Not expecting to find his wife in bed with another man, Fabio hadn't bothered to carry his pistol to the bedroom. Instead, he'd left it in his jacket which he'd hung up in the hallway. His house was the most heavily guarded home in Chicago, but he didn't think he needed to defend himself inside his own residence.
He walked round to Maria's side of the bed, wound his fist into her hair, and yanked her in one movement from the bed. She landed in a crumpled heap on the floor. ''Get out, you pathetic bitch,'' he said pushing her toward the door with his foot. ''Get out while I see to your lover. I'm gonna cut his cock off and hand it to you as a memento of the day you crossed me, your filthy piece of trash.''
Maria continued to crawl along the floor, eventually reaching the door. Fabio closed it behind her and turned to the man lying in Fabio's marital bed. Fabio didn't need a weapon to rip a man apart; he was perfectly capable of doing it with his bare hands.
''So, you think you can cross Fabio Affini, do you?''
''It's the first time we have met, Mr. Affini. I am very surprised by your lack of good grace.''
Fabio wasn't sure whether he'd heard the man correctly. ''What? Did you just say....''
''Yes.'' The man pulled his arm from under the sheet and pointed a gun at Fabio. ''You see, I always come prepared when I fuck someone's wife. Especially someone as dangerous as you. Now back up against the wall.'' Fabio walked backward and watched as the man got out of bed and put on his shorts. ''I said, get back,'' he repeated when he noticed Fabio creeping closer. This time, Fabio backed right off and waited. When the man had pulled his pants and shirt on, he pointed the gun at Fabio and opened the bedroom door. ''Thank you for your hospitality. Your wife, as you have no doubt forgotten, is the most amazing fuck. Did you teach her all those things?''
''Get out of my house,'' Fabio hissed.
When the man was gone, Fabio left the bedroom, ran down the stairs and called Christian. ''Get your ass over here now,'' he shouted.
While he waited for Christian to arrive, Fabio looked for his wife. He found her in the basement hiding from him.
''Why Maria? Why, after all, these years? I've taken care of you haven't I? You've never wanted for anything.''
She looked at him and shook her head. ''You have given me all the material things I needed. But the one thing I wanted most, you have been unable to give me.''
''What are you talking about?'' he asked.
She noticed how old he was beginning to look. When they'd married, he'd had a full head of black hair. Now, apart from a few strands of comb-over, he was bald. ''Love and affection,'' she answered. ''I needed your love more than anything, and you haven't been able to give me it. I have never felt you really cared about me.''
''You crazy bitch, of course, I cared about you. Even though you haven't been able to provide me with children, I still loved you. Maybe you were too self-absorbed to see it. I want you to get out of my house. Go wherever you want, I will give you money. But if you ever darken my doors again with your presence again, I will have you killed.''
He walked up the basement staircase and into the hallway. He lived in a mansion which he'd bought thirty years ago from the proceeds of the first really successful drug deal he did. It netted him five million. Thirty years ago that was a lot of money, and he was suddenly able to move with the jet set. He'd met Maria at a party on a ship in the harbor. Her father and mother had arrived a few years earlier from Milan with their daughter. He remembered how beautiful Maria had been that evening. She was still beautiful, but she'd crossed him in the most despicable way, and now he wanted rid of her.
''Christian. Do you know what happened to me half an hour ago?'' Fabio asked when a tall, dark and very good looking man arrived in his office.
''No boss. Something good I hope,'' he said, a cheeky grin etched across his face.
''No Christian. While you were, in all probability dipping yourself in some super model, I was being held at gunpoint, in my own fucking bedroom.'' Fabio's voice reached a deafening crescendo. To add effect, he slammed his fist on his desk which sent a pen flying up into the air.
Christian's expression changed. ''What? How?''
''You tell me. This house is supposed to be guarded like Fort Knox. I want you to find out why it wasn't.''
''Sure boss. Who was the man?''
''I don't know. But he was fucking my wife. She's in the basement. Go down and make her tell you who it was. Use as much force as you need.''
Christian went down to the basement and opened the door. He saw a tearful Maria sitting on top of the washing machine smoking a cigarette from a gold holder.
''Who was he, Maria?'' Christian asked.
''What are you going to do to me if I don't tell you?'' she said.
Her mascara had run, and her skin looked blotchy. She'd obviously been crying for some time. ''I'll have to torture you until you tell me,'' he said harshly.
'' That's Christian. Ever faithful to my husband. You'd jump from a bridge if he asked you wouldn't you?''
''Yes. He's been very good to me. Without him, I would have been a nobody.''
''You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen, but you're an asshole,'' she said. ''You're stupid for believing what he tells you. He's just using you.''
''The name please, Maria. I really don't want to have to hurt you. Spare yourself.''
She knew what he would do to her, and it would hurt. ''You will never find him, he lives abroad, far from here.''
''I won't ask again, what's his name?''
''Alexander Gorev.''
''And where does he live?''
''I just told you, dumb-ass. He lives abroad.''
Christian walked toward her and knocked the cigarette out of her hand. ''Don't ever call me that again. Now, where does he live?''
''He's Russian. He lives in Moscow, and if you're stupid enough to go there, you'll never come back.''
''Thank you, Maria,'' he said. ''I really wasn't looking forward to dragging it out of you. You know I've always thought you were a nice looking woman. If Fabio hadn't been my boss, I might have had a crack at you myself.''
''Don't flatter yourself,'' she said.
Christian took a look at her. Who knows, it may be the last time he saw her, he thought. He'd been working for Fabio for ten years, and he'd always fancied sleeping with her. She could have been his Mrs. Robinson. He would have like that.
''He's called Alexander Gorev, and he lives in Moscow, boss,'' Christian said.
Fabio looked out of the window and noticed the guards doing their rounds. ''Maria says there's no way we'll be able to get him.''
''If he's fled to Moscow, we probably won't. We don't have anyone there. Find out if he has family, anything we can use in the States to persuade him to come back. And find out why my guards missed him.''
''Maria. She told them he'd come to fix the boiler,'' Christian said immediately.
''Make sure she leaves as well,'' Fabio said.
Half an hour later, Christian returned with a smile on his face. ''She's got a daughter called Amy, and she lives in LA. She's an American citizen.''
''How the hell did you find that out so fast?''
''Maria knew more than I thought.''
''Did she tell you where she lived?''
''I had to really persuade her to tell me that, but yes.''
*****
''Right listen up Alberti,'' Fabio said as he looked at Christian and Alberti. ''Christian has found out that the dog that fucked my wife, has a daughter called Amy. We're going to kidnap her. This afternoon she's attending a friends wedding. Christian is going to the wedding, and he's going to charm her.'' Alberti nodded and drew on his cigarillo. ''Christian is going to befriend her, get her to the street under some pretense, and bundle her into the car. You are going to drive her to Oaktree Lodge and keep her locked up.''
''Okay boss,'' Alberti said.
''Remember Christian, no fooling around with her. I know what you're like. If you put a finger on he
r, I'll cut your hand off.''
Christian recognized the look Fabio was giving him and knew he meant it. ''Don't worry boss, I'll behave perfectly.''
*****
When Christian walked into the wedding reception, women turned their heads. The reception was in the garden of a luxury hotel in Beverly Hills. The guests were the smart set, people from Hollywood, and from big business. Christian also recognized a few people from his line of work, organized crime. He laughed to himself when he noticed the Chief of Police talking to man Christian new had murdered someone just two days earlier.
Christian didn't have an invitation, but no-one would notice, there were so many people.
''Hello and what's your name?'' a woman asked.
''Christian,'' he replied.
She was in her sixties. She had been good looking at one time, Christian thought, but she was way past her sell by date now. ''You're very handsome. How much do you charge?''
''What?'' he said.
''You're price, what is it? Dear boy, do you think I could get a man as nice looking as you into my bed without paying him?''
''I'm not a gigolo.''
''But you do have a price don't you?'' she asked.
He flashed his white smile at her. ''Yes of course. Five million dollars, now fuck off out of my way.'' The woman looked frightened and moved away.
''That wasn't nice,'' she said.
''What wasn't?'' Christian asked.
''The way you spoke to her. She's old.''
''Not too old to ask me to fuck her,'' he protested.
''I'm Amy,'' she said.
Sometimes Christian wondered about life. Here he was trying to find Amy, and something had brought her to him without him even having to try.
''Nice to meet you, Amy,'' he said. She was wearing a long silver dress that revealed her breasts and clung to her hips. She had long dark hair which curled it's way to the middle of her back, and the most beautiful face Christian had ever seen.
''How do you know Madison?'' she asked.
He had no idea who Madison was but guessed she was the bride. '' Oh, I'm on the grooms side. Went to school with him,'' he bluffed.
''It was a terrible shock her getting pregnant so soon after they'd met, wasn't it?'' Amy said.
''Oh yes, such a shock,'' he replied hardly able to keep a straight face.
One hell of a good looking guy, Amy thought as she let her eyes flow over him. Tall, athletic and the most wonderful eyes., Decent bulge as well, she noted.
''Come and dance with me,'' he said taking her hand. Before she had time to respond, she was in his arms being carried effortlessly around the dance floor.
''You're very beautiful,'' he said. ''What do you do for a living?''
''I'm a student of music.''
''You can play my instrument all day long,'' he joked.
''Vulgar,'' she said.
''That's me, though. I say what I want. I don't care whether you think it's vulgar or not.'' She gasped when he pulled her tighter to him and navigated them around another couple.
''You dance well,'' she said, aware that her thigh was dangerously close to the place where it shouldn't be.
''Self taught. Hundreds of hours dancing with beautiful women like you.''
''You're not very modest are you?''
''No. Why should I be?''
''How many women have you had?'' She noticed she was slightly turned on by his arrogance.
''A lot. Many different kinds of women. I love women; they are so unpredictable.''
''You are Italian, so I guess it's in your genes. Italian men are continually horny.''
The music changed, but Christian still held her and danced at his own pace. He wanted a slow grind, and that's what he was going to get, just as soon as he'd warmed her up.
''Yes, we're all sex mad,'' he laughed.
''You aren't married are you?'' He shook his head. ''Girlfriend?'' she asked.
''No. You can have me if you want.''
She laughed. ''What makes you say that?''
''Because you keep putting your thigh against my crotch, and you make no attempt to remove it. You know you are turning me on, and you want to.''
''I do not,'' she protested.
''Oh yes you do. You can deny it all you want, but you like me, and you want me. Look at the color of your cheeks.''
''You're crazy,'' she said as she tried to pull away.
''Stop your feigned shock. I'm not one of those guys you can pussy whip into submission.'' He pulled her waist back to him and turned them in another direction. He bent down and let his lips glide gently over her neck. He heard her gasp. ''See, you like it don't you?'' You also like it when you feel me getting hard against your leg.'' He leaned into her, put his mouth to her ear and whispered. ''What turns you on?''
''What?''
''From behind, I'd say. You look like the kind of girl who enjoys being rammed from the rear,'' he said.
''You're so uncouth.''
''And you're so fucking beautiful you make me like that.''
''You've only just met me, and you dare to talk to me like that?'' she asked.
''Yes. I dare. I told you before, I get what I want.''
The band announced they were taking a break. ''If you think I'm easy, I'm not. You'll have to work for it if you want it,'' she said. ''Fetch me a drink.''
''Fetch your own drink. Who do you think I am?'' he replied. ''Work for it,'' he scoffed, ''I've never heard such shit.''
He did what he often did when faced with women who he thought was high and mighty. He moved away and started to talk to other people. It worked every time. Soon he felt Amy staring at him. He knew exactly what she was thinking. She was pissed that he'd dared to leave her side. He'd seen her type before. She was one of those beautiful women who men flocked to with their tongues hanging out like thirsty dogs. She'd been conditioned, by men's own ridiculous behavior, into thinking that she could get whatever she wanted by simply fluttering her eyelids. Well not with him.
He smiled to himself when she reappeared by his side a few minutes later. ''Oh, it's you. Miss, me did you?'' he said.
''You're such a cocky ass hole.''
''So why don't you go and talk to your friends then?'' he said nonchalantly.
''Dance with me again,'' she said.
Outside in the street, Alberti kept glancing at his watch. Christian had told him that he'd bring her to him around three pm. It was five pm, and there was no sign of him. There were a number of people sitting outside the cafe on the other side of the road and Alberti was more than tempted to join them.
''Fuck it,'' he said. He got out of the car, walked across the road, and ordered a double vodka.
''Are you ignoring me?'' Madison said as she and her new husband danced by.
''No, I'm just.....''
Madison winked at Amy as if to say, I know exactly what you're doing.
Amy didn't want to talk to anyone. She didn't want to stand around chatting idly when she could be in the arms of this handsome man, whose scent was so wonderful. He was the kind of man she'd found impossible to find so far in her life. He was a man who told her what to do and that made her feel calm.
They danced until Amy's feet hurt and then they sat at the bar and flirted some more. It had been dark for a couple of hours, and some of the guests were beginning to leave. As they spoke, Christian noticed Amy touching his leg from time to time. That was his signal.
''Come on,'' he said taking her hand
''To where?''
''To my place. I want you,'' he whispered.
She stood up and followed him. ''I've got a driver somewhere,'' he said when they reached the street. ''There's the car. Where the fuck is he?''
Alberti saw them from his place in front of the cafe and stood up. Christian heard the crash of someone knocking glasses over and looked toward the cafe. ''Shit,'' he said when he saw Alberti sprawled over the ground. He walked over to him, picked him up and punched him. Alberti flew across the r
oad and landed in front of their car. Christian picked him up again and once again hit him. ''You were supposed to wait for me, not get drunk in some cafe,'' he exclaimed. Alberti was too far gone to answer.
''Stop it, Christian, everyone's looking,'' Amy said.
''Fuck. Get in the car,'' he said to Amy.
Christian got the keys from Alberti's pocket and left him lying in the gutter. After three-quarters of an hour, they reached the narrow road that led from the freeway to Oaktree Lodge.
''This is a bit remote isn't it?'' Amy said.
''I don't like people too much. I prefer to live out here,'' he replied.
Amy wondered if anybody ever came down this road except him. It wasn't just narrow, but also bumpy, and she was beginning to feel a little car sick. She was relieved when they stopped outside what appeared, in the dark, to be a log cabin.
*****
As soon as they were inside, Christian reached for her. He pulled her to him and kissed her. She leaned against the wall just inside the door and felt him push against her. The thin material of her dress did nothing to hide how hard he was. She was flattered that such a handsome man wanted her so badly.
''You're keen aren't you?'' she said.
''I've been looking at you all night. I'm as horny as hell now.''
''But I couldn't leave any earlier,'' she said.
''Sure. I'm just telling you why I'm so keen to fuck you.''
''I can feel how much you want it,'' she said. Her hand slipped down and caressed his length as it strained against the inside of his pants. He pulled her from the wall and took her to the bedroom. When he put the light on, she blinked. The room was big enough for a double bed and a wardrobe, and it had a window that she assumed looked into the forest behind.
''I love your ass, it's so perfect,'' he said as his hands ran over her buttocks. They kissed again, standing next to the bed.
When she felt his hand reach behind her and lower the zipper on the back of her dress, she put her head into the nape of his neck and inhaled his scent. At the beginning of the afternoon he'd smelled of aftershave, but now he smelled of a wonderful blend. When her zipper was open, she felt his manly hands caressing the soft skin on her back. As he stroked her, he turned every nerve into a small fire. The mix of his hands caressing her and his hard shaft pushing between her legs set her on fire, and she reached up and put her tongue into his mouth. When she tasted him, she felt a wet wave flow through her, preparing her for what he was going to do to her.
Romance: Teen Romance: Follow Your Dreams (A Nerd and a Bad Boy Romance) (New Adult High School Sports Romance) Page 14
