?
That wouldn’t do.
“ Now , angel,” I said, adding my command to his and throwing a bone to the Russo kid. Her eyes snapped to mine, wide and trembling, scared, but not quite defiant. She’d fucked him this morning on the couch beside me. Now she’d have to pay the piper.
Shaking, her face red with humiliation, Ana dropped to her hands and knees. One small movement at a time, she crawled over to him, glaring at him the entire time.
Glee at her embarrassment and the sweet arousal I could see on her thighs overshadowed my ire at the Russo boy.
“Look at you,” he said. “So fucking beautiful, whether you’re commanding a room or on your knees for me.”
Ana melted for him, her face softening. He cupped her cheek, and when she turned her lips into his palm to kiss it, I found myself violently envious of his confidence in her reception of his touch, not because he commanded her to let him, but because she fucking liked it.
Russo stepped away from her for a moment and unzipped his duffle bag. He rifled through it, pulling out what looked like a simplified tattoo gun.
I narrowed my eyes, ready to jump in and stop him if he pushed the line. The only ones allowed to hurt Ana were Valentin and me.
“Do you know what this is Ana?”
She shook her head, her eyes wide.
“It’s an implant gun.” He held up a tiny vial. “And this is a GPS tracker.”
The clever fucker. Why hadn’t we thought of that? Fucking brilliant. Luca Russo could come play with us any time.
“You are not chipping me like a goddamned animal,” she snarled, scrambling to her feet.
“The fuck he’s not,” I snapped. “Don’t you dare move,” I commanded her.
Ana froze, looking at me with those big, tremulous eyes, as if remembering who was really in charge of her. Sì, puttana —me. I strode the two steps to her side and wrenched her back down to kneeling by her hair, delighted to see tears leak out of her eyes. Russo might have her heart, but I owned her fucking soul.
Russo crouched in front of her and pinched her jaw hard, turning her head to look at him. “Ana, I cannot take care of you if I don’t know where you are.”
Ana jerked her head but couldn’t wrench her jaw out of his hands with my hold on her hair. “I didn’t ask you to take care of me, asshole.”
Luca’s eyes turned flinty, and he cupped the back of her head below my hand, gently turning her face back to his.
“You shouldn’t fucking have to ask.” He brushed his lips against her forehead. She trembled in our hold but stopped trying to get away.
“Luca,” she whispered, “don’t do this. Please don’t do this.”
“Hold her, Costa.”
I kept one hand in her hair, pulling it tight, then tilted her head down so Luca could access the back of her neck. Russo prepared the gun, ripping the vial open with his teeth and sliding the chip onto the long needle that would shoot it under Ana’s skin.
“ Sir? ” Ana’s whispered plea went straight to my cock. God, I loved it when she was uncertain and begging me for reassurance.
“You’re going to share the data with us,” I said to Russo, ignoring Ana.
He flashed a grin full of straight white teeth, and briefly, I saw the same charm Ana did. “Wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.”
“Sit still, angel.”
Ana’s baleful glare would have destroyed a lesser man.
“It’s going to sting,” Russo murmured.
“Fuck you,” she snarled, then gasped when he plunged the needle into her nape and pressed the trigger.
The gun clattered when he dropped it to the ground. He attempted to gather her into his arms, but she jerked away, rising to her feet. “Fuck you, Luca, and fuck you too, Angelo.”
She stormed off to stand with her back to the counter, rubbing her neck to soothe the pain.
I would have punished her for her insolence, but Russo treated her like she had the right to protest. He sure as fuck was going to have to figure it out who was in charge in this household.
No. Absolutely not. There would be no figuring it out. Ana belonged to me. And Valentin. Not this fucker. No matter how much I liked his style right now.
Russo set his duffle on the counter beside the flowers and rustled around inside. He pulled out a white box—a cell phone. “Here,” he said, holding it out to Ana with a lopsided grin. “A year of service, paid for with a gift card bought with cash.”
“No,” I snapped, but Ana had already grabbed the box. “It’s too?—”
Ana’s lips curled up in a grim smile. “Too dangerous? Too much of a temptation? Too what? Am I still a flight risk?”
She wasn’t. She’d come back after the shootout. She could have run. She could have taken off again and used the Costa network to hide until she could escape. And she didn’t. My mind skittered away from examining why too closely.
Luca’s eyes darted between us, but I wasn’t going to be the first to admit that we’d coerced Ana into a kinky, polyamorous, sexual relationship. I’d punish her for her sarcasm later.
“There’s an app on there that lets you track our phones,” Luca continued. He held out his hand to me. “I’ll install it on yours.”
“The fuck you will.”
“The fuck I won’t. You’re not tracking Ana unless she can track you too.”
Ana’s quick inhale was the only sign she heard the exchange. Those big green eyes turned to me, filled with hope, and my heart clenched. I wanted her to look at me like I hung the moon, like she looked at Luca.
I swore softly, then handed my phone over to the cheeky fucker. He fucked around on it for a moment, and then did the same to Valentin’s, before thumbing open an app that showed all four of us in the same room.
“Who else can see this?” I asked.
“The four of us,” Russo answered quickly. “Cormac Wallace threw this together for my sister and his brother-husbands, then gave me a copy. It’s private, unlike the phone’s native tracking app.”
Ana was scrolling on her phone. “Give me Sofia’s number.”
“Absolutely not,” I snapped.
Her phone beeped. Russo had already done it. He looked at me, anger tightening the lines at the corners of his eyes. “You may be her owner, but she and I are partners—equals in our relationship. I take my cues from her, not from you.” He grinned. “But I did go ahead and clone her SIM for you, so you can see who she’s calling and read her messages.”
Bene. Maybe he wasn’t all bad after all.
“Princess, pasta’s ready,” Valentin said.
Ana set her phone on the counter, then joined him in the kitchen, listening to his quiet instructions as she drained the pasta and tossed it with sauce. He flicked her nipples once, drawing a sharp gasp out of her, but otherwise, let her alone so they could put our dinner into serving dishes.
I gestured for Luca to sit while I set the table for four. Ana’s surprised smile was worth any setback in her training this might cause. She’d earned it, making us dinner and with her sweet worry that we might have thought she was trying to escape.
Adorable.
When we’d all taken our places, I found myself between Luca and Valentin, across the table from Ana, unable to put my hands on her like I wanted.
Valentin poured wine for all of us, and we raised our glasses. “To new beginnings,” he said, looking at Ana with the same warmth he usually reserved for me. Fuck yes, I was going to marry this woman and never let her go. I just had to get everyone else on board with this plan.
We raised our glasses and clinked them together. Ana took a small sip and set hers down. Her breath sped up and she fidgeted in her chair as we each took a bite of our dinner.
Luca hummed his appreciation. “Ana, this is delicious.”
The delicate flush that spread over her cheeks made me wish I’d been the one to speak up first. Was this our future? Three powerful, dangerous men, begging for scraps to fall from her lips?
“Thank you,” she whispered. “You know I can’t cook.”
“I know you never had an opportunity to learn, but this certainly proves you can do it.” His jaw clenched. “I should have?—”
Ana snorted. “Yeah, sure, Luca. While we were sneaking around avoiding our parents?”
“What’s next on your list of dishes to learn?” Valentin asked, adroitly cutting off the conversation before it could sour the meal.
Ana blinked and looked at Valentin, surprised, as if she’d never conceived that she could learn how to cook more meals. It was so fuckin’ cute. She spent so much time on her knees with me, so much time fighting my control, I never saw her softer side.
And I wanted more of it.
“What’s your favorite dish?” she asked Valentin, with fucking hearts in her eyes.
“First rule?”
Her eyes cut to Russo, and she flushed. “Perfect obedience,” she muttered under her breath.
“Pet,” I snapped. “What’s the first rule?”
“Perfect obedience,” she said more loudly, squirming in her chair.
God, I loved this perfect blend of praise and humiliation and vowed to keep that adorable blush on her cheeks for the rest of the meal.
“Good girl,” Valentin murmured. “What do you want to learn to make next?”
“I’d like to be able to make myself dinner,” she said, her eyes downcast, as if with shame.
Valentin hummed. “Tomorrow, after the funeral, I’ll teach you a way to season and cook chicken, and we’ll practice pasta again.”
Ana looked up from her plate, her lips turned up into a soft smile. Was this all it took? Basic human kindness? I wanted Ana on her knees before me, but I also wanted her to demand more. She’d said we needed to change the rules, and she was right. She deserved better.
“Thank you,” she said, smiling as she dug into her dinner.
I wondered if this was the route we should have taken from the beginning. Ana on her knees, crying because we forced her there, was beautiful. But Ana full of sweetness and affection? Breathtaking.
We kept the conversation light for the rest of the meal, talking about people we knew, books we’d read, favorite restaurants. Russo’s conversational skills shouldn’t have surprised me—he was raised in the same world as Ana and me. Charm was one of many weapons in our arsenal.
When we finished our plates, Ana leapt up to clear the table, only for Russo to put a hand on her knee. “You cooked, I’ll clean,” he murmured. “And get out dessert.”
She blinked once, twice, then dropped back into her chair as if dazed. “Slut,” I said quietly. When I was sure I had her attention, I continued. “I don’t want a housekeeper, I want my own personal fucktoy. You don’t have to cook another day in your life if you don’t want to. And you sure as fuck don’t have to wash dishes.”
Those gorgeous green eyes focused on me, and her lips parted in a soft, “oh,” and I ached to bend her over right there and slam into that perfect, hot cunt.
But I wouldn’t ruin this dinner for her. No matter how delicious the thought might be.
Valentin pushed back from the table. “I’m going to help Luca,” he murmured, placing a hand on my shoulder.
“Come here, slut,” I said, scooting back.
Ana twisted her lips in wry amusement and stood, smoothing her dress with her hands. When she was close enough, I dragged her onto my lap, inhaling her scent—she’d used my shower wash, and it smelled so fucking good on her.
“I’m proud of you, angel,” I whispered. “You’ve done so well tonight.”
“Thank you, daddy,” she said, running a hand up my chest, resting it on my heart. She kissed my jaw, softly, gently, and I yearned for more.
I wanted her to want the humiliation I dished out.
I wanted her to want to kneel before me.
I wanted her to want to be my slave.
And I didn’t know what to do with that. I didn’t know how to achieve that, how to seduce the brilliant, bratty woman we’d stolen from her enemies. How to get her to look at me with affection all the time, and not contempt, not fear. To look at me like she did Luca.
Merda.