Chapter 8
“Life is a highway. I want to ride it all night long,” I sing at the top of my lungs as I drive with the top down of my candy apple red convertible Mustang. “If you’re goin’ my way. Well, I want to drive it all night long.”
I turn the volume up as I slow for the red light. The man in the car beside me glances my way, smiles, and nods in time with the beat appreciating the classic song.
Turning back to face the lights, I tap the steering wheel until it turns green and plant my foot just as my favorite verse echoes through the speakers.
“There ain’t no load I can’t hold. A road so rough, this I know. I’ll be there when the light comes in. Tell ‘em we’re survivors.”
The setting sun paints the sky in a fiery red hue to match my beloved car. She gleams as she purrs down the main road. She was my dad’s favorite possession and he’d be turning over in his grave knowing we had her wrapped in candy apple red to hide her true identity. Papa V. was kind enough to store her until I was old enough to drive but he made me pick a color to cover her original sleek black paint.
Naturally I chose the closest color I could pick that reminded me of my mom and dad’s blood as it oozed out of their gun shot wounds and pooled around their dead bodies. Movies and television shows make you believe blood is this deep dark red, viscous substance. When in fact both my parent’s blood started off a lighter, almost translucent bright red and only when it congealed and dried did it turn the dark maroon color they show in the movies.
So, here I sit in my blood-red convertible, the sun warming my skin, the cool breeze blowing through my long hair, as I sing my heart out to the only CD stuck in the CD player. Luckily, I fucking love this song as it reminds me of happier days when we would pile into the convertible, head to the beach and spend the day swimming and eating ice cream. I’m making the most of my last week here in Tuxedo Park, pretending my life isn’t about to end when I’m forced to attend Sable lakes.
Pulling up to the twelve foot tall wrought iron gates of our gated community, I turn the music down as I wait for the gates to open. I drive slowly past all the other houses ensuring I don’t rev the engine too loud as I’ve had numerous complaints about my car. Good fucking luck to them if they try to take it away from me, and besides I doubt anyone would go against Papa V. Parking the Mustang next to my Audi in the multi car garage, I climb out and grab my bag and apron off the passenger seat and head inside.
The aroma of tomato, basil and garlic swirl under my nose and I know instantly who is here cooking up a storm. Hurrying to the kitchen, I manage to drop my bag and apron in the hallway before I see her stirring the sauce in the pot on the stove.
“Vecchia!” I squeal with delight and rush toward her.
She has no time to put the wooden spoon down before I’m squeezing her into me. Her free arm wraps around my waist and she holds me tight against her. “Every time I see you, you’ve grown a little more.” She kisses my cheek as I let go of her.
“No, I think you’re just shrinking,” I giggle as I pat her on the head.
“Fanculo!” She swats me on the butt as I try to jump away from her.
Vecchia, or Nonna Rosina as she’s known to everyone else, is my most favorite person in this entire world. Even when my parents were alive and we would spend holidays with the V.’s, Vecchia would always spoil me rotten. She’s my rock and I wish she didn’t go back home for months on end. The months after my parent’s murders, Vecchia and I had slumber parties in my room. She slept in the king size bed with me and held me as my sobs wracked my body.
“Next time you go home, I’m coming with you. You can’t leave me here on my own.” I grab the wooden spoon out of her hand, scoop up some sauce, and blow on it to cool it before I taste it. “Perfection as always.”
“Have you been having trouble sleeping again?” She looks at me concerned.
I nod as I swallow the burning hot sauce. “Not every night.”
My nightmares come and go. But they’re less nightmares about my childhood these last few years and more vivid dreams that feel too real where I wake up in a pool of sweat, heart thrumming in my chest and my hand between my legs. It’s fucking mortifying not knowing what kind of noises I make as I come to the brink of getting myself off unknowingly. The only person I have told is my girl bestie, Saskia, who loves to tease me about it endlessly.
“Oh, sweetheart, these will pass as time goes on.” Vecchia rubs my back in reassurance.
I smile at her and hope no one ever finds out what my nightmares are really about. “I have to get ready for a party but please put some dinner aside for me to eat when I get home later tonight or else Sin will eat it all. I love you.” I blow her a kiss as I race off upstairs to get ready.
I scrub and shave every surface, nook and cranny on my body before I jump out of the shower, towel off and squeeze myself into my slutty nun costume. The corset makes my tits look huge and my waist look tiny. Well, as tiny as it’s ever going to be because I love my pasta and cake.
The light switches off as I’m applying my mascara in my ensuite. An ensuite that is larger than my childhood bedroom, decorated with gold fittings, marble tiles imported from Italy, and a lavish jacuzzi. I live in a fairy-tale mansion, complete with two butlers, and maids that scurry around in a frantic state ensuring everything is perfect.
“Fuck you,” I growl as the mascara wand pokes me in the eye, no doubt ruining my eye makeup.
I can feel his presence behind me. His dark allure and menacing glare makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention. I glance in the mirror and see his shadowed silhouette highlighted by the light in my bedroom. His body takes up most of the doorway as he stands there trying to irritate me. I have no fucking idea why he thinks he can waltz into my room as he pleases, but he does it nearly on a daily basis.
“Turn it back on.” I wipe the wetness away from under my eye with my fingers.
I missed the moment he moved from the doorway, and I can now feel the heat from his body pulsate against my bare skin.
“Do you think you look good in this?” His husky voice washes over me, sending irritation through my veins.
“Turn the fucking light back on.” I move forward until my hips are pressed against the marble counter, putting as much distance between us as I can.
“Do you know what happens to girls who wear shit like this?” He whispers ever so lightly against my ear.
“No. But I’m sure you’re going to fucking tell me.”
Glancing down at my nun costume I picked for the party tonight, I don’t see anything wrong with it. It’s a party that is invite only where you come dressed as your worst nightmare and seeing as I’m terrified of churches after my parent’s death, I thought it was fitting. Besides, I don’t think going dressed in a suit splattered with fake blood and a balaclava would have the same effect as this corset.
He steps forward pressing against my back, his fingers pinch the ample flesh that sits over the tight corset. “Bad things happen. Bad things to good little girls.” His dark chuckle vibrates against me.
“You’re not funny, asshole. Turn the light back on.” I jut my ass out in an attempt to push him away from me, but it backfires.
His large hands grab my hips and he digs his fingers into the soft flesh, the pain is instant as his grip tightens. I hear a low hiss escape him while he holds me still so I can’t move again.
“Do that again and you’ll hate the consequences.” His voice is laced with smoky honey that fogs my brain. He has perfected the art of luring his prey in with just the tone of his words, all husky and deadly, demanding attention. “Your mail is on your bed,” he growls before he lets go of my hips and disappears to whatever dark corner of the house he emerged from.
I move and switch the light back on, waiting for him to come back. He doesn’t. After I fix my eyeliner and apply some slutty red lippy, I retreat back into my bedroom. I notice the door is still open and I can hear the dull thud of the bass as it echoes up the hallway from his room. He’s pissed. He always listens to his shitty music extremely loud when he’s in one of his moods.
Growing up, Sin was always in some sort of bad mood. If he wasn’t getting sent home from school for fighting, then he was smashing shit up in the garage in one of his unhinged rages. I don’t know what made him like this, and I know his mom has tried to get him the help he needs, but he never shows up to appointments. I’ve heard her and Papa V. fighting over their beloved son on many occasions. It makes me sad for her, she loves her son more than life itself.
I spot the postage parcel on my bed, placed neatly in the center. Eyeing it carefully as though it’s about to explode into flames, I walk toward my bed, my heart thunders in my chest.
Kneeling on my bed, I pick up the package and turn it over. With shaking hands, I rip the package open and hold the small black velvet box in my palm with red scrawl across the top reading ‘One finger for beginners’. My heart stammers as I slowly open it to reveal a long shiny gold item. I pick it up out of the box and turn it over to realize it’s a mould of a fucking finger. His finger. The grotesque lengths this sick stalker goes to is astounding.
“Fuck!” I fumble with the box and the finger as it begins to vibrate in my fingertips. Dropping it and scrambling off the bed, I stare at it as it quietly hums on my satin sheets. Panic sets in at the thought of someone walking in and seeing it on the bed in all its gold vibrating glory.
Jumping back on the bed, I snatch it up and marvel at the size of this guy’s finger. If this is this big, I can’t imagine how big his cock is. I turn it over and over in my hands until I finally find its off switch, placing it carefully back in the box and shoving it in the dark depths of my sock drawer hopefully never to be seen again.
I ignore the music that echoes down the hall and text Saskia that I’m heading to her place to pick her up. Saskia is my ride or die. The buttercream to my cupcake. We’ve been besties since we could walk. Saskia’s dad is the head of the Russian chapter here in New York. The Romanov’s and the Vitiello’s have a mutual respect that dates back generations. No blood is spilled between the two organizations.
I grab my keys and head down the grand staircase to see Rome and Chaser waiting in the front foyer, shoving handfuls of fries into their mouths straight from the brown paper bags.
“What are you guys doing here?” I skip across the expensive marble floor, my Valentino heels clicking loudly.
I throw myself into Rome’s arms and he catches me like he always does, nearly dropping his bag of take out. He holds me tightly against him as though we haven’t seen each other for months, even though I spent the entire day at his house yesterday. I unwrap my arms from around his neck and place a chaste peck on his cheek.
Chaser pushes up behind me and sandwiches me between them. “Don’t leave me out, guys. I need cuddles too.” He wraps his arms all the way around Rome and squeezes hard.
“I can’t breathe.” I squirm between them, and this makes Chaser squeeze a little harder before he lets go of us and pulls me back into him. His hand splays across my abdomen in a possessive hold.
I see how Rome’s eyes rake over me as I’m held captive by Chaser.
“What?” I look at him in confusion.
“Babe, I love you but over my dead body you’re going dressed like that.”
I glance down at my tight black corset and the tutu that barely covers my ass. “What’s wrong with it?”
“For starters, we’re not going to be there to scare off any fuckers thinking they can get a piece of you.” He licks the salt from his lips as his gaze narrows.
“I’m not having this discussion with you. I’ve begged you and you still won’t take it.” I cross my arms in agitation.
Chaser presses me tighter into him and growls into my hair when Rome takes two angry strides toward me and leans down so he’s in my face. “Do you have any fucking idea how hard it is to say no to you?” His nostrils flare and his eyes are trained on mine.
“Well, then don’t say no.”
He moves closer and I try to step back but the wall of muscle behind me makes it difficult to move anywhere.
Rome’s nose is nearly touching mine when he exhales sharply. “You’re infuriating, Monroe.” My name whispers through his lips.
“It was our pact, remember? You promised.” I whisper the words that I thought meant as much to him as they did to me. Our childish pact we made when we were thirteen was from a place of pure innocence and adolescent naivety.
“We were fucking kids. Things change,” his voice cracks in anger as he straightens and glares down at me.
I pull Chaser’s arm off me and shove Rome in the chest, barely moving him. He’s like a brick wall and stands there glaring down at me. Stepping around him, I flip them the finger as I storm off. “Fuck you then. You get no say in what I wear or who I do things with.” Opening the door to the garage, I slam it after me in irritation.
I climb into my Audi, which Papa V. has ordered me to drive at night, ease out of the garage and head down the driveway until I reach the security gates. I lower my window and smile at Thomas as he makes his way to my car. He’s been our night gate security for the past five years. He’s older, sexy and knows how to flirt.
“Hey.”
His piercing blue eyes settle on my boobs as they try to contain themselves in my corset. “Hey, where to tonight, trouble?”
“A party where you dress as your worst nightmare.” I laugh and gesture to my outfit.
He looks at me in confusion. “You’re scared of ballerinas?”
“Nuns. I’m terrified of nuns.” I point to my black and white veil.
His infectious chuckle makes me laugh along with him. “I’ve never heard of anyone scared of nuns before. Ghosts or murderers, yes. Nuns, that’s a no.” He taps the top of the car. “So, what time am I going to be holed up in this booth for tonight?”
I poke my lower lip out. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, I don’t mind sitting and freezing my ass off, but you owe me.” He winks.
“I’ve already ordered you hot drinks and snacks on the hour.” I twist in my seat and grab the mink blanket I grabbed earlier in the day. “And I got you a blanket.” I hold it out to him.
He takes it and grins. “Now get out of here before I lose my job for letting you out past curfew.” He taps twice on the hood of my car and opens the twelve foot high wrought iron gates.