Chapter 19
Vin
I’m halfway to the Arsenal before I even realize I’ve made the decision to go the restaurant instead of her apartment. There’s a fire in me that won’t fucking die down.
Sophie’s father. Salvatore fucking Bellamorte. The coward who brokered peace with Aurelio by turning his back on the family, who let his brother rot unavenged for two decades. And now he’s making moves against me, possibly working with Aurelio to take me out?
Fucking infuriating.
And Sophie. Sweet, soft Sophie with her big brown eyes and her goddess-tier cooking and ‘good hostess’ bullshit. It’s all a fucking act. I won’t be made a fool of twice.
The anger pulses through my veins as I park at the Arsenal and slip inside. It’s nearly closing time. The lights are still on in the kitchen, that warm glow spilling through the pass-through window.
I should turn around. I should head to Matti’s, regroup, figure out a plan that doesn’t involve the woman who might be setting me up for slaughter. But my feet carry me forward anyway, around to the back entrance of the kitchen.
The door is propped open, and I slip inside silently, mixed feelings about the fucking terrible security. The break room where Rocco fucked that waitress is empty now, just metal lockers and that table still shoved against the wall.
Voices drift from the kitchen. Sophie’s is one of them, light but different somehow. Irritated. “Rocco, I told you. We’re done. You need to leave.”
“Come on, babe.” Rocco’s voice is slurred. Drunk or high, maybe both. “You’ve been avoiding me for days, ever since that asshole showed up. What, you fucking him now?”
I freeze in the hallway, hidden in shadow. Every muscle in my body coils tight.
“That’s none of your business,” Sophie says, her voice firmer now. “You made it very clear we weren’t dating, remember? So who I spend time with—”
“Bullshit!” A crash, something hitting the floor. I move closer, peering through the crack in the door. Rocco has shoved a cutting board off the counter, scattering prepped chicken and vegetables across the rubber mats. “You think you’re better than me? You think you can just throw me away?”
Sophie’s back is to me, but I can see the tension in her shoulders. “I’m not throwing you away. I’m asking you to leave my restaurant so I can finish closing up.”
“Your restaurant.” Rocco laughs, bitter and ugly. “This piece of shit barely qualifies as a restaurant.”
“Get out, Rocco.” Her voice is steel now, and fuck if that doesn’t make my cock twitch despite the rage boiling in my gut.
“Make me.” He lunges forward, grabbing her by the arms and spinning her around. His mouth crashes into hers, sloppy and aggressive, nothing like a kiss. She shoves at his chest, turning her face away, but he’s bigger than her and stronger.
The fury that explodes through me is white-hot.
I’m across the kitchen in three strides, my hand clamped on Rocco’s collar and I yank him off her so hard he stumbles backward, arms windmilling. His face, slack with surprise, has just enough time to register who I am before my fist connects with his jaw.
The impact reverberates up my arm, satisfying as fuck. He goes down hard, crashing into the prep station and sending pots clattering. But I’m not done. Not even close.
I haul him up by his shirt and drive my fist into his gut. Once. Twice. He doubles over, retching, and I bring my knee up into his face. Blood explodes from his nose, spattering across the white tile floor.
“Vin!” Sophie’s voice, high and frightened. “Vin, stop!”
But I don’t stop. I can’t. All my rage at Aurelio, at Salvatore, at the entire fucked-up situation, pours out of me in a torrent of violence. I slam Rocco against the wall, my forearm across his throat, and watch his eyes bulge as he struggles to breathe.
“Did you apologize to her for your bullshit in here the other day?” My voice sounds barely human even to me.
He gurgles something incomprehensible, blood bubbling from his lips.
I glance over my shoulder at Sophie. She’s pressed back against the counter, one hand over her mouth, eyes wide. “Did he apologize to you?”
She shakes her head slowly.
I turn back to Rocco, tightening my grip. “That’s what I thought.” I drag him across the kitchen, his feet scrambling, and throw him bodily out the back door. He hits the pavement hard, groaning.
“If I see you near her again,” I say, standing in the doorway, “I’ll put you in the fucking ground, you fucking understand me?”
He doesn’t answer, just crawls away into the darkness, leaving a trail of blood behind him.
When I turn back, Sophie is still frozen by the counter. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, her eyes bright with unshed tears.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” she says, her voice trembling slightly. “He’s a terrible person. But thank you, that was just—”
“What about you?” I interrupt, stalking toward her.
She blinks. “What about me what?”
“Are you a terrible person?” My question pierces her. It was meant to. I’m reading every single flicker across her face.
She bristles, her spine straightening. “I guess that depends on your definition. I gave him a job, slept with him a few times, and never put any demands on him, not for dating, not even at work, even though he has no work ethic. Does that sound like a terrible person?”
“I guess I’d need to hear his side of it.”
“You’re welcome to it.” She turns away from me, reaching for a towel, but I catch her wrist.
“Or maybe you planned this whole thing.”
She whirls back, confusion written across her face. “Planned what?”
“Planned on me walking in on that.”
“I didn’t know you were coming here, Vin,” she snaps, offended. “I thought I would see you at home at 8, remember?”
Home at 8. The sweet domesticity of that statement cuts through me like a knife. I shove it down, bury it under the rage. “Maybe. Or maybe you were hoping I’d walk in and join so that piece of shit could fuck your face while I fuck your pussy.”
Her eyes widen. “It hadn’t crossed my mind.” She reaches out, placing her hand on my arm. “Look out—”
I grab her by the throat hard. “Why are you touching me?”
She grabs my wrist with both hands, her pulse jumping beneath my palm. “You’re about to step in the food he knocked on the floor.”
I blink. My gaze drops to the scattered ingredients. When I meet her eyes again, I see something sparking there that I can’t read. “You liked that, didn’t you? You like being choked, hurt, spanked?”
“What’s wrong with you, Vincenzo?”
“Don’t question me, Sophia.” I tighten my grip slightly. “You said you bought the blindfold and the handcuffs and floggers to surprise him, but he wasn’t into that shit. But he was hurting you when I walked in and you weren’t fighting him, so maybe you liked it.”
Her eyes widen. “I didn’t buy those for him. I bought different things over the years and never really used any of them with anyone. And I was fighting him! I don’t want that from him!”
I force her to turn around, bending her over the counter. “Do you want it from me?”
“Vin.” She starts to push herself up, but I slam her back down, my palm flat between her shoulder blades.
“I don’t like being fucked with, Sophie.” I yank her pants down roughly, my gaze dropping to that incredible ass, round and full. I grab a wooden spoon from the counter and bring it down across her flesh with a sharp crack.
She gasps, her whole body jerking.
“Or talked back to.” Another smack, harder this time.
Red blooms across her skin. “Keep doing it, and this is going to be in your mouth.” I grab a stick of butter from the counter and rub it roughly over her asshole.
She looks over her shoulder at me, and the expression on her face—fuck, I can’t read it.
She can’t fucking want this, can she? Jesus.
I pull out my cock, already hard, and stroke it slowly. “You ever been DPed, Sophie?”
She blinks at me. “What does that mean?”
A dark smile spreads across my face. This is going to break her. This is going to send her running. “Fuck your ass with your finger.”
“What?!” Her voice pitches high.
I grab her arm and twist it behind her back then butter her fingers heavily and coat her back entrance with more. “Finger. Your. Ass.”
She’s trembling beneath me but does as she’s told, tentatively pushing the tip of one finger inside. I smack her hand and she retracts, uncertain.
“Push it in.”
She obeys, whimpering softly.
“Now add a finger.”
“Vin, I don’t think I can—”
“Don’t give me that. You’ve had my dick in your ass; you can take two of your small fingers.”
“I can’t—”
I force three of her fingers together, my hand engulfing hers. “No to two? Then you’re going to fuck your ass with three fingers.”
She gasps as I push her fingers deep inside her. “Vin! Vin!”
I grab the wooden spoon again and bring it down on her ass in rapid succession until welts start to appear. “Now fuck yourself.”
She does, her movements hesitant at first, then more confident. When she starts to relax, her eyes fluttering closed, I roll a condom on and push inside her pussy in one brutal thrust.
Her eyes fly open. She arches her back, crying out. “Vin! It’s too much—”
I bring the spoon down on her ass again, over and over until she’s squealing. Then I shove the handle between her teeth like a bit. “You don’t make the fucking rules, princess.” I bend over her back, pushing balls deep. “Now fuck your ass as hard as I’m fucking that dripping wet pussy.”
She obeys, and the dual sensation of her fingers working her ass while I pound her pussy is almost too much for both of us. I stand to my full height, gripping her ass with both hands, watching my cock and her fingers disappear into her over and over.