by Margot Scott
Caprice turns around as Sergio moves his hands down to her ass, his strong hands squeezing. He kisses Caprice firmly, his tongue pushing apart her lips, sucking on her tongue.
Caprice reaches down, grasps Sergio’s cock, hard and swollen. She is hot and wet, hungry, ready to take all ten inches. He lifts Caprice and she wraps her long tanned legs around his waist as he guides himself into her, fucking Caprice up against the shower wall, the warm water dripping over their bodies.
“Ahh…….yes, Sergio……..fuck me, harder,” Caprice moans, as Sergio pumps even faster, Caprice’s lovely breasts bouncing and jiggling.
Sergio bends down, licks one of her nipples, then clamps down on it, sucking, then biting it. Caprice moans with pleasure, the sensation of Sergio’s mouth on her nipples causing her to fall over the edge.
Caprice bucks against Sergio, moaning his name. Sergio slams his cock into her as she shudders, her orgasm coursing throughout her body.
Sergio, still hard and ready for his release, kisses Caprice. “You know what I want, mia bella,” he whispers, his voice heavy with lust.
“Mmm…….yes, I know,” Caprice says, licking her lips. She gets down on her knees, the warm water running down her back, down her ass. She takes Sergio in her mouth, sucking just the head of his cock while she cups his tight balls.
“Take it all, mia bella,” Sergio growls, his cock ready to explode. Caprice opens her mouth wide, taking all of his cock, his head hitting the back of her throat.
God, I love this man’s cock, Caprice thought, closing her eyes.
Sergio looks down at Caprice, the sight of her sucking him turning him on even more. He loves watching her head bob up and down on him, her full lips wrapped around his cock.
“Suck it, come on, faster,” Sergio says, his hands in her wet hair. He can feel himself getting close, ready to pop any second. He grabs Caprice’s head, fucking her mouth faster now. Caprice looks up at him with her gorgeous, smoldering dark eyes, her mouth stuffed with his cock.
“Ahhh…….” Sergio moans, shooting his thick, salty come in Caprice’s mouth as she swallows it all down.
After a few moments, Sergio pulls Caprice up. “That was incredible, mia bella,” he says, kissing Caprice deeply. He never had a woman suck him off the way Caprice does.
“Yes, it was,” Caprice murmurs contentedly, her orgasm just what she needed to start the day.
Caprice, refreshed from the shower and orgasm, gets dressed in a Versace black leather mini, fitted red sweater, and Jimmy Choo knee-high boots – a casual look for Caprice. She admires her reflection in the mirror, turning from side to side, satisfied with her choice of outfit.
“Sergio, when will we be leaving London?” Caprice asks, trying to conceal the impatience she was feeling.
“Soon.” Sergio turns his back to Caprice, facing the terrace overlooking Hyde Park, the first time he’s noticed the view since arriving.
Caprice rolled her eyes. “Soon? What does that mean, exactly?”
Sergio turned back around, facing Caprice. “It means soon. I have work to do here.”
“Yes, mio caro,” Caprice says, deciding not to push it. “Well, what shall I do in the meantime?” Caprice asks innocently, hoping he would take the bait.
Sergio knew what to do to pacify Caprice. He pulls out a wad of cash, peels off several bills, and hands them to her.
“Here, mia bella. Take this and have fun,” Sergio says. He pauses, then peels off another couple of bills, feeling generous after Caprice swallowed his come.
“Grazie, amore mio,” Caprice said, lowering her eyelashes, smiling. Suddenly all thoughts of leaving London vanish from Caprice’s mind.
She leaves after kissing Sergio goodbye, happily strutting through the hotel lobby, all eyes on her. Caprice giggles as a male passerby stared, unable to take his eyes off her, while the man’s wife glared at her.
She exits the hotel, the doorman nodding to her. The limo was waiting for her at the curb.
“Harrods, please,” Caprice sang out to the chauffeur.
Sergio paced inside the hotel suite, cursing Nick Stone. He was supposed to meet the son-of-a-bitch today. It was the entire reason for being in fucking London, Sergio thought angrily. And not a single word from Nick. No call, no text, no message. Nothing.
Sergio was done with this fucker. Oh, he’d meet with Nick, hear him out. Then, once Sergio returned to Naples, it would be over for Nick. Sergio would make sure of it. He would put his best men on it. Nick would be pumped full of lead and thrown out in the fucking ocean for wasting Sergio’s precious time.
He picks up his phone again, checking to see if Nick had called or texted. Furiously, Sergio throws his phone down. He considers calling Nick, but decides against it. Nick works for him, so Nick should be contacting him, not the other way around. Clenching his fist, he punches a hole in the wall, unable to control his fury.
After hitting the wall, Sergio feels slightly better and pours himself a glass of red wine. He downs the entire glass in two gulps, pours himself another glass.
There is a knock on the door. Sergio, assuming its housekeeping, yells out, “Come back later!”
Another knock, this time louder, more insistent. Annoyed, Sergio quickly drinks the rest of his wine, hastily puts the glass down, and strides to the door.
Sergio peers out of the peephole. Nick is standing outside the door, his hands in his coat pockets. Sergio flings open the door and growls, “Where the fuck have you been?”
“Pleasure to see you too, Sergio,” Nick responds, a sarcastic edge to his voice.
“I’ve been waiting for you to contact me all fucking day,” Sergio seethes, the two glasses of wine only fueling his anger. “Kept me waiting like a fucking bitch!”
“Can we talk about this inside?” Nick asks calmly, while pushing his way through. He walks into the hotel suite, looks around, assessing the environment. This will be easy, he thought.
“You better fucking start talking. You brought me here, told me there was a serious problem as to why you can’t finish McCall off. So, what’s the problem?” Sergio demanded, staring at Nick.
Nick says nothing, only stares back at Sergio, unblinking, his hands still buried in his coat pockets. Sergio chuckles, shaking his head, pointing his finger at Nick, and says, “You, my friend, are a strange one.” Sergio laughs out loud, walks back to the bar to pour himself another glass of wine.
Nick stares at the red wine, flashbacks of Vincent Rossi’s blood soaked shirt still so vivid in his mind after all these years.
Sergio glances at Nick while he pours another glass, notices him staring. “Would you like a glass?” Sergio offers, not really wanting to share a drink with this asshole, but thought he ought to at least offer.
“No thank you,” Nick says briskly, looking away.
Sergio shrugs his shoulders, and takes a long drink. He puts the glass down, looks at Nick, his brow furrowing, tilting his head to the side.
“Wait a minute….. che cazzo?……. How the fuck did you know where I was staying?”
Nick doesn’t answer. He merely walks to the window, takes a quick glance at the view, and begins to close the drapes.
“What are you doing?” Sergio asks, alarmed. Buzzed, he fumbles with his glass, trying to move quickly to the bedroom to get his pistol.
Sergio is too slow. Before he even realizes it, Nick is in his face, the end of his gun jutting into Sergio’s carotid artery.
“What am I doing?” hissed Nick. “I’m going to blow your fucking brains out, that’s what I’m going to do!” Nick spits in his face, the look of repulsion and disgust on Sergio’s face only makes Nick want to do it again. So he does, one long stream of spit rolling down the side of Sergio’s cheek.
Sergio lunges forward, his fear and anger rising inside him, like a boil ready to spew forth its puss. He pushes Nick as hard as he can, throwing him to the floor. Sergio tries to pin Nick down, but Nick is agile, and quickly gets up, the gun pointed dir
ectly at Sergio’s chest, ready to fire.
Sergio raises his hands up in defeat, his eyes bulging with fear. “Per favore! Please don’t shoot! I’ll give you whatever you want.”
“What I want?” Nick asks incredulously. “Sergio, you stupid fuck. What I want is to kill you. I was there when you’re fucking father died. That motherfucker tried to kill me. Now I’m going finish this off,” Nick says matter-of-factly. “Once and for all. Time to die, asshole.”
Nick pulls the trigger, the bullet piercing Sergio’s chest, ripping through flesh and tendons and muscle, the pain so utterly unbearable that Sergio, in that instant, wishes for death.
Nick walks over to Sergio, his body collapsed on the hardwood floor. He stands over Sergio, smiling down at him, watching the life slowly fade away from Sergio’s eyes. Nick feels at peace now, both father and son dead.
Nick calmly picks up Sergio’s cell phone, turning it off and then placing it in his coat pocket, and leaves the hotel suite without a backwards glance. He closes the door behind him, already thinking about his next victim – the lovely, sweet Katherine Harris.
Chapter 33
Caprice enters the elevator, exhilarated from shopping. Shopping has that effect on her. The entire shopping experience is a pleasure for Caprice. Touching the clothes, looking at beautiful things, sales associates waiting on you hand and foot. It was definitely Caprice’s scene.
While at Harrods, she had purchased an Armani blue silk blouse, a beautiful black La Perla bra encrusted with Swarovski crystals, and two pairs of Loubatins. Caprice was pleased with her new purchases and couldn’t wait to show it all off to Sergio.
The elevator arrives to the penthouse suite floor and Caprice steps off the elevator, her hips swaying. Unable to resist, the male elevator attendant sticks his head out, watching Caprice as she walks towards the room.
Caprice saunters into the hotel suite, swinging her bags. “Sergio!” she calls out. Caprice places her bags down, quickly checks her reflection in the mirror.
“Sergio, bell’umo. I’m back,” Caprice says. Nothing. Frowning, Caprice walks to the living area and stops in her tracks.
“Sergio!!!” Her hands cover her mouth as she races to him, his body slumped over in a heap. She drops to the floor, shaking. Caprice rolls Sergio over on his back, his shirt covered in blood.
“OH MY GOD!” Caprice screams, tears streaking down her perfect face. “Oh, Sergio!” Caprice sobs, placing her head on his cheek.
Sergio’s eyes flutter, just barely, only an ounce of life left in his body. “Caprice……….” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “Leave………now…………” Sergio begins coughing, choking on his own blood.
Caprice bends down even closer, placing her ear up to Sergio’s mouth. “Please, Sergio, don’t leave me!” she wails.
“Leave……..…it’s Alex…McCallllll………..miaaa……..beeellllaaaaa………”
His head falls sideways, unable to hold on any longer, all life leaving his body, firmly in death’s grip.
Three days later
Back in Naples, Caprice sits in her apartment, dressed in a baggy t-shirt and shorts, no makeup, her long dark curls piled high in a bun. She smokes a cigarette while sipping wine, her eyes red and puffy from crying.
The last three days had been a blur. After finding Sergio, she contacted his right-hand man, Mario, who immediately made arrangements to get to London. He instructed Caprice to not, under any circumstances, contact the police nor open the door. As she sat waiting for Mario, she covered Sergio’s dead body with a sheet, cried silently into her hands. Caprice thought she would go out of her mind waiting for Mario to arrive. By the time he did, Caprice was numb with shock. He brought with him two other Mafia goons. Caprice told them everything she knew. She didn’t mention the name, Alex McCall, that Sergio had whispered in his last breath-Caprice thought it best to keep that to herself. They quickly took care of Sergio’s body, knowing exactly how to handle this sort of thing.
Caprice, along with Mario and the others, boarded their private jet, returning to Naples that day. Ever since returning home Caprice had locked herself up in her apartment, trying to make sense out of everything.
Sergio had uttered a name in his last moments. Alex McCall. The name rang clear as a bell in Caprice’s mind. She shakily brought the cigarette to her lips, inhaling deeply, the nicotine calming her frayed nerves. Mario insisted that she have security, and put an associate outside her apartment. After one day Caprice told the guy to leave. It made her even more edgy having some Mafia thug sitting outside, monitoring her every move.
What I am going to do now, she thought.
She snubbed her cigarette out, finished the glass of wine. She got up and checked the front door, ensuring it was locked for the tenth time. Caprice then made certain the back door to the balcony was secured, checking several times. She punched in the security code to the home alarm, making absolute certain it was activated. Caprice kept Pink Lady right by her side - a small, pink 9 mm pistol – loaded and ready to use if needed.
Finally, she went to her bathroom, opened a beautiful gold oval shaped pill box, popped a Xanax. She ran her finger over the little box – it had been a gift from Sergio.
Caprice crawled into her pink satin sheet bed, exhaustion taking over her body, the pill allowing her to relax. She placed the 9 mm on the bedside table, the sight of it relaxing her as well. She lay her head down on her pillow, her dark curls framing her face. She closed her eyes, sleep claiming her, a tear slowly falling down her cheek.
The following day, Caprice awoke early, the morning sunlight spilling through the slits in the bedroom window blinds. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.
I have a choice, Caprice thought. I can get my shit together. Or I can fall apart.
Caprice opted to get her shit together. Resolutely she stood up, determined to figure all of this out. Caprice was a survivor. She knew how to take care of herself – she always had. She had goals, dreams, Caprice reminded herself. She couldn’t let Sergio’s death prevent her from attaining all that she wanted.
She took a shower, pampering herself with her most luxurious soap, followed by a delicately scented body lotion that she massaged into her skin. She dressed in a casual yet feminine ensemble of dark skinny jeans and an off-the-shoulder flower printed top emphasizing her breasts. She carefully applied her make-up, dabbing her lips with red lipstick, enhancing her full pout. Caprice studied her appearance in the mirror and liked what she saw. Returning to her normal routine helped her feel better, more like herself. She was Caprice Belmonte – it was her duty to look fabulous.
Sitting down at the kitchen table, she poured herself a cup of coffee, mulling things over in her mind. Whoever it was that murdered Sergio must not have realized she had been in London with him, otherwise they would have waited for her arrival. Caprice shivered at the thought, trying to keep the fear and panic at bay. She quickly jumped up from the table, checked the locks on the doors and windows. She sat down, trying to calm herself, and closed her eyes, thinking back to what Sergio had said to her in his final moments.
Alex McCall……..
Memories came rushing back to Caprice. Two years ago. Rome, Italy. A handsome British man with a sexy smile and even sexier accent.
She had met Alex while dancing in a gentleman’s club in Rome. He had strolled into the club, a slightly bored look on his face, as though he had been in a million clubs like this before, and had experienced all that these clubs had to offer. Then, he laid eyes on Caprice and suddenly he didn’t look so bored.
She danced for Alex all night - intimate, erotic lap dances, while he stuffed money down her lacey thong. They chatted, flirted, laughed, and got drunk off champagne together. Caprice left with Alex that night, and stayed with him for the entire week while he was in Rome.
At the end of their week of passion, Alex and Caprice parted ways, both knowing their time together was nothing more than a wild fling. He kissed C
aprice on her cheek, whispered “thank you” in her ear, and returned to London. Caprice returned to work, and eventually moved on to Naples.
Caprice never thought about Alex McCall again. Until now.
She didn’t ask many questions during her week with Alex, but she did recall he said he was in the hotel business. Frankly, at the time, Caprice didn’t really care what Alex did for a living – she was enjoying a week in the Cosmopolitan Hotel in Rome and their incredible fucking.
Caprice switched on her laptop, decided she needed to do some research on Alex McCall. Apparently, he was a hotel developer and owner of McCall Enterprises, based in London, with luxury hotels scattered throughout the world.
No wonder we stayed at the Cosmopolitan Hotel in Rome that week – he owns it, thought Caprice.
She read a brief article about a new hotel he was building in London. Found a few pictures of him standing in front of various hotel projects.
Still sexy as hell, thought Caprice, looking at his picture.
Caprice sat at her desk, staring at a picture of Alex. She could feel the panic nipping at her heels, trying to take her down. She got up, found her packet of cigarettes, lit one.
What possible connection did Sergio have with Alex McCall? she thought, baffled.
There’s only one person with the answer. I have to see him. I have to make contact with Alex – for my own protection.
Caprice hurriedly went to her bedroom, grabbed her Louis Vuitton suitcase and started packing. She didn’t know how long she would be gone – hell, she didn’t know if she would ever return. All she could think about was getting back to London. She had the phone number and address to McCall Enterprises. Once she arrived to London, she would check into a hotel – something small, simple, and off the radar. Then she would call Alex.
Caprice left without a second thought.
Chapter 34
“Let’s do it,” I say, leaning back in the tub. I sprinkle some bath salts into the water, the delicate lavender scent wafting through the bathroom.
