9. Rork
9
RORK
G oddamn, is she still crying?
The car hums along the winding road, the silence broken only by the occasional sniffle from the passenger seat. I don’t need to look at Bianca to know that she’s crying, trying to hide her tears from me as if I’m some kind of idiot.
But I’m not. I’m Rork O’Malley, the Boss, and I didn’t get to where I am by being unobservant. I notice everything, from the way she quickly brushes her cheeks when she thinks I’m not looking to the subtle tremor in her hands as she clasps them tightly in her lap.
She’s been crying since the minute we drove away from the Marino estate.
Part of me wants to laugh at her misery, to revel in the fact that I’ve finally bested Nico Marino at his own game. I’ve finally brought him to his knees.
It was utterly delicious to watch him attempt to threaten me at the reception. I wanted to laugh in his face. Does he really think I’m scared of him? That I’ll actually listen to his bluster? Please. These two decades of acting like a king have done a number on Nico. He looks much frailer and thinner than before—as if one gust of wind could knock him over.
He would be very easy to kill , I muse. All I would have to do is wrap one hand around his throat and squeeze, and poof! He would be no more.
But that would be too easy. I want Nico to suffer. And I have what I want—Bianca, the key to my revenge, sitting right beside me.
We drive in stony silence, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. But I don’t mind. I’ve never been one for idle chatter. I prefer to let my actions speak for themselves.
As the miles tick by, I can sense Bianca growing more and more nervous. She shifts in her seat, her eyes darting to the windows as if trying to gauge where we are.
Finally, she breaks the silence, her voice small and hesitant. “Where are we going?”
I glance at her, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. “I’m taking you to my home, of course. Do you think I’d be living in some penthouse in the city?”
She bites her full lip, her brow furrowing in confusion. “But we’ve been driving for hours. How much further is it?”
I chuckle. “Oh, we’ve been driving on my land for the past half hour. My estate is quite extensive, you see. But don’t worry, we should reach the house soon.”
I can see the realization dawning on her face, the way her eyes widen in a mix of fear and awe. She’s starting to understand just how powerful I am, how far my reach extends.
I can’t help but feel a surge of satisfaction at the thought. For years, I’ve been waiting for this moment—the moment when I could finally make Nico Marino pay for all the pain and humiliation he’s caused me.
And now, with his daughter as my bride, I have the ultimate weapon in my arsenal. I can break him in ways he never thought possible, destroy everything he holds dear until he’s nothing but a shell of the man he once was.
It’s a wonderful feeling, knowing that I hold all the cards. As we continue to drive, the countryside rolling by in a blur of green and gold, I can’t help but let that feeling wash over me like a warm, satisfying glow.
My mansion comes into view as we round the final bend in the road, nestled among the towering evergreens and rugged mountains. I can hear Bianca’s sharp intake of breath, see the way her eyes widen in surprise and awe.
And I can’t blame her. Even I have to admit that my home is an impressive sight.
The mansion is a sprawling, multi-story affair built from rough-hewn stone and dark, polished wood. The windows are tall and arched, glinting in the late afternoon sun like shards of crystal. And the grounds are immaculate, with manicured lawns and carefully tended gardens stretching out in every direction.
This is my legacy. I can’t help but feel a swell of pride at what I’ve accomplished, at the empire I’ve built.
Bianca is still staring at the mansion, her mouth slightly agape. “It’s… it’s massive,” she breathes, her voice tinged with disbelief. “How many people live here?”
What, does she think I keep a harem of women or something?
I shrug, a nonchalant gesture that belies the smug satisfaction I’m feeling. “Just me and my staff, really. Though there’s an entire wing dedicated to the servants’ quarters.”
At that, Bianca’s head whips around, her blue eyes wide with surprise and something else… something that looks almost like fear. “An entire wing ? Just for the staff?”
I nod, my lips curling into a smirk. “Of course. I believe in treating my employees well. Happy workers are loyal workers, after all.”
But even as I say the words, I can see the unease growing in Bianca’s eyes. She’s starting to realize just how isolated she’ll be here, how far removed from the world she once knew.
That’s exactly how I want it. Because the more isolated she is, the more dependent she’ll be on me. And the more dependent she is, the easier it will be to bend her to my will.
It’s a delicate balancing act, really. I need to keep her off-balance, to make her question everything she thought she knew about herself and her place in the world. But at the same time, I need to give her just enough comfort and security to keep her from completely breaking.
It’s a game I’ve played many times before, with many different players, and I always come out on top.
I can feel Bianca’s hesitation as we step out of the car and make our way up the front steps. She drags her feet as if dreading what awaits her inside.
But I just keep walking, my strides long and confident.
Bianca’s eyes dart around as we step inside the mansion, taking in the grandeur of her new surroundings. The foyer is a vast, open space with a sweeping staircase that curves up to the second floor. The floors are polished marble, the walls adorned with priceless works of art and antique tapestries. And overhead, a massive crystal chandelier sparkles like a constellation of stars.
I lead Bianca through the various rooms, pointing out the highlights as we go. The formal dining room, with its long, gleaming table and high-backed chairs. The library, with its floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and plush, leather armchairs. The ballroom, with its soaring ceilings and glittering marble floors.
Each room is more opulent than the last, a testament to the wealth and power I’ve accumulated over the years. I can see the way Bianca’s eyes widen with each new revelation, the way she seems to shrink in on herself as if overwhelmed by the sheer scale of it all.
Finally, we reach the second floor, and I guide her down a long, winding hallway to a set of double doors at the end. “This is your bedroom,” I say, pushing the doors open to reveal a spacious, elegantly appointed suite. “I hope you’ll find it comfortable.”
Bianca steps inside, her gaze sweeping over the four-posted bed, the plush armchairs, the delicate vanity table. But there’s a hint of surprise in her eyes, a flicker of something that looks almost like relief.
“This is… this is where I’ll be sleeping?” she asks, her voice tentative.
I nod, a smile playing at the corners of my mouth. “Of course. Where else would you sleep?”
She bites her lip, her brow furrowing in confusion. “I just… I thought…” She trails off, as if unsure how to finish the sentence.
But I know exactly what she’s thinking. She thought she’d be sharing my bed, that I’d be expecting her to fulfill her wifely duties from the very first night.
And while the thought is certainly appealing, I have no intention of rushing things. I’m no rapist, and I want Bianca to come to me willingly, to beg for my touch and my attention. And that will take time and patience.
So instead, I simply shrug, gesturing to a door along one wall of the bedroom. “My room is just through there. It joins our rooms together, so I’m never far away.”
I can see the way Bianca’s shoulders stiffen at that, the way her eyes dart to the door with a hint of trepidation. But she doesn’t say anything, just nods in acknowledgment.
“The staff has already unpacked your belongings,” I continue, moving toward the door. “But I’ll give you some time to get settled. If you need anything, just press the button on the bedside table and someone will attend to you.”
Bianca looks at me, a small, uncertain smile on her face. “Thank you,” she says softly.
But I just shake my head, a cold smile playing at the corners of my mouth. “Don’t thank me just yet, my dear. I have a feeling you won’t be thanking me for much longer.”
I pause at the threshold, turning back to look at her. She’s standing in the middle of the room, her arms wrapped around herself as if trying to hold herself together, her face white with fear. And for a moment, I almost feel a flicker of sympathy for her.
Almost.
But then I remind myself why she’s here, what her purpose is in my grand plan, and any sympathy I might have felt vanishes like smoke in the wind.
“Welcome home, Mrs. O’Malley,” I say, my voice dripping with mock sincerity. “I have a feeling we’re going to have a wonderful life together.”
And with that, I walk out of the room, pulling the door shut behind me. I hear the click of the lock as it slides into place, a sound that fills me with satisfaction.
Bianca is truly mine, with nowhere to run and no one to turn to but me.
It’s a thought that fills me with a twisted sense of anticipation, a hunger that gnaws at my very soul. And as I walk away from her door, I can’t help but let that hunger show on my face.
Because in the end, Bianca is just a means to an end, a pawn in a game that only I know the rules to.
And I always play to win, no matter who gets hurt in the process.