Chapter 16
16
NICOLAS
I can still taste her on my lips.
And the more I think about Aria, the more I’m reminded of that asshole.
I hate it.
I close my eyes, leaning my head back, and she’s there—haunting me. I think of the way she sounds when she loses herself in my touch, the way she smells, sweet and intoxicating. I think of everything I’ve done to her, everything I still want to do.
For example, I still haven’t gotten the opportunity to have those plump lips wrapped around my cock. I want to fuck every hole in her body. Every single one. And from the way she responded to my spanking a few minutes ago, I know she would let me. Her body and her mind were working in two different directions. I can still hear the sound of her pussy as I shoved three fingers inside her.
But the problem is every thought of her leads back to her brother .
I think of the files I left on the table—intentionally. I wanted her to take them, to see what she would do. And I already know where they’ll end up.
Marco.
The same asshole she would risk everything for.
And the worst part? He wouldn’t do the same for her. He would use her, push her into danger without a second thought. And she would let him—because somewhere deep down, he’s still clinging to the belief that he might actually care.
I’ve always hated Marco. But after sitting across from him, watching the way he speaks about his sister, my wife , like she’s nothing more than a pawn on a chessboard, I loathe him.
I should slit his throat. Contract be damned.
The way he talks about Aria makes my jaw clench. Like she’s an obedient little pet. Like she doesn’t have fire in her, like she doesn’t challenge at every turn. It almost amuses me how little he understands her. Almost.
In the driver’s seat, Matteo keeps glancing at me through the rearview mirror. He hasn’t been my right-hand man for long, but he’s already learned when to speak and when to keep his mouth shut. Right now, he waits.
I exhale sharply, running a hand down my jaw. “What is it?”
Mateo’s voice is steady. “We found him.”
I glance at him, considering. There are a lot of people we’re hunting right now.
I wonder which one he means.
“The man,” Matteo clarifies. “The dockworker in charge of the shipment that night. He’s alive. For now .”
That last part makes me smirk. If there wasn’t a good chance he had useful information, I’d have killed him on the spot—maybe even strung up for the Caldarones to find, just to send a message.
“He’s at the house?”
Matteo nods.
“Then let’s go see him.”
With a smooth turn of the wheel, Matteo switches lanes, the city lights flashing past the tinted windows. The steady hum of the engine fills the silence. I tap my knuckles against my thigh, forcing my mind to shift to more pressing matters. I’ve already wasted too much time thinking about Marco.
“The guard,” I say suddenly. “The one in the house.”
“James?”
“I told you to transfer him out.”
Matteo exhales through his nose. “I know.”
Before I can press the issue, he adds, “And given his history with the family, I thought he was the best man for the job.”
A pause.
My fingers still against my thigh. “What connection?”
Matteo shifts his grip on the wheel. “Gerald,” he says. “His last name is Gerald.”
The name strikes something deep in my chest. Gerald . Ken. Ken Gerald.
I don’t move. Don’t speak. My mind turns, piecing it together.
Matteo glances at me. “He’s Ken’s cousin.”
I close my eyes for a brief second, long enough to let it sink in.
No wonder the boy reminded me of him.
I press a hand to my jaw, rubbing slowly. When I open my eyes, my voice is steady. “Leave him where he is. Increase his pay.”
Matteo nods once. “Done.”
I stare out the window, fingers drumming against my knee. “Has he had his first kill yet?”
Matteo’s mouth pulls into a slight frown. “No. He’s still green.”
I stare ahead at the road. The city stretches before us, the sky thick with heavy clouds, threatening rain. After a few more seconds of contemplation, my decision is made.
“Call him,” I say. “Tell him to meet us where we’re going.”
“Yes, boss.”
Matteo takes his eyes off the road just long enough to make the call, reaching for the Bluetooth on the dashboard and fixing it in his ear.
“The boss has ordered you to meet us at…” His voice drops to a low murmur, delivering the order without explanation.
James is family within a family. Ken’s blood runs through his veins. Whether he realizes it or not, he’s under my protection. All my men are, but now, him more than most.
I take care of my own. And part of that means making sure he learns—fast.
The rest of the ride is spent in silence. I close my eyes, my thoughts drifting elsewhere. The memory of Aria and the taste of her sweet pussy lingers, vivid and consuming. I bring my fingers to my nose and inhale deeply. The smell of her sex makes my cock twitch, and I already can’t wait to see her again. To find another reason to either punish or reward her.
When we finally reach the house, the place is quiet as we pull into the driveway.
Not abandoned, not empty—just quiet in the particular way places are when they’ve never truly been lived in. Fresh paint. Clean walls. A house with no history.
Except for what I plan to do in the basement.
Matteo kills the engine. The air outside is thick and damp with the remnants of a storm that never came. I step out, boots crunching against gravel, and take in the house. Plain. Unremarkable. A place no one would think of searching.
But that’s not the only reason I bought it.
I got it to keep Aria away.
The memory of her in the shower—crying, scratching at her skin like she could scrub the horrors away—claws at the edges of my mind. It should’ve been a lesson, a moment to show her what this life truly means. And yet, even after telling her to get used to it, I don’t want her to see this part of it. I don’t want her to witness men being tortured or having their brains blown out. I want her strong, not broken.
Matteo moves ahead, unlocking the door. The scent of new wood lingers inside. No furniture, no decoration. Just a house waiting to be filled.
Or in this case, used .
We head straight for the basement.
The stairs creak beneath our weight, the air growing colder with each step. A muffled whimper reaches my ears as we descend.
A single bulb flickers above, casting weak yellow light over the room. The dockman is tied to a chair in the center, his head slumped forward, his breathing ragged.
I’ve been hunting him for weeks. And now, he’s here.
He’s in bad shape—not physically, but mentally. His shirt is stained with dark patches of sweat. As we approach, he lifts his head, eyes darting between us, wide and frantic.
I take my time stepping forward. He stiffens. His wrists look raw from struggling, and his split lip is crusted with dried blood. His face is bruised, but not badly—my men followed orders. I wanted him shaken, not broken.
Matteo leans against the wall, arms crossed, silent. He won’t interfere unless I tell him to.
I crouch in front of the man, elbows resting on my knees.
“Do you know who I am?”
His throat bobs as he swallows hard. “Yes.”
“Then you know why I’m here.”
He flinches, his eyes darting to Matteo. When he finds no sympathy there, he turns back to me, desperation creeping into his expression.
“I—I don’t know anything,” he stammers. “Please, I swear, I?—”
I sigh, shaking my head. “That’s not true.”
I stand, letting silence press in around us. Suspense can be just as deadly as any weapon. I let it stretch, let the weight of it settle over him.
When I finally speak, my voice is calm.
“You know, I’ve dreamt about the attack on the dock every night since it happened,” I say. “And when I wake up, I try to picture my enemies. I think about what I’ll do to them when I finally have them in front of me.”
“Mr. Rossi. I swear. I had no choice.”
“The Caldarones are a big family,” I continue, ignoring him. “So many faces, so many people to hold accountable. It’s hard to picture just one.”
I pause, then lean in slightly.
“But you know whose face isn’t hard to picture? Yours. Because you were there that night.”
“I didn’t know they were going to-”
I move behind him, placing my hands on his shoulders. He stiffens, but I press my thumbs into the tension there, massaging lightly instead of tightening my grip. “It was you who led us to that container,” I murmur. “ You who opened the door and unleashed hell on me and my men.”
“So when I picture the people I need to kill…your face comes to mind pretty damn clearly.”
“Mr. Rossi”
“And while you were wasting time and resources trying to hide from me, I spent mine learning more about you.” I chuckle, stepping around front so he can see my face. “It’s cute that your wife likes to shop . Macy’s , right? Spends a lot of time there on Saturdays.”
The color drains from his face.
I tilt my head, watching him unravel. “I also know about your daughter,” I continue, my voice calm, deliberate. “She’s what—six? Goes to St. Mary’s Elementary? Bright kid, from what I’ve heard.”
His breath shudders. “Please,” he whispers, his voice breaking.
I hold up a hand, cutting him off. “Relax. Nothing’s happened to them.” I pause, letting my next words settle like a slow-moving blade.
“ Yet .”
Silence. The kind that suffocates. I let it stretch until the tension coils so tight that I can practically hear his heartbeat.
Then I laugh, shaking my head. “How stupid do you have to be to make an enemy of the Paolo family and not protect your own?”
The man frowns, biting his lower lips. “I…”
“Oh, that’s right,” I chuckle, shaking my head. “You did hire protection. Some inexperienced goon, wasn’t it? Jeremy, Tom, and-” I turn to Matteo.
“Alex,” Matteo supplies smoothly. “He’s the one we skinned along with that tacky dragon tattoo of his.”
Tears well in the dockman's eyes, his head shaking in silent denial before the sobs break free. Like a child.
“I swear,” he chokes out, his voice cracking. “I…I don’t know much.”
I cross my arms. “Start with what you do know. Who gave the order for the attack?”
His breathing turns ragged. His fingers curl into fists. I let him sit with it, let the weight of reality press down on him.
Then, finally?—
“The—” His voice cracks. He swallows hard. “The man who approached me didn’t say much. Wouldn’t even tell me his name. Just dropped a million dollars cash in my hand and told me I was being paid for my silence.”
I wait. He knows that’s not enough.
“But that night,” he continues, voice unsteady, “before you and your men arrived, his men were already there. I heard someone call him Viper .”
I exchange a glance with Matteo, who nods slightly, confirming that he recognizes the name.
“Go on,” I say, my attention snapping back to the dockman.
“He… I think he oversees their weapons trade,” he says, the words tumbling out in a rush now. “I didn’t know they were planning an ambush, I swear. They just told me to step aside, to let them unload a shipment at the docks. When I asked questions, they said it wasn’t my concern.”
“And the bombing?”
He shakes his head frantically. “I had nothing to do with that. I only heard about it after it happened.”
I study him in silence, weighing his words. His panic feels real, and what he’s saying lines up with what we already know.
Finally, I nod. “Well done.”
The man looks up, his expression a mix of confusion and relief. I clap him lightly on the shoulder before turning to Matteo. Matteo chuckles under his breath, then nods.
I don’t say anything else. I just turn and walk out.
James is waiting near the door, hands clasped behind his back. Now that I know who he is, I see Ken in everything he does—the steel in his stance, the way he doesn’t fidget, doesn’t look away when I stop in front of him.
“Were you close?” I ask.
He frowns slightly. “With Ken?”
I nod. “Were you two close?”
His jaw tightens. “Yes, sir,” he says without hesitation. “Ken was like my brother. I would have taken a bullet for him.”
He means it. I see it in his face.
I pull out my gun, flip it in my grip, and press it into his palm. His fingers curl around it automatically.
“You have some big shoes to fill, son.” I hold his gaze. “Can I trust you with this?”
His spine straightens. “Yes.”
I nod once. “Go to the basement. Matteo will show you what to do. Make it painful .”
James nods without hesitation, then turns to follow orders.
As I reach for the door, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out, glancing at the screen.
A message from one of the men.
She’s heading to her brother’s house.
How should we proceed, sir?
I exhale slowly.
The right move would be to stop her. To remind her that she belongs to me now—not Marco. That no matter how much she wants to trust him, she shouldn’t .
But Aria is stubborn. She won’t listen. Not yet.
I quickly type back:
Your job is to make sure she’s safe. Keep her out of danger.