Cruel Prince: A Dark Mafia Arranged Marriage Romance

by Piper Stone

  “What are you doing?” I whispered, unable to stop shaking as he lifted my dress.

  He pushed his hands against my knees then reached for the platter, lifting the dome. I laughed nervously from seeing the bowl of fluffy white whipped cream.

  “I already told you. Enjoying a well-deserved dessert.” Using only his fingers, he scooped a significant portion, immediately lathering my still aching pussy.

  “Oh, no. You’re so…” I continued giggling like some schoolgirl as he swirled his fingers up and down, covering every inch of my wet heat with the chilled mixture.

  “Evil?” he finished, chuckling darkly as he wiped the remaining cream across my inner thigh. He didn’t hesitate, issuing a series of dark growls then dragging his tongue across the heated skin of my leg.

  “Oh, my.” I immediately arched my back, trying to keep my legs wide open as required. A flurry of sensations swept up from the tips of my toes, shooting directly into the molten heat of my pussy. I slapped my hands on the table, trying desperately to find a way to cling to the edges.

  His guttural sounds became even more barbaric as he licked the remnants off my leg, immediately swirling his tongue around my clit.

  “You are so… bad. So…” I laughed again, fighting to keep my legs from shaking violently. Inhaling, I lifted my head, almost bursting into laughter from the sight of how much cream had already covered the lower portion of his face.

  “Delicious,” he muttered, the sinful sound forcing another round of goosebumps. He shook his head back and forth as he sucked on my clit until the tender tissue was almost too sensitive.

  “No. You can’t.”

  “I will do exactly as I want.”

  I undulated my hips, panting like some wild animal.

  As he buried his head into my pussy, I closed my eyes, allowing the sheer enjoyment of something so sinful to excite every cell.

  “I could eat you for hours,” he huffed, adding another scoop until a portion of the white fluff slid down the crack of my ass.

  The scent of fresh cream filled the air, making the moment that much more decadent. I could barely catch my breath, pulsing electricity sending several jolts into my muscles until they spasmed. I bit my lower lip, remaining cognizant that anyone could walk in. The knowledge only fueled the excitement surrounding the filthy act even more.

  Matteo took his time, sliding just the tip up and down several times, pushing me close to a climax then pulling back. I was crazed from his torment, my body bucking involuntarily.

  A rush of guilt flowed through me, although I wasn’t certain what I’d done to feel remorse about. Still, a slight cold chill trickled down the length of my body, a dark sense of foreboding settling into my system. I wasn’t meant to be happy, allowed to feel anything other than the horror of being swept into a life of servitude. I didn’t deserve anything better given the father who’d sold me in order to keep his reputation.

  And the man providing so much pleasure wasn’t my lover.

  He would forever be my captor.

  As he thrust a combination of his tongue and several fingers into my tight channel, I jerked all the way up from the table, unable to stop a scream from erupting as an instant orgasm smashed into me. Stars in vibrant colors drifted in front of my eyes, making it impossible to see clearly, the ecstasy keeping me from being able to think rationally.

  Matteo growled savagely as he continued feasting, pinching my clit between his fingers as he drilled his tongue inside. Within seconds, another even more powerful wave enveloped every inch of my body, forcing me to release a ragged scream.

  He said nothing as his actions became rougher, keeping me on the edge of ecstasy. I couldn’t speak, the only sounds I made little more than ragged breaths. I had no idea how much time had gone by but as the dancing vibrations finally began to subside, I heard the sound of footsteps in the distance.

  When Matteo hissed, I folded my arm over my eyes, as if acting as if I couldn’t see would curtail the heavy embarrassment.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, boss, but I thought you’d want to hear some news.”

  Gio’s stark voice made me shudder. Something was wrong.

  Exhaling, Matteo reached over my legs, grabbing the linen napkin that he’d tossed aside earlier. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “Yes, sir.” Gio walked promptly out of the room. Even though he closed the door with a soft click, I flinched.

  “I’m sorry for the interruption, Catherine. I should return in a few minutes.” Without hesitating, he tossed the napkin, taking long strides toward the door. When his hand was on the door, I heard his deep sigh. “Needless to say, I expect you to stay right here. Do not force me to punish you.”

  As tender, almost romantic as the moment before had been, a single sentence was all I needed to remind me of my place.

  As his conquest.

  As his toy.

  As his submissive.

  Nothing would ever change, and I would never mean anything to him other than a reminder of my father’s betrayal. Whatever feelings I thought might change for the man, I had to remember the truth behind the façade of a fantasy.

  I was nothing but a possession.

  Chapter 12

  Matteo

  One week later

  “This game of yours is going to get the entire family killed, Matteo.”

  I wasn’t in the mood to hear Enzo’s bullshit any more than I’d been interested in listening to Stefano’s list of concerns. I’d certainly calculated the risk versus the reward before making the decision to blackmail the men involved in my father’s murder.

  The week had been arduous, testing my lack of patience as well as my resolve. There were far too many rumblings on the street that would require my continued intervention and subsequent punishment. At least the shipments of four goods remained on track. Still, my instinct told me it was the calm before the storm.

  “I don’t need any crap today, Enzo. That is now old news.” I slammed the drawer shut on my father’s desk, the one I’d admired since I’d been a child. I’d even snuck into his office more than once years before, sitting behind the massive structure and pretending that I was in charge.

  The Consigliere leaned over the desk, planting both hands on the surface. I glared at his hands before shifting my hateful gaze into his eyes. As he tensed, I smelled more than a hefty dose of anger. The man was riding a fine line and at this point, the last thing he wanted to do was piss me off.

  “I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but you heard the same information a few days ago that I did. You need to be concerned about retaliation from Michael O’Sullivan. He left the States, and no one seems to know where he’s gone, but I can venture a damn good guess.”

  I continued to glare at Enzo, seething inside. The call from last night had interrupted a rare moment of normalcy with Catherine and continued to weigh heavily on my mind. While I wasn’t upset in the least that he’d taken out his wrath on the police commissioner, putting the man in the hospital, I’d also been forced to realize the attack on a man O’Sullivan had considered a partner was a warning from across the great pond.

  O’Sullivan was biding his time, but he would seek revenge when the time was right. Whether or not he was in the country didn’t bother me. I’d already put out feelers. If the man surfaced, I would know within minutes.

  “What I’m concerned about is that we still have unrest in certain sections of our clientele, Enzo. That simply won’t be tolerated.” While I’d thought the messages that I’d provided over the last ten days had been enough, perhaps it was time to broaden my horizons. That was something else Stefano and Enrique had warned me against already.

  Huffing, he smacked his hand on the desk then moved away, shaking his head. “You are just as stubborn as your father. You can’t be cavalier on this. O’Sullivan is a brutal asshole who isn’t going to allow you to make a fool out of him. He will stop at nothing to destroy you.”

  Now I laughed. “This isn’
t about being cavalier, Enzo. This is about business. Would you have preferred that I shed blood in the streets of New York?”

  “What I would have preferred is that you had consulted with me just like your father did all these years.”

  I jerked to a standing position, taking my time to move around the edge of the desk. As I crowded closer, I actually saw a glimpse of fear in his eyes. I’d always been the dangerous brother, a predator in expensive clothing. Perhaps it was time to live up to my reputation.

  He backed against one of the bookshelves, running his hand through his thinning hair.

  “What’s wrong, Enzo? Don’t you trust my judgment?”

  “It’s not about trust, Matteo, and you know it.”

  “What I know is that you were completely aware of my father’s reason for going to the States, although you continue to refuse to tell me. You also knew how risky it was for him to go alone. In fact, I think you encouraged him to go. As you might imagine, that is deeply concerning.” I studied his face after making the insinuations.

  I’d spent time in my father’s offices, including his estate as well as the set of corporate suites used for our legitimate businesses, searching through various records in an effort to find additional information on the reason he’d been in the United States.

  What little I’d found only confirmed my original suspicions, but too many questions remained unanswered.

  Roberto Benedetti had made overtures to several potential largescale clients, players who’d already been approached by O’Sullivan. He had escalated plans that he’d only discussed with me thirty days before. While every report, including the one from the detective in charge of the investigation indicated my father had been alone on that fateful sunny day in New York, I’d had a hunch, a gnawing in my gut. The follow-through was eye opening, although I had even more questions than I had answers.

  “That’s bullshit!” Enzo barked. “Why the hell would I do that? In fact, I was the one who tried to keep him from going.”

  “So you did know his reason for the trip.”

  His face turned bright red, the veins on the side of his neck bulging. Realizing his mistake, he attempted to sidestep in order to get out of my reach.

  However, he wasn’t fast enough. I snapped my hand around his throat, slamming him against the bookshelf. “If you weren’t considered a member of this family, I would put a bullet in your head.”

  He lifted his arms in surrender, darting his eyes back and forth.

  I’d never lifted a finger against him in my life. That wasn’t how I’d been raised. He was considered a man of honor in our household, someone to be respected as well as trusted. I loathed the fact I had question marks about his loyalty. After a few seconds, I released my hold, shifting toward my father’s bar. I hadn’t touched a drop of his liquor since finally allowing myself to venture inside his private office. Even my mother had rarely come into the room, allowing the man she’d married a space without hindrance.

  Today seemed like a good day to break my abstinence. I glanced out the window, the darkening clouds matching my mood. I couldn’t stand not being certain of what to expect. I had no fear of O’Sullivan, but the unknown was something else entirely. I poured us both a scotch, taking my time in doing so before returning to where he remained standing, still shaking from my brutal action.

  He stared at me warily, accepting the drink after a few seconds of hesitation.

  “I’m sorry, Matteo. Your father had forbidden me to tell you or the others what he was doing. I assure you that I questioned his decision more than once, including only hours before he left. He was intent on going through with making the trip.”

  “Who was he meeting with at lunch on that fateful day?” I took a sip of the aged liquor, remembering the first time my father had offered me a drink.

  “Son, you’re of age now. You need to think like a criminal, talk like a leader, and drink like a powerhouse. Anything less than that will be considered a weakness.”

  My father had been right about so many things.

  And my gut told me that when I found the identity of the person that he’d shared his last meal with, I’d learn the true reason for risking his life.

  After studying a vivid photograph taken by a bystander and sold to one of the local rags, I’d noticed the second plate with partially eaten food across the table. While questioning the detective had proven futile, there was no doubt in my mind the person in question held a key to the reason for my father’s murder.

  He narrowed his eyes, genuine confusion setting in. “I know he had meetings with several individuals about what the Benedetti Corporation would be able to supply including the quantities, but I was told he was alone at lunch. I swear to you, I don’t know.”

  I moved toward my father’s desk, retrieving the photograph in question. When I handed it to him, I studied his reaction carefully. He seemed genuinely surprised.

  “Now that you’ve seen the photograph, do you want to revise your answer?”

  Enzo huffed, taking a gulp of his drink, a single bead of sweat trickling down the side of his face. “I’m not lying to you, Matteo. Your father didn’t tell me everything.”

  “Since when?”

  Exhaling, he suddenly appeared more shaken than I’d ever seen him before. He walked toward the window, staring out at the tumultuous sky, remaining quiet for a full two minutes.

  “Your father hated storms. Did he ever tell you that?” Enzo asked.

  “My father had more important things to talk about than the weather, Enzo.”

  He laughed, lifting his glass as if saluting my father’s memory. “You are right about that. He was always working, constantly worrying. That’s why I was surprised when he stopped confiding in me over six months ago. First, I didn’t think anything of it. Business was flourishing, the three of you in your elements. He seemed happy. Then things changed and when I finally questioned him about them, he got so angry with me. Enraged. Much like you were a few minutes ago.” Shaking his head, he darted a look in my direction before returning his gaze to the approaching storm.

  If he wanted me to feel bad about attempting to get to the truth, he was wrong—dead wrong. I took a swig of my drink, allowing him additional time to think clearly about how he was going to finish his statement.

  “I pressed him, even though we almost came to blows more than once. He’d already made arrangements to go to America long before he admitted it and the reason why, at least the one I gave you. However, I never thought he gave me a reasonable answer. That bothered me, but your father was a powerful man, and I knew exactly when to stop pushing him. As far as who he might have met for lunch? That I honestly have no idea. He wasn’t there to make friends, Matteo. You and I both know that the fact he was attempting to move in on what O’Sullivan considered his turf was the reason he was murdered.”

  “Perhaps, although the tactics used had a personal feel.”

  He turned around, nodding several times. “Yes, you’re right. What are you going to do?”

  “I’m not certain, but it would seem O’Sullivan is more on edge than normal.”

  “Which makes him that much more dangerous. Heed my advice for once. Be careful. He’s kept a tie to his Irish roots, and you know how Neanderthal the Irish mob can be.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “That I agree with you on. Whatever my father was hiding, he was willing to risk his life to do so.” It would appear that my father had some kind of weakness after all. My thoughts drifted to Catherine. Maybe my decision had been rash given the fact I’d fallen for the woman.

  He polished off his drink, placing it on the desk. “I should go.”

  I wasn’t going to stop him. I needed time to think before returning to the house, but that was only after yet another meeting with my brothers. We would need to keep a strong hold on our assets until I managed to figure out what the hell was really going on.

  “I need you to try and find out the identity of the person he had lunch with
. I don’t care what you have to do. Someone knows, including the owner of the restaurant.” I issued my command, curious as to what he’d say.

  “I’ll do my best, Matteo. I know the owner pretty well. Perhaps he’ll confide in me.”

  “Just let him know that I expect that he will.”

  As he walked toward the door, he patted me on the shoulder. “For what it’s worth, your father was very proud of you.” When I said nothing, he moved away.

  “Did my father ever tell you why he hated storms?” I wasn’t certain why it seemed important for me to know.

  Enzo exhaled, the sound more exaggerated than usual. “Because he lost someone he cared about during a violent thunderstorm, although he never told me when or who it was. Somehow, I don’t think he ever got over it.”

  When he walked out of the room, I took a deep breath, the ugly memory of years ago filtering into my mind like a ruthless predator. “Like father. Like son.”

  Catherine

  The sky was darkening, the wind whipping all around me, but I was determined to get in my usual daily walk. At least Gio no longer fought me on my determination to get some fresh air and exercise. And my ruthless husband, while remaining on edge, had allowed me additional freedoms as well. I pressed my hand against my mouth to keep from laughing, although I remained apprehensive. I still couldn’t leave the grounds and I’d noticed additional soldiers walking the area. Matteo was worried about an imminent attack.

  A cold chill drifted along my arms as I walked in a different area than I usually did, Gio only a few paces behind me. There were dozens of gardens to explore, species of flowers that I’d never seen before. At least I was at peace when walking. I heard a rumble of thunder in the distance and cringed. A part of me hated storms, but the approaching weather was electrifying, tingling every muscle.

  I allowed my thoughts to drift to Matteo, the nights of passion we’d shared keeping me sore and exhausted, my nipples aching. He’d opened an entirely new world of dominance, stripping me away of so many of my inhibitions. I bit my lip as images of him floated into my mind.