Chapter 17
My idea of "help from above" is a sniper on the roof. - Fuckology
Rorik
I ’m freaking out inside. Seriously. Mischa was taken to Matteo’s office to be questioned earlier, and I know nothing about what else is going on. I overheard two of the soldaty quietly discussing it, saying they were going to go through her internet history. There’s no way I can allow them to discover the truth of my sister’s online activities, including her trekking through the dark web as she likes to do. She’s always been there for me, and now she needs me to do the same, to have her back.
I pace from one end of the room to the other in my and Luciano’s shared quarters, a plan beginning to form. I have to get to Matteo's office before they can uncover anything incriminating, showing she was searching for information on their pasts and any leads she’s not supposed to have. I know my sister well enough to realize it’ll be the first step she takes in whatever plans she’s concocted. Of course, I’m on board with us helping find whoever has been threatening the Vendettis and also tried to kill us, but not at the risk of ruining my marriage in the process. Or of breaking Capo’s trust when he’s barely gotten used to the idea of having another brother and sister-in-law under his roof.
No matter how many times I repeat to myself that Mischa will be okay, that she’ll come out of this unscathed, I can't shake off the bone-deep worry. It gnaws at me, the unsettling feeling morphing into a relentless beast, clawing its way into my heart. The day passes in a blur, me waiting on the coast to finally be clear while internally fighting with myself over what the best possible call to action would be. I don’t want to get us both killed, so this situation has to be handled delicately. I’m guessing my sister went in headfirst and it’s why she’s now in this mess.
I text Luciano, asking him to come to the room. A little while later, I send a message again and tell him I need to see him. My carefully worded requests morph from mentioning we have things to discuss to finally me breaking down and asking him if Mischa is safe. If she’s okay, or if I should be worried.
Hell, who am I kidding? I’m already worried. Luciano has the power to put me at ease, however, so I keep trying—being the annoying clingy spouse I promised myself I’d never be.
And… I get nothing in return. No response of any kind from the man claiming he’ll take care of me. I storm for the door in a huff, only to discover at some point during my fretting, it’s been locked from the outside. I didn’t know it was possible to be confined in here from the other side, but apparently it is. Does Luciano know someone possesses a way to keep us in place when they want to?
Shit, for all I know, he could be the one caging me away.
I try Santino, breaking down in a moment of weakness. Of course, he doesn’t respond, and it only further drives in the possibility of him and Luciano being together. With Mischa. And the Capo. Fuck.
As the night grows darker, the light fading from the expansive windows, I can’t help but clench my fists in frustration. The air’s become thick with tension and my many unanswered questions from all of my relentless pacing I’ve been doing. My feet carrying me back and forth through the main sitting room in our wing, unable to rest. The silence is suffocating to the point every creak of the floorboards and groans from the icy, strong winds echo, morphing into a thunderous roar in my ears. The minutes drag on like an eternity, and no matter how many times I go to our kitchenette, I can’t bring myself to eat any of the various delicious snacks waiting.
Wine and grapes won’t solve my problems, and every time I see them, it only serves to remind me I’ve been stuck in this damn room. I want to scream. I don’t, but Christ, I’m losing it over here.
Eventually, I have to make myself remove my clothing and lay in our oversized bed. It’s no use to keep checking the door, only to find I’m still not allowed to leave. Tossing and turning, it’s impossible to get comfortable in the same bed I once believed to be the best place in this entire Estate. Right now, I want to take a knife to the decadence and slash it up to expunge some of this tension I’m carrying. Rip the fucking curtains from the windows. Stab through the lavish paintings and rip through the bedding. I’m not toxic… it’s this fucking mansion. With all these powerful men under one roof… that’s concerning; they’re the ones to truly fear in the middle of the night.
I don’t dare call Papa either; this situation would worry him too badly, especially being so far away and powerless when it comes to the Vendettis. He’d most likely have a heart attack on the spot if I told him what’s going on, and it’s the last thing he needs. No, I have to handle this myself.
No matter how many times I close my eyes, begging myself to calm down, I’m hardly able to sleep. My mind’s far too consumed with worry over Mischa, the thoughts haunting me in my dreams, making me jerk and wake, gasping several times. The darkness seems to stretch on endlessly as I attempt to tell myself I can put my faith in the Vendettis. Each time I doze off, I find myself thrashing around, waking from wild dreams while my heart’s heavy with fear.
Mischa has been in every part of my life; we shared a womb from day one. I’m supposed to be her protector, me . Yet, here I lay, a miserable, useless Bratva prince. A lot of good the title seems to be doing for me.
When dawn finally breaks, I wake with a start, my eyes snapping to discover Luciano sitting at the edge of our bed. His expression’s closed off, as his usual calm demeanor has been replaced by a face full of exhaustion. “Luciano,” I manage to choke out, my throat dry from a night spent tossing and turning, filled with my restless anxiety. “Is my sister okay? What happened to Mischa? Why didn’t you return my texts?” Once the first question leaves me, the others pepper out, one right after the other.
He meets my worried stare, his own filled with a sadness in his eyes that sends a shiver down my spine. “Mischa... she’s been caught digging in Empire business. She’s been questioned and punished,” he responds quietly but firmly, his words hanging heavy in the air between us. My heart feels like it stops at his revelation, the world around me spinning out of focus.
What the fuck has happened to my precious sister?
“What did they do to her? What did you do?” I demand, on the verge of losing it.
His gaze pierces through me, dark and inscrutable. For a fleeting moment, I wonder if I’ll be punished next for whatever crime they’ve decided she’s committed. My heart leaps into my throat as Luciano stands, moving by the window. His silhouette’s outlined by the sun breaking through the dawn, filtering through the curtains. He’s always so tragically beautiful, one thing he has in common with Santino.
“Matteo had her internet history searched,” he replies bluntly before tugging the curtain closed and stealing away some more of the pale light. “As I said, she was digging through information she shouldn’t be looking for. She has no idea what that means in this famiglia.”
I sip from my water on the side table, my feet planted firmly on the plush ivory fur rug that runs under part of our bed, in a massive circle. “What did they do to her?” I have to help her. It’s the only thought racing through my mind, and I can’t share it with him right now. He may try to stop me, and I cannot allow it.
“She received a warning. Capo wants her to stop. Made it clear to me and Santy to handle our moglie.”
A gasp spills from me as I shoot to my feet. The last thing I want to do is hurt this man who has quickly become one of the most important people in my life, but I will do what I have to for my family, even if it kills me in the process and I never recover from it. Her safety is everything; it’s always been the one thing I’ve sworn to uphold to Papa. “Y-you—” I nearly accuse, but he interrupts me before the words have a chance to leave my mouth.
To poison our marriage.
“Sit down! Now,” he orders, pointing to the bed. His demand is crystal clear, but how do I obey when I’m filled with so much emotion ?
My lower lip trembles as I realize he’s not going to make leaving this room easy on me. I will have to fight him. The thought makes me sick inside.
His brow raises, a warning , waiting until I sit to continue. “We took Mischa with us to a room we had designed specifically for her. We made her listen, to understand her true role here, and to accept it. She needed to see reason, and it was up to us to do what we had to-to get her to agree.”
A tear escapes, one I didn’t know had gathered in the first place. “You hurt her? You took vows, not only to me but to her! We all exchanged those words under God, as one, the four of us. And now, I learn you and her husband have what… tortured her?”
How could he do this? Not only to her but to me. We will never be the same.
His brow furrows, confusion replacing his tiredness and the irritation that had been there momentarily before. “What?” he answers, clearly shocked by my question, but why would he be? He admitted it a moment ago, to taking her to a room designed to get what they wanted out of her. I’m assuming he’s referencing the dungeons I’ve heard about.
My poor, poor sister.
“Y-you took her to the dungeon? The rooms in the basement?” I can barely say the words aloud, nearly stuttering over each with the implication so brutal and heartbreaking it feels as if my soul is being crushed. To learn of my sister’s fate this way, I should’ve broken down the godforsaken door by whatever means necessary last night and found her. I may’ve died, but perhaps I could’ve saved some of her suffering.
He storms to me then, and I can’t help but think that this is it. He’s going to kill me next or demand I bow to the Empire, but I can no longer do so after they’ve taken Mischa from me and Papa. His hand shoots out, and I jerk away. His mouth drops open, gaping at my response. “Baby! Mio bell’uomo , what’s the meaning of this? You pull away from me?”
He tries again, coming to sit beside me. This time both of his hands moving toward me are slow as a snail. He allows me to watch their approach before finally, tenderly cupping both of my cheeks. I can make out the worry in his irises in the dim light, and it only serves to confuse my muddled thoughts more. “You think I tortured Mischa? That I would ever lay a hand on you to physically harm you?”
I turn my cheek, no longer wanting to meet his concerned stare. He stops me, leaning in and pressing a kiss to the top of my cheek. His tenderness right now burns like acid against my flesh.
“Rorik. I need you to listen to me, and listen good, capisci?”
I hold my breath, on pins and needles as to what he’s going to admit to next.
“Mischa is perfectly fine. A little sore, but alive, well, and healthy. Cristo, she’s probably happier than she’s been with Santy before.” At his admission, I train my attention on him fully, my brow now scrunched as his was before. “We didn’t harm her. When I say we punished her, I mean we took her to a breeding room we had designed for her. Strapped her in, drove her crazy with lust to the point of promising she’d listen to us. That she’d stay out of any danger and do everything in her power to remain safe. We had to make her see reason; to understand she already has the most important job in the Empire. To raise our children .”
“You didn’t hurt her,” I repeat, my mind finally beginning to seem a bit clearer, my shoulders no longer bearing the weight of the invisible five-hundred-pound lead block her death would’ve no doubt been on me. “But… I don’t understand. I was locked in here.”
“Everyone was locked down, all of our spouses, while the men did their searches. They wanted to make sure the laptops weren’t compromised because of your sister’s foolishness going rogue.”
“Where is she now?” I can’t help but wonder, wanting to see for myself she’s well.
“She’s naked, sleeping on top of Santino. Full of his dick and our cum after being fucked all day long. She’s exhausted and sore… in the best ways.” He leans in, lightly resting his forehead against mine, still cupping my cheeks. “I will never harm you or Mischa. Never. I will raze down anyone who tries. Capisci, mio marito?”
Releasing a choppy breath, I nod, finally allowing him to lean in and rain tender kisses across my face. My chest is no longer tight, my stomach no longer churning, and he’s here. Finally. It’s like I’m breathing for the first time in my life, and the air tastes good. I inhale deeply, continuing to catch his lips to return his kisses.
“I-I don’t know what I would do if something tore us apart,” I admit shakily. My feelings run too deep for him. He has the power to absolutely ruin me, and the thought is both sobering and a bit terrifying.
“Shh, you don’t have to worry so much, my love. I’m here now, and I promise to ease the burden from you. I will take care of you, always.” He pushes me back, and I crawl into bed, under the covers. My head hits the pillow, then he’s there, his trim body positioned between my thighs as he gently applies a bit of his weight on me. It’s enough to have me groaning and growing hard for him. “Mm,” he hums. “I love how your cock responds to me so quickly; it knows who you belong to.”
“You, Luciano. I belong to you.”
His gaze softens, staring at me like I’ve hung the moon when in reality I’ve done nothing extraordinary to win his affections. Just simply exist and hand over control, even if it’s tearing me up in the process to become nothing more than a kept man for him. I feel so useless, and yet, when he tells me he wants me to be safe, spoiled, and help raise our future children, it suddenly doesn’t seem so bad. In fact, it’s the opposite, sounding pretty damn perfect if he’s there by my side.
“And Santy, hm?”
“Yes, Santino too. You’re still alright with me taking cock from both of you?”
“Of course, I want you to belong to both of us. It only works if we’re all in, all the time.” His hand trails down my stomach, between us, until he’s gripping my shaft. We sleep naked, and I wasn’t thinking of clothes when I woke up, just looking for answers. He tugs, twisting his hand and adding in the perfect amount of pressure.
A moan escapes me, needing to feel him everywhere after the stressful day and night I had. My legs fall open to the sides a bit more, giving him full access to touch me as he pleases. “I want you,” I murmur.
His mouth hungrily claims my lips, his tongue shooting inside to tangle with mine.
Our bodies move as one, already knowing what the other wants and how to touch to make us both go crazy. The room blurs around us as I focus solely on the connection between us and how it feels to be wrapped in Luciano’s strong, capable arms. His hands roam my body with a familiarity, making me shiver with desire, each touch leaving a trail of electricity in its wake.
I’m never going to get enough of this man. I don’t want to offer him my submission alone; I want him to possess my entire being. To be as obsessed with me as I am with him.
“You’re everything,” Luciano whispers, his breath trailing over my mouth before he ducks to the side, placing open-mouth kisses along my throat. He continues, raining them across my collarbone, my chest, sucking one nipple into his mouth, then switching to the other. In the process, he somehow manages to use one hand to remove his remaining clothes, tossing them somewhere off the side of the bed. His cock bobs eagerly as he shifts his hips, rubbing his length against mine. I’m so hard I could burst and spray cum all over him.
“I’m falling for you, mio bell’uomo. You’re not only my husband; you’re my everything. I’m in love with you,” he softly admits, and I know it’s difficult for him when he’s used to demanding control from me. Instead, he gifts it to me, giving me the most precious thing in the world he can possibly offer.
His heart.