Chapter 10
Mario Luciano
I bury my knife into the man’s shoulder again and yank it free without an ounce of emotion.
He screams and pleads, but I scoff and push him over with the sole of my dress shoe.
He flops onto his side and writhes in pain, but his bindings prevent him from stanching his wound.
As the puddle grows under him, I tsk and back away.
Noah grabs the second man by the hair and drags him a few feet away to escape the pool of crimson. When he releases the stronzo , he gives his hand a disgusted look and grabs a wipe from the instrument table.
Dressed in full suit and tie with our hair styled and shoes shined, my righthand man and I had no intention of getting our hands dirty today, but these bastardos poked their heads up at the wrong time.
They played dirty when I missed the meeting a week and a half ago because a little duckling stole my attention. It’s their fault we’re visiting this dank basement in the middle of the slums instead of watching Pietro enjoying what is—unbeknownst to him—his last few hours of happiness.
My phone buzzes in my pocket again, but I ignore it and take measured steps toward the remaining pezzo di merda .
“I don’t ask for loyalty. Just honesty. You lied to me,” I growl.
He shakes his head and mumbles into his gag. I press the edge of my knife against his throat before pulling the gag out of his mouth.
“Who else tried to betray me?” I snarl.
“It wasn’t me! I told him not to, but—”
I jab my blade into his outer thigh and tilt my head in amusement as he writhes in pain.
“Who else?” I demand.
He shakes his head. I twist the knife.
“Your brother!” he screams.
I snarl and wiggle the blade. He chokes on his spit and rocks back and forth as much as his bindings will allow.
“Alessio promised us twice as much for winning the bid for him. I swear, I—”
I lift my blade before plunging it into his other thigh, but this time, I aim closer to the bone. The figa bites his tongue and gags on his own blood.
“You believed him?” I scoff.
The man leans to the side and vomits. Noah and I curse and step back.
“He gave half up front,” the man stutters.
I shake my head and step further away.
“You’re a fool. Alessio doesn’t have the money or power, not even with Pietro as his don, to give you the other half.”
I nod to Noah. He cuts the man’s throat and jumps away to avoid the spray. I sneer at the growing mess and stalk across the room to the sink.
After thoroughly washing my hands and face, I accept a wad of paper towels from Noah and dab dry as I move out of his way. He cleans himself of phantom filth and offers me a curt thanks when I hand him paper towels.
“Cleanup is on the way, so we don’t need to stick around. You ready, boss?” Noah asks.
I grunt my response and head up the rickety steps. After leading him through the dilapidated apartment building, I stop on the sidewalk in the early afternoon sun and check Noah’s suit for stains. When I confirm he’s spotless, he does the same for me.
We must look ridiculous, two dangerous mafia men kitted to the nines, inspecting each other on the sidewalk in the slums, but today’s a big day.
Today I destroy the man who stabbed me in the back and left me for dead in front of NYC’s most powerful socialites. Today I claim the daughter he cherishes for my own. I’ll take her body and fuck her mind until she’s my little puppet instead of his. He’ll lose everything.
I check my phone as I unlock the car and contort my body behind the wheel.
Valentina hasn’t responded to my text. I didn’t expect her to, but indignation rises in me.
My phone has been nonstop buzzing since early this morning as the people I insinuated into the Denaros lives give me updates.
The housekeeper confirmed delivery of my gift and sent notice of Pietro’s unexpected visit to Valentina’s room.
The bodyguard posing as a patron in the room next to hers noted sounds of violence, but her drivers reported her not in distress and on time to her hair and makeup appointment.
The stylists relay her arrival and departure times.
Over and over again, my phone pings, but I’m not annoyed. Everything is progressing the way I want it to. Nothing will go wrong today.
I press the ignition button and swing the SUV into traffic.
“Hey, boss,” Noah says as he filters through the notifications on his phone.
We receive many of the same messages, but for security’s sake, we also each have separate contacts according to our expertise.
I grunt my acknowledgment so he’ll say whatever is on his mind.
“Everything is set on my end,” he declares.
His tone implies there’s a ‘but’ attached to the end of his sentence. I glance at his profile, follow his attention down to his phone screen, and recognize the text sent by the faux patron.
I sigh.
“Check the footage from Valentina’s room this morning,” I growl.
I slam on the brakes and swerve as a tweaker wanders out in front of the car.
Murder may be a necessary evil in my line of work but showing up to the wedding venue with anything less than a pristine car would be tragic. I can’t toss a stolen mafia princess into a damaged, bloody chariot, can I?
Noah curses as his phone bounces off the dash, ricochets off the windshield, hits his shoulder, and disappears under his seat.
I don’t modify my driving. The streets of New York City aren’t a playground, and I have a wedding to crash.
Noah curses again and scowls at me when he knocks his head against his window as I navigate the busy roads.
“It can wait,” I snarl.
He glares harder. I shrug.
“She’ll be at the altar, that’s all that matters,” I say.
It’s a reminder to us both. I can’t allow my emotions to ruin our efforts. It doesn’t matter what happened between Valentina and her father this morning, so long as she’s alive and fuckable.
I pull up to the curb by the cathedral’s back entrance and put the car in park before stepping out onto the street.
With a nod to the traffic cops sitting at the corner, I shut my door and toss the fob over the hood.
Noah catches it and waits for me to round the front of the car and take the lead before following a few steps behind me.
Three other well-paid men with loyalties to themselves and the money in their bank accounts fall into formation behind me.
I stride up the steps and through the towering Gothic archways before turning down the narrow hall toward the bridal suite.
An usher gives a slight bow as he passes, but the passage is already empty.
Most attendees are already in their seats, but the staff accepted bribes and happily kept the area clear.
After ensuring the four men post on either side with their backs to the door, I twist the knob and open the ornate, solid slab of wood on silent hinges.
Valentina sits at the vanity along the wall of mirrors to the right.
She’s so gorgeous my chest aches. With a sweetheart neckline emphasizing her full breasts, the dress tight round her narrow waist, and a full skirt, she’s a wet dream in the flesh.
I shut the door behind me and turn the lock.
She stiffens at the sound and lifts her gaze from her phone screen. Her mesmerizing blue eyes shine brighter than a cloudless sky while her freckles add an alluring innocence to her pale complexion.
She sets her phone on the vanity and rises. The wary set of her shoulders as she squares off with me proves she’s not an idiot ,while the hunger in her eyes as she gives me a thorough once-over tempts the monster within me.
She stands her ground as I stalk toward her. The mini act of defiance fills my balls with magma. I halt with my toes half an inch away from the hem of her dress.
She swallows. I trail my fingertip down the front of her throat. Her breath hitches.
“Did you choose me?” I ask as I tease the well of her collarbone.
“Yes,” she answers.
My fingers almost span her entire waist. I lift her onto the vanity and wedge my hips between her knees.
“Prove it. Show me,” I demand.
She glances toward the door. I lift her chin to my face and tease her bottom lip with my thumb.
“Is it too much to handle?” I goad, referencing my threat from the parking deck. “Would you rather I fill this pretty little mouth instead?”
Her breath ghosts over the tip of my thumb. She shivers and shakes her head. I lean closer. She leans back and hides a grimace. My hackles rise.
I step back.
She pulls her skirt into her lap until the gift I sent her this morning gleams in the light.
Mio Dio , she’s stunning.
Nestled against her folds, the blue panties create a pop of color against her pale skin and white dress.
My cock tests the seam of my trousers.
“Give them to me,” I growl.
Her thighs bunch.
“What? Why? I thought—”
“They’re my something borrowed. Either give me the panties or I’ll take them myself,” I snarl.
An endearing blush steals across her face, and for a moment, she looks so innocent and vulnerable I teeter on the edge of mania. It would be so easy to push her onto her back, pull her panties aside, and sink my cock deep into her pussy.
Her pupils shrink. She looks away and nods before awkwardly shimmying the panties off while balancing on the vanity. I snatch them from her and smirk at the patch of wetness.
“Is mia paperotta that eager to see me?” I ask as I stick them in my breast pocket over my heart. She shifts as though to scoot back and close her knees, but I grab her ass and slide her forward again, forcing her legs to part around my waist.
“I have a better gift for you,” I promise.
Her pulse hammers in her throat, and she studies my face with an addictive mixture of fear, uncertainty, and intrigue.
I reach into my pocket and hold up the custom-colored mini bullet vibrator.
Her expression blanks.
“This is your something blue ,” I say as I retrieve the controller from my other pocket and turn it to the lowest setting.
She turns her face away and reaches for her skirt to pull it down. I catch her fist and pin it to the counter, ensuring she stays where I want her while her skirt remains out of the way.
Her thighs tremble and her knees squeeze my hips as I lower the vibrator to her sex.
The second I press the blue toy to her mons, she gasps and arches her back.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” I snarl.
She shakes her head. I study every nuance in her expression as I lower the vibrator, teasing her clit hood before drawing a line along her outer labia and enjoying her embarrassed pleasure as I circle closer to her entrance. She closes her eyes and whimpers.
“Look at me, Valentina,” I demand.
She lifts her lashes and floors me with her clear blue orbs.
“Only you,” she vows.
I push the vibrator into her pussy and groan as she clamps around the tip of my finger. Her features twist, whether in pain or disgust, I can’t tell, but when I test her silky heat with my fingertip, she gasps and writhes in pleasure.
I flick the vibrator intensity to the highest setting. She yelps and jerks. I turn it off, pull my digit free, and cup her entire sex. Her honey coats my hand.
My lungs struggle for oxygen as my cock throbs in my trousers. I long to lose myself in her, my revenge be damned, but I slam the lid on all emotions except for the pain and anger I’ve used as fuel for the last decade.
Because of her lies, my best friend stabbed me in the back and left me for dead.
Valentina Luciano is finally mine.
All mine.
I’ll make her pay for ruining my life.