24. Kaz
“You might needto take over sooner than you thought, figlio.”
Ermanno’s words echo in my mind. Whenever he refers to me as his son, my attention drifts away, making it difficult to focus. It is a constant reminder that Mattia still has something I don’t. Biological or not, Ermanno remains the man who raised him. He is still his father.
“What?” I furrow my brows, absentmindedly sliding the whiskey glass back and forth on the table. It gives me something to focus on.
“I believe it’s time for our family to have a new don. It’s time for me to retire,” Ermanno states.
In my mind, I retreat to the place where Mattia lives. Some days, I feel myself slipping away, struggling to remember my identity. I have spent years training for this moment, studying Mattia’s every move and analyzing endless hours of surveillance footage to turn into him. I have changed the way I talk, walk, and think. The last one gets to me. The real me struggles inside, always trying to steer me away from the foolish decisions Mattia would make.
“What are you talking about?”
“I haven’t been myself lately. Perhaps I don’t see things as clearly as I used to,” Ermanno explains, sitting in the chair behind his desk. Suddenly, he appears old and weary.
It’s a look I don’t see very often. Ermanno wears his mask with pride and confidence, appearing unshakeable—or so it seems. I can’t help but pity him. The more time I spend with him, the more I see his true self—a frail old man barely clinging to the power and glory he once possessed. I contemplate whether allowing him to live would be more cruel than putting a bullet between his eyes.
“We can discuss this another day.”
My plan and Sevastyan’s align to a certain extent. He believes it would be best for me to remain in New York and take over what remains of Ermanno’s empire when I’m finished with him. It’s a foolish plan. I have no intention of rebuilding someone else’s crumbling empire when I have mine waiting for me back home.
“We will. Soon enough. But there’s something else, Mattia,” Ermanno continues. I raise an eyebrow, taking a sip of whiskey. “You need an heir. And if your wife can’t provide one, find someone who can.”
I tighten my grip on the fragile glass, afraid it might shatter. I stand at a crossroads, aware of what Mattia would say but struggling to filter my rage. Caelia would have given Mattia an heir if he had been smart enough to stop and consider how he treated his wife.
There is blood on his hands that no amount of prayers will cleanse. There is blood on his hands that no God will ever forgive.
“I’m working on it.” I grin.
I am indeed working on something, but having a child is not a priority on my list. It doesn’t even make it to the list. I leave him alone in his office, utterly exhausted. I have no solace to offer to a man like him. I will only be angry if I don’t cause his death. Domenico follows me silently outside the mansion. Ludovic stops to nag me about going to a club he knows with him. Apparently, I will find the release I need there. The only release I need awaits me at Mattia’s home.
“Perhaps another day.” I dismiss him. “I have business to attend to.”
I place my hand on Ludovic’s shoulder, keeping it there momentarily, but it leaves my skin prickling. He holds a grudge against me for what happened at the wedding. He confronted me about what I did, as I expected. I fed him a lie about how I’m trying to leave Caelia pregnant and how I need her to trust me until she gives me an heir. He asked me if he could have her after. It took all my self-control not to kill him. I can’t even look at him for too long before the memory of how he grabbed Caelia flashes inside my mind, and I want to strangle him. He’s part of the business, but not entirely. He’s the spoiled child who doesn’t know the meaning of consequences. But he will learn soon enough.
“Do you want me to drive, sir?” Domenico offers.
I shake my head, pulling the keys out of my pocket. A storm brews outside, making the drive to the mansion unnecessarily long and painful. When I arrive home, Caelia is nowhere to be found. Tonight, I’m inexplicably furious. It puts me on edge, constantly surrounded by Ermanno’s and Mattia’s men. Domenico was sent to work for Mattia years before all the loopholes in my revenge were ironed out. I’m not delusional enough to believe that nothing can still go wrong. This game involves too many pawns on the board.
“Where’s Caelia, Dmitri?” I ask, concerned for her safety rather than her activities.
One of them always stays with her and guards her.
“Outside, sir. She refused to come inside. Told me to go fuck myself.”
I smirk. Her resistance is always oddly comforting. It’s one of the few things I can count on these days. I make my way outside, standing in the rain. A chill settles in my bones as I see Caelia in the pool. Serenely floating, her long red hair fans around her like a halo. She appears to be so peaceful and calm. My heart constricts, and worst-case scenarios flood my mind. My feet move instinctively, carrying me closer to the pool until I stand at its edge. In a split second, I remove my shoes and jacket, my mind racing with fear as I wait for any sign of life. My breath catches in my throat, and the fear inside me turns into something else I can’t name. I can only breathe again when she lets out a startled scream as I jump into the pool. The cold water engulfs me, chilling me to the core. The rain continues to pour, making the water slippery. I reach for her, wrapping my hands around her waist. Relief floods my chest as she resurfaces, her eyes wide with surprise, squirming in my arms. We both go underwater for a few seconds.
“Mattia?” Caelia looks over her shoulder when we resurface, pushing her hair away from her face. Only now do I realize that the water is shallow enough to stand. “What the hell are you doing?” She stops struggling, allowing me to hold her close.
“You scared the hell out of me. I thought you were dead.”
“I thought nothing scared you,” she responds, turning into my arms and suppressing a smile.
Caelia is right. I’ve been going through life so far, thinking nothing can scare me. I’m not afraid of betrayal, bloodshed, violence, or death. And I wish I could tell her she’s right—that this is my nature and that I can’t find anything to fill the void within. But it would be a lie.
“So you believe the thought of my wife drowning doesn’t scare me?”
She crosses her arms around my waist. I don’t know what made her think that swimming with her clothes on during a night like this was a good idea.
“I don’t know. Does it?” She raises an eyebrow, pressing her chest against mine.
I swallow, the air suddenly feeling too heavy. Caelia brushes a lock of hair away from my forehead, gazing into my eyes. There are so many lies on the tip of my tongue. I could take advantage of this moment when she seems so vulnerable. Her voice sounds amused, but she’s faking it. Nothing is amusing about the thought of her death.
“It does, Wildfire. It fucking terrifies me.” I’m too obsessed to let her go. Caelia hates Mattia so deeply she will most likely never be able to imagine a future by his side, which benefits me in the long run. Not tonight. I know she won’t believe me. “If you die, I won’t be dancing on your grave.”
“Will you open a bottle of champagne, though?”
“I only do that to celebrate the death of my enemies.”
“And I’m not your enemy?”
Considering how he’s treated her, Mattia might see her as his enemy. But I don’t. I’m trying to turn her into my ally. I’m going to.
“You want to think you’re my enemy and I’m yours.”
“What makes you think that?”
Something about her is just so addictive. The world can crumble, and all I could care about is this woman. I could fuck her all day if I could. I could listen to her the entire day. I could breathe her in and touch her forever.
“Because as long as you see me as your enemy, you won’t allow yourself to feel anything but hatred. But the truth will always remain true, even if no one believes it, Wildfire. Even if you don’t believe it.”
“And what truth would that be?”
“Sometimes you feel things you’ve convinced yourself you’ll never feel in this marriage.”
“What things?”
I will show her what I’m talking about. She doesn’t protest when I remove her T-shirt, starting a trail of kisses from her neck to her collarbone. Her chest races and the grip around my waist tightens. Her skin is cold, and I’m hell-bent on warming it up. I unhook her bra, letting it float in the pool. I cup her breasts, lowering my mouth underwater and sucking her hard nipple. Her hands travel down my back, pulling the shirt from my trousers. She gets distracted for a second, taking out the gun from the back of my jeans. It’s not enough for her. She also takes out the knife, which I’m very fond of.
“Are you flirting with me again?” I smirk as she moves back, staring at the weapons in her hands.
I”m waiting to see what she’s going to do next. My Glock will fire even if wet—it will fire underwater. But she’s more fascinated by the knife. It has been custom-made, with the upper part of the blade jagged, the lower part sharp enough to cut through bone, corrosion-resistant silver, and a wood and brass handle. An upside-down M is engraved on it, and our family’s motto is carved in Russian.
“What kind of knife is this?”
“It’s a Russian combat knife.” I shouldn’t give her this, but my mouth opens before I can think about it for too long.
“What is this written on it?”
Закончится кровью.
She traces the words with her fingertip, careful not to cut herself.
“It will end in blood.”
“It will end in blood,” she repeats, smiling. “Are Italian knives not sharp enough?”
“Not for what I need to use them for. They’re not.”
She knows exactly where to stab me. I was stupid enough to teach her that during our training. I completely forgot about the weapons when I jumped into the pool, too concerned about her life. She lets the gun drop into the water, resting her palm on my shoulder and placing the tip of the knife at my throat. I swallow, my Adam’s apple grazing against it.
“What do you use them for?”
Droplets of water are caught in her eyelashes, and the rain is still pouring down on us. Her green eyes are wide and wild, and her red hair is soaked and dark. I’ve never seen anything more captivating.
“To disembowel anyone who’d dare to look at my wife, but you can have it, Wildfire.”
I’ll have another one made. She laughs, not believing a word I’m saying. Her free hand unbuttons my shirt as she presses the blade deeper into my skin, drawing blood. I’ve completely lost my mind. Caelia wants Mattia dead, and here I am, allowing her to place a knife to my throat. The cut is not too deep to hurt, but it stings, and I feel the warm blood running down my skin. She buries her face in the curve of my neck, sucking on the wound. My dick was already alive, but now it’s getting painfully hard. She grinds against me, rubbing her pussy on it. Her tongue lashes out, licking whatever’s left of the blood. My willpower breaks. I rip apart her leggings, freeing my cock. I slide her panties to the side and thrust inside her without warning, just as she locks her eyes with mine, her lips parting and her eyelids fluttering. Caelia doesn’t let go of the knife. I wonder how deep she wants to plunge it into my neck. I place my hands on her ass, guiding her hips on my dick.
I’m not surprised when she draws another cut on my neck, her lips sealing against it in the next second. Something’s not working right inside my brain. An attempt like that from anyone else would end in lost limbs. With her? Fuck, she can have my blood if this is what she craves. She can have my body. My life.
“Can I borrow that?” I stretch my palm open, waiting for the knife. She narrows her eyes, distrusting me. “Your leggings are preventing me from fucking you like you need to be fucked, Wildfire. Your choice.” Reluctantly, she places the handle of the knife in my palm. I cut her leggings and panties, giving her the mobility she needs to grind against me, pulling her closer. Her chest crushes against mine. “Here. You can have it back.”
She tries to decipher what the catch is. There’s none.
“Do you like to bleed?”
“Only if it’s for you,” I stress out. “And just because I like you.”
Likeis the last word I’d use with her, but she’s not ready to hear words like obsessed. She won’t understand or believe me until I tell her the truth. I curse myself for not looking into her life personally. I could have prevented the hell she’s been through. If only I had taken the time to question whether what Sevastyan was saying was true. The only consolation I have is that I’m here now, buried so deeply inside her that I’ll never be able to wash away or forget this feeling.
“I’m serious.” Her lips linger above mine. “Do you want this?”
“Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying it.”
“I’m not pretending.” She smirks. “This is one of my fantasies.”
“What else do you fantasize about?” I want to know. So I can fulfill those fantasies of hers.
“That you fuck me like you hate me.”
Isn’t this what Mattia has done so far? She wants me to be her enemy, so she won’t allow herself to feel something else. She needs me to fuck her like I hate her because it’s something she’s used to.
“I can fuck you like I hate you if this is what you want, Wildfire. But it won’t make it real.”
She takes revenge by inflicting another cut on my skin, this time way lower, along the clavicle. It’s deeper than the others, and instead of sucking the blood, she smears it on my skin with her thumb. I hold her still, walking toward the edge of the pool. Her body is trapped between the concrete wall and my body. I lift her body higher, grasping my fingers on her wrist and stealing the knife from her hand. I force her hands behind her back so she can’t fight back. So she can’t touch me. A satisfied smile spreads across her lips when I take all the power away from her. Her body takes control over her mind when I stand still and stare at her. She moves her hips slowly, chasing what I refuse to give her. The handle of the knife burns my skin as I close my hand around it, placing the jagged edge at the side of her neck, behind her ear. Her body shudders, the wetness coating my cock.
“If you’re trying to convince me you hate me, your pussy does a terrible job,” I whisper in her ear.
“You thought I was dead,” she replies. “You said that it scared the hell out of you. But would that be such a bad thing?”
She’s going to drive me insane. And I will lash out at Mattia all the craziness the next time I see him.
“If you were to die, it would be by my hand, Caelia.”
“Is that a promise?”
“Yes.”
Nobody touches my woman. I take a step back, slipping out of her. Grabbing her wrist, I spin her around, crushing her chest against the concrete, and throw the knife with enough force so it lands on the grass, far away from her reach. I can’t fuck her as I want to if I’m going to be concerned about my life. She stretches her hands forward, trying to grip them onto something, as I dig my fingers into the skin of her waist, thrusting inside her. Her feet are not touching the bottom of the pool. Her entire body is at my mercy. She whimpers when I move my hand between her legs, circling her clit. I spot Dmitri coming outside on the patio. He freezes for a second, then goes back inside the mansion. Caelia doesn’t seem to notice him. She would try to hide otherwise. I got used to an audience when I fuck her. It makes my dick throb inside her. They can watch, but no one will touch her ever again. I will fuck Mattia out of her system. I will fuck her name out of her lips.
Her muscles are tense, and her pussy clenches as she comes. She struggles to muffle a scream and fails.
“Good girl. Let them hear how beautifully you come for me.”
It’s so fucking addictive. I feel a spark of something inside me where the void has always been. She has enough power over me to pour herself into it. I want her to. I won’t filter anything she has to give: her pain, screams, and smile. I want everything. She can barely hold herself together when I place my hand around her neck, pulling her body back to me. Her head tilts back on my shoulder. Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes close as the rain falls on her face. I can’t take my eyes off her. My body tenses like it’s going to snap. I get tunnel vision as I come inside her, my feet trembling. The orgasm crushes me, wave after wave of pleasure. It feels like drowning.
“On, no, baby. I’m not done with you yet,” I assure her when her body limps in my arms.
“What?”
Turning her around, I lift her onto the pool’s edge, removing what’s left of her leggings. I need to see her body on full display.
“You know the rules.” I spread her feet apart, settling between them. “You come on my cock, then you come in my mouth. You can pretend to hate me, Wildfire. We both know the truth.”
“I do hate?—”
Her sentence is cut short when I lock my mouth on her pussy, words being replaced by moans.