Chapter 27
Damiano
The bar at Lucian’s underground casino smells like aged whiskey, cigars, and money.
The low buzz of conversation, the clean snap of playing cards, and the occasional sharp ring of a slot machine fill the air with noise that does absolutely nothing to drown out the memory that is currently burning a hole in my mind.
Julian’s hand on Katarina’s neck, his face inches from hers.
I can’t believe she’s the one upset at ME when she was the one who was letting that fucking bastard bodyguard of hers touch her. And what was he fucking muttering about, telling her to leave and shit? I’m going to kill that rat.
I down my fourth glass of whiskey, the liquor burning a harsh path down my throat. Across the polished mahogany bar, Andreas watches me with that dreadful, ice-blue stare of his.
“You’re going to shatter that glass if your grip gets any tighter,” He says as if he’s had enough of me.
“I can’t believe he thinks he can just touch her like that,” I snarl. “Right in front of me, spitting that bullshit he was feeding her.”
Lucian sets his glencairn glass down on the bar, taking a break from watching the dealers work the floor below. He turns to face me, his chaotic grin faltering slightly.
“What did he say?”
“He begged her to run away with him,” I snap, slamming the empty glass onto the table. “He told her I was just a thug destroying her life, cutting her off from the world.”
Andreas goes perfectly still. The casualness in his eyes vanishes, replaced instantly by cold calculation. He pulls his phone from his tailored jacket, his thumbs flying across the screen.
“What do you know about this guy?” Andreas asks flatly.
“He was an employee of her brother, hired to protect her from the paparazzi.”
“Since when?” Lucian asks.
“When she got into a car accident after being chased by those paparazzi.” Lucian nods, but that doesn’t seem to satisfy Andreas.
“Why was she being chased by the paparazzi?” Lucian tilts his head to the right, his interest piquing.
“They photographed us kissing, and then she freaked out and ran. The paparazzi chased her until she got into a car accident.”
“Jesus Christ, I can’t believe that’s what you were in Argentina,” Lucian mutters.
“I’ll look into him just to make sure,” Andreas says.
“I require zero proof to kill a man who forgets his place,” I say, my voice sinking to a whisper. “But search his digital footprint. If he has a single picture of her on his phone, I’ll let Lucian use him for target practice.” Lucian lets out a dry, exasperated breath, shaking his head.
“Or maybe, mè frati, you should go apologize to Katarina instead. You acted like a feral animal today. Shouting at her and all. No way to treat a lady.”
Andreas chuckles and slips his phone back into his jacket. “What the hell do you know about women?” He asks our friend, who apparently knows how to treat a woman better than I do now.
“I’ll have you know, between the three of us, I’m the most romantic. You two don’t understand women at all.”
“Nun rùmpiri a minchia, Lucian,” I snap.
“But Lucian is right. Why don’t you go home? I’ve had enough of your sulking. And if that Julian is as bold as you say... who knows what he’s doing now.”
My imagination runs wild, picturing images that make my blood boil.
I stand up, the barstool wobbling, and I leave without a goodbye, my coat sweeping behind me as I cut through the casino floor, past the green felt tables and the blank-faced dealers who know better than to look up.
The cold Sicilian night air hits my face the second I step out of the side exit, but it fails to cool the fire raging in my blood.
Gio is already waiting by the SUV. He takes one look at my face and immediately pulls the back door open without a word. I slide into the leather seat, the tension rolling off me in waves.
I order Gio to push the engine to its absolute limits, staring blankly out the tinted window as the city flies past. By the time I push open the heavy doors of the bedroom, the whiskey has settled into my bloodstream, leaving my head buzzing.
I am pissed, tipsy, and completely consumed by the need to silence the noise inside my head.
I move through the darkness like a predator. The air smells like her. That sweet, intoxicating scent that mixes wrongly with the alcohol in my system, acting as pure provocation.
I strip off my coat and my shirt. I drop to my knees on the edge of the mattress, wearing nothing but my trousers, the bed dipping under my weight, startling her awake.
I crawl over under the sheets, my large frame completely crowding her space. I trap her beneath me, my knees around her hips, chest hovering inches from hers.
For a split second, I catch a flash of uncertainty in her eyes. Her breath stutters as her body tenses under my weight. Fear flickers through her, but just as fast, she tightens her look and holds my gaze.
“Damiano?” she gasps. Her voice is dense with sleep and confusion. “Where have you been?”
I crash my mouth onto hers. As soon as our lips collide, she moans.
A satisfied, loud, fucking moan that drives me wild.
I nip hard at her lower lip, forcing her mouth open as my tongue sweeps inside, claiming every inch of her mouth.
I bury one hand in her hair, gripping the soft strands to hold her head exactly where I want it.
She whimpers, her hands coming up to rest flat against my chest, feeling the wild hammering of my heart.
“Were you waiting for me, Dolcezza?” I rasp against her wet lips. She nods.
Leaning to my touch, she whispers, “Tardaste mucho.” Her fingers curl into my skin. “Where’d you go?”
“Was just planning how I’m going to kill Julian,” I growl.
Her breath hitches, the remaining sleep vanishing from her eyes instantly. She knows I am not making an idle threat. She saw what I did to Alfonso. Her hands immediately slide up my chest, as if attempting to soothe a beast.
“Damiano, no. Por favor,” she whispers, her voice urgent but dropping to a placating softness.
I shift my weight, driving my knee between her thighs to force her legs wider. I settle my hips directly against hers, my hardness rubbing against her heat.
“I saw how he looked at you, how he put his filthy hands on you. And I heard what he whispered to you.”
She goes rigid beneath me, but her fingers snake around the back of my neck, pulling me down until our foreheads touch. She is trying to defuse me like a bomb she knows is seconds away from detonating.
“Are you trying to run away from me?” I snarl, my fingers digging into the soft curve of her waist.
“No,” she pleads, her thumbs stroking my jawline, tracing the tense line of my muscles. “He just thinks he’s doing his job, protecting me. Like Mateo asked him to do...”
“I give zero fucks what his intentions were.” I snap, pulling my head back to glare at her, the alcohol and territorial jealousy refusing to be completely pacified by her soft touch.
“The next time he touches you, I am putting a bullet straight through his skull. I will do it right in front of you. Do you understand?”
Her eyes widen, fear flitting over her face, before she catches herself.
Her chest rises and falls with quavering breaths.
I see the pulse in her throat racing, the conflict written across her features.
She flinches under the violence of my words, but she stays right under me. Her hands don’t leave my chest.
"Promise me,” I demand, lowering my face until our noses brush again. From now on, you avoid his eyes. You ignore that fucker. If he walks into a room, you turn and walk out. You maintain a goddamn ocean of space between yourself and every other man in this house. Do you understand me?"
“I think you’re drunk,” she whispers, her eyes locked onto mine, giving me exactly what I need to hear.
I tighten my grip in her hair, tilting her head back just enough to expose her throat.
My mouth brushes against her pulse point, slow and deliberate, before I sink my teeth in.
Not hard enough to break skin, but firm enough to make her gasp.
I suck lightly before pulling back to look into her eyes.
“Every time you breathe, you’ll remember who you belong to. ”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Say it louder. Who do you belong to?”
“Soy tuya, Damiano. I promise.”
Her surrender feeds the greed inside me, but it fails to extinguish the burning rage.
She arches into me, her eyes dark with need, her hands clutching at my shoulders as if silently inviting everything I have to give.
There is no hesitation on her lips, only a fire that meets my own and tells me without words that she wants all of it, every part of me, just as much as I want her.
I slide my hand under the hem of her silk chemise. The fabric rides up as my palm finds her bare breast. My thumb and forefinger catch her nipple, pinching the sensitive peak with a punishing pressure.
She lets out a high, broken cry. Her spine arches off the mattress, pushing her chest perfectly into my hand.
“Does that hurt, Dolcezza?” I murmur, my voice sinking to a cruel whisper. “That’s the price for letting another man touch you. For letting him think, even for a second, that he could be with you.”
I twist the peak, teasing the flesh till she squirms under my grip, her nails raking at my shoulders. I move to the other side and give her left breast the same brutal attention. I watch her skin flush in the moonlight, her breath turning into shallow, desperate hits.
“You love it when I get mean like this, don’t you, Dolcezza?” I growl against her ear. “You love knowing exactly how desperate I am to ruin you for anyone else.”