11. Leo
11
LEO
“ W hat the fuck?!” Julia shouts at me. “We have to move, again ?!”
I understand she had to leave her sleepover early, came home to a torn apart apartment with blood on the carpet, and is caught off guard by the abrupt news, but her outburst has me at my wit's end. She rages at me everyday, and I’m sick and tired of it. This isn’t even a conversation anymore–she keeps screaming over me, and won’t let me get a word in edgewise.
“Jules, I can explain everything to you when you’re calmer, but you need to pack an overnight bag with a few days of clothes and the essentials. End of discussion.”
“Why are we moving?! Did you get fired from your new job? I swear, you’re just like Mom. We’re going to end up moving a million times because you can’t pay the rent.”
Her words are a verbal slap. I don’t even know how to respond to such a ridiculous, hurtful thing. Before I can, Rocco steps into the doorway, looking cool and unbothered. Except for the furious glint in his eyes.
“Do you know who I am?” Rocco asks Julia.
She shakes her head no, but her silence means she can feel the dangerous vibe he puts out.
“Rocco Vettore.” Her mouth drops. She looks back and forth between Rocco and I, trying to put the pieces together. “Yes, one of those Vettores,” he smiles at her. “Your brother didn’t get fired. He and I are dating, and you’re all moving into my place for your own safety.”
“S-s-safety?” she stutters.
“There are dangerous people after your brother and I, because he saved me from a bullet. It’s my job to protect him–and by extension you and your sister. Because he loves you and cares about you. So I never want to hear you compare him to your mother, or talk to him in that tone of voice again. Show him some respect,” Rocco calmly states, using his gravatas to control the situation.
She looks at him, dumbfounded and lost for words. Julia Costa is never at a loss for words. He didn’t even yell at her, or threaten her.
“Um, yeah,” she says.
“When we arrive, I’ll go over some house rules, then you can pick a room and it’s lights out.”
Rocco turns on his heels and walks down the hallway. I follow him to the kitchen, where he pours himself a glass of water from the pitcher in the refrigerator.
He sighs, leaning on the counter so his body is angled toward me. “I am not apologizing to her. She was out of line, and she won’t talk to you like that in our penthouse.”
Dating? Our apartment? It’s all so overwhelming, but I won’t let him steamroll me. I won’t give up without a fight.
“Dating!” I whisper-shout at him. “I can’t believe you told them that. You’ve never even asked me on a date, Rocco. Please don’t give them the wrong idea. They’ll be almost as brokenhearted as I am when you eventually move on from me.”
He takes my hand and pulls me into him, until our lips are inches apart. His warm, passionate green eyes melt me to my core.
Don’t you dare let him dickmatize his way out of this , I remind myself.
“You’re right. Dating isn’t the right word, but it’s a word they can understand. The truth is, you’re mine , Leo. Today, tomorrow, next year, a decade from now. You’ll still be mine when someone finally does sink a bullet into me, and I get lowered into the ground. Or if I beat the odds, we’ll grow old together and retire in some mansion off the Hudson.”
He tips my chin up, kissing me until my lungs buzz with the need for air. But fuck air, I just want to breathe him, live off this moment until I pass out from a lack of oxygen. He runs his hand through my hair and tugs my face, plunging his tongue in deeper and owning me with every press of his lips to mine.
My knees go weak as the roots of my hair sting from his hold. When he pulls away, he smirks. “No argument, then?”
“Huh?” I ask before I come back down to Earth and realize that he did steamroll me. He turned on that hazardous charisma of his and completely flattened me to his whim.
“Thought so. Pack your bags, toy, and bring something scandalous for me.”
I huff, stamping all the way to my walk in closet with a sigh. How does he keep doing that?
Because you have no backbone. All the better for him to bend you over, you hussy.
Ugh. Intrusive thoughts are sometimes true, I guess.
I scan the rack, picking a few work appropriate outfits, a pair of pajamas, and something casual. Rocco thankfully stocked the closet with enough clothes for a lifetime, making up for the paltry amount of clothes I brought with me.
What did he mean by scandalous? I open my underwear drawer, and in the very back I find a plain, black jockstrap. The material is soft, inviting. I never wore one before, but I shove it down to the bottom of my bag where no one will find it.
Once everyone is ready to go, we make our way up to Rocco’s apartment. Lucy already adores him, and has asked him a million questions about his age, favorite color, what he does for a living, and how we met. To his credit, he gave her a version of the truth that wouldn’t seem out of the ordinary to a kid—he’s 34 years old, loves royal blue, works for his family’s business, and we met because I bravely saved his life, and then he swept me off my feet.
He just left out the part about how he got me fired, kicked us out of our apartment, and murdered a man right in front of me. You know, all the important details.
Julia knows who he is so she’s much more skeptical of him. She downright hates him once he tells the girls the house rules.
“Until we have this situation handled, you’re both coming straight home from after-school activities. Playdates and friends come here and must be planned in advance so we can run the necessary security checks. You’re both to behave and we all treat each other with respect.” He says the last part while eyeing Julia. “Any questions?”
“What if I want to leave the house?” she quips back, hand on her hip and full of attitude.
“Then you’ll ask your brother or I for permission and will be accompanied by a guard,” he replies, his tone even but firm.
“Leo! Are you really going to let him ruin my life like this?!” she screams. “I don’t want to be the weirdo that always brings her freakishly large security guard everywhere she goes!!!”
“Yeah. I am. I don’t think you understand what happened tonight, Jules. Armed men broke into our guarded building—then into our guarded apartment—and tried to kill Lucy and me. This is life or death level serious. If you don’t follow the rules, you’ll be putting yourself, and your family, in danger.”
“Fine.” she grouses before storming off to her room and slamming the door.
Rocco rolls his eyes, obviously not used to the antics of a teenage girl. He’s in for a world of surprise and will probably be happy to send us back to our own apartment when everything dies down.
Although if he gets his way, we’ll never leave. That’s what indefinitely means, doesn’t it? The thought of Rocco, me, and the girls being one big happy family feels way better than it should. Going to Lulu’s dance recitals. Having someone to take with me to the principal’s office the next time Jules inevitably gets in trouble. Spending evenings together watching movies and eating homemade tiramisu by the fireplace…
I shut those thoughts down before they sprout legs and run off into the sunset. Rocco is a Capo in the most notorious mafias on the east coast. I barely know him. And the little I do know is what got us into this situation in the first place. He plucked me from my life like it was nothing.
Then why do I like him so much?
My mind is a whirling mess the whole time I put Lulu to bed. Even when I’m reading her favorite bedtime stories, all I can think about is how armed men broke into our apartment and almost ended everything in the blink of an eye. The situation could have been a nightmare.
After she’s settled, I go to the foyer to get my bag, but it’s not there. Nor is it in the guest room I picked earlier, or the living room. I follow Rocco’s voice to his cracked office door, slipping in silently not to disturb his phone call. He pulls my hand toward him, and I land in his lap. One of his arms wraps around me to keep me firmly in place. I guess there are less comfortable places to wait.
“Yeah, liaise with the school about having guards inside, Giuseppe. I know the senator’s children go there, and I’m sure they’re allowed to bring their own in. Make it happen.”
There’s a few moments of silence, then Rocco smiles. “Oh, perfect. Yeah, he’s still awake. We’ll be down soon, keep them strung up for us.”
He ends the call, then wraps his other arm around me.
“I can tell Giuseppe likes you, toy. He has those fuckers from your apartment tied up and hanging from a meat hook, ready to meet you.”
“No, he just likes the danishes I bake for him and his daughter,” I joke. Rocco’s eyes harden slightly, but he manages a smile.
“I don’t like you doing favors for other men, but G I can make an exception for. You said you wanted them to pay…you up for a little fun?” A depraved smile blooms across his face as his hand dips the waistline of my sweatpants.
He caresses my lower stomach, his hand edging closer to my cock. I’m not sure if it’s the thought of slitting those asshole’s throats or being this close to Rocco that makes my blood boil and flow south. I’m desperate for Rocco to touch me, fill me. I want to feel something.
“I am,” I tell him after throwing my leg over his lap, straddling his thighs and staring into his smoldering eyes. “I’m going to make them wish they died already.”
And that’s a promise I can keep. No one fucks with my sisters.
He slips his hand beneath my waistband again, digging his fingers into my ass cheeks in a fierce grip as he elicits a deep, unbidden moan from deep inside me. His finger swirls over my hole, and I lean into the touch, wanting more.
“Don’t wear yourself out too much, lionheart. I have plans for you before we go to bed.”
The entire basement of Rocco’s building is a torture chamber, straight out of a serial killer’s wet dream. The walls are covered in implements ranging from various saws, knives, pliers, and guns to more innocuous things like zippo lighters and a curling iron. There’s even cages large enough to fit a couple of humans inside them. One of them holds a man curled in the fetal position, and I wonder what he did to deserve being stuck down here.
I don’t have a long time to think about it, though. In the middle of the room, I spot the two prisoners captured from my apartment. The one who Milo took out in the hallway, and the other man who attacked me in my bedroom. They’re hands are tied together and strung up on meat hooks hanging from the ceiling. I’m not sure who decided they should be shirtless, because their tattoos look nothing like the glimpses of artwork I’ve seen on Rocco’s hand and neck. Each tattoo is worse than the last, and one of them is so crudely done, it resembles the scribblings of an unimaginative toddler.
The scumbag who threatened my baby sister is awake, kicking his legs as if it’ll help him escape and screaming for us to let him go. The other is passed out. If I have my way, it won’t be for long. I want him to be conscious and feel every iota of pain coming his way.
Three men in varying degrees of dress clothes stand around the scumbags, keeping an intent eye on them as Rocco picks out an assortment of weapons for us. The shortest one, who still towers over me, is wearing a nice suit, complete with a tie. The largest one is wearing a dress shirt rolled up over his forearms and light gray dress pants that hug his enormous ass. Milo stands with him, looking worse for wear, but still wearing a dress shirt and a matching vest and pants.
“Leo, these are the Le Mannaie del Vettore , also known as The Vettore’s Cleavers. You know Milo, but this one is Piero, the eldest,” he says, gesturing to the shortest man. “And the gigantic one is Elio. They’re my proteges and in charge of…procuring information through hands-on techniques.” He chuckles at his own genius way of saying these men are his torture squad. “Gentlemen, this is Leo Costa.” he tucks me into his side, a clear sign of ownership in front of the other men in the room.
“You’re Mr. Vettore’s lion cub?!” Elio coos in a soft-spoken voice that definitely doesn’t match his hard, tattooed exterior. His almost goofy smile is so out of place given what we’re about to do to the men dangling next to us.
“ Yes, he is, ” Rocco exasperatedly replies.
“Are you Riccardo Costa’s son?” Piero, asks in a brisk tone that cuts his brother’s reply off.
I nod, scratching behind my ear. Talking about my dad is still awkward sometimes. “Yeah. He passed a while ago though.”
“He was our Dad’s best friend. They worked together for the Vettores. Welcome to the crew.” He nods, then goes to the weapons wall to grab some rope.
As scary as these men may look on the surface level, they’ve been decent to me so far. All of Rocco’s men are polite and respectful. Definitely not what I expected mafia men to be like.
“Well, lionheart, what do you think?” he asks me, spinning around with his arms wide open.
“Of what?”
He wraps his arm around my waist and takes my hand, spinning me around in an almost-waltz. His manic laughter bounces off the walls, and the Cleavers are so excited they’re giggling. Elio and Milo are bouncing on their heels, and even Piero cracks a small smirk. Honestly, I’m surprised none of them are wearing clown makeup or sprouting horns, because they sound downright evil.
“Our first date. You said I never even took you on a date, so I’m rectifying that. We had dessert with Lucy, we’ll get some bonding time in torturing these fools.” He kicks one of the men hanging from the ceiling. Then his mouth nips at the shell of my ear, and little shivers spread through me. “And then we’ll go back to our room and do a different kinda bonding, if you get my drift.”
“Hmmm, maybe. Let’s see how this date pans out,” I sass him, mostly because I don’t know what to make of this version of Rocco. The cold, mafia boss and the sexually dominant versions I can handle…but a sweet, dare I say romantic, version of Rocco is another thing entirely.
“This is going to be the best date you’ve ever had. You’ll see,” he promises me.
That won’t be a hard feat, because I’ve never been on a real date before. Unless random hookups count, which they probably don’t.
He slaps my ass, then picks up a studded baseball bat. “Milo makes these you know. I was so jealous of Elio’s that I had to have one made for me. Isn’t it divine? It’s all the rage for torturers, murderers, and criminals alike,” he announces to the room at large. “Unfortunately for you two dumb fucks, it’s gonna hurt. Tell them why, Piero!”
“Because we know who sent you, so we don’t have to keep you alive for information,” he explains.
“Yeah, we can just beat the fuck out of you for funsies,” Elio chimes in.
“Oh really?” I ask, stepping up to the one Milo took out in the hallway. “Did you know he chased Lulu when she ran to my ensuite bathroom. If Milo didn’t take him out, who knows what this fuck would have done.” He never said anything, but the predatory look in his eyes said enough for me.
He hangs there, his entire body shaking. A foul, acrid smell wafts into my face, and a huge wet spot spread on the front of his jeans. He pissed himself… ew . “I swear, I didn’t mean nothing by it. Ronan ordered us to grab the girl!” he cries. “Please, let me go. I’ll never come near you or your family again Mr. Vettore, I swear on my life.”
“What’s your name again?” Rocco asks.
“Br-br-brody,” he stutters, his teeth clacking so loudly the residents in the lobby can probably hear him.
“Well Brody, swearing on your life doesn’t mean much because as far as I’m concerned, you’re already dead. You broke into my home…terrorized my family…trashed one of my apartments.”
Rocco takes a batting stance worthy of a professional baseball player and swings his bat, hitting Brody square in the chest. He howls in pain, his face contorted as the spikes on the bat rip through his skin. I can barely hear what he’s saying as Rocco swings a second time.
“No one threatens or touches what’s mine. You’re going to end up as pig food for a very nice drift of Kunekune pigs on our farm upstate. Did you know pigs can eat human flesh, even bones and cartilage? Everything but teeth.” Brody shakes his head, screaming. Rocco hits him again in his jaw, breaking it so it hangs pathetically from his face. “See? That’s the Vettore touch. You get educated while you’re being beaten to death. You’re welcome. ”
Elio and Milo start laughing, but Piero glowers at Brody. “Can I try something, Mr. Vettore?” Rocco nods, and Peiro takes the smoking curling iron, and burns the flesh right above his belly button. Then he burns him a few inches up from that. The sizzle of the hot metal hitting his skin should disgust me, but it makes me bloody thirsty. It’s not enough—he needs to suffer more.
Brody starts to ugly cry as snot runs down his face. The guys take turns beating him with Rocco and Elio’s matching bats, but a very interesting item on the wall catched my eye. It’s a carbon steel boning knife. The bougie kind you’d only find in a professional kitchen. I take it off the wall, and hold it up to the light.
So pretty. I love a good knife.
“Ah, you like it?” Rocco’s evil, Chesire smile sends goosebumps down my spine. His shirt is covered in little blood splatters, and a deep, twisted part of me wants to melt into a lustful puddle at his feet. “I got it for you. One for the basement and another for the kitchen.”
“That’s…really sweet actually. No one ever buys me gifts,” I blurt out before realizing how much of a loser I sound like. I make a mental note to work on my impulse control.
“Oh, lionheart… Whatever you want, tell me. It’s yours, but first, lemme see what that knife can do.” The dark, smooth tenor of his voice feels like honey. It coats me until all the little nagging doubts in my mind are silenced.
I step up to Brody, taking his large, rough hand in mine. Who knows how many people he’s hurt or killed with this hand…all the evil he’s done. I use the knife to slice into his index finger, slowly running the blade next to his bone and parting the flesh from it. His screams are so piercing they wake up the other man who attacked me in my bedroom.
“Stop! Fuck! Just kill me already, please!” he begs as I start on his middle finger. At first the sight of blood made me feel sick, like I was doing something wrong.
But nothing has ever felt so right in my life. I’m delivering a cosmic level of justice.
I feel his nearness before the warmth of his body seeps through me. Rocco wraps his arms around my waist resting his head on my shoulder.
“You’re a sick fuck, toy,” he murmurs low enough that I’m the only one who hears it.
The first time he told me that, I ruminated over it, wondering if there was something broken inside me—something wrong with me for loving the crass things he says to me and the brutal way he plays with me.
But now, as I stare at the knife in my hand covered in fresh red blood, it feels like a compliment. It buoys me, my confidence swelling until I feel like I’m floating on cloud nine. I take the knife, holding it against the unnamed man’s throat.
I don’t even give a fuck I don’t know his name. The only thing I care about is that this fucker is put down.
“You could slice his throat wide open right here and now. Make a huge mess. Or you can drag it out, and we can have some real fun together…” Rocco whispers. “It’s date night, after all, no curfew for us.”
I turn my head, pressing a light kiss to his forehead. “This is the best date I’ve ever been on.”
“And the night just started.”