Chapter 6 Laz
CHAPTER SIX
LAZ
The urge to purr hits me hard in the chest. And it’s directly at odds with my need to kill. To annihilate. To fucking destroy.
Yet I have no one to take my fury out on because the object of my ire is already dead.
Gideon. Fucking. Henderson.
I’ve been aware of his existence for a very long time. The sleazy wannabe who fancied himself a crime boss. He trafficked omegas for a living. There’s nothing honorable about that. Nothing even remotely admirable either.
I may do some horrible shit. But I don’t involve myself in the trafficking of omegas. I certainly don’t touch children, either.
There are lines that should never be crossed. Lines that organizations like mine actually understand and respect.
Gideon Henderson didn’t understand any of that.
Yet I’m pissed that he’s dead. Because I want to kill him.
He tried to traffic my intended, I think, staring at her pretty blonde hair. I want to comb my fingers through it, see if it’s as soft as it looks. Purr for her as I hold her. Nuzzle her slender neck.
She’s fucking gorgeous. Smells like brown sugar and honeyed chocolate. I think maybe that’s me altering her scent a little. I like that. It’s as though I’ve already claimed her as mine.
Mmm, biting her will be fun. I can’t wait to mark her.
But first, she needs to understand a few things. Because clearly, we did not get off on the right foot.
“I’m not interested in touching Widows Peak,” I say against her ear, aware that she seems to be under that misconception.
She trembles in response but doesn’t speak.
“I don’t want to hurt your friends,” I add, ensuring we are clear on this. “And while your family may piss me off on occasion, I rather like Giovanni and have no desire to harm him either.”
I purposely don’t mention her father… since he’s dead.
Alas, I don’t have the heart to share that news with her.
I almost did when she said her father would kill me if I hurt her. It was an intrinsic response, one that very nearly rolled off my tongue.
However, sadness overwhelmed me in the next moment. Sadness for her. Sadness that she doesn’t know about her father’s death. Sadness that I would be the one to tell her.
I don’t want to break her heart.
I want to protect it. Cherish it. Earn it.
Not crush it.
Fuck.
I nearly bend my head to take in her sweet aroma, to calm my raging pulse by simply hugging her.
But I don’t.
Because she’s not truly mine. Not yet.
“We are heading home to New York City,” I go on, trying to placate her with the facts. “You will be staying with us for the foreseeable future. And Widows Peak will remain untouched.”
I don’t elaborate on that last part, purposely pairing the sentences together. There’s an implied if you cooperate, I won’t bother with Widows Peak in my statements.
In truth, I have no desire to alter the town she’s built. I’m more entertained by her stealing my money than I am angry.
We came here for her. And her alone.
She’s ours.
The fact that she’s our scent match just makes our intended claim that much more powerful.
Giovanni is already aware of our intentions, too.
I sent him a missive an hour ago, informing him that his sister is now mine to care for.
It was a necessary action on my part, as he was about to learn the truth anyway from Aurora’s bodyguard.
He would no doubt see us taking her and report back.
I figured it would help to get ahead of the problem.
Of course, that didn’t stop Giovanni from calling me right before Noah and Aurora arrived.
“What the fuck are you doing, Ferraro?” he demanded as soon as I picked up the phone. “Don’t touch my fucking sister.”
I calmly explained that I didn’t answer to him and that I would absolutely be touching his sister.
It was the wrong thing to say.
All he did was curse.
So I politely ended the call with a “We’ll catch up soon, future brother-in-law.”
He’s probably going to have an army waiting at the airport when we land.
Which is precisely why we’ll be going to a private airfield closer to the Hamptons.
Perhaps we’ll even stay there for a bit at our family estate instead.
Realizing that I said New York City to Aurora, I decide to amend by saying, “Actually, we’ll likely be going to the Ferraro estate, which is in the Hamptons. I think you’ll like it there, princess. The weather is cool right now, but the scenery is still beautiful.”
Like you, I add in my mind. So fucking beautiful.
The jet starts to even out in the air, which means it’ll soon be safe to stand again.
I’m not sure I’ll let her go to try, though. Because I rather like the feel of her in my lap. Her subtle curves are quite enchanting. It makes me want to press up against her ass, just to relieve some of the pressure building inside my cock.
I’ve wanted her for years. Thus, I expected this yearning.
But the scent-match aspect has me borderline ready to rut.
God, I meant it when I said I might destroy her. She’s going to take my knot in so many ways… drown in my cum… fucking live with me inside her for hours or days.
It’s going to be phenomenal.
I wanted to start the moment she boarded the jet.
However, her interpretation of events altered my expectations.
Now I have to be patient.
And of all my virtues, patience isn’t one.
But for her, I’ll try.
“Seriously?” Noah groans. “I fucking hate it there.”
“Then you can go to the city and manage the tower while Johan and I entertain Ms. Bianchi at the estate,” I tell him.
His hazel eyes flicker with annoyance. “Fuck. Off.”
I arch a brow. “So you don’t want to manage the tower? Alone? In New York City?”
He unbuckles himself and stands, then stalks off toward the bar while flipping me off over his shoulder.
“I guess he’s coming with us, then,” I say conversationally to Johan.
“Looks like it,” my second-in-command murmurs.
He’s not a typical second. Mostly because he’s not blood. But I’m an only child. I never had a brother to help me run the organization. I’ve only ever had Johan and Noah.
The latter is too insane to be my second. He’s an excellent enforcer, though.
Johan sets his laptop to the side and focuses on the female in my lap. “Would you like anything to drink, Lark?”
Lark, I think with a mental snort. I know that’s her chosen hacker name, but I’ve always thought of her as Aurora.
Because that’s her name.
Aurora Bianchi.
Mafia princess.
Omega.
Mine.
The beauty of the situation is that she very well could have been mine for years, my lineage and birthright essentially setting me up to request her as a bride.
It’s customary in our world for arrangements to be made that solidify business relationships. And our two families have been on the cusp of forming an alliance for decades. A union between us would have been natural.
Except she disappeared.
I’ve also never fancied the notion of an arranged marriage. It feels antiquated and traditional, two aspects of my role that I’ve fought since becoming the head of the Ferraro family.
My “advisors”—the old guard who supported my father—will be absolutely thrilled by this union. Their approval is possibly the only negative aspect of this situation.
Given all the other positives, I’m willing to overlook that.
“Lark?” Johan prompts. “Are you all right?”
I frown, realizing that she’s stiffened against me. She hasn’t spoken a word since telling us about Gideon Henderson.
Is she reliving some sort of trauma? I wonder, my frown deepening. Have we triggered her in some way?
I suppose we did just take her against her will.
But I have no desire to turn her into a “doll.” I want an equal. An omega who will aim a gun at me and not hesitate to pull the trigger.
Though, my balls are grateful she didn’t make it that far.
Still, knowing she was strong enough to try is exactly the kind of spirit I need in my future wife.
“Does my father know about this?” she asks quietly.
“No, but your brother does,” I tell her, again not wanting to elaborate on her father’s status. But I could seriously kill Giovanni for not informing his sister about their father’s death.
I expected him to reach out to her months ago and demand that she return for the funeral. Our plan was to take her afterward.
Except Giovanni never made the fucking call.
Which is how we ended up just outside of Widows Peak, waiting in a jet on old farmland.
“May I speak with them when… when we arrive?” The slight stammer in her voice tugs on my heartstrings and makes me want to comb my fingers through her hair again. But it’s nothing compared to the way she broke earlier when she thought I meant to hurt her precious town.
That display nearly brought me to my knees.
I never intended to hurt her. Since the moment I learned of her involvement in stealing my money, all I’ve ever desired is to make her mine.
She’s the ideal female to help me lead.
A strong, intelligent woman with a wicked talent for computers. It makes me wonder what else she can do.
But I need to answer her question first. “You may speak to your brother whenever you want,” I tell her honestly. “I’m not going to cut you off from your family or your friends. But I am going to make you stay with us for an undetermined amount of time.”
She shifts on my lap, causing the seat belt to pull uncomfortably. I reach around her to unfasten it, giving her space to move.
At first, she’s still, like she expects me to do something.
Then she very slowly slides off my legs.
I don’t move, nor do I comment on the feeling of loss I experience as she stands.
After a moment, she walks over and takes the chair across from Johan. The executive lounger looks large around her small frame, something that’s highlighted even more as she tucks her legs up to hug her knees.
Noah returns to take over the seat beside her, but not before setting two glasses down. The first is his trademark martini—one he makes on every flight. The other looks like sparkling water, except there’s a cherry tint to it.