Chapter 7 Alessio
Alessio
“Were you with her when she received the necklace?” Tourmaline gemstones are not the most sought-after – turns out, I know fuck all about jewelry – but they resembled her Coca-Cola brown eyes and the diamonds surrounding them were the highest quality.
“I was,” Armando replies indifferently over the phone.
“And?”
“And, what? If you wanted your bride’s reaction, you should’ve flown into town with Francesca last week and given it to her yourself on her birthday.”
“Go fuck yourself, Armando.”
“There are plenty of girls in Chicago who do that instead, thank you very much. They’re going to be so sad when I move back to Vegas.”
He’s fucking insufferable. One goddamn job is all I ask of him – keep me updated about my future wife.
Fine. He has two jobs, his first being to guard her and ensure she remains untouched until we wed, something that worthless old shit her father employed was incapable of. “Make sure you remember your priorities, Armando. You’re my friend but…”
“Don’t worry. I don’t want to wind up a greasy spot on the road like Manfredi. You won’t catch me with my cock up some whore’s ass when I’m supposed to be on duty.”
No, I won’t. Armando is far too smart and too loyal to be tempted from his duty. Manfredi was not strong enough to resist temptation when it was placed before him though and… well, that simply wouldn’t do. A little accident had to be arranged to avoid trouble within the Trio.
“How was the birthday party? Were there ponies? Did you get your face painted?” I ask, sarcastically.
He laughs and gives it right back to me. “Sure were. Got a unicorn on my cheek. Your future brothers-in-law sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to her by the way, and I’m not bullshitting you about that.”
“Fucking pussies. Another good reason to tear out their tongues,” I grumble.
“I nearly pissed myself laughing. Oh, Nico gave her a gift she doesn’t want me to see. I wasn’t certain at first - she said it was jewelry - but there’s nothing new in her jewelry box.”
“Is that so?” I reply, darkly.
“Except for the necklace you sent her. It’s there. I don’t think she’s worn it at all.”
Goddamn Armando, he’s lucky I like him. “I think I’ll pay her a visit.”
“We’ll be flying out to Vegas the day after tomorrow.”
“I want to make sure she’s all packed for moving day.”
“You want to see her, don’t you?” The smug certainty dripping from his tongue makes me want to tear his out.
“Two years is two years. I’d like to see her again before she marches down the aisle. She might be ugly now.”
“Fucking liar. I’m loyal to you, but I have eyes. I’ve sent you photos.”
Yes, he has. Several of them. But, always taken on the sly.
Always with her looking away, off into the distance, speaking to someone else.
Never one of Caterina looking into the camera, never one of her staring back at me like she did in my room that day.
Her innocence is… intoxicating. The demon inside loves the notion of corrupting that.
“I’ll come to town to find out what Nico gave her since you didn’t, and I need to remind her of a few things.”
Namely, that she is mine and her brothers will soon be a distant part of her past. I’m still half tempted to slit Nico’s throat during the wedding speeches. The thought brings a smile to my lips as I arrange for the private jet.
***
The women’s inane chatter dries up as I enter the bridal boutique. “Alessio, what are you doing here?” Frankie asks, stunned but pleased.
“I was in the neighborhood,” I answer as she bounds up for a hug.
She’s so fearless when she should be fucking petrified.
She has no idea how many of our men would see her beaten and used like a whore because of the actions of her father.
The Trio does not forgive rats, and Brian Donnelly has not only earned the hatred of the most powerful branch of the Italian mafia in the United States but also the rag-tag remnants of Boston’s Irish mob, the Black Rose Gang.
It’s only my father’s pride and familial sense of duty to my Aunt Beatrice that prevents the women from being torn apart as Frankie’s older brother was upon news of the father’s betrayal.
Gia steps forward next with a careful embrace. My wrath stirs remembering the text Armando sent a short while ago –
Armando:
He's still beating her. Give me permission
I’d denied Armando that, not for the first time. Much higher-ranking than an old bodyguard, Barzetti knows he’s safe here in Chicago. If an opportunity should present itself in Las Vegas though…
There’s a flutter of protest when I move toward the dressing room, but I silence them with a look. Only Caterina and her mother are missing. I raise my eyebrows at Armando, and he leads the way.
“Alessio’s here to see you.”
“Alessio’s… WHAT?!”
Zeta Morelli pokes her head around the door as Armando steps back out to where the other women wait. “Alessio! You can’t be here. Caterina is in her-WAIT!”
“You’ll find I’m the exact opposite of patient,” I rasp, carefully pushing my way past her and closing the delicate door in her face.
When I turn, my lack of patience is rewarded. What a fucking sight. Layers and layers of white lace, it looks like something from one of those insufferable princess movies my sisters used to watch. She’s angelic. No other word seems to fit. A pure slice of Heaven served up to the Devil.
“My beautiful bride…” I drawl as unexpectedly fierce brown eyes glare back at me.
The tourmalines couldn’t do them justice.
Our girls are raised to be submissive, but I’m glad of the anger I see in Caterina’s eyes.
It turns me on. I’d rather fuck this rage out of her on our wedding night until she’s moaning my name than have her trembling and crying beneath me.
Her pretty face and that long, lush black hair hanging around her delicate shoulders, Caterina was a lovely girl at sixteen. Two years later, she’s a fucking goddess. And, she’s soon to be mine in word and deed. My cock twitches at the thought.
“What are you doing here?” she snaps. “And, haven’t you ever heard it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress before the wedding?”
“Luck is a daydream those losers in our casinos chase. I don’t believe in luck. But, I do believe in seeing my bride before we say ‘I do’ when I happen to be in town.”
“You… you’re in Chicago for business?”
“Sure,” I lie. “Thought I’d visit the whorehouse where my brother died while I’m here, too.” She flinches and, for some reason, I feel compelled to add, “I’m kidding about that part.”
She gives me a skeptical look. “My father didn’t mention you being here.”
Her father has no idea I’m in town, and he’ll lose his shit when he hears. Her brothers will probably come at me with guns blazing as soon as they know. I would welcome the chance to take them both out, but I suppose that would put a damper on the wedding festivities.
“What’s under all those layers?” I ask, stalking around her in her full skirt. I’ll have to use my knife to cut her out of this contraption when it’s time for the bedding. Just the thought of it makes me hard.
“Just me,” she replies, uneasily. The spark in her eyes is already fading. I scare her. Knowing what my father expects of me, she has every right to be scared. She’ll be fun to break, some twisted memory inside my head whispers.
“Just you,” I murmur, coming to a halt in front of her. The top of her head doesn’t reach my chin. So petite. Delicate. “How much does that dress weigh? Nearly as much as you, I’d bet.”
Her cheeks flush and, when she flicks her eyes up to me again, a tentative smile graces her lips.
There. That was what I came for, I realize.
Two years and I’ve not forgotten the similar one she gave me when I said she would pick her own clothes from now on.
Such an odd thing for me to consider worthy of remembrance.
“It’s not that heavy. The lace is-”
“Have you kissed any man with these lips, Caterina?” I ask, my hand rising toward her face. She freezes, standing still as a statue as I rub my forefinger over her plump bottom lip. It’s stained the color of berries, ripe and sweet.
“No, of course not,” she whispers when I tilt my head, silently demanding an answer.
“Of course not,” I repeat, pleased. I’d dare any man to try it. I would cut his lips off and feed them to him.
“You know girls like me are sheltered. Alessio…” she breathes when I caress her soft lips some more.
“Sheltered, yes.” I like the way she said my name, and I continue my gentle exploration, knowing how sensitive lips can be.
I know so many ways a person can be tortured, hundreds of ways to inflict pain, and I’ve spent years experimenting.
But, I have no wish to torture Caterina except with pleasure.
I want to elicit sweeter moans than I usually hear from my little bride-to-be.
“Are you nervous about our first kiss?” She flushes redder and turns her head. “Look at me,” I command.
She glares at me again. A good girl with some spark. That’s more like it. I can’t allow her to contradict me in public, but a challenge in the bedroom is far more entertaining than complete submission.
“I am nervous. Maybe it’s nothing to you but it will be my first kiss, and everyone will be watching.”
I frown, not liking the thought of anyone else having part of it, even as mere witnesses. That possessive animal inside can’t bear the thought of sharing any part of Caterina.
It’s nothing but a symbolic kiss for the Trio. Think of how her brothers will hate watching, and you can kiss every inch of her in private soon enough.
I could kiss her now if I choose though. No one here would stop me.
Back and forth, I rub those pouty, red lips, my thumb dipping inside just once to where it's warm and wet. I close my eyes and picture my cock sliding in her mouth. When I open them again, her eyes have grown dark like onyx, and I ache.
At length, I’m rewarded with a small huff of air, a breathy little sigh.
Her body is still tense but not with fear.
She shifts and her breath comes faster. I know the signs of arousal well.
Just a taste. I lean forward, amused by how wide her eyes grow as the faint scent of cloves and vanilla greets my nostrils. Sweet and delicious, Caterina.
“Alessio?” Gia calls through the door before I can press my lips to hers. Gia, the only one daring enough to interrupt us. “You risk insulting everyone this way. It’s not proper for you to be in there, and you know it. If Father finds out, you-”
I drop my hand and step away from a quivering Caterina. Violently pushing the changing room door open, I give my half-sister a scathing look and then leave the women behind without another word.
Two more days and she’ll be in my bed. I can find out what her brother gave her for her birthday then. From the moment I set eyes on her again, the excuse I’d made for coming to Chicago today never even entered my mind.