12. Adriano
Chapter twelve
Adriano
“Successful, Capo .”
Those two words were all I needed to drift into five straight hours of slumber last night without nightmares.
“Good! Move to stage two.” I type back, then shove my phone into my pocket.
Satisfaction rises in my chest at the thought. Stage two. A simple play of blackmail.
Having done my homework on most of the corrupt officials on the Rossis’ payroll, I’ve gathered a list of evidence. Fraud, murders, thefts…
Now, Francesco would anonymously send all those agents the proof, blackmailing them to cut all ties with Enzo and his mafia, or the evidence goes viral.
It’ll start with panic, paranoia… fear. Then they’ll begin to tap out until the Rossi Mafia is stripped of connections.
Closing my eyes, the picture of Enzo Marcini kneeling before me, with my gun pointed right between his eyes, comes into my mind. And beside him, Elena would be kneeling and weeping…
No. That image isn’t right. My eyes snap open as I rub my hands over my face. I want to see every single member of the Rossi family pay, but somehow, the thought of Elena getting hurt is…
Fuck. What the hell’s wrong with me?
Walking over to the desk, I grab a bottle of whiskey, twisting off the top and bringing it straight to my mouth.
I couldn’t stand the fact that she was obsessing over the ridiculous color of those shoes given to her by that weakling, so I ordered her a new pair in every fucking color. Even though I knew I shouldn’t have.
A frustrated groan escapes. I shouldn’t lose control.
Not especially over someone who should be a piece of leverage and nothing more.
But for some fucking reason, I just can’t stand the thought of another man’s hand on her.
Can’t stand the thought of her smiling at other men the way she smiled at that damn guard.
These kinds of feelings… thoughts… are reckless and against every rule I’ve imposed on myself.
And I hate that she’s making me reckless.
I run a hand down my face, disgusted at myself. None of this changes a damn thing. She’s still a name on a list I intend to finish. But until that day comes, I will keep her safe—because I will be the one to put a bullet through that pretty skull.
A scoff leaves my lips just as my phone buzzes, calling me out of my thoughts. It’s Lorenzo.
“Adrian, how is New Orleans?”
“Good.”
He sighs with relief, “Perfetto (Perfect). Dovrai tornare a Manhattan tra due giorni (You’re to return back to Manhattan in two days). Elena adesso è al sicuro (Elena’s safe now).”
“She’s safe?” I repeat, standing to my feet. “Her attackers have been found?”
“After combing through the CCTV footage from the pool many times, we finally saw it was a man disguised as part of the staff. As we speak, he and the rest of the men he pointed us to are bags of bones,” he sighs.
I have a lot of questions. How did he know Elena would be there? Why were they—
“They did it because Dean had crossed them years ago,” Lorenzo says.
Then I let relief wash over me like a cold wave, swallowing whatever questions I have. She’s safe, and I can finally be relieved from this godforsaken position and focus on my own plans.
“Does she know? Elena?” I ask. It’d be less worrisome if the burden of informing her were taken off my shoulders.
“Enzo’s speaking with her. In the meantime, you should get everything set. There’s been an attack on our weaponry, and we’re in a tight spot with the Irish. They launched a surprise attack… so right now, we need all our men.”
“I understand.”
“Good.”
The call goes dead. I dial Francesco immediately.
“What do you have on Silvio?” I growl into the phone as soon as he picks up.
“He’s practically a living ghost, Capo. He has no fingerprints, no ID, no social media, no friends or family. It’s a problem trying to track him down with so little to go on… but I’ll be paying a visit to Harvard soon to find out more.”
“Good.” I end the call.
A soft knock on my door breaks through my thoughts.
“Enter.” I can already tell it’s her by the sweet fragrance drifting into my room.
She steps in and then shuts the door behind her, fingers lingering hesitantly on the handle.
“Enzo just informed me that we’re leaving.”
I nod my head.
“In two days.”
A mischievous smile tugs at her lips. “Don’t tell me you’re eager to get rid of me.”
“I am.”
She walks further inside the room. “Ouch?”
Sliding my gaze from her, I drop the whiskey on the nightstand and half expect her to go away, but she doesn’t.
“Don’t get your hopes up. You’re not leaving me just yet.”
I arch a brow at her. “What do you mean?”
“I asked Enzo to let me keep you. Thank you for the shoes, by the way, that was very...” She’s searching for a fitting word, “...sweet.”
“What the fuck did you do?” I deadpan, completely ignoring her speech of appreciation.
“I requested that you not be taken away,” she says, like she’s doing me a favor. My jaw tightens. “He told me all about the hit on the warehouse and how they were attacked by the Irish last night...”
“That has nothing to do with you, Elena,” I reply flatly.
“I don’t think so. The family has lost a lot of men, weapons and money in all of this with the Irish. What if the Irish don’t stop anytime soon? Or decide to strike again? Enzo says he’s trying for reconciliation as it was all a misunderstanding, but we can never be too sure.”
Sighing, I grab the bottle of whiskey and take a swig. She’s going to fucking tamper with my own plans.
“No. You don’t need me.”
She goes silent for a while, then bites her lip, her eyes holding mine. “Yes…yes, I do.”
Bullshit.
“Look… let’s just say I-I want you to stick around more. You’re good at what you do, after all.”
I run a hand through my hair. “You know absolutely nothing about me, Principessa.”
“Then tell me.” She walks up to me, grabs the bottle from my hand, and takes a swig while looking me in the eyes. “Who are you when you’re not holding a gun for the family?”
My teeth grit against my jaw, inciting a dull headache. Only now I realize I can’t fucking look into those damn beautiful eyes and tell her I’m Adriano Bellandini, the man who was supposedly killed by her family five years ago.
“I’m just a man.” My voice is tight as I snatch the bottle from her. She shoots me a glare, but her frown quickly turns into a small smirk.
“And what else does this man do with his life besides the Rossi Mafia?”
She’s asking too many questions. Questions no one has asked in years. I should shun her, but that’ll negate the shenanigans I pulled to make her give me Silvio’s name. I fucking acted as if I cared. And that, I do not. I must not!
“I catalogued images of computer parts as a boy. I’ve moved on from it now.” I throw my gaze out the window.
That was all I wanted to do, until my father decided otherwise.
At sixteen, I started receiving rigorous mafia training.
Father was hard on me…but Mother, she’d call me to the privacy of her room and apologize because she didn’t want me in this kind of life.
She’d apologize for birthing me into this world, and just encouraged me to hold onto my computer hobby. And for a while I did… until she died.
Her lips are stretched into a full-blown smile now. “Why don’t you take pictures of me then?”
I glare at her. “No.”
Bracing herself with her arms, she hops onto the mahogany desk, hooking one of her slender legs over the other in a pose, blinking those large eyes daringly at me.
Fuck! I down some more whiskey, and as I do so, I hear a small whimper.
When I look at her, her lower lip is between her teeth as she draws a knee up halfway to her chest. Is she teasing me?
“Come on, Adrian. One picture,” she whines, arching her back. She definitely wants more than a picture.
When she flips her hair, I lose it.
Snatching her phone from between her fingers, I throw it down on the table next to her. “I’ll give you something better.” Then I crush my lips to hers.
The desperation in the pull of her lips nearly brings me over the edge. Her hands wrap around my neck, but I instinctively pull them away.
“No hands.”
There’s a wicked glint in her eyes. “I want to touch you.”
“I said no.” Yanking the laces out of the waistband of my sweatpants, I grab her wrists with one hand, wrapping the lace around them swiftly with the other.
Her tongue runs over her lips as if she’s inviting me back to them, but I don’t give her that pleasure. Instead, I run my hands roughly up her thighs, trailing them until they reach her waist.
I groan, drawing a gasp from her as my fingers find her slick wetness. She’s not wearing underwear? Fuck!
I shove the rest of her dress open, digging my head between her thighs, before devouring her pink, moist pussy. She sucks in a sharp breath, arching her back and spreading her legs wide for me to eat her out.
My tongue circles her opening, pushing in slowly. I can hear her sharp gasps, her hands attempting in vain to push my head further into her.
I can feel my pants dripping with precum. Fuck.
Lifting my head from between her legs, I shove the dress even further, catching those hard nipples between my teeth.
“Ahhhh…” she moans out loud, her back arching, pushing more of her perfect tit into my mouth. I grab all of it greedily, sucking until my dick is straining painfully against the desk.
Heavy breaths heave from my chest, my second hand returning between her legs to finish the job my mouth started.
Precum drips down my thighs as I reach into the drawer of the mahogany desk, taking out a bandana I’d kept there and tying it around her eyes.
She starts to groan in protest, but I close my mouth over hers, shutting the sound off. Then I ease her off the desk.
“Get on your knees.” She sinks to the ground in front of me without a struggle. Yanking off my sweatpants and underwear, I tease her lips with the dripping head of my engorged cock. She hums in approval, biting her lip.
“Find it,” I growl. She moves her head, her tongue swirling around to find and pleasure my dick. The sight alone drives me into a frenzy.
My cock pulses against her cheek, leading her straight to it. She takes the head between her lips, sucking off all the precum, then draws me further in.
I groan, pushing every remaining inch into her mouth, my hands clutching the strands of her hair until her lips are at the base.
Damn. She’s trying her best to take all of it in like a good girl, sucking in a painfully slow rhythm until I nearly feel myself topple over the edge.
Easing gently out of her mouth, I help her to her feet, steadying her against the desk so that her entire torso is flat on the table and her perfect ass is high enough for me to slip into.
I test my palms on her ass cheeks, slapping them as I probe her pussy with the head of my cock.
“A-Ahhh… please….”
“Please, what?” I rasp.
She edges her ass up toward me, probing my dick with it.
“Wrong answer,” I send my palm to her ass, watching her squeeze her thighs together as it reddens. She wants more.
“Fuck me.”
I rub my tip against her swollen pussy again, groaning as shivers of pleasure travel through my throbbing cock and legs.
“You will beg for my cock. And you will say my name while you’re at it.”
She shakes her head. “Just do it, ple—”
My palm smacks her ass again, harder this time. She rubs her thighs together, desperate for me. I’m almost losing control at the sight, but I don’t budge. She’s going to beg like a helpless little slut.
“You get spanked for every wrong answer. Do you understand?”
“Yes…” She nods.
“Yes, who?”
“Yes, Adrian…” I’m about to say it’s Adriano, but my brain sends the reminder that I’m under a false name. Fuck. How I want to hear my name slip from those lips when she’s frantic with need.
“Now beg for my cock,” I growl.
“Please, Adrian, please fuck me…”
I slam my cock into her dripping pussy, crying out with pleasure as she stretches out desperately trying to fit me completely. I thrust slowly at first, then I smack her ass with my palm and slam into her in a simultaneous rhythm.
She lays her head down on the desk, but I’m not about to let her just lay there. I want her screaming my name as I pound her, so I fist her hair in one hand, steadying her waist with the other as I increase the pace of my thrusts.
Just as I wanted, she’s screaming now, “Yes, Adrian…yes! Yes!” Until I feel her press her pussy back against me, jerk uncontrollably, and pour her juices all over my cock.
I slam into her in one final wild thrust, joining my release with the final moments of hers.
We lie like that, on top of each other, listening silently to our heartbeats. This might as well be the moment I break her. Make her feel like I care, have sex, and then leave her in pieces.
My phone buzzes, jarring me out of my thoughts. When I bring it up to my face, it’s a text from Francesco.
“Game on, Capo.”