Chapter 8
EIGHT
Tony
I grab a pack of condoms from my desk drawer and slide them into my jacket pocket. It’s four in the morning. In thirty minutes I need to be on the jet heading to Lucia.
I’ve wanted her for over a year, and now that I’ve finally tasted her, I’m fucking obsessed. She’s everything I want in a woman. The perfect mix of everything that gets my cock hard and my mind hooked.
Of course, I haven’t fucked her the way I really want yet.
There’s still so much I need to teach her, so much she needs to learn, and I’m a very patient man.
The fact that she’s only ever been mine, that I’m the only one who’s ever stretched that tight little pussy, drives me fucking crazy. It makes me obsess over her even more.
Nine hours on a plane just for that pussy? Worth every fucking minute.
The door opens. Heavy bass pounds through the room, then dies again as it shuts. Rafael walks in, his hair a disheveled mess. The faint smudge of lipstick on his cheek makes it obvious he’s been with a stripper.
“Don Fernando’s been in an accident,” he blurts. “Sounds bad. He’s in surgery right now.”
My eyes narrow at him, and it takes me a moment to process his words. Don Fernando and hospital don’t even belong in the same sentence.
I walk around my desk and lower myself onto the leather couch.
“Was it an attack?”
Rafael perches on the armrest of the chair across from me and shakes his head.
“Not according to my sources. He was driving that old Chevrolet he’s obsessed with when a truck with brake failure rammed into him. The truck driver died on the spot.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting the urge to roar in rage. Don Fernando’s death would shatter all my plans because his absence means Carlo will rise to power.
I’m certain the only reason Carlo hasn’t exposed Carmen’s secret is to preserve Don Fernando’s reputation. He avoids sleeping with Lucia because he knows Carmen’s spies would report back to her. And as long as there’s no chance of a child with Carlo, Lucia’s life remains safe.
But if Don Fernando is no longer in the picture, Carlo will have no reason to stay silent. He’ll go after Carmen, avenging the murders of his two previous wives. And once Carmen is gone, there will be nothing holding Carlo back from Lucia.
And nothing left to keep me in Italy.
Fuck. Fuck everything.
Rafael interrupts my thoughts. “If the old man dies, it’ll mess things up for us, too. Carlo’s definitely not going to continue doing business with you.”
The second part of his statement is true, but I don’t give a fuck.
“Fuck him. I’ll be the one cutting ties. I don’t trust that bastard at all. But our operations won’t suffer. We’ll just need to cozy up to the senator a bit more to make up for the shortage from Colombia.”
It’s true I own several legitimate businesses in the States, but drugs are still my primary source of income.
I get up and head toward the door. “Let’s go. The jet’s ready.”
As Rafael walks past me, his scent hits my nose. “Go shower on the jet. You smell like cheap pussy.”
The bastard just smirks and walks past without a word.
***
The moment I step into the hospital, I see Carlo’s men scattered like an army, and none of them are happy to see me, obviously.
I walk toward the ICU. From what I’ve heard, Don Fernando’s surgery is over. The danger isn’t entirely gone, but the fact that he’s alive is a good sign.
The scene in the ICU hallway is almost laughable. The narrow corridor is packed with men who look like pure trouble.
I stride through the two rows of pure muscle and spot Carlo and Giuseppe. Carlo sits under the harsh fluorescent light, shaved head gleaming, tight black T-shirt stretched across his massive chest. One of his loyal dogs, Lorenzo, stands beside him. I’m surprised not to see Maxim around.
Giuseppe, standing a little farther away, leans forward, his bulging stomach leading the way as he talks on the phone. The moment his eyes land on me, I swear he pales. He hurriedly ends his call and rushes over to me.
“Tony, what are you doing here?” he asks.
Carlo’s head snaps toward me the moment he hears my name. The feral look in his gray eyes leaves no doubt—he wants to rip my throat out.
I stand beside Giuseppe with utmost confidence. “I heard about the accident. I came to see him.”
“That’s not possible right now. Don Fernando is still in critical condition.”
I hold his gaze for a moment before shifting my attention to Carlo, who’s still glaring at me like a hunting dog. I then turn back to Giuseppe again. “I see. Any idea who’s responsible?”
“Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, there was no foul play. It seems to have been a regular accident. The truck’s brakes failed and plowed into Don Fernando’s Chevrolet.”
For some reason, I almost laugh.
Considering the life he’s lived, the thought of Don Fernando going out like this feels like a bad joke.
This is a man who’s skinned others alive, left countless families mourning their loved ones.
For someone as powerful and violent as him to meet his end in a random, mundane car accident? It’s absurd.
Carlo seems to read my thoughts. He jumps to his feet and comes toward me with long strides. Just a few steps away, he halts, barely restraining himself from lunging at me.
The bloodshot look in his eyes makes it clear he hasn’t slept in hours. Lorenzo stands behind him, and the rest of his men are circling me now.
I meet his gaze calmly, but I’m fully aware that one word from him, and his dogs will tear me to pieces.
“You’ve got five minutes to walk out of here on your own feet,” he says, voice low and deadly. “If you’re still here a second past that, you’ll be leaving on a stretcher, headed for the morgue. Got it, Tony?”
Rage boils in my veins, but I keep my face blank. The only thought in my mind is, I’m fucking your wife, you son of a bitch. No matter how you slice it, I’m miles ahead of him.
I’m certain the mask of calm on my face is flawless. Tilting my head slightly, I ask with feigned cheerfulness, “What’s with all the hate, Carlo? Scared that without your daddy you’ll lose your little empire?”
To my surprise, he doesn’t explode. Instead, his eyes fill with mockery, his gaze dripping with contempt. A smirk tugs at his lips as he replies, “Scared? Of who—you? A fucking scavenger picking at the scraps we lions leave behind?”
The smile on my face stiffens. I can hear the pounding of my heart in my head, feel the thud of my pulse in my throat.
He raises a brow, his smirk widening as he continues, “You might think my territory and title are my inheritance, but deep down, no matter how pathetic or gutless you are, you know how much these things suit me. Even without Don Fernando, this jungle would’ve still been mine.
The reason I don’t want you here isn’t fear, Tony.
It’s hatred. Pure hatred for your existence, your very name. ”
I stare straight into his eyes, fighting the urge to draw my gun on him. I know he’s hoping I’ll make the mistake, just so he can crush my neck with those bulging muscles straining against his tight T-shirt.
“Come on, Tony. Go home. Carmen’s waiting alone,” Giuseppe says, trying to ease the situation.
Without saying a word, I turn on my heel. Right then, the decision locks in. One day, I’ll make Carlo crawl so low he won’t dare show his face again.
***
When I step into the room, Lucia is still downstairs with her grandmother.
Impatient and fuming, I yank off my jacket and throw it on a chair. My tie comes next. I loosen it from my neck and fling it into a corner.
I’m seething.
Pacing the room, I try to shake off the frustration clawing at my chest. The fact that I can’t smash Carlo’s jaw, that I have to admit I’m no match for him on his own turf, it drives me fucking insane.
I keep walking, my mind churning through the plans I’ve been crafting, the moves I need to make.
The door finally opens, and Lucia steps in. She’s wearing a simple white dress with yellow lilies. Fuck, she’s beautiful.
Before she can even close the door, I’m on her—two long strides, hands on her face, mouth crashing down on hers. I push her backward, closing the door with the force of her body.
Nothing exists in my head except the need for her. My entire being aches to feel her skin under my hands.
She plants her palms on my chest and tries to push me away. I break the kiss, panting, and look at her. Her blue eyes blaze with anger.
Doesn’t matter.
I lean in and kiss her harder. I don’t give a fuck if she doesn’t want it or kiss me back. There’s no going back now. Not for either of us. My lips trail down to her neck, and I grab her breast through the fabric of her dress.
Now that her mouth is free, she starts talking while still fighting me. “Let me go, Tony. We need to talk. Just let me talk.”
I tilt my head back up, pressing her body against the door with the weight of mine. My lips claim hers with heated urgency.
“Talk,” I pant between kisses. “I’m listening.”
She shakes her head, trying to pull away, but I don’t stop. My mouth moves over every inch of her—ear, cheek, jaw—kissing, licking, claiming. She’s mine. She belongs to me.
“Tony, please. Let’s just talk.”
I slide my hand under her dress and cup her pussy through the thin lace. A soft moan slips out of her, her body tensing under my hand. I know exactly what pushes a woman over the edge. I know how to make them lose control.
But she doesn’t give in. “Please.”
Frustrated, I let out a heavy breath. One hand braces against the door as I put a little distance between our bodies, though my other hand still cups her through the thin fabric of her panties. My face is so close to hers that our noses brush with every breath.
“Say it,” I mutter, still panting.
“Not like this. Let’s sit down...”
I cut her off. “You’re about ten seconds from getting fucked. Just spit it out. What is it?”
“What if I don’t want to?”