Chapter 4
Mario Luciano
Her defiance heightens my satisfaction while her fear fills me with hunger. I rub my pinky over her covered sex and drag my pistol down her side, challenging her response.
“I will touch you whenever and wherever I please. Capisci ?”
She glares up at me in silence. If looks could kill, she’d have murdered me already.
“No, I don’t understand, and I don’t want to. You’re evil. Let me go.”
I chuckle and wiggle my pinky deeper between her legs, enjoying the shock in her eyes and the hitch in her breath.
“I may be evil, but I’m not a liar, so why don’t you be a good little girl and part these legs like I told you to?” I murmur.
She grits her teeth and clamps her knees together.
“You’ll never get away with this,” she hisses.
I pull my hand out from between her thighs, wrap my arm around her shoulders, grab her breast, and tug her harder against my side.
“Look around, Valentina. No one recognizes me. I’m a ghost. I can do whatever I want.”
“My father will—”
“Your father watched me die. He’s the reason I’m immortal. You can’t kill a dead man,” I whisper in her ear.
She shakes her head. I scoff.
“Go ahead, little one. Tell your daddy and see what happens.” She stiffens and finds the back of her father’s head in the crowd. I lean closer to her, ignoring the pain radiating through my torso, and let my lips brush against her temple as I speak.
“Do you trust him that much? Do you think he’ll believe you?” She trembles. Tears glisten in her eyes, but she doesn’t push me away. “I think if you did, you’d have told him about our tryst in the park, wouldn’t you?” I goad.
She swallows and scans the room, searching for an ally, but all eyes point toward the altar. I don’t even need the oversized bouquet to hide my advances, but with how heavy it is, she’s forced to hold it with both hands, which makes playing with her all the more fun.
“What do you want?” she whispers through gritted teeth.
“I want you to keep squirming. Keep fighting. Keep lying. After all, that’s what you do best, isn’t it, paperotta ?”
She digs her elbow into my side and leans away from me, but the motion only settles her breast more firmly into my grip. I bite back a groan and pinch her hard nipple through her dress. Her small gasp arrows straight to my throbbing cock.
“Tell me you hate this,” I murmur against her temple.
She shifts her incredulous gaze to mine. With our faces less than an inch apart, I marvel at her delicate features and long lashes.
“Of course I hate this. You’re disgu—”
“Good girl. Such a pretty little liar. Lie to me again,” I mock.
“I’m not lying. I h—”
“Yes, you are. Your lips say one thing, but your body says another.” I roll her turgid nipple between my fingers and press my gun harder against her sex.
The flowers shift against my sleeve as she wrings her hands around the stem of the bouquet. She winces and aims bottomless blue orbs into my soul.
“Are you hurting me because you want me to scream?” Her words pierce me with shame, but I recall how well versed she is in schooling her expression and shove my guilt aside.
She won’t fool me with her wounded, innocent act.
“Is that your plan?” she accuses. A glint of hardness enters her eyes as she searches my stare.
“A dead man can’t go to prison, so you’re using me to murder my father in front of all these people? ”
With a stubborn tilt of her chin, she becomes the haughty princess I once adored. Bittersweet nostalgia bubbles up in me, but I shove it away with a cruel twist of my wrist, dragging the sight at the end of my muzzle over her sensitive, intimate flesh.
Her lashes dip in pain, but she returns my glare with one of her own. She hides her true feelings so easily. Sourness coats my tongue.
“I’ll never be your pawn,” she grits through her teeth.
Wicked mirth flows through me and tugs my lips into a smirk.
“Too late, paperotta . You’ve always been mine. Mine to hurt. Mine to punish. Mine to ruin.” I emphasize each short sentence with cruelty, nipping her ear, pinching her nipple, and grinding my gun over her clit as she sits helplessly in a room full of New York City’s most powerful people.
She flinches and swallows. Tears glisten in her eyes, but none fall as she blends her jagged breathing with the soft-hearted women who always cry at weddings.
“Nothing will save you or your father now,” I promise.
I grab the whole of her breast and plaster her to my side, reminding her how easily I can overpower her.
“So try everything, Valentina. I look forward to watching you squirm,” I taunt with one final squeeze.
As the congregation rises and cheers for the kissing newlyweds, I leave my prey dazed and mindlessly standing to blend into the crowd as I slip into the aisle and exit like the ghost I claimed to be.
Only the ushers standing along the wall acknowledge me with small dips of their heads as I stride through the ornate double doors.
I turn into the employees only hall and continue through to the security room. The guards, even the Russo spy in Bonnetti territory who knows I’m aware of his infiltration, give me respectful nods and accept my presence without a second thought.
It’s easy to be no one when you’re powerful enough to scare off the peons without challenging the ruthless.
As the bride and groom lead the wedding procession to the reception party, I watch Valentina smile her way to Romeo’s side. When she slips her hand into the crook of his elbow, white-hot jealousy roars through me. Her delicious scent clings to my clothes despite the cloying perfume of the flowers.
I console myself with the memory of her flush and gasps. Anticipation clears away the last of my envy. I’ll enjoy ripping her away from him when she’s at her most desperate.
Her shoulders stiffen and wariness blips through her expression, but she brightens her smile and tugs her betrothed toward her father.
After exchanging a few words, the men pass Valentina between them like a prized trophy, as though afraid she’ll break into a million tiny pieces if she isn’t hanging off a man’s arm.
I scoff and lean against the wall until Pietro detours towards the small sitting nooks.
Something in the set of Valentina’s shoulders shifts my senses into high alert. I push the guard aside, his chair rolling on well-greased wheels, snatch the headphones off his head, and brace my palm on the desk as I lean toward the screen.
“What the fucking hell do you think you’re doing? Where were you?” Pietro hisses.
I lean back in shock at his tone. Nothing in his actions over the last two months has hinted that he’s anything but adoring and pleased with his daughter.
Valentina opens her mouth to respond, but he yanks her arm so hard she stumbles into him.
“Why weren’t you sitting next to Romeo? Are you trying to ruin everything?”
“No, Daddy. I’m sorry. I wasn’t feeling well and Romeo said he’d save my seat, so I went to the restroom, and—”
“Did your period start?”
Pietro’s entire countenance changes. He loosens his grip on her arm, steps back, and cups her face. Valentina doesn’t evade. She blinks wide, overly innocent eyes up at him as he continues. My gut sours at the poorly concealed excitement building within his concern.
“Is it painful? Should we leave? I can cancel my plans for the next few days.”
“No, Daddy, don’t do that. I’m fine, really,” Valentina says.
When she bats her lashes at him, a wave of nausea surges through me. She looks so much like her mother in this moment it’s eerie. I swallow bile.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so busy. You haven’t come to me since we left home. Are you sure?” he half apologizes, half pleads.
“I’m sure. Don’t worry about me. I’m okay.”
“You’ll come to me when you need help, capisci ?”
“Of course, Daddy.”
Unsettled by the vibe, I lean closer to the screen, but Pietro shifts, preventing me from studying Valentina’s expression. After a moment of holding her, he nods and offers her his elbow.
“Let’s get back to the party before anyone asks the Yovannis about our absence,” he urges.
When Valentina perks up and offers him a radiant smile, I sneer at the screen.
She manipulates her father with appalling ease.
I drop the headphones onto the keyboard and stalk out of the room.
Between her childish nightgowns and pitiful act to get her father’s attention, Valentina proves to be more conniving than I realized.
I stop halfway down the hall when a disturbing thought crosses my mind.
What if I was never her target? What if she lied to her father about me to make him jealous? Is she the reason her mother disappeared? Was she clearing the way so she could have her father to herself?
Disgust twists my insides, but I push beyond my initial reaction and humor the idea.
It doesn’t quite match up. Sure, Valentina likes older men, but there was no seduction in her responses to her father.
Would they stay apart for two months if they were lovers?
Despite the alerts I set up every night, uncertainty creeps into me.
I pull my phone out of the inner pocket of my suit coat and dial a contact labeled The Kid.
Two years after Pietro left me for dead, I ran into Noah Romano, a scrawny seventeen-year-old boy down on his luck and in the wrong place at the wrong time, on the streets.
It was my second venture out into the slums to relieve my pent-up fury on no-name lowlifes as I built my strength after my last surgery.
I took him under my wing and gave him direction, and now he’s the wickedly smart tech genius behind all my operations.
He answers before the first ring ends.
“Hey, boss, what’s up?”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes at his greeting.
“I’m not your boss,” I growl.
I don’t need to see him to know he shrugs as he speaks.
“Whatever you say, boss. What can I do for you?”
I fill my lungs through my nose, drawing out my response as though gathering my patience even though we both know I’d give my life to protect him.
He’s the son I never had.
Which is uncomfortable if I consider how similar his attitude is to Valentina’s sometimes.
Quirky, lively, and resilient as hell, Noah is now a well-rounded, strapping young man.
Now twenty-five, he’s only three years older than my ex-best-friend’s daughter, but he seems so much more trustworthy and capable.
Which brings me back to why I called.
“I need a log of any nightly activity in either of the Denaro rooms since they arrived in New York. Let me know if there’s anything suspicious,” I say.
“Am I looking for anything specific?” Noah asks.
I turn the corner and push through the door to the back parking lot.
“Did they visit each other again after saying goodnight?” I growl into the phone.
After a lengthy pause, Noah says, “Other than his nightly call to your brother and the occasional visit to the bar for cigars and whiskey, Pietro doesn’t trigger any of my alarms.”
The reminder of my brother’s betrayal implodes my mood.
He may not have played an active part in my demise, but he never sought justice for the wrong our don did to me. Instead, he took advantage of my misfortune and stepped into the vacant spot. My brother does not have what it takes to be a consigliere, but he’s a damn vicious soldier.
Pietro no doubt told him Valentina’s lies, turning my own blood against me.
“Check again,” I snarl.
“Whatever you say, boss,” Noah agrees.
I rein in my anger and push my fury deep into my chest so it no longer affects my voice.
“Still no luck in accessing their phones?” I ask as I press the fob for today’s vehicle.
The black sedan’s lights flash as the evening light glints on the sleek exterior.
“Pietro is one paranoid motherfucker,” Noah scoffs before murmuring, “He probably has them set to self-destruct or something just in case someone does get in.”
I roll my eyes as I drop into the driver’s seat.
“Just keep trying,” I demand.
He definitely takes a turn rolling his eyes as he responds.
“Of course, boss.”
I don’t need into Pietro’s phone to know what he plans, so I don’t push harder. With a curt command to keep an eye on the party, I say goodbye and hang up before pressing the ignition.
A small smile tugs at my lips as an idea forms in my mind.
I shift the car into reverse and head toward the nearest lingerie store. If Valentina uses those godawful nightgowns to manipulate her father, then it’s only right I change her bedtime apparel.
It’ll test my theory on whether or not she’s trying to seduce him, too.
I can’t wait to see how she responds to my gift.
And if it comes with seeing her curves covered in lace, well, that’s just an added bonus I’ll happily savor.