My Masters' Nightmare, Season 1 / Episode 13

by Marita A. Hansen

  “Don’t wear out my patience, Matteo, you know what I mean.”

  “Then come and get your brother.”

  “No, untie him and send him to me.”

  “But I like him tied up.” I grinned, looking forward to his angry reaction. “So did the priest. Oh, he liked Alessandro a lot.”

  As predicted, anger shot across Ricardo’s face. “If you or that sick priest did anything to my brother, I will make you suffer a painful death!”

  I grinned wider. “I was pulling your chain, Don. I didn’t touch him, nor did the priest. My auntie stood guard over Alessandro with a knife, threatening us if we came near him.” I started laughing. “She even stabbed the Padre in the leg when he tried to get past her. That was so funny; I almost pissed myself laughing—”

  My auntie started screaming, cutting me off. Next thing, she shot out of the car door, followed by the useless soldier who was meant to be guarding her. She wrapped her arms around Alessandro, which she shouldn’t be doing, because she was fucking supposed to have her hands tied. She started yelling that she wanted to go with Alessandro. The soldier ripped her away from her lover boy, dragging her back into the car. Alessandro struggled to his feet, yelling at the soldier to let her go. I kicked him to the ground, wondering how he’d gotten the gag out of his mouth. But then again, my auntie probably had tied it loosely.

  “Get your foot off him!” Ricardo yelled. “Or I’ll shoot you!”

  My gaze flicked back to him. “Not unless you want to die.”

  “Just give me my brother.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I don’t really give a fuck.” I pulled out my knife and bent down to cut Alessandro’s foot restraints, not touching the rope around his wrists. Once done, I rose and pointed my gun at Alessandro’s head. “Get to your feet, lover boy.”

  Alessandro pushed up, looking like he wanted to attack me. I moved behind him, not taking any risks. Although his hands were tied, he was still dangerous as fuck.

  “Start walking,” I said.

  Alessandro remained still.

  “Now!”

  Alessandro went to move forward, then lurched back, going for me. I dropped to the ground and whipped my leg around, sweeping Alessandro’s legs out from under him. Ricardo yelled at his soldiers not to shoot, probably knowing it would lead to numerous deaths.

  I straightened and again pointed my gun at Alessandro’s head, now pissed off with him, the man a meathead. “Get up and walk to your brother, and don’t do anything stupid this time, or I’ll shoot you.”

  Alessandro pushed to his feet, his face vicious, but instead of attacking me, he started walking towards Ricardo, hesitating as my stupid auntie screamed out his name from the car.

  “Ignore her, Alessandro,” Ricardo called out. “They won’t hurt her. She’s one of them.”

  “Not at heart,” Alessandro replied, “and she wants to come with me.”

  “That’s not your choice to make.” Ricardo paused. “The last time we tried to help a Donatelli woman, she was murdered. So, leave her, she’ll be safer with her own famiglia.”

  “I will protect her.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I yelled, bored to shit with their banter. “This isn’t Romeo and Juliet, so fuck off, so I can leave.”

  Alessandro threw me a glare.

  “Just come here, Alessandro,” Ricardo said. “Our madre needs you.”

  Alessandro resumed walking. As he neared Ricardo, the soldier next to me fell backwards, the blood coming from his head making my eyes widen. The fuckers were shooting at us!

  Ricardo yelled, “Sniper!” and pushed Alessandro towards his car, making me realize a split second later it wasn’t the Santini attacking.

  But it was too late, my soldiers reaching a different conclusion. One of them started firing on Ricardo’s soldiers. As a result, the Santini soldiers returned fire. The sound of a rocket caught my attention. An RPG flew through the air, hitting the car behind mine. I launched myself into my car, yelling at my driver to get the fuck out of here. He planted his foot, the man bright enough to have kept the engine running. I looked out the back window, praying that our other car was following us. But it wasn’t. Instead, the soldiers were hiding behind it, firing upon Ricardo and his men. Another RPG shot through the air, heading for the car holding the weapons—which included the bomb. It hit it square on, the car exploding, shit flying everywhere. I swore, pissed off to the max, all the ransom—the weapons and money, now gone up in smoke. Uncle Christo was going to go psycho. First his brother was attacked, then the ransom was destroyed, along with two cars and a handful of soldiers.

  Yeah, he was going to lose it big time.

  ***

  My car rolled to a stop at the airstrip. I grimaced at the sight of my uncle Christo’s car, not looking forward to telling him about the shit that had gone down. I pushed out of my car and headed for him, the wind making me shiver, my button-down shirt too thin to stave off the cold.

  The soldier outside my uncle’s car opened the door for me. Exhaling loudly, I slid in next to my uncle Christo, hoping I wasn’t going to suffer the consequences of his temper. Like the back of my car, there were two leather-clad seats facing each other. Thierry and the Padre were sitting across from me, the two hugging like lovebirds. Sickened, I moved my attention to my uncle Christo. He looked pained, probably due to his cancer. He was getting worse by the day, his health deteriorating more in such a short space of time.

  “Did everything run smoothly?” he asked, looking at me expectantly.

  I breathed out. “We were attacked.”

  He went stiff. “What happened?”

  “RPGs took out two of our cars and two-thirds of our men were killed.”

  His eyes widened. “Those fucking Santini scum!”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think it was them. Ricardo looked just as surprised as me. Also, the RPGs came from the mountains.”

  My uncle stopped ranting. “Then who was it?”

  “Probably the Landi. I’m lucky to have gotten out of there alive.”

  “Andriena?”

  “She’s fine.”

  His jaw tightened. “Pity.”

  “No, it’s good. She’s worth a lot of money now.” I grimaced, still not happy over her sale, but knowing it was better than having her killed.

  Uncle Christo breathed out. “Sì, sì, we need that money now more than ever.”

  “I also have an extra two million coming in. I sold my soldier to one of my Japanese clients.”

  He sat up straight, a smile gracing his hard face. “Molto bene. You’re going to make a great Don.”

  I smiled, hoping so.

  He continued, “Now, on a different note, you’ll be going to stay with the Black Russian along with my brother and his toy.”

  My smile dropped. “But I’m supposed to stay here with you.”

  “The Black Russian wants to meet you, and he always gets what he wants.”

  “He wants me?”

  “Sì, he saw a picture of you and was rather taken by your looks. He kept saying you look like an older version of someone called Yuri.”

  I frowned. “Where’s this leading?” I said, not liking the direction of the conversation.

  “Look, I know you like hard men—”

  I cut him off, “You’re not selling me, too?!”

  “Of course not. If you’re to take over when I’m gone, you need connections, and the Black Russian has a wide network of them. You need to get on his good side. Powerful friends are very important, and the Black Russian is extremely powerful.”

  “How long am I to be there for?” I asked, still not liking the plan.

  “A week at the most, then I want you to head to the Black Russian’s Naples’ headquarters. I need you to start rounding up our famiglia. I have one last thing to do here, then I’ll meet up with you. It’s getting too hot on the island, especially with the Landi going on the rampage. We need to get out of the way and let them take everyone out for us.
The fighting will also weaken them, so when the smoke clears, we’ll ride into town and finish them off, along with anyone they’ve left behind.”

  I nodded, although my mind was still on the Black Russian. I’d never met him, but I had most definitely heard about the sick freak. Some people claimed he bathed in blood, others said he took joy in torturing people, and that was just for starters, because the list went on. I just hoped most of it was urban legend.

  The Padre made a grunting sound, capturing my attention. He muttered to Thierry, “I need my pills.”

  Thierry removed a container from his pocket and handed it to the Padre. The Padre popped it open and took out a couple of pills, swallowing them down with bottled water. He handed the container back to Thierry, then put an arm around the boy, muttering, “I love you, angel.” Thierry wrapped his arms around the Padre’s chest and cuddled into the rapist, making me want to throw up in my mouth.

  Uncle Christo rolled his eyes. “You still want me to get you your Angel Gabriel?” he asked his brother, his voice dripping with disdain.

  “No, leave him in peace.”

  Uncle Christo’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you serious?”

  The Padre nodded, his eyes sad. “He hates me like Brando hated me, so let him live the rest of his life in peace. Leave the D’Angelos alone. I did them wrong, not the other way round.”

  “They killed our brother and nephew!” Uncle Christo yelled.

  “No, Bianca D’Angelo did. Thierry told me everything. She was trying to kill Alberto, but Marco drunk the poisoned wine by mistake, while our brother had a heart attack in response to losing his son. So, it’s not Gabriel’s or Frano’s fault, its Bianca’s. Make her suffer.”

  “Then, who killed Alberto?” I cut in.

  “A Landi soldier,” Thierry piped up.

  I looked at him, trying to assess whether he was lying. He looked straight at me, not even flinching. “Which soldier?” I asked.

  “I don’t know; just that he was a Landi. I didn’t see it happen.”

  My mind went to what I’d heard: that the Landi were holding the D’Angelo’s under lockdown, which meant it could be true. “How did he die?”

  “Stabbed in the stomach.”

  Pain speared my heart. Fuck, I loved that man, and I would make the Landi pay for what they’d done. My eyes moved to Christo. “If the Landi beat the Santini, we need to get the Black Russian to help us kill the scum. I don’t want an even fight, I want annihilation.”

  “That’s the plan, but right now, all I care about is seeing you all off safely, then getting things ready for my schiava.”

  I frowned. “Are you talking about my wife?”

  He smiled. “Sì. I’m looking forward to catching up with her.”

  I shrugged, not sure whether I was happy or sad about it, the bitch annoying as hell. “Have fun,” I finally said.

  His smiled widened. “I will.”

  The sound of an airplane caught my attention. I glanced out of my window, seeing what looked like a private jet descending towards the airstrip. Moments later, its wheels hit the tarmac, the airplane coming to a stop not far from where we were waiting.

  “Out,” Christo said.

  I pushed out of the car, the others following. Andriena emerged from the other car with a soldier holding her arm. She looked terrified and rightly so, because, although I wasn’t scared, I was nervous as shit over meeting the Black Russian.

  My attention moved back to the plane as its door opened. The steps extended slowly, settling on the ground. Two blond men emerged from the opening and headed down the steps, holding machine guns. They moved to either side of the steps, watching us silently, each man stunning to look at. I’d heard that the Black Russian only surrounded himself with beautiful people, and seeing his guards, I believed it.

  Another man appeared at the top of the steps dressed in black clothes, his coat lined with fur.

  It was the Black Russian.

  I stared up at him, the man incredible to look at. It wasn’t because he was beautiful, hell no, he wasn’t; it was because of two things. Firstly, he was abnormally tall, well over six-foot-five. And secondly, the only black thing about him, other than his clothes, was his extensive tattoos, which covered his face, head, and any bare flesh I could see. They were mostly patterns and writing, some in Cyrillic. He walked down the steps slowly, his eyes moving from Andriena to my group, stopping on Thierry. The boy shrank back, looking terrified.

  The Black Russian smiled wide, his teeth so white in comparison to the black of his tattoos. He walked over to Thierry, dwarfing the boy—and everyone else. “A pretty D’Angelo for me?” he asked, staring down at the trembling kid.

  The Padre, who was balancing on crutches, leaned against the car and hooked an arm around Thierry’s waist, pulling him close. “He’s mine.”

  The Black Russian’s face soured. “Pity, I like pretty D’Angelos.” His gaze started moving again, finally settling on me. Like his teeth, his icy blue eyes stood out amongst all the black writing. Instead of going to Christo, he headed for me, holding out his hand. He had rings adorning his fingers and a diamond encrusted watch. “Matteo, I presume,” he said, his deep Russian voice making me shiver—in a good way, the man making my cock stand at attention.

  I gripped onto his hand, giving it a shake. For the first time ever, I felt short. If anything, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was close to seven-foot, because he towered over me.

  Without warning, he let go of my hand and took a hold of my face, turning it from side to side. “Very nice,” he said. “Your bone structure is perfect. Pretty eyes too. I hope your body is just as good,” he said, his hands going to my shirt. He grabbed a hold and ripped it open, my buttons going everywhere. I remained still, shocked by what he was doing to me.

  “Gregor!” Christo snapped. “You can’t treat my nephew like that.”

  Ignoring my uncle, the Black Russian’s eyes went to my stomach. “Delicious,” he said, running a hand over my abs. His hand lowered to my pants.

  “Gregor!”

  The Black Russian’s gaze shifted to Christo, his cold eyes narrowing. “I do not approve of your tone. Be careful what you say next.”

  “I’m not at fault here. You’re treating my nephew like a piece of meat.”

  “Oh, no, I wouldn’t put this one on the meat market; I’d keep him for myself.”

  “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. Matteo is not for sale.”

  The Black Russian frowned. “Why not? You’re selling your niece to me and I’ll pay you twice the usual rate for this one. He’s beautiful. I want him in my bed.”

  “I’m sorry, but you can’t have him. He’s to be the Don when I leave this earth.”

  The Black Russian looked back at me, his expression disapproving. “You’re too pretty to be a Don. You would look better in leathers and tied to my bed.”

  “I can still do that,” I said.

  His eyebrows shot up. “Are you gay, bi or just business savvy?”

  “Gay.”

  A smile appeared on his face. “So, you’re happy to get into bed with me in more ways than one?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then, I think we’ll get along very well.”

  “If your cock is proportionate to your height, I guarantee it.”

  He blinked at me, then barked out a laugh. He looked at Christo. “I like this one very much.”

  “I knew you would, hence why I wanted you to meet him,” Christo said.

  “Now, it’s time to meet your niece.” The Black Russian put an arm around my shoulder and directed me over to my auntie. I went to pull my shirt together, the wind making me cold. He smacked my hands. “No, leave it open, I like the view.” He stopped in front of my auntie, who was hiding behind a curtain of black hair. “Look at me, female,” he said.

  She didn’t move.

  “Don’t make me repeat myself, because the consequences will be painful.”

  She looked up at him,
her expression terrified. The Black Russian let go of me and took a hold of her face. “Very pretty. Nice bone structure like your nephew, and striking eyes. Nice hair as well.” His eyes lowered to her chest. “Big tits. You will be enjoyable.” He let go of her face and ran a hand over her breasts. My auntie tried to step back, but the soldier held her in place. The Black Russian took a hold of her blouse and ripped it open. Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out a switchblade and flicked it open, making my auntie gasp. “No need to be frightened, pretty,” he said, “unless you don’t do as you’re told. So, keep still if you only want me to cut your bra.” He placed the knife in between the cups and cut the bra open. I turned my head, not wanting to see my auntie’s bare breasts. The Black Russian grunted, “Good. Natural breasts are always the best. You’re making me hard, little one. I will enjoy you and your nephew very much.”

  My auntie gasped, making me wonder what the Russian was doing. I looked back, seeing his hand in her panties.

  “Good, she’s tight,” he said, his gaze moving to me. “Are you tight, too?”

  “Yes,” I said, taking a step back, because there was no motherfucking way he was testing me here.

  He grinned at me knowingly. Removing his hand from my auntie’s panties, he turned to Christo, who had followed us, along with Thierry and the Padre. “I will give you an extra million, Don, since you downplayed her looks. She’s much prettier than you said, and I always pay the correct amount for things.”

  Christo grimaced. “She’s not a thing.”

  “She is now.” The Black Russian turned to his plane, barking out an order in Russian. A beautiful dark-haired man appeared in the plane doorway, holding a briefcase. He descended the steps and headed our way, stopping next to the Black Russian. He held the suitcase out and opened it for him, revealing rows of cash.

  “Three million is in here,” the Black Russian said, “and I’ll wire you the rest.” He closed the briefcase and passed it to Christo, who thanked him. His gaze returned to me. “Are you kinky?”

  “As long as it’s just the feather and not the whole chicken.”

  He barked out another laugh. “I like your humor.” His eyes moved down my body, then back up to my face. “I want a threesome with you and your auntie.”