Mad Max (Chicago Crew)

by Sapphire Knight

  Ismerlda does this adorable feminine type of growl, grabbing a roll of paper towels from a shelf nearby to wipe her thighs off. A minute later, she shoves her dress down, adjusting it back in place. She promptly stomps towards the door, doing her best to appear unaffected though the ruse doesn’t sway me. I could cut the tension rolling off her perfect shoulders with a dull knife as she nearly clips my arm in her haste. She’ll be a fun one to wear down and fuck, I have no doubt of it anymore.

  “Careful, darling, I’d hate for you to get blood on your stilettos. No doubt it’d be a bitch to get out of that fabric. Are those authentic, or cheap knock-offs?” I wave my hand towards the sinfully high shoes that have her calves tight, appearing as if they’re carved from stone. I’d bet good money she lives in them, and the thought of ramming my cock inside her while she’s in them alone has me fisting my hand.

  “I hate you,” she vehemently declares, waiting beside the door for me to open it. This princess has been thoroughly spoiled, and even if she doesn’t realize it, I’m certain of it, and I will have a bit of fun poking at her until she combusts and rage fucks me.

  “Ah, but that emotion is so close to love already. Dare I say it, are you falling for me?” I tease relentlessly, wearing a wickedly arrogant smile.

  The olive-skinned beauty has no idea what she’s in store for. I open the door, holding my elbow out for her to take. Manners instilled in her has her tucking her hand into the crook of my arm and striding out beside me, she still manages to dig her claws into my forearm, but it’s merely foreplay. I’m glad she has fire and enough stubbornness to walk proudly beside me. A meek woman wouldn’t last a day in my presence. So far, every impression I’ve garnered from Ismerlda is the opposite of a pushover. We’d make a fine team if it ever came down to it, and we could work together. Although I shouldn’t be thinking of such things when we’ve already gotten off to a bit of a rough beginning.

  “You don’t scare me, British boy.”

  Her declaration has me laughing loudly, a feat not easy to come by in conventional circumstances. This arrangement is anything but normal for me. “Oh, but I should. I should indeed quite terrify you. Look around, Ismerlda. I’m the predator amongst these halls.”

  “Hmm. Don’t count on it. I’m in this position with you because I offered to help my father. He had a problem and I saw the solution. There wasn’t any more to it than the obvious. You two didn’t plan anything without my complete agreeance on the matter. Make no mistake, Maximillian, if I didn’t think I could cut it being connected to you, then I wouldn’t be.”

  My hand finds her lower back, resting it above her pert, round ass as my strides quickly catch up with her. She’d put some pep in her step as she’d said her little piece, confidence growing enough she’d left the crook of my elbow. Leaning in, my warm alcohol-laced breath tickles her lobe as I rasp, “Max will do fine, and do you know who the fuck I am, darling? Who I really am? Your agreeance means absolutely nothing to me, nor will it ever. You cross me, Princess Ismerlda, and I’ll sell you to the highest bidder. I won’t bloody hesitate to discard you like a bit of rubbish on the bottom of my shoe.”

  If we weren’t in public, she’d most likely spit in my face, and that thought has me giddy inside. I get far too much enjoyment out of pushing people and testing their limits, and that notion extends to her as well. My thumb flicks along the silky smooth flesh of her spine, driving in my point that she’s caught within whatever trap I plan to set for her.

  Ismerlda’s father finds us almost immediately, his gaze lighting up at the two of us strolling along the corridor together. He wants love and protection for his daughter, and who can blame the bloke. Unfortunately for him, I don’t do love. Or any of those emotions, for that matter. I’ve contemplated in the past if there was something else broken about me—the ability to love and show it. I ruin things. I kill… I don’t do love. Let’s hope, for her father’s sake, I don’t end up smothering Ismerlda in her sleep.

  I can imagine the ideas floating through his mind from here. If only he had a clue his dear daughter and I were busy verbally sparing, perhaps he wouldn’t appear so jovial at our arrival. He’s in for a rude awakening if Ismerlda keeps fighting me on the inevitable. No matter what she claims, it’s unavoidable that we will eventually fuck. Whether it goes up or down from there will depend on her attitude, I suppose. Either way, I’m getting something out of this after that brief tease of caressing her soaked cunt in the closet.

  “Ismerlda Macintosh. It has a nice ring to it, si?” Vincenzo Castelano boasts, coming to a stop before us. He’s nearly bald, with a tanned face full of wrinkles, reminding me of the actor from the Godfather. We got ourselves a real Italian mobster, from the looks of it. Too bad he’s nothing more than a scared pussy on the inside. He wouldn’t survive a day in our crew without dying or pissing his pants with fear, and I’d be the one to make him break.

  I flash a charming, yet sinful grin toward the woman beside me. She has no idea what she’s getting into by agreeing to this union. She believes this won’t be a traditional marriage, or even a marriage at all, by the sounds of it. In a sense, she’s correct, it won’t be, but she’s in for a rude awakening if she thinks we’ll be living apart and away from each other completely. As I mentioned, she’s playing with fire and needs a quick lesson in who’s holding the gasoline.

  I’m doing Ismerlda’s family a favor by marrying her, not the other way around. The Joker and I gain another alliance at the table of the Five Families, and in return, hopefully, the Vendettis from New York won’t kill them off. At least that’s what we’ve been telling them. Ismerlda will owe me, and I expect to collect my pound of flesh from her.

  “Indeed. My bride only needs to pick a date she fancies. I pledge to be an easy bloke about this process as I know she’ll make it an extravagant affair, no doubt.”

  His pleased smile widens as he reaches forward to give her hand a tender squeeze. He cares for his daughter a great deal, that I don’t doubt for a moment. “Isa’s mama and nonna will have her in dress fittings this week. The sooner this takes place, the better for everyone involved. We’ll make sure it’s the most extravagant wedding in the city.”

  Ismerlda scoffs. “I’ll arrange my own fitting, grazie. I have to work, Papa. I have appointments. You already know this week is too busy for me to do any of this. I agreed to the engagement, but I won’t budge on my schedule. You assured me it’d be my terms.”

  “Nonsense Isa, this marriage is our famiglia’s number-one focus. I told you it’s too dangerous right now for you to be traveling back and forth to your job. I will pay your expenses. Take a vacation if necessary. This isn’t the time or place to discuss such things, my daughter.”

  I snicker to myself. Of course our marriage is his family’s main priority. He doesn’t want to be taken out by Dante Vendetti, or anyone else for that matter. Not that I can blame the pudgy Italian. From what I’ve heard, Dante has been having his fun raining down terror on the most prominent families in Chicago. His vendetta is why I tolerate him here at all. We’re both making significant moves to run Chicago’s underground crime syndicate. Dante for his brother, the Capo dei Capi of New York, and myself for Joker. We’re the henchmen, if you will, both making moves to benefit our bosses. It’ll be interesting when we eventually meet face to face, that’s for sure.

  I hand Vincenzo my business card. “I’ll be in touch about moving Ismerlda’s things to my flat. I’m not there much, so she has plenty of room for any of her things she wishes to bring, as well as redecorating. Otherwise, I’ll await to hear which venue and date you’ll be booking.” I begin to turn away but pause momentarily, meeting my future bride’s stormy cappuccino gaze. “I’ll be in a solid black tux, darling, so make sure the wedding theme compliments it.”

  A scarlet flush creeps up her delectable neck, but I pay it no mind. She’s positively off her rocker, if she believes she’ll be choosing what I wear, as well as turning my life upside down. I’ll be keeping my
bollocks between my legs, and it’d do her well to realize as much early on.

  I glance at her father, gauging his reaction to the tension brewing between his daughter and me. He has none, obviously understanding how much my alliance means to their safety to overlook any irritation I may cause Ismerlda in the process. “Maximillian.” He tilts his head in my direction. “I handed off my number to your assistant, Andre. We’ll await your instructions for the move and any other details you may possibly think of. I’m sure you have a specific tailor and such, but if we can be of service, contact me.”

  I beam manically, tickled at getting my way, with Ismerlda along for the ride and not having a say in any of it. I shouldn’t get off on her torment already, yet I do. I have no doubt the fiery woman will give me her own version of hell, but in this she has no room to argue. Leaning in, I subtly murmur for her ears alone. “Take care of that lovely wet cunt, darling. I’ll be in it soon enough in my bed, and I won’t have anyone’s leftovers.”

  She glowers, releasing an angry hiss. “Fuck off, Brit boy.”

  “Ismerlda Castelano!” her father admonishes, face draining of color. “What’s gotten into you?”

  “Nothing. You act as if I’m an insolent child. I’m a grown woman that can speak for herself.”

  I chuckle and take my leave, overhearing him speak to her in rapid Italian. I have a feeling he’s not as amused as I am at the moment. Strolling towards Thaddaeus, I can’t help but have a bit of pep in my step. There’s no doubt about it in my mind, I’m going to have fun with Ismerlda. Even if she fights me along the way, I’ll enjoy it, especially when I finally sink my throbbing cock in her. I wasn’t lying earlier when I warned her; I meant every word. Her pussy belongs to me now. I won’t tolerate anyone fucking my soon-to-be wife. I’ll gladly kill them and be done with the problem.

  If Ismerlda’s not careful enough, she’ll end up six feet under too.

  Damaged people are dangerous. They

  know how to make hell feel like home.

  – Unknown

  “Left side of the closet. My things are on the right,” I order the movers busily transferring Ismerlda’s belongings into my flat. I got this place when Grace and Thaddaeus tied the knot, though it’s still a bit empty for being here so long. I couldn’t be cooped up at his place around them all the time, regardless of it being a mansion or not. If I had to run into Grace around every corner clad in a white T-shirt and no bra, I was seriously going to go a bit mental over her. The daft woman had no sense of self-preservation, especially being surrounded by wolves.

  “I can’t believe I let my father talk me into this,” Ismerlda huffs as she braces her hands on her voluptuous hips. I’ve been keen on thin women in the past, but there’s just something about her body that’s thick in all the right places. The bit of pasta she eats does her body more than good, I certainly won’t be complaining having something enticing to hold on to. I can already imagine grabbing on to that luscious arse of hers while she rides my long cock.

  “Mm,” I groan to myself, reminiscing of when I had my fingers deep between her swollen pussy lips. Bloody hell, she’s going to be the end of me if I don’t slide between those thighs soon enough. I’ve transformed into a horny teen all over again. This simply won’t do.

  “Max!” she calls my name with a bit too much force. Obviously, I was off in my head and not paying her any mind. Who knows what she’s said that I’ve missed. Women are finicky, and she’s no different in that sense, I can see as much quite clearly.

  “Yes, darling?”

  “I’ll take the other room. I have too many clothes for your closet. This is already awkward enough.”

  “Nonsense. This is nonnegotiable. I’ve already spoken to your father about us sharing a room. In my lifestyle, it’s not exactly safe for you to be sleeping away from me. I don’t want to pull a knife on you in the middle of the night if you creep through the flat.”

  “I’m perfectly fine. I’m not scared. I grew up in this life, in case you’ve forgotten. I’ve had security for as long as I can remember. This apartment won’t be anything different than what I’ve already lived with.”

  Releasing a snort, I snatch her wrist and tug her after me. “Bullshit, lovey. I kill men regularly. They anger me and they die. Your father is a small fish when it comes to shitting on the wrong fellas. As for your clothes, there’s another door that leads into the larger wardrobe. I had the middle room fully converted into a custom wardrobe, as I enjoy a variety of selection myself. The small one is merely my suits that’ve recently been dry cleaned and dropped off. I’ve fucked off and haven’t put them away.”

  “You put your own clothes away?” She casts a skeptical look in my direction.

  “I have housekeeping, but I don’t want them snooping through my pants and singlets. I’m not a posh fucker. Get that out of your head. I’m well aware of how to manage the wash.”

  Her nose scrunches in the most adorable way, and that in itself catches me off guard. Since when did this woman go from shaggable to fucking provocative to adorable? Nope, nope, nope. I need to get those thoughts out of my mind. She’s my business-arranged wife, not some sweet thing I want to pamper.

  “Oh come on, your knickers and under tops… Surely, you have them too and don’t want anyone being nosey?”

  She laughs, the sound leaving her a bit throaty. It shoots straight to my cock. The bugger is paying far too much attention to Ismerlda for my liking. “So I should expect to arrange my own laundry service then? Or will housekeeping take care of mine if I request them to?”

  “Her card’s on the fridge. You can set up everything how you want it. Don’t answer the door, and I mean under no circumstance whatsoever.”

  “Because the famiglias are being hunted down?”

  I release a sigh. “No, because I have my fair share of arsehole enemies as well. They shouldn’t be able to get up here, but you never know whose arse is royally chapped enough to manage the impossible. I’ll need a copy of your schedule for this to work properly.”

  “You and my father seem to have the same hang-up of treating me as if I’m a teenager without any street smarts. I’m thirty-three years old, for heaven’s sake. My schedule changes frequently with the amount of business I have. If I have a prominent client, then I spend more time working with them and so forth.”

  A growl rumbles my chest, throwing me off-balance a bit. Jealous to obsessive to possessive seem to be my mood swings when it comes to this damn woman. I don’t know what’s so bloody special about my new fiancée for me to be giving myself a bit of whiplash over her. I should want her gone and out of my way for the most part, yet here I am, wondering who in the hell these clients are and if they’re fucking or have fucked in the past. They won’t care for me, because I won’t be allowing them anywhere near her on my watch.

  “Unless I’m the one next to you to slit a bloke’s throat, I want you to heed my instructions. Tell me, do I know these clients of yours? I need names and businesses.” I’ll admit, I was thrown a bit hearing she works at all. I assumed she was another spoiled American, wanting everything handed to them for free. Their entitlement knows no bounds, I’ve come to learn, and it’s positively exhausting at times.

  She gets up in my face—the woman’s full of salt and vinegar and cock-sucking lips. Her fingers move to grip the lapels of my jacket, her ruby nails filed sharp enough to draw a man’s blood. She leans in and I tilt my head down, a glutton for whatever punishment she’s about to dole out. My body shudders with desire as her tongue flicks out to lick the tip of my earlobe. She’s a bloody talented cock tease. Her sultry voice murmurs, “None. Of. Your. Business.”

  “Hmm,” I grunt, my teeth clenching, wanting to toss her over my thigh and spank her arse a bit. Ismerlda’s got nerve, poking the bear. Something tells me she’s used to pushing and prodding until she gets her way. She bulldozes right over any weak tosser in her path. She’s in for the shock of her life if she believes I’ll wither to her ways.
If anything, it’ll be the opposite. It always is.

  My hand grips the back of her neck before she has a chance to escape. Holding her alluring curves against my much larger frame, I reverse our positions. Leaning in, I gruffly taunt, “Oh, darling, haven’t you worked it out in your pretty little head yet? Everything that concerns you is my business. You belong to me now. You’ll have my last name—mine.”

  “Fuck you,” she rebukes, pushing against my solid chest. I don’t move, just to prove a point. I do absolutely nothing unless I decide it, and right now I want her feeling my strength.

  “Brilliant. We can arrange that as well,” I whisper against her heated flesh and hold her to me a bit longer, letting her struggle with her new reality. I’m bigger, stronger, meaner, and far more stubborn than she’s ever had to deal with before. I didn’t get to America and beside Joker by being a weak wanker. I pillaged and killed my way up the ranks. I cheated and lied until it got me further in life. Mum would piss her virginal white knickers if she saw me now—not that I give two fucks.

  “You’ll have some lonely nights, Brit boy, if you’re waiting on me to spread my thighs. It won’t happen in your lifetime.”

  I release her, striding towards my wardrobe. “Who says I only shag at night? And trust me, darling, my cock’s far from lonely.”

  “He and your hand best friends? Makes sense,” she huffs, but follows along like a good fiancée. She’s so fucking sweet on the eyes, it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. She’s delusional if she thinks we won’t shag at some point. I want inside her pussy, and I always manage a way to get what I want. She’s no exception, and the sooner I have her, the better.

  “I’m sick of you pricks showing up half-arsed,” I bark to the lot before me. I sent them after Dante Vendetti, told them to follow the fella around and see what he was up to. Not that I don’t already know he’s the one killing the families, but I want confirmation I’m right, the proof. I don’t want to go to Joker without knowing all the facts.