Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
EMILIANO
?T he door locks with a click, and I circle my arm around Valentina’s waist, effectively stopping her from running into the bathroom. Valentina wiggles in my hold, but I don’t budge.
“Stop trying to run from me,” I say. She glares, sinking her fingers into my arms.
“Let me go, asshole. I’m not running from anything,” she seethes. Picking her up, I throw her over my shoulder. One arm over the back of her thighs, I walk us to the bed as she wiggles around.
“Stop fucking moving.” I slap my other hand on her ass, and she lets out a low moan. When she sinks her nails into my back, it barely registers. She glares up at me once I drop her on the bed. I swear to God, it feels like all I do around this woman is get a hard-on.
“Now, tell me what got you so pissed?” My eyes narrow when she doesn’t respond, instead turning her head to the side to avoid looking at me. Stepping closer, I nudge her thighs open.
“Fuck off. I just don’t want to be near you. Is that so hard to comprehend because of your small brain?” Her tone oozes condescension. I slowly bend until my face is the same level as hers.
“I think we both know, ragazza mocciosa, that nothing about me is small.”
Her eyes widen before she scowls once more. As she goes to stand up, this time I let her.
The bathroom door slams shut behind me, and the sound of water fills the room. I sigh and run my hand through my hair before leaving my room, heading to my office. My phone rings before I even manage to sit in my chair.
“Folonari, I hope your little brother got the message to not step foot on our fucking streets again.” Fucking Damian.
“And I’m guessing you fuckers are calling to ask for forgiveness for attacking my brother.”
He barks out a humorless laugh.
“You Italians are always full of so much shit that you can’t even see past it,” he spits, his thick Slavic accent coming out.
“You know, I just might tell the Russians to wipe the fucking floors with you smug Czech fucks,” I say, and I can hear some shouting, but it isn’t English.
“Listen, Folonari, keep your little circus on your streets and they’ll stay alive.” The fucker hangs up. Instead of smashing my phone like I want to, I text Romiro.
Eli
Burn one of Czech’s warehouses. I want it gone before tomorrow.
Rom
Have you gone insane???? I thought that we agreed to sit with the elders to talk about what their consequences are for attacking Lucio?
Eli
Just fucking do it!
Rom
Whatever, asshole
.
I pocket my phone, when a knock sounds at my door. I rub a hand down my face. I can’t catch a fucking break, can I?
“Come in,” I call out. The door swings open and fucking Ginevra comes strutting in. She stops at the edge of my desk with a coy smile. “The fuck do you want, Ginevra?” I ignore her lifting the screen of my computer. Ginevra moves around my desk, coming to stand next to me, while I continue to stare at my loading computer screen.
“I saw that you’d left soon after you’d dropped off the Outfit’s whor-” She doesn’t get the rest of her sentence out, because I get up and grip her neck so hard that I probably cut off her circulation. But I don’t let up even as her face reddens.
“Don’t fucking call her a whore. I hear another word out of your fucking mouth about her, and I’ll cleave your tongue right out of your mouth.” I let her neck go, and she drops to the ground, gasping and coughing. As I turn back around and sit behind my desk, I can hear her inhaling sharply and coughing some more. “Now get the fuck out before I cut you limb by fucking limb.”
She gets up and grips the edge of my desk to steady herself, then slowly makes her way to the door, gripping onto the chairs on the way, trying to stay upright. I slam my computer shut once she’s out of my office. Leaning back into my chair, I let out a long sigh and put my hands on the back of my head.
I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do. To get our revenge on the Outfit and fulfill my promise to my soldiers, I need to give Valentina back. The fucking thing that’s messing with my head is that a part of me doesn’t want to send her back, and it’s growing every day.
Fucking fuck. No, I can’t have her; she’s part of the Outfit. Making up my mind, I slip my phone out of my pocket before I change my mind. I decide to call the Capo.
“Have you decided what you want to return my fucking daughter to me, you sick bastard?” Alvize Moretti has always had a short fuse, and it’s never worked in his favor, not in our world and not in the business world.
“I want your nephew.” Silence, then I hear some cursing.
“Which nephew are you talking about?” Moretti’s acting stupid, as if that shit would buy him time to come up with something.
“Cut the shit, Moretti, I want your nephew, Giuseppe.”
Some more cursing, some in English and some in Italian.
“I’m not giving you my fucking nephew, Folonari. Anything else, I’ll give you.”
I grit my teeth.
“You’re in no position to negotiate. You either hand over Giuseppe, or I’ll keep Valentina here until kingdom come.” I end the phone call without waiting for a reply. I can’t believe the bastard thinks he has any room to negotiate. Instead of heading back to my room like I want to, I go to make some food. The kitchen is empty just like I’d expected it to be after lunch was done. I open the fridge door and grab some of the Sfogliatella Lydia made.
Pulling out a stool out, I sit at the island table, enjoying the silence. Once I’m done, I wash the dish and then my hands before heading back to my room to grab some clothes. When I reach my room, I don’t find Valentina anywhere. Changing out of my suit, I quickly make my way downstairs. The living room, kitchen, and garden are empty, so I head to go look in the den. I can make out some voices from the long hallway, near the kitchen.
The distinct timber of Valentina’s voice becomes clear once I get closer to the gaming den. Valentina, Mara, Matteo, Romiro, and Lucio, whose arm is in a sling, are all scattered around the room with gaming controllers in their hands and eyes glued to the screen. Valentina and Romiro are sitting on the couch, their eyes narrowed.
Mara and Lucio are sitting on the floor in front of them, while Matteo sits in the corner watching them with a bored expression. The carpet muffles my steps as I make my way into the gaming den. They don’t see me because the lights are dimmed, the screen providing illumination. Matteo spots me first, but the others don’t, not until I stand in front of the gaming screen.
“Oh, what the fuck, Eli, get out the fucking way.” Lucio waves the arm holding the controller around.
“What the fuck are you shitheads doing?” I ask, and Lucio groans. Mara sighs loudly, and Romiro leans back with a smirk on his face. Valentina doesn’t answer, seeming to have retreated into her head. “Is one of you fucks answering me, or should I wring one of your necks?” I flick my gaze to Matteo, but he just leans back into his seat, stretching his legs.
“I thought you had better reduction skills as our Capo. They’re clearly playing a game,” he mutters dryly. Lucio barks out a laugh and throws the controller on the floor.
“I can see that, smartass. What the fuck is she doing out with the rest of you?” I don’t have to say who “she” is because they all look at Valentina, who’s glaring at me like she wants to burn a hole between my eyes.
“We came by your room to see if you wanted to join us for game night, but found this surprise in there instead.” Romiro shrugs. I can tell he finds this shit hilarious.
“You three fuckers, I want you in my office tomorrow morning at nine, no later than that.”
Lucio yawns before arguing, “You know I need my beauty sleep, and I don’t wake up till twelve.”
Romiro bends over and taps him on the shoulder.
“It’s okay, pretty boy, one day won’t hurt,” Rom teases.
Lucio swats at Romiro’s arm. “I’d believe you, if you didn’t resemble Chucky’s bride.”
Mara slaps Lucio over the head. “Tiffany deserves some respect.”
Valentina looks like she’s about to die, holding in her laugh.
“That’s enough, you dumb fucks. Valentina, upstairs.” When she doesn’t move to get up, I add, “Now.”
She rolls her eyes before walking past me, muttering under her breath. Romiro snickers and whispers in Lucio’s ear, who looks like he’s been told he’ll get a machine gun for Christmas.
“Wanna make a bet, Esposito?” He cranes his neck backwards. I narrow my eyes at them, before walking toward a scowling Valentina.
“Sure, I bet you a thousand that they’re fucking already,” Romiro says. I stop dead in my tracks and turn to look at Romiro and Lucio, who are ignoring me.
Lucio counters with, “Nah, fuck that, make it a hundred thousand, and I bet that he won’t give her back to Chicago.”
“You two little fucks think you’re funny? Drop this, or I’ll drop you in the middle of the fucking Atlantic, dead.” I don’t wait for them to reply and storm out of the room, Valentina hot on my trail.
The door slams behind me as I make my way to the couch, turning on the TV. I lean back into the couch, watching the news anchor woman talk about some Russian mobster being arrested. Valentina comes to stand in front of me, arms crossed and eyes molten like honey on a warm summer day. My eyes trail the length of her till they reach her gaze once more, her nostrils flaring a little.
“Why was she touching you in the kitchen?” she asks, and I give her a puzzled look, utterly confused, but she doesn’t elaborate.
“Who?” I ask her as I lean forward, placing my elbows on my knees. It dawns on me who she’s talking about when something flickers in her eyes. “Ginevra.” A renewed scowl rests on her face when Ginevra’s name leaves my mouth.
“Yeah. Her,” she replies with disgust.
“No one you should feel the need to ask about.” My answer doesn’t seem to appease her as she drops her crossed arms, hands fisting at her sides. But Ginevra is quickly forgotten when the news anchor woman says:
“Valentina Moretti, the daughter of Alvize and Diletta Moretti, has been missing for two weeks, with no leads as to where her location may be. If-” The TV shuts off and silence fills the room, as Valentina and I watch each other. Her eyes look glossy from where I’m staring at her and her chin wobbles before she clenches her jaw.
My face becomes unreadable when she asks. “When will you send me back to my family?”
I stand abruptly, and she has to take a step back so we’re not pressed up against each other.
“You’ll go back to the Outfit when I decide it’s time. Stop fucking asking me.”
She follows me as I make it to my room, pushing the door open. I grab a set of pajamas, gray boxers, and a blanket.
“Emiliano, this isn’t fair on me-” she starts, but I cut her off.
“Tough shit, sweetheart. Life isn’t fair, and I sure as fuck am not. So, deal with it.”
The room is silent as I continue to rummage through my second drawer, when she sniffles, once, then twice, and a third time. My throat tightens and a weird sensation fills my chest. I should probably call Callahan. The bathroom door closes softly, and I feel like a huge asshole for some reason. I’m knocking on the door before I can think better of it.
“Valentina, listen, I know that wasn’t exactly nice. Come out, I want to talk.” Nothing. “Valentina?”
“Fuck off, I’d rather speak to the devil than you,” she says with a shaky but stern voice, and I can’t help but laugh, which causes her to fling the door open.
“Shut up, you don’t get to laugh.” Her eyes look red, and my face instantly falls. Valentina’s eyes analyze me before she decides that she wants to slam the bathroom door in my face. I stick my hand out, stopping her from doing just that. As she tries to push my arm out the way, I don’t budge. “Move, asshole.”
Pushing the door open with my other hand, I step into the bathroom. Valentina doesn’t budge from where she’s standing. I move into her space, so close, she has to tilt her head up to look me in the eye.
“Get out.” Her words are barely audible as she tries to speak up.
“No. Listen I’m…sorry,” I say softly.
Her eyes harden, looking enraged.
“Sorry for what, exactly? Taking me from my family? Being rude and abrasive? Or sorry for the things we’ve done? Which is it?” Valentina shoves her hands into my chest with each sentence, but on the third push, I grab her wrists into my hands and pull her into me.
“I’m not sorry for what we've done. I’m not sorry for taking you from your family. But I am sorry for the way I spoke to you,” I whisper into her ear. She shudders at the tone I use, but doesn’t move. “Now you tell me, are you sorry for what we've done so far?”
Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t answer. I let go of her wrists and slowly inch backwards. Valentina surprises me when she wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me down to kiss me.
Her lips are as soft as I remember, causing me to kiss her back feverishly. My arms snake around her waist, as one of her hands makes its way into my hair. I groan when she pulls at the strands, my tongue swiping across her bottom lip and her mouth parts slightly. A shiver runs down my spine as her nails rake over the back of my neck,. I rest my forehead on hers as we both try to catch our breaths.
“That wasn’t a kiss you’d give to someone who isn’t your type,” I tease. She sinks her nails into the back of my neck again, not liking my teasing tone.
“Shut up and kiss me,” she mumbles against my lips. I pick her up, and her legs wrap around my waist as I swallow her surprised gasp. My arms support her legs as I walk us to my room.
She lands on the bed as I stand at the edge, watching her as she pants, eyes wide and full of lust. When my hand trails up her leg, she fists the sheets beside her. Looking into her eyes, I pause my hand at her joggers’ waistband.
“Are you sure you want this?” I ask. Her throat moves on a rough swallow before she nods.
“That’s not good enough. I need you to say it.”
She sinks her teeth into her lip, contemplation crossing her face.
Finally, she whispers, “Yes. I do.”
I drag her joggers down swiftly, my hands reaching her blush-colored underwear. My eyes flicker to her face as I rip them off. Valentina’s legs press together on a gasp, her face flushing a matching color.
“Don’t do that.” I push her legs back open and place my knee on the bed between them. Swiping my finger over her wet folds, I lift it up.
“This doesn’t seem like the kind of reaction you’d get from someone who’s ‘not your type.’ Does it?” I ask. She pants a little and her sweet scent fills the air.
“Shut up, you’re talking too much and moving too slow,” she complains. I huff out a laugh before pushing two of my fingers inside her, eliciting a delicious moan. My fingers thrust as she tightens her hold on the sheets.
“Oh, God,” she moans as I curl my fingers, then thrust them deeper. Valentina’s moans are a melody to my ears, and that’s all I want to hear. I press the heel of my palm to her clit, which has her clenching around my fingers and writhing into me, looking for more as she cries out her release. And I’m about to give it to her.
Shoving my pants down, I position my cock against her entrance, pushing in slowly. Groaning, I feel the remnants of her orgasm around my length, even coating her thighs. Going slow, her small whimpers fill the room, and I feel my control slip, but I restrain myself.
“See? Your cunt is stretching and welcoming me. How sweet of her? She likes it sweet and slow, and what about you, baby?” I grip her by the hips and thrust inside her at a pace that’s so savage and unhinged that she moans louder without a care. Slowing down, I ask, “Hmm? Do you like it sweet and slow? Or do you like fast and rough, to be fucked like a good little whore? My good little whore.”
Valentina only answers in whimpers, occasionally gasping whenever I hit her G-spot.
So, I do it again and again until her pussy strangles my cock. The slap of flesh against flesh echoes in my room, her rewarding sounds on an endless loop that has me throbbing and ready to explode. When I groan, low and deep, she wraps her arms around my neck and looks up at me with those half-lidded fuck-me eyes. To torture me more, I assume. I clench my jaw, my hands fisting into tight balls as I hold myself back from fucking her so hard she sees the stars. With a grunt, I give in for a second, thrusting into her like a madman, the bedframe hitting the wall, her whimpers turning into screams.
But I won't stop. And I certainly don’t take it easy. I release a hip and wrap my fingers around her throat. Her pussy tightening impossibly as I hold her down.
“Do you feel how your pussy tightens around my cock?”
Tears shine in her eyes, and I’m not sure if it’s because of my words or her ongoing orgasm.
“You’ll let me stuff my cock into this pussy and use you whenever and however I please, won’t you? You’ll come for me, on my cock, tongue, and fingers because you like being my good little whore.” My strokes get faster and shorter, making her head hit the frame of the bed. I pause my thrusting and flip us over so she’s on top of me. Her eyes are dazed as she grips my shoulders, her nails digging in and her face wet with tears.
I grab her hips and thrust up into her, watching her perfect body bounce above me before collapsing over me. Her wild heartbeat falls against mine, and she bites my neck as her pussy spasms around my cock.
“Mine, only mine, mine to fuck, my personal cum-whore.” I thrust up once more, and when she hides her face in the crook of my neck, I come inside her. My release is long and hard, and cum smears all over her thighs.
Valentina doesn’t move. Her frail hands are thrown on my shoulders, and her teary face is still hidden in my neck. We remain like that for a few moments. Me catching my breath from the most powerful release I’ve ever had, and her body slick with the sweat, before she awkwardly tries to lift herself up so she can make me pull out.
I help her, and she winces, probably sore. My cum smears down her thighs with a small amount of blood. Fuck. I really hope I didn’t hurt her. She is on her feet, but wobbles, so I get up and lift her bridal style and lay her down. I make my way into the bathroom, putting the bath’s plug in and turning the hot water faucet.
I wait until it’s halfway full before going back into the room. I find Valentina still awake, but just barely. I pick her up again, her arms going around my neck. She tries to mumble some kind of protest, but lets me carry her, too exhausted to argue as I set her in the tub. I watch her until she’s completely relaxed and go to grab a loofah to help her since she seems to be too tired to do anything. It doesn’t take long for me to finish washing her body. I move to her hair, but she shakes her head.
“I don’t wash my hair every day; it isn’t the best for my type of hair.”
Instead, I massage her head, pleased that she likes it when she moans. We stay like that until she wants to shower, both of us enjoying this moment of relaxation. After she’s finished, I take her back to the bedroom and lay her down on the bed.
She clutches my arm and whispers, “Don’t go, stay here.”
I nod. “Go to sleep, I’ll be right here.” Her eyes flutter closed as I cover her body. I try to make as little noise as possible as I make my way to my closet. Once I’ve thrown on some boxers, I slip into bed next to Valentina.