31. Isabella
thirty-one
Isabella
The house is full of Salvatore’s men. He and tens of other men left in the middle of the night, leaving me here with a bunch of soldiers. My stuff was delivered early in the morning, just as he said.
Last night, I was supposed to be relaxing and catching up with Cece. I even invited Clara, who I saw yesterday in the hotel’s lobby. She was meeting with clients to plan a wedding. We clicked when she planned my wedding, and if I’m going to be married to Salvatore for the next couple of years, I will need some friends who understand how this life is. Not that Cece wouldn’t, but because of her job, I wouldn’t want to put her in danger.
I promised Salvatore I wouldn’t leave until he has the situation under control, and I won’t. That doesn’t mean I can’t find out what’s happening, though. So, I interrogated Valentino, who had no problem telling me what went wrong last night.
That’s why I’m in the bedroom, unpacking stuff that was delivered to me this morning. What catches my eye is that these are all mine. Nothing belongs to Salvatore.
My mind goes back to what happened last night, what he said when we came here.
I bought you a house.
Not us, me.
Does that mean he will stay in the hotel and I here? Is this what he plans for the next year until our agreement has expired?
Pain slices through my chest at the thought of him leaving me here alone. I should be happy. I would be free because he would stick to his part of the agreement. I would have protection from my father and be free to do whatever I want. I could live in a world that has nothing to do with the mafia, find someone I can start a family with and not be afraid to end up like my mother.
But just the thought of that hurts like someone stabbed me in my heart. Is that feeling what I think it is?
Love?
There is an attraction between us, and he can make my body feel many things. But I’m not ready to know what these feelings are.
All I wanted was to know who he was. Sometimes that’s difficult with all the walls around him.
I put the last of my things in the closet and leave the bedroom. I open the last door at the back of the house, where I find Marco in front of several monitors, typing madly on the keyboard. The monitors look like surveillance cameras around the city. How does he have access to those? One huge monitor is divided into several smaller images. When I look closer, I see they are from around this house.
He types, and images keep popping up on other screens until one takes all my attention and my feet move on their own.
Salvatore follows a man into his car, and a flash of light fills the space. I still, afraid that something happened to him. When he exits the car, I exhale the breath I was holding. He places something behind his back and fixes the sleeves of his suit. Cold sweat covers me as I realize I just watched him killing a man.
Just as the image appears, it disappears again, replaced with another. This one is Salvatore and Dante entering a restaurant. The screen keeps changing images and Salvatore is in all of them. Either alone or followed by either Gabriel or Dante. And from the looks on their faces, I can see they are on a destructive mission.
I swallow the lump in my throat and focus on Marco. “What are these?”
He doesn’t even flinch. His fingers don’t stop typing and his eyes stay fixed on the screens. “Isn’t that obvious?”
“Did Salvatore just kill someone?” I point to the screen where the image was.
“Is that something you didn’t expect, or is it strange you saw it?” The indifference in his voice makes me angry.
“Why are you answering my questions with questions?”
“Because, for a smart girl, you are asking stupid questions. No offense.” He pauses, then adds. “You are asking the wrong questions. The question is why is he doing what he is doing? And before you ask more questions, you can sit and watch to get your answers.”
I say nothing and just take the empty seat beside him to watch the destruction committed by Salvatore.
I watch for hours how Marco manipulates cameras and erases every video Salvatore and his men were on. The skills this man has are priceless. According to Marco, they were traitors, men involved with Federico, the one responsible for last night.
When I can’t take it anymore, I leave for my room and do some work. Not that there are any interesting stories to dig into. These days, I’m restricted to dirty politicians. Because obviously, I can’t investigate criminal organizations since I’m married to the boss of one.
I close my laptop because I kept being distracted by thoughts of what I saw and where all this is going.
I pace the room because I feel like a caged animal, angry at myself for what I’m becoming. Waiting in my room until someone decides I can leave the house.
Am I really becoming what I feared?
I try to understand where Salvatore stands in this. Unfortunately, I can’t understand because he shared nothing with me. And that is also making me angry.
He said he wanted a better future for the family. That he is changing the rules. What he’s doing now doesn’t look like what he said he wants. Being under attack can change things for anyone, and Salvatore has been under attack.
My pacing stops when Salvatore opens the door. His eyes are black, expressionless. I know that look, and I know what to expect. His face is hard and his body stiff. I take a step toward him, wanting to ask him what’s going on with him.
I don’t get a chance because as soon as I’m in his reach, I gasp when his hand wraps around my neck, pulling me to him. I stumble and slam into his chest, and his lips brutally claim mine. His other hand disappears in my hair, and he pulls, tilting my head to him. He walks us toward the nearest wall, and my back slams into it.
I ignore the slight pain when he tears my blouse and his mouth finds my neck, kissing, sucking, biting like a man possessed.
Like a madman.
My hands intertwine in his hair, and I pull him toward me more. He takes the straps of my bra down my arms, exposing my breasts and taking them in his palms. He leaves bitemarks from my neck, down to my collarbone, and to my breast until he reaches my nipples and sucks on them.
I moan loudly, his roughness making my breasts hurt.
“Salvatore, you’re hurting me,” I try to say between the moans, but he has disconnected. I call his name a few more times. When he doesn’t answer, I let him do whatever he needs to my body because that is the only way he will come back.
His rough hands open the buttons of my pants, and he pulls them down my legs, taking them off. He falls to his knees before burying his face between my legs. With my leg on his shoulder, his fingers open my lips, allowing him to lick me and feast on my juices.
It doesn’t take a lot, just a few sweeps of his tongue and I’m coming, cursing. But that isn’t enough for him because he stands, and in a second, his cock is free. He takes my thigh, wrapping it around his waist, and slams into me. He takes my other leg, and I wrap them both around his waist, my nails digging into his shoulder as he keeps slamming into me.
His head is buried in my neck, sucking, biting, kissing, leaving angry marks on my body.
I don’t argue; I don’t refuse anything he gives me. Not even when he uses my body until I can’t take it anymore. The intensity of my orgasms and his brutal pace are wearing me out, and my tears fall. He doesn’t notice; he is chasing the demons trapped inside him.
When he comes, he stays in me for a while until he collapses on the floor, losing consciousness. I fall beside him, but only for a minute until I can move.
I clean myself in the bathroom and dress before bringing a washcloth and cleaning Salvatore. I lie on the floor beside him, waiting for him to regain consciousness.
I wake up to the feeling of someone watching me. Panic creeps over me, but it disappears when I open my eyes and they land on Salvatore’s face.
Worry fills my heart when I see his blue eyes filled with pain and hurt. I scurry up and sit opposite him; my eyes search his face that’s haunted by ghosts.
“Salvatore...” I start but stop when he closes his eyes and shakes his head slowly.
“Don’t. Please don’t say anything. I shouldn’t have done what I did.” He runs a hand over his face. “I wasn’t in the right place when I came back. I shouldn’t have come to you like that.” He finally looks at me. “I hurt you.”
My heart breaks for him. What’s going on in that head of his?
His throat bobs. “I’m just like him. After all I’ve been doing to be different. Seems like it’s my path to be my father’s son.”
What is he talking about?
He stands in all his naked glory and picks his scattered clothes off the floor. “I’ll leave.” I stand, wincing at the feeling between my legs. “I’ll go back to the hotel. You stay here.”
Before he can say anything else, I find my voice. “Stop. Don’t you dare leave.” He looks at me, confused. “And don’t give me that look. If I wanted you to leave, I would have told you myself.” I take a step toward him. “I need some explanations. You owe me that.”
“There is nothing to explain. I did something I promised myself I would never do. And I did it to you.”
“And what exactly is it you think you did to me?”
He swallows hard and looks away from me. Closing his eyes, he exhales. “I forced myself on you. I was like a maniac chasing my need and wasn’t aware if you were good with what I wanted.”
“Is that what you did?” I ask, bringing his attention back to me.
“I’m just like him.”
I step forward and take his hands in mine. “If I wanted to, I could have stopped you. But I didn’t. I wanted you to show me your demons, Salvatore. I wanted to break down your walls, for you to show me everything. And I don’t regret it.”
He looks at me, frowning as he surveys my face.
“I don’t regret it, but I need answers, Salvatore.”
He looks at our hands, clutching them together. “I’m not sure if I can give you any answers without making things worse.”
“Well, try me. I don’t think there is anything worse than turning your back and leaving.”
Defeated, he walks toward the window and looks through it for what seems like hours. I give him the space. Pressuring him might not benefit me. Just when I think he won’t tell me anything, he talks.
“The man who raised me was a monster, and he raised me to be just like him. He made me kill a man, a traitor, at eight years old.” I swallow the shocked gasp in my throat and cover my mouth with my hand. In our world, it is not unusual to teach children how to be tough or prepare them for this life. Most start when they are teenagers. But at eight years old, it is brutal.
“Since I was five, he let others beat me, teaching me how to be tough. He would say I needed to be strong if I wanted to take his place. I had to be able to handle beatings or whatever his men had planned for me that day. What I didn’t understand was that he wanted to create another version of himself that could take over. My father was married to Falcones's daughter. He was the capo back then, now he’s almost eighty years ago. He fled to America and gained power here. My father married his daughter to gain his position. He was the son of immigrants who wanted a better life. His parents worked hard, but he wanted more from life, so he married the girl.” He laughs bitterly. “Not much different from him, am I? I did force you into this marriage.” I walk toward him near the window and just stand there. I can’t say he’s wrong. He didn’t force me per se, but he coerced me into it.
“He lived with his wife until her last breath, but as any mafiosi, he had mistresses and he changed them a lot. His wife couldn’t have children, and from what I heard, years later, he was desperate to have an heir. He blamed her. He was a misogynistic bastard with narcissist tendencies who used her as his punch bag.” He takes a deep breath and sneaks a look at me. “But the worst part is, she just let him until he found a new shiny toy to play with. My mother.” His eyes gaze through the window, and the painful expression on his face is more than sadness. It’s guilt.
But guilt for what? There are so many questions in my head, and no matter how badly I want to ask him, I don’t. I need to be there for him in any way he feels comfortable with.
“I never met her. I was raised by our housekeeper and paraded around by my father as his heir. He wanted me to learn about the business from a very young age, and to keep me silent. I was lucky I had Gabriel and his family. His father was just a foot soldier for my father. Since the moment I met Gabriel, he had my back, and I had his.”
“It was years later, after I finished college and wanted to please my father and make him proud that I uncovered terrible lies.” He shifts, the motion making his hair fall over his eyes, but he doesn’t move it aside. “I was looking for a guy who stole money from my father’s business at the time and stumbled across an old lady. She was maybe around eighty or ninety. When she saw me, she said I was the devil’s son and started to pray. There was something in her eyes that made me stay and ask her questions. My gut was telling me there was more, and my gut had never betrayed me. When she looked at my eyes, she said I have my mother’s eyes. I was confused about how she knew her. My father told me she killed herself because she didn’t want me. Question after question led me toward the answers I needed, one that changed all I believed in and all I wanted to be. That day I found who my father really was and who he was raising me to be. A predator. A rapist.” His voice shakes. “He took my mother from her home when she was sixteen and brought her to his mansion, where he lived with his wife. He raped and beat my mother daily until she was pregnant with me. He then kept using her body, raping her every night until he was disgusted with her belly. His wife cut her wrists the same night I was born. I was torn from my mother, and my father ordered one of the guards to take her and kill her, but the man took pity on her and ran away with her.
“I searched for answers, and I found them. I promised myself and him the day I killed him that I would never be like him, and I would never give him the pleasure of giving him what he wanted. That his name would die with me.”
By the time he finished, I was speechless. I couldn’t see in front of me from the blur in my eyes. His guilt is now understandable. I press the heels of my hands to my eyes to clear them before I turn to him; he needs to hear what I have to say before he blames himself for everything.
I take his hand so he can concentrate on me. He flinches when I touch him, but I keep my hold firm. “You are not your father. You didn’t do a thing I didn’t willingly let you do. I let you have my body and use me for your pleasure. I let you fight your demons using my body, and I don’t regret it. Do you understand me, Salvatore? You are not like him.”
“And how do you know that?” he snaps. “I changed myself the last couple of years, but there are things I did that you don’t know about me, about what I was and what I did.”
I raise my voice a little. “Then tell me!”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because you may hate me, or worse, leave.”
I look at him, confused. The plan was to leave him after five years and he agreed. Ignoring that fact, I keep arguing. “And maybe I will not. You don’t know that.”
He stays quiet as he looks at me. I can see the struggle in his eyes, so I decide for both of us. I rise on my tiptoes and kiss him quickly.
“We can talk about this another day. You need to get in the shower and clean yourself. And so do I.”
I leave him standing by the window and enter the bathroom. No matter how much I want him to follow me into the bathroom like he usually does, this time, he doesn’t. It doesn’t matter that the bathroom has a double shower, he waits until I finish.
As I stand by my closet, I feel the pain in my chest vanish as soon as he stands behind me and wraps his hands around me, kissing my wet hair and whispering. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”
I’m still wondering what he meant after he leaves.