Chapter 11 Bianca #2
Like something I’ve been preparing for my entire life without knowing it.
The capacity for brutality flows in my blood, not just from years of training, and that realization should probably disturb me.
Instead, it feels like coming home.
I keep my weapon visible as I scan the room, making eye contact with each witness. “Vincent Torrino was a traitor to the Vitelli family. This is what happens to traitors. Remember that.”
When my eyes find Alessandro’s across the room, I see something that makes heat erupt in my chest.
His hazel eyes are darker than usual, intense and focused entirely on me.
There’s no horror or disgust at what I’ve just done.
Instead, his gaze is hungry, appreciative.
His jaw is tight with what looks like restraint, and I can see the slight flare of his nostrils, the way his chest rises and falls just a little too quickly.
He’s watching me like a predator watches prey, except I’m not sure which one of us is which.
His tongue darts out briefly to wet his bottom lip, and when our eyes meet, something electric passes between us.
The way he looks at me—like he’s seeing me clearly for the first time, like he wants to cross the room and pin me against the wall—tells me everything I need to know.
He’s not just pleased with my ruthlessness. He’s turned on by it.
That knowledge makes something dark and satisfied settle in my bones.
“Have a pleasant evening, gentlemen,” I say, holstering my weapon.
Alessandro and I walk out together, our exit as controlled and professional as our entrance.
The message has been delivered.
The lesson has been taught.
And I feel absolutely nothing about taking a human life except a cold satisfaction that I’ve proven what I’m capable of.
The ride back to the penthouse is silent except for the hum of the engine.
My mind keeps replaying the moment—the weight of the gun in my hand, the look of fear in Torrino’s eyes, the sharp crack of the gunshot echoing through the social club.
But what strikes me most isn’t the violence or the blood or even the finality of taking a life.
It’s how right it felt. How natural.
Alessandro parks in the hotel’s private garage, and we take the elevator to my floor without speaking.
The silence isn’t uncomfortable—it’s charged, electric, like the air before a thunderstorm.
Once we’re inside my suite, I pour myself some whiskey from the bar cart, my hands steady despite everything that’s happened.
Alessandro watches me from across the room looking dangerous and controlled and absolutely fucking magnetic.
“So,” I say, taking a sip of the amber liquid. “How did I do?”
“You know how you did.” His voice is rougher than usual. When I look at him, those hazel eyes are dark with something that makes my pulse quicken.
The corners of my lips quirk up. “I want to hear you say it.”
He moves closer, stopping just out of reach. “You were perfect,” he breathes. “Cold, efficient, completely in control. You made it look easy.”
“It was easy.” The admission should probably disturb me, but it doesn’t. “That’s what scares me.”
“It shouldn’t.” He takes another step closer. “It should thrill you.”
I set down my glass and study his face—the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the way his jaw is tight with restraint, the hunger in his eyes that he’s not even trying to hide anymore.
“You liked watching me kill him,” I say.
“Yes.” No hesitation, no shame. “I liked watching you become what you’re meant to be.”
“And what’s that?” My heart is thudding so loudly I’m surprised he can’t hear it.
“Dangerous. Powerful.” His voice drops to almost a whisper. “Absolutely fucking irresistible.”
The words envelope me, and I can’t take it anymore.
The tension that’s been building between us, the way he looked at me in that club, the admission that he finds my darkness attractive rather than terrifying—it all coalesces into pure want.
I cross the remaining distance between us and kiss him.
This time there’s no hesitation, no gentle exploration.
This kiss is hungry, desperate, full of adrenaline and desire and the intoxicating knowledge that we’ve finally stopped pretending we don’t want this.
Alessandro responds immediately, his hands tangling in my hair, pulling me closer as he kisses me back with the same desperate intensity.
When his tongue sweeps against mine, I make a sound that’s part moan, part surrender.
“Bianca,” he murmurs against my lips, my name sounding like a prayer and a curse all at once.
“Don’t stop,” I breathe, pressing closer to him. “Please don’t stop this time.”
He groans—the last of his careful control finally snapping.
His hands move to my waist then slide up to cup my face as he kisses me deeper, harder, like he’s been holding back for years and can’t do it anymore.
“Are you sure?” He pulls back just enough to search my eyes.
I laugh. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
That’s all the permission he needs.
Alessandro lifts me easily, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carries me toward the bedroom, our mouths never breaking apart.
Our tongues battle for dominance as we enter the bedroom and he lowers me onto the bed, my legs dangling over the edge of the mattress.
His hazel eyes glitter as he looks me over, mapping my body before his hands trail down to where the hem of my skirt meets my legs.
His right hand disappears beneath the fabric, sliding up the inside of my thigh, his callused fingertips pausing at the edge of my underwear where he makes slow circles against my skin.
I gasp when I feel his fingers scrape at the crease of my thigh, where my leg meets my body.
Alessandro groans. “I’ve been wanting to do this for so long.” In a flash, I’m off the bed and he has my backside pressed against his chest so I can feel every hard inch of him.
It takes everything in me to not move against him.
My chest heaves as Alessandro’s hand disappears under my skirt again.
“I was so fucking hard watching you tonight,” he whispers into my ear, tongue tracing the shell. He kisses the side of my throat as he ghosts his fingers across my underwear. His chest rumbles against my back, his breath quickening into pants against my ear. “I wanted to take you right there.”
Fucking hell, I can’t believe this is happening right now.
Especially when Alessandro’s fingers slide beneath the crotch of my underwear and through my slick folds.
His left hand clutches me around my waist, drawing me back into him so I could feel how hard he is against my ass. “Do you know how hard it was for me to not drive my cock into you in front of all those people?”
My eyes nearly roll into the back of my head, especially when his fingers drag up my slit, finding my clit swollen and sensitive. “I would have liked it.”
“Would you?” Alessandro asks roughly, calloused fingertips making circles around me.
My hips jerk and I bite down a cry.
It’s just too good, his touch firm and sure and so much better than whenever I’ve touched myself. “Would you have liked everyone watching me claim you?”
His lips close around the lobe of my ear, his teeth nipping. I whimper. “Yes.”
He chuckles.
Two fingers slide lower to my entrance, dipping inside me.
He presses his lips against the hollow beneath my ear, his tongue sliding out to taste my skin.
He curls his fingers inside me, setting me on goddamn fire. “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”
I arch my back, trying to get him to move, but he resists me.
The heel of his hand rocks against my clit as he thrusts inside me, fingers driving me closer to the edge with each skillful curl.
The slick sounds of his fingers against my skin are loud, almost as loud as the wanton whimpers I try to swallow but can’t.
The room fills with my noises, proof of my desire, and it is so goddaman crude that I can’t help but blush.
My thighs start to tremble, my insides fluttering as he fingers me.
“Never thought of you as an exhibitionist,” Alessandro murmurs into my throat. “But you continuously surprise me, Bianca.”
I gasp, chest heaving as he quickens, fucking me with his fingers.
My eyes shut, lips parting.
Almost. Almost. There—
Just as I begin to clench, Alessandro withdraws his hand, fingers sliding out of me, abandoning me entirely.
What the fuck.
My eyes fly open and I crane my head to glare at him, feeling achingly empty and frustrated.
Goddamn this man.
Alessandro has the fucking audacity to laugh against my throat.
“I hate you,” I hiss. “Where’s that goddamn gun? I’ll give you something to laugh about.”
The arm around my waist holds firm, even as I struggle to get away. “When I make you come,” he murmurs against the side of my face, “it’s not going to be on my fingers. It’s going to be on my cock, Bianca.”
He rocks his hips—his cock—against my ass.
Fucking hell. I draw in a ragged breath, heart still racing from almost coming. “Alessandro.”
“Love the way you say my name.” He nips my ear. “Almost as much as I love the way you smell.” His inhale is noisy, his exhale fanning hot against my jaw. “Bet you can smell yourself right now, can’t you?”
Asshole. My face burns. The whole room smells like my arousal. “It’s because I want you.”
He nuzzles my neck. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this. You’ve driven me fucking mad.” His tongue licks a stripe up the side of my neck. “Fuck, Bianca. I wonder—do you taste as good as you smell?”
I peer at him over my shoulder. His lips are parted, his eyes dark with desire. “You could find out,” I say coyly.
Alessandro’s smile is devilish. “I think I will.”
I fully expect him to slide between my legs, but to my surprise he brings his fingers to my lips and arches a brow, lips curving in a sly smile. “Go on. Taste.”
I open my mouth to dart out my tongue, but Alessandro presses between my lips, his fingers heavy against my tongue.
I hold his gaze, my tongue curling between the knuckles of his fingers. His breath falters, cock twitching against my ass.