Chapter 20
Matt
“Alison.” That word echoed through my head like a sick joke.
This fucker was asking me to shove my baby sister under the murky waters of the mafiosi life. The exact same ones I’d been so adamant about steering her away from.
There was a reason why we’d made it our mission to keep Alison out of this life.
She’d gone catatonic when she saw her first dead body at the tender age of six. It didn’t help that it was missing a head, but still.
My parents tried all the tricks in the books to make her speak again, but the shock was ingrained so deeply into her soul that not even the finest shrinks money could buy or their hypnotherapy worked.
To this day, it still grated on my father’s nerves that it had been my grandfather who’d brought her back to herself.
How?
He taught her how to shoot like a damn sniper. Strange methods for her age, but the truth is that the security that came with the fact that she could defend herself paved her way back to her own self. She was incredibly good at it, too. So much that it was frightening.
Somewhere along the way, Alison blocked those memories out when more trauma made its way into our lives. From Alex to my parents’ ugly divorce. It was a lot to take for such a young little girl.
I stood up abruptly, my finger pointing at his nose while my eyes pierced through him like daggers.
“Thank whatever God you pray to that we’re in public, or they’d be scraping pieces of your brain from these bottles for the foreseeable. Don’t fuck with me, Massimo.”
“I thought we were talking business.” Nonchalantly, he took a sip from his drink, the monotone in his voice suggesting he was more than expecting my reaction.
“My sister is none of your business.”
Right then, my anger multiplied by ten fucking million as I saw Francesca strutting into the hotel’s lounge bar in a red dress as tight as her skin. Every curve of her luscious body was on display under a thin layer of fabric that did nothing to conceal how fucking hot my wife was.
But it wasn’t the dress that had me craving more bloodshed than I already was. It was her damn arm, linked around the one of another man. The glint of joy in her dark eyes. The fucking smile that spread from ear to ear.
“Woah, in lack of a more distinguished lexicon to describe that, that’s some fine piece of ass,” Massimo cooed, his eyes following them as they walked past us and settled into a table further down the room.
“You’re already threading a very thin line without spewing comments about my wife’s ass. I suggest you watch that fucking mouth, Massimo.”
“Is that her?”
“Yes, that’s her.”
“I can see why you’re so obsessed.”
I turned to him again, throwing him a glower as sharp as the knife tucked into the back of my pants. It was a clear warning that he received with his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender.
“I’m not obsessed,” I grunted, filling my glass again and emptying the whole thing down my throat.
“Not at all,” Vincenzo chuckled, seeing right through my lie. I was doing a poor job holding it up anyway. So fuck it.
I took the lighter from my jacket’s pocket and lit the cigarette that had been teasing me since I got here. Before the waiter could say a word, I unsheathed my gun and placed it on top of the counter, which was enough for him to think twice about the warning he was about to spit my way.
“Smooth.” Vincenzo cooed, “Nothing like flashing guns before a mafia meeting to set the ambiance.”
“There’s no police. I’ve done my job meticulously.”
I was glad for that because I was one more smile away from bloodshed, and the last thing I wanted was to be locked away and give those two a fucking free pass.
Francesca met my gaze, immediately turning her attention back to the fuck-face in front of her, with stupid blue eyes and dull fucking blonde hair.
If Vincenzo was talking, I wasn’t listening. I’d clocked out. All I could do was watch them like a fucking masochist, attracted to the pain they were inflicting on me. Their interaction was so natural and comfortable that it was sickening.
Was he the reason she was fine?
I couldn’t dare to believe she’d moved on so quickly.
“Who’s Ken?”
“I don’t. Know.” I said between gritted teeth before sucking in another lungful of nicotine mingled with ire as I watched them.
Francesca’s eyes were set on his without faltering, hanging on each word as if they were the fucking gospel. She was enthralled by whatever the hell he had to say, ignoring the world around her.
“Say the word and I can have one of my men assign him a new postal code in a six-foot-something ditch.”
“What would you charge for that? My mother?” I bitterly replied. “No, thanks. I’ll deal with him myself.”
Suddenly, Francesca got up and walked towards the far end of the room, where the restrooms were tucked behind a wall. I registered each step, noticing her pick up her pace as she got closer.
I waited for her to be out of sight before following behind.
My legs moved without needing to be told to, and before I could think about it, I was walking into that corridor myself, leaving Vincenzo alone by the bar without saying a word.
I waited impatiently for her outside of the women’s bathroom, pacing along the black carpet, trying to figure out what the hell I was doing here. The answer was always the same – I came for punishment.
There was no denying that I was nervous, but most of all, I was angry as the image of that son of a bitch crossed my mind again, her giggles filling my ears, resulting in all hell breaking loose inside my head.
Waiting is for pussies. I’m going in.
I burst into the women's bathroom, immediately seeing her leaning against the vanity, her neck glistening from the water droplets that moistened her skin. She trembled in fright, not expecting me or the harsh sound of the door slamming shut behind me. Her whole body went rigid but missed the normal ready-for-a-fight stance I’d seen her adopt in cases like this.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” She spat, her sweet but harsh voice filling the space between us.
“What the fuck are you doing with that guy?” I replied with another question, my feet firmly rooted to the ground.
Francesca’s eyes bore into mine, shooting daggers my way, and I could swear she was going to tell me to fuck off. Instead, her gaze softened, and she slowly made her way towards me.
My heart drilled in my chest, beating faster with every slow step she took. She looked like a fucking goddess, and I was ready to drop to my knees and worship her or volunteer myself for sacrifice.
With one final step, Francesca stopped mere inches away from me. All it took was one deeper inhale, and our bodies would be grazing against each other. Francesca stayed there for a second, not uttering a single word. Under her makeup, I could see a hint of those dark circles I thought I’d noticed earlier, but fuck me, this woman was pure perfection.
Before she stood on her tiptoes, she placed a gentle hand for support on my chest as she inched her face closer towards mine, her lips almost grazing my mouth before she slowly turned towards my ear. In response, my pants got tight as my cock was already rising to the occasion, her teasing too much to take after all that happened, or better yet, after all that didn’t happen.
“That’s none of your goddamn business.” She spat before harshly turning away and marching past me straight to the door.
The sway of her sexy ass was all confidence. A victory walk that snapped me out of her spell.
“Like hell, it’s not!” I growled, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards me.
Her body collided with mine, and I quickly backed her up against the wall. Upon instinct, my palm curled around her throat, securing her in place before crushing my lips onto hers in a hungry kiss that ravished her like a starved man.
It didn’t matter how hot the hell that raged through me burned. This was pure heaven. Her warm, plump lips moved in sync with mine as I tasted every inch of that sassy mouth of hers. My tongue swept through every inch in greedy desire.
Her whole body was trapped under mine, and despite the threatening hand around her neck, Francesca was responding to my touch of her own accord. I pressed my hard cock against her, making her feel just how much I wanted her. Just how much I needed her. Jesus fuck, I was ruining my own fucking plan out of jealousy.
What a rotten feeling, but this was exactly what it was.
My free hand traveled her body, palming her ass and squeezing tightly before going down her leg. Reaching the edge of that cock teasing dress, I pulled it up so I could feel her skin.
Francesca tangled her leg around my waist, her dress now scrunched around her waist. I pushed her ass against me while pressing my erection against her needy pussy.
With the firm grasp she had at the nape of my neck, she pulled me closer to her, deepening the kiss as if such a thing was possible. My whole body hummed with the way she kissed me back. All that strained desire, the passion we once shared, the hunger to consume each other was still there in every ravenous kiss.
She took my bottom lip into her mouth and lightly sucked on it before a searing pain tore me from her, making me step back, unwillingly releasing her.
“Fuck, Francesca,” I grunted, covering my lip with my fingers, seeing the blood she managed to draw with that hard bite, a sneer of disgust covering her perfect face.
In one swift move, Francesca pulled her dress back into place and left me standing there.
“That’s for sticking your tongue where it doesn’t belong.” I heard her say before the door shut behind her.
I walked over towards the vanity, placing my hands on the cool marble, and let my head hang as I tried to calm back down.
Deep, steady breaths and a mental slap on the face weren’t nearly enough to pull my mind back from that ledge, but it was going to have to suffice.
I washed the blood from my lip and made sure a mask of serenity was plastered on my face before I walked back out towards the bar where I’d left Massimo without saying a word.
I made a point not to look at Francesca, but I could see in my períferal that she’d sunken back into the same seat she was in before, in front of whoever the fuck that was.
My glass was filled when I got to the bar, and Vincenzo was holding out his for a toast.
“You have my vote, Battaglia. You can count on it.”
Relief washed over me, an enormous weight being lifted from my shoulders. I clinked my glass with his and tipped the whole damn thing down my throat, trying to wash away the taste of Francesca’s kiss.
“But my terms remain, only this time, depending on your answer, I’ll condition my vote or not.” This was a bucket of ice filled with blades and acid for effect.
“What the fuck are you saying?”
“That if you don’t agree to give me your sister’s hand in marriage, I’ll condition my vote to your ex-wife remarrying before she takes her seat. I might even throw in a couple of candidates.”
“You motherfucker,” I grunted between gritted teeth.
Sometimes control is just an illusion. Right now, I had neither, and Vincenzo Massimo was enough of a predator to realize exactly that.
My little display of jealousy gave him the exact ammo he needed to fortify his claim.
Well fucking done, Matteo. Your grandfather would have been proud.