KINGDOM FALL

by A. Zavarelli

  Where is your father then?

  “Gone,” he says without emotion. “Not coming back.”

  I swallow the pain in my throat and nod, writing out a note for him. Can I tell you a secret?

  He nods, perking up with interest. I know there are cameras here. Even if I haven’t found them, I know they must exist, so I have to be careful. I have to be very, very careful. Acting as if I’m adjusting the cloth on his forehead, I lean in like I’m giving him a kiss on his temple, and with great pain and effort, I manage a choked confession from my broken vocal cords.

  A whisper of the truth.

  A secret for just the two of us.

  The doctor has been to visit several times when Alessio finally makes an appearance. By then, Nino’s fever has worsened, and he’s so uncomfortable it hurts to witness. I have done what I can for him, and the doctor’s assurances it’s just a virus doesn’t make me feel any better.

  I am angry and irrational when Alessio steps into the room, his face devoid of emotion as always.

  “The doctor says he’s going to be fine,” Alessio informs me as if I don’t know. “He needs to rest.”

  I grab my phone and stab my fingers against the keyboard. I’m not leaving. Someone needs to be here with him.

  He cocks his head to the side, his icy gaze piercing into mine. “I’m here now.”

  And what are you going to do? Sit here wordlessly? What comfort is there to be found in that?

  “Is there a problem, Natalia?” His voice is calm, but his eyes are alight with fire.

  Yes, there’s a problem. This poor child is so exhausted by the militant schedule you insist on, it’s no surprise he’s fallen ill. I’m only shocked that it hasn’t happened sooner. How can you possibly expect him to keep up with these ridiculous expectations?

  His nostrils flare ever so slightly, and he jerks his head toward the door. “A word, outside. Now.”

  Reality starts to settle over me as I follow him out the door and into the hall. It may have been a relief to let out some of my bottled-up frustrations, but I’m aware I’m tiptoeing a delicate line, and now I’ve angered the beast.

  “Do you make a habit of taking this tone with your employer?” Alessio asks me once Nino’s door is shut behind us.

  If it’s necessary, then yes. You hired me to do a job, and I understand that. However, my job is to care for Nino, which means telling you things you might not like to hear if it’s in his best interest.

  “And you are the expert?” he scoffs. “What qualifications do you have that deem you as such? You’ve been in his life for five minutes. I’m the one who has raised him.”

  He needs balance, I insist. Surely, if you took a moment to truly listen to him, you would see it for yourself.

  Without warning, his hand whips toward me and latches around my jaw. His fingers dig into my skin as I stumble backward, fear and adrenaline surging inside of me. He backs me into the wall, and I try to remember how to breathe as I stare straight into the storm in his eyes. I don’t know what’s happening, and I’m mentally preparing myself for a fight when he leans in and does the last thing I expect. He … inhales me.

  A shiver shoots down my spine to my toes, and instead of steeling myself like I should, my body melts into the wall, trapped by his warmth and his intensity.

  “I can smell your fear, Natalia.” His breath whispers against my ear. “Is it me you’re afraid of?”

  My chest heaves, and I shake my head, but it’s obviously a lie. He knows it. I know it. He fucking terrifies me, and not for any of the right reasons. He terrifies me because I think I like this. I like the hard plane of his chest pressing against me while his scent surrounds me. I like his warmth and the smooth lyrical voice he never raises, even when he’s making a clear threat. He towers over me, strong and intimidating, and I should be afraid. Deep down, I know what this man does. I knew it the second I saw the blood stain on his shirt cuff. So why doesn’t he scare me? Why is it that somehow, amidst the chaos in my beating heart, I still feel safe with him? Safe to express myself? Safe to stare straight into his eyes the way nobody in his life seems to?

  He inches closer, and warmth blooms throughout my belly when his erection presses against me. It isn’t a mishap. He wants me to know it’s there. He wants to see my reaction. We’re so close I’m drowning in the power of his masculinity. I’m breathing him in too. Instinct has me wrapping my fingers around his biceps, but I haven’t decided if it’s to push him away or pull him closer. He can see the war in my eyes, and he enjoys it. He enjoys it too much. I choke on my uncertainty as I lean forward an inch, just enough to feel the hardness of his want for me digging into my belly. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me, but I know I like it when his eyes flare and then heat with a liquid fire I never want to extinguish.

  I should tell him this is inappropriate. I should tell him we can’t let anything interfere with our professional relationship. But I can’t seem to find the strength to push him away. I think I want to know what it’s like to be kissed. To be touched without violence. Control is an illusion, but I feel like I have it with him. He’s a dangerous man, but I trust that if I were to tell him to stop, he would. I don’t know how or why. It’s just something I feel. It’s a perilous trap to fall into. I shouldn’t. Before I can decide for myself, he makes the call for both of us, stepping back and shaking his head as if he, too, were under a spell.

  “Don’t test me, Natalia,” he clips out. “I told you this is not a job you can leave easily. You might not agree with my decisions when it comes to Nino, but those are my decisions to make.”

  My jaw clamps down, and his words douse me with a much-needed supply of cold reality. He’s back to being a hardheaded ass, closed off and shut down. As angry as the realization makes me, I have an unwanted pang of empathy too. I can recognize this pattern all too well. It’s a protective mechanism. He’s keeping everyone out, and I have to wonder why. Why isn’t he married? Why is someone as handsome as him without a partner?

  I catch a glimpse of uncertainty in his eyes before he turns toward the door, like I’m the one who’s a threat. As if I could find a weakness in his armor. Two weeks ago, I would have been pleased to know it. I would have immediately planned how to use that to my advantage. Now, the thought makes me slightly queasy, and it occurs to me that this plan was much simpler to execute in my mind. In reality, I’m faced with the very real human emotions I’ll have to battle when I betray him. Already, I’m starting to realize I don’t want to.

  Squashing down those emotions, I neutralize my expression and square my shoulders. Alessio glances back at me, nodding as if he approves, and then he slips quietly into Nino’s room, shutting the door in my face. Message received loud and clear.

  You aren’t welcome here.

  8

  Alessio

  Nino spends the rest of the night in a fitful sleep, and I remain by his side, watching him helplessly. It isn’t often I encounter a situation I can’t control. Power and money can move most mountains. They are the foundation upon which I provide for Nino and ensure his needs are met. Food, shelter, safety. I can give him all these things easily, but I can’t protect him from the ailments common in childhood. Over the last four years he’s been in my care, I have been reminded of this vulnerability on occasions when he has taken sick, and I always feel guilty for it.

  I made a promise to Enzo when I took his son in at two years old. Our Society has traditions and customs that outsiders don’t understand, and though I had never considered having children of my own, I didn’t hesitate to agree when Enzo granted the customary rite of Nino’s care to me. In his absence, I have acted as his parent. I had hoped that I could provide for him as well as a father would. I thought I was giving him a world of skills, special interests, and tools that would ultimately benefit him. That said, I haven’t been able to eradicate Natalia’s harsh words from my mind.

  She tells me Nino is too busy for a child. That his schedule is militant
by nature. She speaks of creativity and play as though they are a necessity I have denied him. Every sentence she uttered was like a sharp blade, piercing the one true vulnerability I have. I cannot fail Nino. Everything I have done for the last four years has been to protect him. To guide him. To ensure that he will grow into a capable, well-rounded man who can achieve anything he sets his mind to. I took on this job willingly, but I have had my doubts since the beginning. Natalia couldn’t know that. She has no understanding of my relationship with Nino, or his relations, who took me in when my family was annihilated. I owe this to Enzo, but it isn’t just that. It’s a matter of honor. This is the only way I can ever repay him for his friendship and our brotherhood at a time in my life when I needed it most.

  There has never been a question in my mind that I lacked the necessary skills to be a father, but over time I had hoped that Nino could forgive me for the areas I was lacking and respect me for the ones I was better at. It hasn’t turned out that way. Anyone can see the boy doesn’t like me. He stares at me like he knows I’m a monster, though I have never once raised my voice or permitted him to witness the violence I’m truly capable of. Somehow, he still senses it. He sees beneath the surface, and he does not want to know me. We are two people, co-existing in the same house. I have tried not to force his affection, even as I felt mine grow for him. I did not think it possible to truly care for a child, but when it comes to Nino, he is the exception, not the rule. I have empathy for him. I have admiration for him. I would certainly destroy anyone who wished to harm him. But my greatest fear is that the years he remains in my care will continue to pass us by, and he will never feel love for me. With some reluctance, I can admit that perhaps Natalia was right. He does need more than activities to fill his life.

  He stirs from sleep, gazing over at me through bleary eyes, and I sit up in my chair, spine rigid, fraught with tension.

  “Are you alright, Nino?”

  His little face scrunches up, and he begins to shed tears as he glances around the room in desperation. “Where’s Natalia?”

  His question is another dagger to my heart, but it comes as no surprise. Whatever witchcraft that woman dabbles in has us both under her spell.

  “I’m right here,” I try my best to assure him, but it comes out stiff rather than reassuring.

  “I want Natalia,” he cries.

  Frustration makes me stubborn, and I want to insist that he sit here with me. One glance at his face, which he quickly hides from me, and I know it’s useless. Wordlessly, I rise from my seat and stalk out of his room, quietly shutting the door behind me before I slam hers open. She bolts upright in bed, a gasp of air the only audible noise as she smacks the lamp to turn it on.

  “He wants you,” I snap.

  She glances over my shoulder as if she expects him to be there. As she does, the blanket falls around her waist, and I’m gifted with a perfect image of her round tits beneath a white tank top. All the other details around us fall away when she catches me staring at her protruding nipples. She swallows, and an unwelcome image of me fucking her comes to mind. I consider what it might feel like if I took her at this very moment, unleashing this strange current of pent-up rage inside me. When she slaps her hands over her breasts in an attempt at modesty, it only irks me more.

  “You can spend the rest of the night with him,” I tell her. “I have a need to tend to.”

  Her brows furrow, the only indication she’s considering what I said. She slowly pulls herself from the bed, turning her face away as though she doesn’t want to look at me.

  “Natalia,” I bite out.

  She whips her head toward me, her eyes wide at my tone. I’ve always prided myself on remaining calm, no matter the situation, but she tests me in ways I’ve never been tested before.

  I glance down at her feet and narrow my gaze. “Next time I come in here, I better not see you with those fucking shoes on the bed.”

  I don’t wait for a response, and she doesn’t offer one as I leave. My intentions are clear as I stalk down the hall and out to my car. I need a fucking release, and my hand isn’t going to do tonight. I start the engine with one destination in mind.

  There are other ways to get my fix. So long as it’s with anyone else but her.

  The IVI compound is located on the downtown Seattle waterfront. In a high-rise tower with mirrored windows, members can see out, but outsiders can’t see in. The building is an impressive amalgamation of steel and glass looming over the street below. From the outside, it’s anyone’s guess what’s inside. There are no signs. There are no entrances for the public. The only way in is through the parking garage, where my permit is my fingerprint on a biometric scanner.

  From there, the process is streamlined. A valet takes my keys when I pull to a stop, and a host of guards’ step aside to allow me entry.

  “Dominus et Deus,” they greet me in unison.

  I nod at them and slip inside, stopping at the coat room where a Society daughter offers me a cloak and mask, which I take. Once I’m satisfied that my identity is hidden, I step out into the main corridor and head for the private elevator reserved for Sovereign Sons. From here, I have choices. Above me, there are floors to meet almost every need a member might have. Rooms for out-of-state visitors or those who wish to stay after they’ve had too much to drink. There are banquet halls and event rooms, meeting rooms, a business center, a gym, a rooftop pool, libraries, and even children’s playrooms. It’s a different sort of playroom I’m after though.

  I press the red elevator button without a number, and it whisks me up to what the members call the Cat House. It’s a den meant for pleasure, stocked full of the finest women money can buy. They are beautiful, elegant, eager to please, and they understand exactly what I want.

  A simple transaction.

  I was still young, clinging to life in an isolated hospital room when I was left to digest the total destruction of a marriage and family. I had just lost everyone I ever loved over my father’s selfish desires. It wasn’t something my ten-year-old brain was fully capable of comprehending at the time, but there was an image playing on repeat in my mind. My mother, kneeling before the man who came to kill us, pleading for our lives. Her tears stopped when he uttered those final words.

  Your husband’s mistress sends her regards.

  Seconds later, my mother’s brains were splattered across the floor. It wasn’t long before my brother and sister joined her in death. That moment cemented one inherent truth in my mind. Love didn’t really mean anything. It was just a precursor to pain. Men would always be the weaker sex. I had observed it myself many times over the years, in the aftermath of that event. The male species was easily led astray. Regardless of how high the stakes were, their primal instincts drove them to risk their families for a few moments of pleasure. As much as I wish it weren’t true, I was half my father’s DNA. The only guarantee I could make to myself was that I would never be like him. In doing so, I avoided relationships altogether, sentencing myself to a lifetime of celibacy.

  When I come to this place of temptation, the menu might be varied, but there is only ever one option for me. This option fits my requirements exactly. I don’t need to know their names. I don’t need to talk to them or worry about their feelings. I come here for what I need, and I leave again with the satisfaction of a release and nothing more. It’s a system that has worked well for me, and I find that, like everything in my life, I try not to indulge too much. Once per month is all I usually allow, just enough to remind me that I am human.

  When the doors open, I step inside, greeted by the sight of the usual raucous crowd. The offerings here are extensive, so it comes as no shock that I’ve seen many oddities here over the years. Currently, there is a large orgy taking place to the right, and on the left are the voyeurs. Down the corridor behind me, I can recall a dungeon for those who prefer whips and chains, and it’s anyone’s guess what goes on behind the private doors. I have seen enough during my visits here to have an intimate
understanding of the mechanics of sex. I would often find myself watching, too, fascinated by the full spectrum of human longings. Some were more interesting to me than others, and I’d be a liar if I said I’d never reconsidered my position on the matter. Consistency is the key to maintaining my emotional baseline. I have always known that if I were to give in to anything more, I might go getting strange ideas in my head. Ideas about more than a transaction, ideas about an entanglement or even a relationship, and those are ideas I can never entertain.

  “Dominus et Deus.” A young brunette who has serviced me several times approaches me when she sees me in the waiting area. “What will your pleasure be this evening, my lord?”

  “A table massage.”

  A secret smile curves her face, and she bows her head before turning on her heel. “Right this way.”

  I follow her into the back, considering the length of her hair, the curve of her naked hips, and the gentility of her voice. From this angle, I could almost imagine her as someone else. Someone more petite, with amber eyes and a heart-shaped face.

  She leads me into a private room, pulling back the sheet on the table for me and then offering to assist me with removing my cloak.

  “I’ll do it.” I want her to stop talking to me. I want her to stop so that I can keep this image in my head.

  When I’m naked, I climb atop the table and lower my head onto the cushion, facing the ceiling. My dick is already hard when she starts to massage my feet. She rubs oil into my skin, working in long, even strokes, building anticipation as she moves up my calves toward my thighs.

  For a moment, I consider what it would feel like if I were to let my control slip, just once. Just for tonight. If I were to bend her over and fuck her the way I want to fuck Natalia. I could call her Natalia if I wanted to. I could tell her not to speak. I could have her do anything I wanted, but that realization sours the fantasy before it can really take shape.