Chapter 17 Rosalia
ROSALIA
PLAYLIST: I SEE RED – EVERYBODY LOVES AN OUTLAW
“Iam going to murder that bitch!!!” shouts Adria at me from across the living room.
“Adria,” says Kat. “That house was in your father’s ownership. She took over; it’s hers now.”
“It was mine!!”
“One day, maybe. You did not even want it,” I say dismissively. I have lived through Adria’s angry episodes uncountable times now. I have my own things to deal with. And that is the fact that Antonella has the audacity to move into a house so close to mine. I don’t want her close.
Adria is in a state of rage that will end with someone dead tonight.
She is family, but she was made a dangerous weapon with an entitlement that goes beyond general understanding.
I can already see it coming. She has that thing in her eyes whenever she is about to snap.
A darkness that makes her eyes look black with a shimmer over her lava.
Partially, I can understand her. She used the house without his father’s knowledge; if anyone knew, they let it happen.
But Antonella took over, and apparently, she wanted the house.
Therefore, Adria came bursting in here, full of rage, because she had to leave in a hurry and now has nowhere to be except here.
Where she has to deal with me, my rules and Kat.
The two hated each other from day one.
“I am going to kill her,” says Adria suddenly, turns, and walks to the door.
“You are not touching her!” I roar in anger as I get up and follow her.
“Now you’re protecting her?” shouts Adria at me. “You wanted to kill that bitch! And you should, because if you don’t do it, I will!”
“Adria, you cannot touch her,” I say sternly. “Not right now. It will cause a disruption that will have consequences concerning the entire world—“
“I DON’T FUCKING CARE,” she shouts so loud my ears are ringing, and her spit flies at me. She slaps my cheek with the back of her hand, and before I can grab her, she is gone.
I close my eyes, breathe in and out. Everything seems to be spiralling out of control. If she weren’t family, I’d stop her with a gun. But she is family.
“I’m tracking her,” says Kat behind me.
“Is she heading to the house?”
“Looks like it. I’m going after her.”
“Be careful, you know who she is. She attacks fast and without warning.”
“Rose,” says Kat and laughs, before she is gone. Leaving me in the house filled with silence.
Silence that amplifies my thoughts.
Thoughts that circle around what happened in the church. Thoughts that entered my bones and stayed.
I catch myself caressing the finger she had in her mouth.
Her lips were so unbelievably soft. So luscious.
Her confidence. I am not attracted to confidence. Confidence does not work well with what I enjoy in the bedroom. But she—
I am finding myself drawn to her.
My mind wanders.
I see myself standing behind her.
She is tied up.
Immobilised.
And I take whatever I desire from her.
A tingling stirs in my core.
I caress my body; I will have to release that sensation.
At that moment, my phone rings, ripping me from my mind.
“Yes,” I say when I answer Kat’s call.
“They’re heading into a club,” says Kat. “I can’t go in there alone; it will be too messy.”
“What club and who?”
“No name, but people are waiting in line, sending you the address. Antonella went in there with seven men; they were let in without waiting. I can’t reach Antonella. Adria is heading in there now.”
“Merda,” I say. I look at the address Kat sent me. “It’s one of their clubs. You will not get in there the regular way. I’m on my way.”
“You stay where you are,” she says. “Send me one of the girls.”
“I am coming,” I say.
“I’m going in there now,” she says, like the stubborn thing she is, “Let’s see if I can game the guards.”
“Kat,” I say, but she ignores me.
“I’m putting you on earpiece,” she says, “Kanal 82.4.”
Reckless as ever.
I take an earpiece myself and tune the receptor. I simultaneously send a notice to the girls. The girls are my protector, my chosen family, my backbone.
“Can you hear me?” I ask. “I’m there in ten.”
“I can,” she says.
“Antonella Amato,” I hear her say. “I am awaited.”
“No Antonella here,” says a deep male voice.
I hear a gun being pulled, some screaming.
“I am awaited,” says Kat. “We can do this the nice way or the painful way.”
This will be a nightmare, I know it.
There is a thud, some screaming, wrestling, and loud music follow as I head to the club.
“I’m in, they’ll come for me. If you hurry up, that guy might still be out.”
“God, this is messy,” curses Kat. It’s hard to catch her voice over the loud music.
“They’re in a separé on the gallery,” she says. “Couple dozen people.”
“One minute out,” I say. “We’re all coming.”
When I reach the club, the queue is still in chaos.
I look around to see where the team is, and I see them, one on each side of the club.
I nod. I get a nod back.
I take the family ring I still have from my pocket when I walk up to the door. I hold it up, and I am let in without question.
This will be my death.
“I’m in,” I say. Lord, this music is horrible. My entire chest vibrates from the bass.
“I can’t find either of them,” says Kat. “Antonella went onto the dance floor, but I can’t get a view of her.”
The club is packed.
I get up on the stairs leading to the separé to get a look at the dance floor.
The room lights up for a single moment, and I see her.
“I see her,” I say as I head down. “You find Adria.”
I walk through the drunk and drugged people. I have always been an authority, and even when drunk, even when dancing, people realise they'd better not touch me.
“Salvatore,” I say as I reach Antonella and him. He looks at me, but before he can do anything, I hit him on the temple to knock him out. He goes down.
“What the fuck?!” shouts Antonella at me.
“You need to leave, fast,” I shout back.
“I’m not leaving,” she says, building herself up.
“You will,” I say, “Or you will be dead.”
“What is your fucking problem?” she asks, and I am boiling over. I hate disobedience from the bottom of my cold heart.
“My problem is that Adria is coming to kill you,” I shout at her.
“Adria?” she asks, as if she were completely brainless.
“Are you too stupid to understand?” I shout over the music at her.
A smirk of arrogance appears on her face, the belief that she is untouchable. She is high on power. And I regret even coming.
“I have people everywhere here; let her come.”
“Yeah? Where are they now? If I were Adria, you would’ve already dropped dead.”
She stares at me.
“Adria will kill without asking,” I say. “Leave now, or I will make you.”
I see it in her eyes, the flicker and the reason why I hate brats.
“Make me,” she says in an arrogance I’d like to hit her for.
Men are appearing around us, guns drawn. People move out of the way. Some don’t even realise what is happening. And I do what I have to do because there is only one way out: holding a gun to her head.
“Move,” I say, “No one touches me. Tell them to stand down, or I will pull the trigger.”
She looks at me, and I know why I don’t allow disobedience. Kat, Adria, her. None of it would have happened if they had listened. And I am done with all of them for not following my orders.
A bullet cuts through the air and brushes her cheek.
She ducks, and chaos breaks loose. The men aim for Adria, wherever she is, somewhere to my right.
“Move, now!” I shout.
She walks through the people, tells two of her men to stay back, and I walk behind her with the gun pressed into her.
“We take the back entrance,” I tell her.
We reach the door.
A big bear of a man in front of it.
“Apri la porta,” says Antonella in Sicilian to the man, without even a hint of her foreign nature. And I cannot help but wonder if she still played us all.
My ears ring as we step outside into the many alleyways of Palermo.
“Walk,” I say.
“You won’t get away with it,” she says. “They will come for me.”
“Shut up and walk,” I tell her.
One of her men tries to follow us, but the girls stop him. I tell him to stay away in Sicilian; otherwise, all of them will be dead.
He calls after me that I will be dead in the morning. I laugh.
The girls walk with us to secure the area. Ten minutes later, I push Antonella into my house. The girls leave. I will handle her myself.
“Kneel there,” I say and point to the free space to my right. But she does not kneel. Instead, she stares at me, provoking me with her eyes alone.
“Last chance,” I say, pressing her with the gun on her forehead into the wall behind her.
Her lips purse slightly as she smirks; she is trying to play me.
Instead of kneeling, she removes one strap from her dress. Not breaking eye contact with me.
Then the other one.
The short dress rushes to the floor.
I can’t quite focus.
She wears no underwear.
My breath flattens.
She brings her hand up and removes my gun from her forehead.
I let her, because I am too blown away.
She leans forward, grabs me by the belt and pulls me close to her—forcefully.
I slam into her, one arm against the wall, the other loosely holding the gun.
Her lips are so close.
Her scent.
She opens the belt.
I just stand there.
She opens the button.
Her hand wanders into my trousers, into my underwear, and—
I gasp as her fingers slide between my lips, caressing the outer lips, before she grabs me down there, her fingernails digging into the skin.
“Tell me what a bad girl I am,” she whispers.
“You are a filthy little whore,” I say. “One that needs to be punished.”
“Yes,” she half-whispers, half-moans and massages my clit, and I roll my hips against her touch. “I am such a filthy little whore,” she says.
I gasp for air because I am turned on in a way I have never been turned on.
“Tell me what you do with filthy whores like me,” she says, and her lips wander over the side of my neck up to my ear. Her fingers massage my clit more valiantly, and I am trembling with desire. A desire to take her. Consume her. Destroy her.