Chapter 8
Mario Luciano
Noah throws his hands up in the universal gesture of surrender as I glare at him over my shoulder.
“I turned it off the second she stepped out of the bathroom, I swear,” he says.
I snatch the USB drive off the desk but deepen my scowl.
“I recorded but didn’t watch the rest of the night. She’s all yours, boss,” he insists.
I snarl and yank the charging cord out of my laptop and carry it into the master bedroom. After settling on the couch with my back to the wall, I pull up the video of Valentina and fast forward to when she opens the bathroom door.
My cock hardens in a rush as she steps into the room wearing strips of lace.
I bite back a groan when she runs her fingers through her hair and glides into the kitchen, showing off her curves so no matter where the camera is in the room, she’s on full display.
Her perfect ass in a thong nearly has me disgracing myself in my trousers.
She’s a masterpiece. I long to ravage and worship her. She’ll look so good bouncing on my cock.
As she glides to the bed and pulls back the covers, I bite my thumb to prevent myself from jizzing in my pants
When she refused to wear the lewd items, I assumed she’d reached her limit.
For three nights, she went back to wearing the prairie-inspired monstrosities.
I thought I’d won our battle of wills, since her act of openly setting my gift on the bedside table seemed to be her declaration of defeat.
The only reason I gave Noah permission to monitor her in the evenings again was because she’d reverted to being Pietro’s baby doll.
I slap the spacebar, pausing the video, and lean closer to the screen, certain my eyes are deceiving me.
Lying on her side, twisted as she reaches behind herself to pull the cover over her beautiful body, a tear glistens on the bridge of her nose and sorrow shines from her eyes.
Fury streaks through me. I growl and spear my fingers through my hair, destroying my styling, and press play, expecting theatrical crying.
I don’t know what she wants, but I wouldn’t put it past the spoiled princess to put on such a stunning display to get my attention before trying to tug at my heartstrings.
My heart died long ago when my best friend—her father—stabbed me in the back and left me for dead.
Valentina doesn’t devolve into a pretty mess, though. She doesn’t sob, cover her face with her hands, or pull the blanket over her head to capture my attention.
No, she lies in her bed and whispers as tears soak her pillow.
She acts as though her eyes aren’t leaking and misery isn’t wafting from her expression, ignoring the agony dripping off the bridge of her nose.
After a few minutes, she stops whispering and just stares at the wall before closing her eyes.
With a single swipe of her blanket, she clears away the worst of the wetness and slips one hand under her pillow and the other into her hair.
Nostalgia punches me in the gut.
As an infant, Valentina always slept with her mother’s braid clutched in her fist. It didn’t matter where she fell asleep, she’d wake up screaming if her mother took back her hair, and as she grew into a rambunctious, sweet little girl, she shifted the habit to gripping her own braid.
Many times over the years, I found her napping in random places with her hand tangled in her hair.
I vowed to protect the innocent little angel my friend cherished with his whole heart.
And then that friend betrayed me because the spoiled girl told him vicious lies.
I rewind and watch her settle into bed again, searching for signs of deceit, but if it’s an act, she’s perfected it. The loneliness and despair wafting from her seem genuine.
I fast forward, checking the rest of the footage as I lean back and consider the connotations. When she wakes and pulls clothes over top the sexy lingerie, my cock throbs in my trousers and saliva floods my mouth.
My phone chimes with a text. I pull it out of my suit coat and scowl at the messages from Donna, Valentina’s female bodyguard.
The previous texts didn’t chime because they were classified as normal updates, but the latest has an alert tag attached.
Alarm flows through me.
Valentina requested a detour and is currently walking the George Washington Bridge with only the female bodyguard trailing behind. She refused more protection and left her purse in the car.
Her despondency from last night pushes me into motion.
I close my laptop and rise as I thumb out instructions on my phone.
With urgency in every move, I stalk through the apartment, barely stopping long enough to toss my laptop on the desk and give Noah a terse command before heading toward the door.
Noah jumps up and follows close on my heels.
She will not escape me through suicide.
By the time I pull the car out of the parking deck, Donna sends an update.
I give instructions to Noah. He relays the relevant information to Valentina’s bodyguards as I pull an illegal U-turn at an intersection. Cabbies honk and pedestrians yell, but I ignore them all and push the gas pedal to the floor.
My aggressive driving blends into the cutthroat battle of city traffic. Another update eases the angst in my soul, but I tighten my grip on the steering wheel and snarl another order.
Noah sends and receives a text.
“They’ll get there before us since they’re closer,” he murmurs.
“No, they won’t,” I sneer.
I pull into the ritzy mall parking lot and swerve up the ramps to the top level. With an angry stomp of the brakes, I swing the car across the three corner parking spaces and throw it in park.
Valentina’s SUV rolls around the corner and stops a few feet away.
I meet her bright blue eyes through the windshield. Her lashes widen in shock, and she clutches the strap of her seatbelt.
I stomp around the car and grab the door handle.
She presses the locks a millisecond before I pull it open.
With a sharp gesture to the driver, I snarl and yank again, but Valentina mashes the lock button right after he unlocks it.
I capture her terrified eyes through the tinted glass and silently dare her to continue. She freezes like a duckling caught by a fox in an open field.
I open the door, unbuckle her seatbelt, and pull her out of the car by her nape. She squeaks and stumbles in her heels, but I wrap my fingers around her upper arm and manhandle her around my car to the corner of the parking lot.
Her terrified gasp as I lift her off her feet and bend her stomach-down over the railing arrows straight to my balls.
She grapples for a handhold and flails her legs until I tighten my grip on her nape and push her further over the wall.
Her jagged breaths and white knuckles on the railing match her shrunken pupils and panicked expression.
I lean forward and enjoy her fear.
“You’re mine, paperotta . I’m the only one who can end your life. Capisci ?” I growl.
She shakes her head and arches her back with a broken whimper.
“Beg me like a good little girl and maybe I’ll let you live,” I snarl.
“W-why are you so mad?” she stutters through her terror.
“You’re pathetic, Valentina,” I sneer.
She drags her eyes away from the ground and aims bottomless cerulean orbs into my soul.
“I know,” she murmurs, then adds more strength to her voice, “but that doesn’t mean I deserve this. Put me back in the car.”
“You’d jump from a bridge but not a car park? What, is this not sophisticated enough for you?” I mock.
She blinks. Unexpected hardness enters her eyes. She shakes her head, gives an unhinged laugh, and moves one hand to brace against the outer wall.
“Jump? Suicide?” All mirth drains from her, and she gives me a furious glare. “Get off me. Now,” she demands with a wiggle.
The sudden shift in her countenance clears my mind of the red haze.
“Beg me,” I snarl.
“Make me,” she snaps.
I twist my hand into her hair and position my body behind hers. She lets out the cutest little growl as I push her further over the railing with my hips. I fill my hand with her breast and grind my cock against her ass.
“Is this what you really wanted? My attention? You’re such a spoiled little brat, aren’t you, paperotta? ” I snarl.
Pain lances through my chin as she throws her head back and clocks my jaw with her skull. I hiss, yank her off the railing, and shove her toward the vehicles. She yelps, almost catches her balance, then lands on her hip with a pained grunt.
With an annoyed tsk , I grab her elbow and yank her to her feet. She jerks out of my grasp and swings without warning.
I stare at her in shock as fiery pain blooms across my cheek. She slapped me.
The fury drains from her eyes. Her face goes ashen. She cradles her hand to her chest and takes an unsteady step backward.
Noah’s sharp inhale sounds from the direction of my car. Donna’s sole scuffs against the concrete.
Valentina shifts wide eyes to our audience.
Both bodyguards look from my face to Valentina’s hand and back before they turn around with stiff shoulders. Noah swallows and steps closer.
“I’m sorry,” Valentina whispers.
I curl my hands into fists at my sides and fill my lungs, desperate to calm down and gain control of myself. She rushes to explain.
“I’m not suicidal. I didn’t go to jump,” she insists. “I went for a walk as a tourist. I’ve never been there before and had some time between appointments…” She trails off and seems at a loss for a moment, but anger flushes her face and she glares at me.
“You’re an asshole,” she declares. I blink in disbelief, but she continues. “The biggest stronzo I have ever had the misfortune of knowing.” Her righteous anger morphs her into an otherworldly beauty. “How could you do that to me?”
Entranced by her fury, I watch her work herself into a frenzy. She jabs her finger toward the railing and stomps her foot as she raises her voice.
“You almost killed me over a misunderstanding! Do you have rocks rolling around in your head or something? What is wrong with you?” she shrieks.
“That’s enough, paperotta ,” I warn.
“Says who? You?” she challenges.
“ Sì . Me,” I say.
“Why would I listen to the one with rocks for brains?” she snarks.
I grab her by the throat, yank her to me, and grind my cock against her softness as I growl in her ear.
“It’s not rocks in my head, it’s cum in my balls, so watch your mouth before I fill it with more than you can handle.”
I nip her earlobe. Her gasp nearly shreds the last of my control.
When I pull back, she wisely keeps her lips sealed, but the dazed hunger sparkling in her eyes fills me with satisfaction.
I dip my head to tease the mutinous line of her lips but change my mind at the last second.
Kissing her will give her too much power over me. The moment I bury my tongue inside her mouth is the moment I lose all control.
After nipping a line along her jaw to mimic the soreness in mine, I rise to my full height, spin her by her shoulders, and march her toward the SUV.
When her high heel wobbles on a pebble, I lift her by her hips and place her in her seat as though she weighs nothing.
The scars on my back stretch and burn, but it’s worth it to enjoy her flustered expression.
I pull her seatbelt over her lap and buckle her in before tracing the shoulder strap up her body. Her breast threatens to spill from her top. The bra she teased me with last night and this morning peeks out from her low neckline.
“You’re going to give the poor kid an aneurysm,” I murmur as I hook my finger into her bra.
I bite back a groan as her abundant flesh pillows around my digit.
“Kid?” she breathes.
Distracted by her tempting curves, I tilt my head toward Noah before realizing my mistake.
Jealous rage roars through me when she shifts her gaze to my righthand man. He may be like a son to me, but he’s older than she is. I reach into her shirt and pinch her nipple.
She yelps and grabs my wrist. I smirk and rub my fingers together, twisting and compressing her hard, sensitive nub.
“Eyes on me, paperotta . Only me,” I demand.
She swallows, blinks, and digs her nails into my wrist before tilting her lips in the most mesmerizing and devious smirk.
“Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth?” She quirks a brow. “You watched me, now I watch you?” She peels one hand off my wrist, hooks her finger behind a button on my shirt, and tugs. “You pinched me, now I…”
She’s shameless. Brazen. Wicked.
I rip her hand away from my chest, tuck her breast into her clothes, and spear my hand into her hair.
“No more stripteases, amore mio , or my teeth will come to play,” I vow with a nip to the red spot I left on her jaw.
I slam the door and stalk to my car without a backward glance.
As I wedge myself behind the wheel, I replay the last few minutes in my mind and curse. I’ve spent ten years planning my revenge. My entire life revolves around crushing Pietro and Valentina’s lives.
But somewhere along the line I miscalculated, and now Valentina Denaro holds the power to ruin it all.
Noah drops into his seat, runs his hand through his hair, and blows out a breath, relaying my thoughts without words.
Except he proves his impression of the situation is not the same as mine when he looks me straight in the eye and asks, “Nothing but a spoiled princess, huh? Was this worth it?”
I quirk a brow. He mimics the motion and lifts his chin toward the dash. The hour on the clock changes.
Fuck.
Valentina Denaro is not the problem.
I am.
I can’t let her sink her claws into me. Her pretty face and luscious curves aren’t the problem.
My emotions are.
I shift the car into drive and lock everything except the cold fury away.
Nothing will stop me from getting revenge.
Not even myself.