The day has turned into late afternoon. I slap the armrests on my chair and stand. The weariness from the last day and night hasn’t abated. I’ve kept it at bay, but only barely. Everyone grows quiet and looks up. “I need a breather. Be back in half an hour.”
“Boss—” Ivan shoots to his feet.
“Hold the fort for me. If that fucker Tommy doesn’t answer, send someone for him. You don’t need to be gentle. Make sure the clubs open as usual. We don’t want anyone looking our way. It can’t be known that we’re taking notice.”
Ivan nods.
As I stride toward my garden for some breaths of fresh air and a moment of silence, I pull the phone out of my pocket and bring up the feed from my private rooms. I find Chloe pumping away in the gym, furiously. I take in the sheen of sweat on her skin and her flushed cheeks. It’s as if my feet have a will of their own and before I know it, I’m turning the lock to my wing.
She looks up and comes to a full stop as I enter the gym. Holding her gaze, I slowly remove my tie, shrug out of my jacket, unbutton and pull off my shirt, hanging the clothes neatly on a rack. Her eyes dart across my bared chest and then back up to my face.
“As you were,” I say.
She flinches and drops the dumbbells, grabbing the hem of her top.
“No. Keep at it. I want to see you work out.”
Her hands clutch the fabric, then she lets go but doesn’t move.
“Pick up the dumbbells, Chloe,” I say as I grab the barbell, satisfied with the weight. “Go on.”
“I don’t know if you’re gonna punish me if I don’t get naked,” she whispers.
“Oh for fuck’s sake! I will punish you if you don’t do as I say. Period.” I begin to pump, working my biceps, as I hold her gaze. She flinches and picks up the weights. Our eyes stay locked as she goes back to her routine and the air thickens between us. I could get lost in those big round eyes, bright blue, so innocent looking when she, interestingly enough, is pretty fucking far from innocent. Christine. I like it. To me she is Chloe, and I’ll respect that it’s who she wants to be, but I like the thrill of knowing there are layers to this girl. Dark, delicious layers.
She works the weights harder than I’ve ever seen her do before, her muscles rippling under her pale skin. I wonder if she’s working off her frustration, because I know I sure as hell do. She grunts with effort, and I can smell her perspiration from across the room, fresh, tantalizingly musky. Woman. Her. I want to throw the weights down and ravage her. She only has a few more days, then she has to give in, come crawling to me and beg me to take her, or I’ll fucking have her brothers flayed alive. I’m running out of patience. I drop the barbell in a sudden wave of fury. Chloe stops what she’s doing and widens her eyes as I get up off the bench and stalk toward her.
“What?” she gasps and backs up. I follow. She backs until she slams into the wall with a yelp. “Salvatore! What did I do? Please?”
I put a palm to the wall next to her head and lean in, sniffing the mouthwatering scent that wafts up from her warm skin. My cock stirs and all I see is how I bend her over, rip off those little shorts and slay her cunt.
“Fuck!” I roar and push away. Grabbing my clothes, I leave a gasping Chloe behind, still pressed up against the wall, looking as confused as I feel.
Chloe
I can’t keep it together after he has left. Sliding along the wall, I hug my knees, rocking back and forth. There’s no consolation to get anywhere. No one is coming for me. I’m not getting out, and I’ve almost forgotten what it is like out there. All I know are these rooms, this volatile, tantalizingly beautiful man, my own body wreaking havoc with my mind, hate, desire, fear, and longing.
I scream. Hesitantly at first, then I scream as if I’ve lost it entirely. It’s liberating. I’m sweaty, spent, my muscles aching after the exercise and I scream myself hoarse, until the ball of fire in my chest fades to a flickering, much more manageable flame. God, I want to beat that man! He pushes and prods, gives some and takes so much more. And I’m stuck here. The clock is ticking. I have a few days, then I have to spread my legs for him, and not only that – he wants me to fucking beg. I squirm and clench my thighs. I don’t want to want him between my legs, but every-fucking-thing about him is like watching the most disgusting forbidden porn. Watching it. Liking it. Living it.
“I know you see me, you piece of shit!” I scream, barely recognizing my own voice. “I hate you so fucking much!”
Finally, when nothing happens, I grow tired of my own wallowing and take a long hot shower before I spend the rest of the evening in front of the TV. My stomach is filled with butterflies on crack. Something is changing between us. I feel it. I fear it. I know what I’ve had, and it’s been mostly shit. I don’t know what the future will bring, and it terrifies me. He asked me if I was bored. Well, I have to give him that. Not tonight, I’m not.
I’m sitting cross-legged on the middle of the bed, watching a movie, when the door quietly opens and he enters. I dart up and put the plate of grapes on the side table as I tear off the pale green flannel shirt I had cozied up in. He raises a hand and I stop flat with the shirt still bunched in my hands.
“Put it back on and come.”
Watching him warily, I pull it back over my head. I have jeans on and am barefoot as always. I changed the bandages to band-aids and my feet are fine to walk on. “Where are we going?” It’s one a.m. I thought it was bedtime, teasing time, spanking time, or whatever mood he would be in for the night.
“I’ve had a rough day. I just need to sit a little.” He cocks his head for me to follow and I trail behind him like the obedient little girl I’ve turned into.
Sit a little? With me?
We leave his private wing, my prison, and walk through the large room outside, toward the patio. There are white cushions on the rattan chairs, candles lit in several large floor lanterns and two glasses of wine on a little table between the chairs. I stop flat. Not that the change isn’t nice, but what the hell?
It’s as if he senses my astonishment. He’s become so attuned to my emotions that it scares me. I’ve never in my life been so close to anyone, and the knowledge that I’m close with this cruel monster of a man hasn’t really dawned on me until today. It makes me angry, curious, horrified.
“Sit.”
I move stiffly toward one of the chairs and sit on the edge, tense as a piano wire. He sinks into the other chair, oblivious to, or probably choosing to ignore my inner turmoil. Raising one of the glasses he takes a long sip.
“For fuck’s sake, Chloe. Sit back and relax. Have some wine.”
“Or what? You’ll hit me? Kill my brothers? Throw me in the basement and starve me?”
His eyes darken as he tightens his lips. I regret them instantly, the words that flew out of my fucking mouth. Why do I want to pull the devil to the surface when he’s being friendly for once? Is it because it’s the only thing I know? Is it because this new behavior of his rattles me? Salvatore inhales, then exhales on a deep sigh.
“Is that what you want? Or can you just fucking have a glass of wine with me? I’ve had a really shitty day, and I don’t know where one of my nephews went, he’s gone missing. I’m fucking worried. Just sit. Don’t push it.”
“What’s going on?” I ask as I sink back into the chair, grab the glass and take a sip of delicious tasting red wine. There’s a throw blanket hanging over the armrest and I pull it over my legs.
“I think we’re heading to war. And Christian is missing. He’s dropped off the face of the Earth.”
I tense up as I hear the name. His brutal beating still haunts me, despite all I have suffered in this house, he was my first and greatest nightmare. If it hadn’t been for that night I never would have come here, I’d have lived my Chloe life still, always looking over my shoulder, but somewhat content anyway.
“I can’t say I’m sorry,” I mutter.
“You’ll possibly meet him here sooner or later so you better get over it.”
“So am I.”
“Yes, you are.”
He empties the glass and pulls up a bottle from behind the table, refilling. “People have died, Chloe Becker, for being less mouthy with me than you are.”
“You’ve almost killed me. Several times. I don’t know what I have to lose. I’m beaten. I’m sitting here with you like some doll because you flicked your fingers. I’ll spread my legs for you because you threatened the lives of my brothers and not because I want you.”
“I’m not proud I beat you up,” he says, his voice hoarse. He suddenly sounds eternally tired.
I’m completely taken aback. I’d never have expected to hear anything even remotely close to an apology from this man and I don’t know what to answer. I gulp down the rest of the wine, buying time, the silence mounting between us, charging the air.
“You confuse me,” I finally say, unable to look at him, swallowing hard.
“I confuse myself. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing anymore.” He leans closer and refills my glass.
I take a large sip. I haven’t had alcohol in months. I’m gonna get wasted, but I’ll take it. “I… don’t know what to say.”
“Thank you,” he says. “For David. I haven’t—It’s new to me too… You’ve made me see him in a different light.”
My heart makes a leap with sudden joy. “He’s a great boy. You’ll get there, I know it.”
Salvatore gives me an unreadable gaze, then he drains his glass and stands, holding out his hand. I finish my glass too and put it down on the table as I let him pull me to my feet. We end up nose to nose, way too close. His eyes dart between mine as he strokes a strand of hair off my face and tucks it behind my ear. Then his eyes change, flash dark. I know what he wants. I know what he’ll demand. I’m his to take. He wants more than I can give, though. He’ll force me to bend, my time is running out, but I can never give myself fully and completely to him. He’s too cruel, too much of a devil, despite the streaks of humanity that have started to surface. There’s a vulnerability he tries to hide, but I’ve spent so much time with the monster that I’ve gotten attuned to his every mood shift, his every need. I hear it in his breaths, see it in how his pulse thuds on the sides of his neck, how that vein swells on his forehead. I even smell it on him. I know when he is about to turn cruel. I know when he’ll be tender.
Tenderness is over for tonight.
“Come,” he says, and grabs my arm.
Chapter 19
Luciano
For a moment we got close. I don’t do close. It’s not why she is here.
That night I spank her ass until she whimpers. I hate fuck her throat, ravaging her, taking out my frustration on her flesh, and still it’s not enough anymore. I want more. Sex to me has been violence, force, my cock spearing every hole a woman can provide. Suddenly it feels empty despite the roaring releases she gives me.
In the morning I get her off. Chloe is like clay in my hands. She writhes, gasps and moans, arching into me, her sweet-smelling, sleep-warm body mine to hurt and please. She’s with me and still she isn’t. The deadline I gave her is approaching fast and soon I have to live up to my promise of cutting into her brothers. Thing is, I’m not really feeling it anymore. I’ll lose her. I’ll lose this, whatever it is.
Then everything happens at once and my life explodes. Right after I’ve locked the door to my private wing, Nathan calls from New York, saying he’s found Christian and he’s on his way to fetch him.
Still clutching my phone, processing the turn of events, I find Eric in my office, Ivan by his side. They dart up as I enter.
“The shit has hit the fan,” says Eric.
“Nathan found Christian,” I say and fall into my chair. Dropping my phone on the desk, I push my fingers through my hair and sigh. I’m too tired to think straight. My mind is all over the place.
“Where the fuck was he?” Eric pulls off his jacket and hangs it over the backrest of one of the guest chairs before he sits.
“I don’t know yet. Talk to me. What’s going on?”
Eric looks dead serious. “There was a shooting a couple of hours ago. Our casino at the back of Blossom.”
I sit up straight, suddenly all ears. One of our illegal gambling clubs, behind the facade of a regular nightclub. We’re making serious money out of it. “Details.”
“They left a message,” says Ivan. “It’s the Russians.”
“What was the fucking message?” I growl.
Ivan folds his large paws on his lap. “‘The town is ours’, sir.”
“What the fuck are they, five?” I sneer.
Eric shrugs. “Toddlers with some heavy fire power, then. They shot everybody. The cops are all over the place. We’re gonna be exposed. I don’t know how to sort out a mess of this scale.”
I clench my jaw. “Define ‘everybody’.”
“Bouncers, bartenders, croupiers, waitresses, even the girl in the wardrobe. They let the guests go.”
I shoot to my feet. “What the fuck?”
Eric throws up his hands. “I’ve relocated Anna, sent her to Bianca in Chicago. The town isn’t safe anymore. This is serious, Luci.”
I rub my face as I pace the room. “Where are these people located?” I snarl. “Get Matteo here. He needs to organize intel. Did he hit town yet?”
Ivan nods. “He got here yesterday. He came by, but you were in a meeting.”
“Surveillance from the club?” I ask.
Eric nods. “We have people looking at it right now.”
A red haze of rage rises in me. “Fuck!” I shove all the contents on my desk off it with one sweep of my arm. I’ve had a couple of good days, but with me there’s always new shit. Eric and Ivan look at me, impassively, neither of them rattled by my outburst. “Look at the fucking tapes, find these people and shoot every last one of the motherfuckers! I want them wiped off the face of the Earth before morning.”
“Might not be that easy, Boss,” says Ivan.
“Fucking hell! Where’s my fucking family? Get everyone here!”
“It’s only Matteo, sir,” says Eric quietly.
I stop. Christian’s somewhere, in bad shape from what it sounded like. Nathan on his way to wherever that is. Luca is useless and Angela, youngest of the Russos, has no training whatsoever. She also hates my guts and would never set foot in San Francisco. My heart sinks. I’m alone. As always.
“Go fetch Matteo, then. And call in Luca anyway, he’s got two fucking hands and he can shoot.”
Eric frowns. “You’ll get him killed.”
“I don’t fucking care!” I roar. “Gather everyone here. Every man we’ve got.”
Ivan straightens and Eric stands. “Yes, Boss.”
“Get to it. Update me on everything. We strike tonight.” I stalk out of the room, and I don’t even think about where my feet take me until I stand before the closed and locked door that hides Chloe.
She’s sitting on the bed and jumps out of it immediately as I enter, surprise on her face turning to concern.
“What’s wrong?” she asks as she grabs the hem of her shirt.
I wave for her to stop. “Everything. I just… I need one fucking moment of not everything being a disaster.”
“Do you… do you want me to get you off?”
That hadn’t even entered my mind. “Just sit,” I say and move toward her. Her gaze is trained on me, following my every move as I sit down next to her on the edge of the bed and then bury my head in her lap. I want her hands on me. I just want a fucking caress, but she sits stiff and unmoving. I close my eyes and wonder how much I’ve hurt her. I wonder what she’s thinking when she sees me. My mind is scattered between Christian, my business, the Russians, Chloe and my threats to her brothers, and the realization that I have no one. There is absolutely no one who really cares about me, who wants me in their life.
I stand. I don’t say anything. I
don’t know what to say. I wanted her to come to me. I truly thought it would have happened a long time ago. Why doesn’t she want me? I know I give her physical pleasure. She comes so fucking hard on my fingers. She gets wet just looking at me, our bodies so tuned to each other, but it’s like she isn’t with me. She, the woman I see at breakfast, with David, the intelligent mysterious forger, compassionate child whisperer, and accountant. In bed she pulls back, disappears, and all she does is obey.
My house fills up with people, hard men armed to the teeth. My office has turned into Communication Central.
Nathan calls, the connection weak. He’s found Christian in rural Canada, barely hanging onto life, speaking incoherently about Kerry and the little one, their daughter Cecilia. I’m not sure what to make of it.
It’s Sunday. Ten a.m. I can’t get my head straight. It feels as if the whole world comes crashing down on me. I need peace of mind if I’m gonna be able to handle today, so I do the only thing I can think of. I drop everything, tell Eric I’ll be back in the afternoon, and go to mass.
St. Patrick’s church downtown is filled to the last seat, as always on Sundays. I sit in the congregation, kneel, put my hands together in prayer, listen to the ceremony in Latin, take communion, try to feel the connection with the faith I was born into, try to grasp the age-old magic. My phone buzzes in my pocket repeatedly. I don’t let even World War Three bother me when I try to make amends with the powers that be and I turn it off as I steer my steps to the confession booth.
Falling on my knees, I cross myself. “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. My last confession was three years ago.” My voice doesn’t sound like my own. It is raspy, hollow, lifeless.
Like my soul. What’s there to save?
I’m a fucking fraud. I’m a shell of a man. No one knows me. I’ve never let anyone in. No, that’s not true. There’s one woman, one I got close to once, when I was young. Before I turned against her, stomped on her words of love, and made her keeper of my whores.
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