Chapter 5
Being a damsel is mentally exhausting.
God bless the bitch that is always one.
Seated in the back of Damiano’s car, trying to maintain my false fear and confusion, I clutch my purse and look out the window. Just as I intended, my plan is going how I wanted, and I couldn’t have asked for a better time for Damiano to save me.
Though I had nearly ruined it with my first comments when I’d seen him, he had shaken off my words as a sleep-induced stupor.
It had been.
I’d been dreaming of him– Of fucking him.
Damiano found me within two days after the bar– A bit slower than I expected him to, and Tommaso’s men showed up just minutes after them. While I hadn’t intended for them to pop up so quickly after my last move, I’m glad they hadn’t shown up earlier. It would have been hard to explain to Damiano how I killed armed men without any wounds on me.
Unless I inflicted some on myself.
It wouldn’t be the first time I’d used such measures, and I doubted it would be the last.
Jostling a little when the car drives over a bump in the road, I look at Damiano, who is staring at me with a frown that mars his handsome features. Since we left my apartment, he has been silent and brooding. While it doesn’t bother me that he hasn’t said anything, it bothers the innocent damsel I’m playing.
And God, if I don’t fucking hate her.
I haven’t been weak since the day I woke up in the hospital after everything that happened to me. I haven’t grieved since I asked where my family was, and the detective told me that I was the only survivor.
But I know I won’t have to play this helpless woman much longer.
I pray I don’t.
Stuck in a quiet impasse, we stare at each other, not bothering to look away or say anything. I won’t lie to myself and say that I don’t find Damiano irresistible and want to have him fill me with every inch he has to offer. While he’s not as immediately captivating as Aldo, he looks better the more I take him in. He’s far more rugged and carries a silent, sexy appeal due to his exuding a dangerous air. His facial bone structure is immaculate, and he lGods carved him.
Thick eyebrows sit over deep-set doe-brown eyes shaded by the longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen on a man, and an aquiline nose cradling a small notch, proving his nose was broken at least once in the past. His full, luscious lips and the light, faded beard that canvases his face draw me in.
He’s a walking entree and makes me feel like a cannibal.
A snort breaks Damiano’s attention, and he looks at his second, Gio. “You two stare at each other any longer, and you’re going to make me hot.”
Next to him, Beary smirks. Damiano mutters something under his breath in Italian that I don’t catch. Before I can say anything, the car slows down, and we wait as a gate opens up, then drive through.
As we drive up the road, I realize this is where I’ve been trying to get for the longest time. Despite the pit in my stomach dropping, I ignore how this doesn’t feel right. I’m aware nobody suspects that I was the one to kill Luca. I had to move quickly to get in. At the same time, I have been making calculated moves for over five years. Maybe I’m nervous because this is the last piece of the puzzle, and rather than being focused, I find myself deterred by Damiano.
The cars stop, and everybody gets out. Damiano outstretches his hand, and I take it, then step out of the vehicle. I look around the grounds, taking in all the cameras along the front, checking for any weak spots, and finding some. I pretend I’m in awe of everything I see, turning around to look down the driveway that stops at one gate. High walls protect the rest of the compound; a camera aligns them every ten feet.
It seems like a great protective measure, but if there are blind spots and only one guard is watching the cameras inside, it’s pointless. The guards are waiting for an observant person to take advantage of them.
“Come.”
My eyes return to Damiano, whose hand is outstretched again, and I gingerly take it. I’m no longer pretending at this point. I’m apprehensive.
The last man I willingly held hands with was Aldo Rossi, and that only led to him putting two bullets in me point blank.
Demanding, Damiano looks down at his hand, urging me to take it, and I do. There has to be a reason behind it when he didn’t even touch me in the car or say one word. Slowly, we walk towards the house, and Damiano stops. He carefully looks at me, then speaks to Gio in Italian, assuming I don’t understand him.
“Metti via il pacco.”
The package he wants to put away must be Aldo’s men.
I stay quiet and follow him into the house. The front door opens to a large foyer with a winding staircase. The space is immense and intimidating at first, but all I see is the sickening white color of the walls. No paintings or art hang on the walls, giving the home a cold feeling.
It looks like a model home that a celebrity would live in, and I see why Damiano spends so much time at his office penthouse downtown. If I had to live here, I wouldn’t.
It’s not a home, it’s a house.
He leads me through the walkway under the staircase and down a long hall, not giving me time to take in all the cameras hidden throughout the house. With this being his uncle’s house at one time, I’m assuming he hasn’t gotten around to upgrading everything.
I’m sure as his uncle’s Capo and next in line, the last thing that he has thought about was upgrading door knobs and outdated fixtures.
Or any organizational change within.
But he’s going to start changing things soon. The way I see it, there’s no way that The Council is faithful to just one person, but they have connections and people who are faithful to them. This tells me that men loyal to Damiano’s uncle may not be as willing to declare allegiance to him.
We’re going to start a war where nobody and nothing that defies us will be safe or sacred.
I’m quiet as we enter a dark room, and Damiano closes the door before the overhead lights turn on automatically. He finally releases my hand and walks to a desk, which I assume is his. Without another word or meeting my eyes, he cuts around the desk and walks to a built-in bar, pouring himself a drink.
“Want one?”
I nod. “Yes, please.”
“Please?”
Snorting at my manners, Damiano pours a drink, swallowing the liquor
in one gulp before he serves another and hands the glass to me.
Our fingers brush as I take the glass, and I ignore the electricity that zings through me. Gingerly, I place it to my lips to sip, then stop, meeting his intense gaze. “Thank you.”
“Prego.”
We both sigh at the same time.
I sample the liquor in the glass and look around his office. Built-in bookshelves line one wall from the floor to the ceiling. I realize that I haven’t read a book in years. I read books all the time, sometimes finishing one a day. It seems like such a trivial thing when I’m planning people’s demise. “You’ve read all of these books?”
Damiano shakes his head. “Only the important ones.”
“Like?”
I ask him.
My left arm crosses under my breast, and my elbow props on top of it. I hold the drink up and watch Damiano walk to the other side of the room and point. “From here to there.”
‘Here to there’ is over half of the books on the shelves.
Watching as he walks back to where I stand, he wraps his hand around the glass I’m holding and takes a drink from it without bothering to take it from me. I can tell he wants to say something.
He’s going to say something.
I can’t wait to find out what it is.
“Did you read them by choice?” I ask.
He drinks again, then releases the glass to me, and I sip. A slight smokiness that accompanies the scotch burns in a good way. “No, I didn’t. My uncle believes that every man should be well-read and versed.”
I respond without thinking. “Sounds like a gem.”
After a moment, he returns to his desk, picks up a manila folder, and hands it to me. “This is everything that I have on you.”
I move forward and take the file. The glass I hold gets placed on Damiano’s desk, and I open the folder. Unamused, I peruse through the documents he presented me with. I vaguely take in things that mention my whereabouts the past few months, my apartment history that isn’t steady, and even my last doctor’s appointment, where I renewed my birth control after breaking up with Blaine and verifying that I had no sexually transmitted liabilities. It only takes a second for me to see the picture of Gaia, and I close the folder, throwing it back on his desk.
This isn’t an act right now. I’m seething with anger. Whatever is in this file doesn’t amount to anything close to what our lives were like– What my life has been like.
The pain I haven’t felt in years resurfaces. “Cut straight to the chase, huh?”
Damiano shrugs. “We don’t have time to waste, right?”
“I’m glad that you know the truth.”
My shoulders square on their own, ready for a fight.
“The truth?”
He shakes his head. “All I know is that if you don’t start talking, I will finish what Aldo didn’t.”
He wouldn't dare.
“You’re not half as heartless as Aldo.”
I test his patience.
Men hate it when their true nature is exploited, especially if it’s kindness. They feel a weakness is uncovered and must prove they are the opposite. I’m aware that Damiano is no different.
I want to see how far he’ll go to prove his point.
Will he pull a gun out? Shoot me?
Both of those things have happened already. And though I have everything to gain with his help, I have nothing to lose.
The brown eyes I’m staring into get darker, and a smug smirk comes across his face. “You have no idea, Amore.”
I balk at the endearment that Aldo used to call me but control my temper. “You aren’t as heartless as Aldo– Ruthless is another thing. You are far more ruthless than he’ll ever be when you’re provoked enough.”
He seems to weigh my words.
Walking around his desk to stand across from me, he sits on the edge, his long legs open wide to support his weight, but my eyes navigate to his pronounced crotch area in the tailored suit pants he’s wearing. When I look back up at him, he’s assessing me, but the want in his eyes is evident.
“So, what do you want, Echo?”
“I want protection,”
I answer. “I want to watch the Rossi family go down and end Aldo.”
I don’t add that I will take them down, and he will get the credit for it, but all in due time. As much as I want to release my ire and show him my true depths, I know he’s not ready for it.
Someone in his position is accustomed to men being as evil as I am. Their women cower in corners, waiting to be rescued. I’m not like that anymore. I refuse to wait for someone to save me. I refuse to ever be helpless again.
No, he’s definitely not ready for me to be myself.
“You were in WITSEC, why leave? Why now?”
I roll my eyes upward and nod my head. “Well, long story short–”
“I prefer the long story,”
he interjects, his mood unwavering.
A fake smile spreads on my face. “Fine. After my mother, baby sister, and I were raped, assaulted, beaten bloody, and my father was forced to watch until they bashed his skull. My family was brutally murdered, and I had little choice when I woke up from a medically induced coma a month later. I was Emersyn Jones. Look her up if you’re inclined. I was informed I could go into WITSEC, or I could try my hand on the streets, but that I would be dead within the week. They put me in a home with two cops who were married, and I played their foster daughter. They taught me how to protect myself but couldn’t hide me for long. Eventually, Aldo found out I was alive before my nineteenth birthday, and I came home to my foster parents dead – tortured. They had been there for maybe a week, and if I hadn’t been on a cruise with friends, I would have been, too. So, Emersyn had to die, and I became Elayna Trudeau. Elayna lived a little more and had a better life for a while, but he found me again a year later. So, at this time, I figured, fuck WITSEC, fuck their leak, and fuck Aldo.”
Damiano looks at me. “You’ve been on the run since you were twenty? Hiding from Aldo?”
I shrug. “No, it’s hard to be on the run when you have nobody to run to. My foster parents had secured my trust from my parents’ deaths. And I guess they also liked me enough to leave a lot of money in case something like their deaths occurred. All cash, of course, but I decided to stay one last time.”
I scoff at the memories of another identity. “I, once again, became someone else. Elise Perkins. WITSEC convinced me to go back into hiding, and they claimed that they had found whoever was selling my information–”
He shakes his head. “But he found you?”
I suck through my front teeth, then run my tongue over them. “Crazy, right? This time, he killed my boyfriend, who was moving into my apartment. We dreamed of getting married, having kids, and starting a family business. He was a great man and deserved so much more.”
I feel sad recalling how I had discovered Sean. Razor cuts had aligned his entire body, from his face to the soles of his feet. The same torture that they had used on my family - that Luca had used. And they had waited for me, giving me more cuts that day.
“Why did they leave you alive?”
I want to show Damiano the scars that prove they barely did. I want to show him that the only reason I’m still alive is because my grumpy neighbor below us had heard all of the commotion and called the cops. I would be six feet under if my relationship with the lady underneath me hadn’t been so hostile. I want to point out that although Aldo wasn’t there and had sent Luca, he might as well have held the razor himself.
Instead, Sean had suffered simply for loving me. His death had awakened hate and determination within me.
I’d walked into Death’s embrace, accepting whatever happened to me as I sought revenge.
I had woken up in the hospital, aware that the only way to stop this was to end the Rossi family. “I tried to be happy and move on. I tried to live as normal a life as my nightmares and scars allowed me to, and he just couldn’t let me go. He wouldn’t allow me the decency to move on from him.”
Crocodile tears slowly spring from my eyes, and I see the controlled pity they instill in Damiano. “So, I left WITSEC. If he can find me when I play someone else, I want to die as myself. That family took everything from me. They will not take my name from me. I want them dead, and if I have to do it myself, I will.”
Damiano stands to his full height and makes his way to me. The magnetic pull I feel intensifies with each step he takes, but I stop myself.
He’s nothing like Blaine, and that beckons me more.
Blaine was gentle, sweet, caring, and considerate. He never touched me without permission, never took too much, asked questions he wasn’t supposed to. He let me take whatever I wanted. However, I wanted, and he would give me exactly what I needed– No matter how rough or fucked up it might have been.
He was my fuckboy, and we both loved it.
Damiano isn’t like that. Sure, he’s just another man, and at the end of the day, they all are slaves to their dicks. He’s more calm and calculated. The confidence he exudes partners with the hardened edge accompanying his demeanor, giving him a captivating allure. Most likely from his upbringing. This mesmerizing sensation that has enthralled us both feels like it’s going to end up causing one of our deaths.
Body heat emanates from him as he takes in my face. No emotion shows as he brushes away a tear that I forgot I’d pushed out. He takes his wet thumb in his mouth, savoring the saltiness of my tears, and then releases the digit. “I can only offer you protection one way.”
His eyes meet mine. “You know that, right?”
I do. I’ve been watching him for longer than he’ll ever know. I succumbed to this reality the instant I knew what to do, obsessing over a man I couldn’t have yet.
Now he’s finally here. “I know.”
His hand reaches out. Molding his grip gently around my throat, he pulls me closer to him, and I go willingly. My hands instinctively move to break his grasp, but I stop myself by letting them fall over his wrist. My breaths come out fast, almost labored, as I step into him, pushing his arm towards my chest. His eyes move over my lips, and his thumb, which was just in his mouth, caresses my bottom lip, making me lean into his hand.
“There is no out, Echo.”
Sweeter words have never been spoken. “You don’t get to run off. You don’t get your revenge, then get to leave. This is life– A jail sentence. You’re mine, and you always will be. If you ever think you can be with someone else, I will end them.”
Not me?
My heart beats rapidly, and I almost swoon. Damiano’s words couldn’t have made me any hornier. I’m confident he will make me happier eventually, but I tell myself it'll be worth the wait. He accepted my weak request much quicker than I expected, making me want him all the more.
His left hand, which I hadn’t realized was on my ass, squeezes me roughly, and I move into him more, rubbing my front against him. The erect flesh that my hip meets sends moisture to my core, dampening me more than I already am. I bite my bottom lip to hold back my moan when he grabs me again. If I bruised easily, I know my ass would bear his finger marks, and I would wear each one proudly.
My fingers move to his front, and I unbutton a few top buttons to get a tiny view of the tattoos covering him. His grip tightens around my neck, and I look into his eyes, continuing my work. “I’m yours.”
I lift myself on my tiptoes to press my lips against his.
“Say it,”
he urges me, “again.”
His lips tease me, briefly producing a fury where I almost forget to let him lead this venture. He kisses me gently. His lips press on mine without any probing, pushing, or urgency. “Say it, Echo.”
I moan from the demanding yet needy way my name sounds coming from him. I lean into him more, my hips rub on him. “I’m yours.”
I seal it with a simple peck, unbuttoning more of his shirt. “You’re mine.”
Another button. “There’s no out.”
He growls in response to my words and lifts me by my ass, leaving me with no choice but to wrap my legs around his waist. Fingers roughly dig into my skin before he places me on the edge of his desk. Working his way to stand between my legs, the impression of his cock against me has my mouth watering with the mental image I give myself. He dips a little lower as if positioning himself to enter me. Pinned beneath him, the way his hips press against me coax me to give in to my desires.
I haven’t had the chance to survey how sound travels in the house, but a part of me doesn’t care either.
I want him inside me. I need him inside me.
My hands take hold of his chin, allowing me to kiss him. “Fuck me,”
I demand. “Now.”
His hand teases the seam of my leggings, and he grunts in frustration, realizing it will take some time to get the tight material off. Impatient, he pushes his thumb into my clit, rubbing harshly against the material until I jerk from the sensation. “I hate these fucking pants.”
Our eyes meet. The hunger I see mirrors mine, and I can’t resist teasing him. “Poor baby.”
I yelp at the sharp slap that lands on my clothed privates in surprise, then a laugh breaks free a second later. My head falls back on the desk, and I moan uninhibited when he does it a second time. Harder.
I’ve come a handful of times without any sort of penetration, and this might end up being one of them.
“Cut them off.”
I nod towards a sheathed dagger knife that lazily lays on his desk. I’m sure it’s there for decoration, but it’ll be useful today.
Only hesitating a second, Damiano grabs the dagger. Before I can register his actions, I feel the material of the pants give to the pressure of the sharp instrument. We’re both quiet for too long, and I lift my head to look at him.
The insatiable glare in his eyes almost takes my breath away, but instead, I hold it when I feel the cold tip of the dagger run up my thigh, stopping at my center. His eyes meet mine, a mischievous glint in them, and I feel it before I have a chance to react. A sharp breath escapes my mouth as the thick hilt penetrates me.
I want to hate the intrusion, want to kick him in the chest and jab the dagger through the same hand that pushed it in, but I can’t. Despite my mental wishes, my body responds immediately. My hips involuntarily slightly buck, allowing him to fill me more, and I bite my lip.
“If you cut me–”
I gasp, my words cut off when he yanks the hilt out. The sudden emptiness I feel is too much.
“If I what?”
He teases me. Once more, the hilt presses against me. Only this time, he rubs it up and down, coating it in my slickness before he plunges it deep inside— My back arches. The movement puts me at an uncomfortable angle but hits a perfect spot.
“Cut me–”
I moan from the invasion, enjoying it when I know I shouldn’t. “If you cut me, I’ll–”
He leans in, turning the hilt. The jewels that are embedded in it drag along my insides at the same time that he pushes it deeper. I’m speechless for a second, suspended in a realm of disbelief and pleasure which collide into one as he fucks me with wreckless abandon, simply only someone who has done this before knows.
His lips are centimeters from my ear. The warmth of his breath tickles me, making me want to move, but I don’t. Any movement can get me cut, and though I’m sometimes dumb, I’m never stupid. “You’ll do what?”
I don’t get the chance to reply. With expertise, he pulls the hilt out of me, and I yelp at the sudden movement that makes me believe I got nicked somehow. Frowning, I look at Damiano, watching as he throws the dagger to the floor and grips the split seams, ripping them up the middle. Cold air whisps over my exposed center when he stands up straight. The sound of a zipper is loud in the quiet office before the rough stab of him entering me without warning fills me.
I throw my head back on the desk. “Fuck.”
We wait, allowing my body to relax as he adjusts to a more comfortable position, where his half-strokes hit me just right. “That feels so good.”
He chuckles. “Sì, Bellissima.”
His hands move to my legs that hang over the edge of the desk, lifting them. He places my feet on the edge and pulls me down more before slamming into me, giving me all of his length finally after accustoming me to his girth. My eyes slam shut, and I see black-rimmed by white each time he bottoms out inside me. My breath hitches each time from the onslaught.
“Breathe.”
I do as he tells me, allowing my breaths to slowly morph into moans when he rewards me with languid strokes. His thumb moves through the slickness that’s between my legs, transferring it to my clit while he rubs. “Look at me.”
I open my eyes, unaware they were shut, and look up at Damiano. His darkened eyes stay on mine as we set a rhythm, our breaths, moans, and movements in sync. While there’s nothing romantic about this, the rushed feeling intensifies when a knock comes at his office door. My eyes cut to him, and he groans, ignoring the knock, trying to make this last.
“It’s okay.”
I run my hand down his clothed front. “Come.”
He grabs my hip roughly, frustration lines his face, and he thrusts harshly into me, telling me that he will do what he wants. “You come first– Always.”
Those words do something to me, and my insides spasm, clenching around him. I bite my lip, moaning until Damiano begins to piston in and out of me, coaxing my low moans to turn into louder, more urgent ones. I focus on him– Watching the hypnotic maneuvering of his strokes. He pulls away as much as he can, winding his hips as he moves in and out, prolonging my climax that seems set on waiting for him.
The knock comes a second time, more urgent than before.
He grunts, applying pressure to my clit, and I explode this time. I cry out, writhing beneath him while he continues to slam into me.
Harder, deeper, rougher each time.
I feel like I can’t get enough of him, as though he’s holding back, and I want him to be uninhibited with me.
“Fuck.”
My insides clench around him when I sense he’s close. Tightening involuntarily, he throws his head back. His hips still move steadily. His seed pumping into me with each thrust he gives, he collapses on me.
We both lay still. My arms spread across the vast desk, my breathing erratic, my heart beating fast. He’s laid on top of me and seems just as elated. We’re in ecstasy, encased in our own world for a brief moment.
Another knock disturbs us.
Damiano curses in Italian and stands up straight, pulling out of me. Immediately, I’m empty and miss the feel of him. I watch as he situates himself back in his pants and then looks down at me. He reaches out, and I think he will help me, but his thumb runs from below my opening up and back inside. I realize he’s pushing his cum back into me, and I find it oddly endearing.
He plugs my hole, then leans in and kisses me. His tongue forces entry into my mouth while his thumb gently moves around inside me, and I cry out when I come from the simple actions. His mouth covers my cries until he pulls back and stands.
“Stay right here, don’t move.”
Damiano’s hand comes down and smacks my clit, eliciting a throaty cry loud enough to be heard from the other side of the door. He smiles, happy with himself, then walks away.