Bruno: Heartless Mafia Boss

by Addy Archer

  “Hey.” Bruno presses himself against my back, his arm sneaking around me so he can wrap his fingers around my neck to guide my lips to his.

  When he pulls back he murmurs, “Shower time.”

  I close my eyes and suck my bottom lip into my mouth to prolong the aftertaste of our kiss. There’s a rumble rippling through Bruno’s chest and vibrating through my back.

  “What I wouldn’t do to let my cock slide between those plump lips, coat your tongue with my cum. Fuck,” he groans and nips my neck.

  Our eyes connect in the mirror.

  I can feel my cheeks heat but the idea is also exciting. “We could try. I mean . . . I’ve never done it, obviously. You would have to tell me how.”

  “Fucking hell,” Bruno mutters in a low growl.

  “Of course,” I start and swallow back my emotions. “That’s not the way to make a baby if we need to stick to the contract.”

  To my surprise Bruno snaps the words, “Fuck the contract,” spins me around and kisses me hard.

  I don’t have time to question his words because he literally swoops me up and we end up in the warm spray of the water flowing down on us. This is another first for me; to shower with a man.

  And the way he’s soaping me up has little to do with getting clean, but with skilled hands like his . . . who am I to complain when it feels so damn good. And when he wraps me in a large fluffy towel and carefully makes sure every inch of me is dry, I almost think I’m dealing with a complete other person.

  How can he suddenly show such kindness? Kindness I didn’t even know he was capable of.

  “I have a meeting in my office. Torin just texted me, there have been some developments. Are you heading for your art studio?” Bruno asks when we’re dressed.

  “I guess so,” I muse, wondering if he’s going to pull back and become his asshole-self again.

  He nods and heads for the door.

  “Did you mean it?” I blurt and immediately bite my bottom lip.

  Shit. Way to sound needy. But it’s an honest enough question, right?

  Bruno slowly turns and stalks toward me. His harsh and unreadable face is back in place and I have no idea what he wants.

  “Did I mean what, Winter?” he demands.

  “Never mind,” I grumble, and mutter underneath my breath, “I guess you’re back to your asshole self.”

  His hand flashes out and wraps around my neck, tight enough for me to gasp. “What was that, little spitfire?”

  “Asshole,” I gasp.

  He leans in next to my ear and whispers, “We already established I was an asshole. I never denied it either. Now, what was the question?” His teeth nip my earlobe before he adds, “Winter,” on a hot breath.

  I swallow hard and croak, “Fuck the contract. Did you mean it when you said that?”

  “You consume me, Winter. Contract or no contract, you fucking consume me. There’s no way I’m ever going to let you go and I will make damn sure you’re protected and won’t ever be hurt again. I’m not going to lose you, not when I barely had a taste of you.”

  His lips crash against mine, his tongue forcing his way into my mouth, and all I am able to do is to give back just as fiercely. My hands grip the fabric of his jacket to gain my balance because this man has the ability to sweep me off my feet with a mere kiss.

  The both of us are panting when he breaks the kiss. Placing his mouth next to my ear he tells me, “Yes, I meant it. And I’m not asking if you feel the same way. You won’t have a choice in this.”

  “Asshole.” I try to make it sound like I’m growling but instead it comes out breathless with a hint of huskiness.

  And the way his chuckle heats my skin makes me aware he knows damn well what effect he has on me. I get one final kiss and then he’s stalking out the door, leaving me dazed while my head is spinning because of his words and actions. My heart skips a beat when I bring my fingertips to my lips which still tingle from his kiss.

  I’m glad he’s not giving me a choice in this, but to be honest, neither does he. The way we both light up when we touch each other is undeniable and hard to ignore. And I can’t wait to explore just how deep and developed our connection can become.

  A smile spreads my face as I head for my art studio. Even if my body is aching, inspiration is flowing through my veins and I’m itching to create something. Glancing around I take in the many options I have. Paint, sketch, or something else?

  These past few weeks I’ve been creating paintings for Torin to sell. He’s the one Bruno asked to handle the selling part of our deal. I also made a few sketches with black ink, animal illustrations, I absolutely loved to do. But right now I want to create something for me, not something to sell or on paper.

  Staring at the white wall above the loveseat a visual enters my brain and I know I have to let it come alive. I roam around for the stuff I need and drag the loveseat from its place. This won’t be a normal wall art or painting. I’m going to make it a 3D sculptural painting. Relief will make my creation come to life.

  Cement is the first part and I’m engrossed for hours before I have to stop because my belly is rumbling louder than the soft music flowing through the room. The cement needs to dry anyway and when I’ve grabbed something to eat I’ll use a blow dryer to speed things up. Taking a step back I take in the work I’ve done so far and feel a smile spreading my face. I clean my hands and wander off into the kitchen.

  I grab a plate and fill it with stuff I crave. Mostly a few slices of pastrami, pickles, some cheese, and baby tomatoes. I grab a napkin and when I stroll out of the kitchen and want to head for my art studio, my attention is caught by the muted arguing coming from Bruno’s office.

  Taking a step in the direction of my studio, I freeze when I hear a loud bang followed by a crashing sound. Without thinking my feet carry me as fast as they can to Bruno’s office and I open the door with a swing.

  “Are you okay?” I question while I scan the room.

  Torin and Rhyes are sitting in the chairs in front of Bruno’s desk. Bruno, on the other hand, is pacing. There’s a shattered vase along the side of the wall on my left. It’s not hard to figure out what happened.

  “Oh, didn’t like the vase, did you?” I mutter and take a bite from a pickle. I slowly chew while three men are staring at me. I swallow my food and tell them, “Well, okay. I’ll leave you guys to it.”

  I walk backwards but Bruno surprises me when he says, “Ridge left the fucking country.”

  “What?” I gasp and stalk back into the office, slamming the door shut behind me.

  Placing the plate on Bruno’s desk, I grab a piece of pastrami and take a bite.

  Torin glances at my plate, his eyes sliding to Bruno when he asks, “Did you knock her up all ready?”

  Rhyes punches him in the shoulder. “They’re not married yet. She happens to like pickles. Nothing wrong with eating them.”

  Rhyes shoots me a wink and I give him a grin in return. Over the past few weeks Rhyes has picked up pickles for me three times. Only because the man is always in the kitchen when I’m grabbing something, and the fact he’s also a pickle fan.

  “The fucker stepped on a plane three hours after he walked out of that bridal shop,” Bruno states, completely ignoring the pickle discussion and stalks over to me to grab the pastrami from my hand to finish it off himself.

  I shoot him a glare and grab another slice from the plate. “Any idea when he gets back? Why he left? Anything?”

  The three men stare at each other, as if they’re wrapped in a silent situation.

  Until Bruno says, “She’s mine in every way. Unlike others, she can handle herself. You heard the conversation she had with Ridge. You know what she went through after that took place. She gave us honesty about what happened as soon as she was able to.”

  Torin and Rhyes both nod.

  Torin turns to face me. “At first glance it seems like a planned business trip. But we found out everything was booked about two hours after wha
t happened to you.”

  “How weird,” I murmur. “You heard the recording, right? He acted as if I could contact him at all times, not rush out of the country. It doesn’t make sense. Does it have anything to do with the whole ‘big change coming’?”

  “He could be talking bullshit or he’s still fascinated by the idea of taking over Bruno’s position. It’s also what Caleb’s son mentioned,” Rhyes mutters and turns the laptop toward him to let his fingers fly over the keyboard.

  “Anything else happen today that might have caused him to run?” I question. “Did you send people after him? Tell anyone about what happened to me? Anything that might have triggered him to flee the country? He must have a reason.” I snatch another pickle from the plate and quickly take a bite to chew and swallow before I add, “He either has things in motion to plan a murder and creates an alibi by leaving the country, or he isn’t sure about his own life and that’s the reason he left so soon.”

  “I like her. I like her a lot.” Rhyes grins.

  Bruno shoots him a deadly look. Rhyes rolls his eyes. “I said I like her a lot, but not the way you’re implying. Come on, the woman likes pickles, she bounces back after a beating, and has mad skills when it comes to her art. But she’s the boss’ woman.”

  I grab another pickle and a piece of cheese, popping a chunk of both in my mouth at the same time. These guys are weird. They are like close friends but deadly and professional in the blink of an eye. It’s clear they have been working with one another for years.

  Bruno’s phone rings. He drags his gaze away from Rhyes and answers the phone. His eyes land on his desk and he doesn’t give anything away what the phone call is about. But the look in his eyes is getting deadlier by the moment.

  His voice is even when he tells the person who is calling, “I will be there with the proof needed to show who the fucking liar is. The truth will come out and then it will be too late to ask for my forgiveness because for fucking sure I will remember this.” He ends the call and with utter control he slides the phone back into the pocket of his slacks.

  “Caleb reached out to several heads of the underworld, he’s requested an investigation concerning his son. He’s telling them he’s missing and probably dead by my hand while he was only following orders I gave. Orders to extort.”

  “What the fuck?” Torin snaps. “This is a setup. Please tell me they’re not that stupid. And why the hell should others interfere? This is our fucking territory, you’re the damn boss.”

  “It doesn’t matter either way. An investigation is granted. It’s put on hold for the next meeting, exactly what happened when I requested to kill Ridge. Everything will be discussed and decided during the meeting.”

  Rhyes stares at Bruno. “And you’re supposed to . . . what? Wait till then? Get married and have all those fuckers as guests and a week later have a meeting where they can fucking end you if they deem that Caleb fucker or Ridge are telling the truth? It’s un-fucking-believable and it screams like a setup.”

  “Holy shit,” I gasp. “That’s the power shift Ridge mentioned. That’s why he left. It’s happening, they’ve put things in motion like playing chess.”

  All eyes land on me and it makes me uncomfortable. I grab another slice of pastrami and chew while I keep my eyes on the floor. All of this sounds complicated. And right when Bruno and I move forward together, the world decides it’s enough, and he’s next on the list to be taken away from me. Because in all seriousness . . . I might be cursed. First my parents, then my aunt, and now the first man I imagine to explore a future with.

  CHAPTER NINE

  – BRUNO –

  Winter has been withdrawn ever since she mentioned the powershift Ridge insinuated. She might be spot on; Ridge wants all the power. CJ mentioned it when I confronted him. Which means Ridge needs to take me out in order to take my place. A powershift, and for that he needs to taint my name and spread doubts.

  He had the first mafia head in his pocket when his wife killed herself after insinuating she had an affair with me. And now he’s spreading lies himself while working with Caleb to doubt my leadership. As if that’s fucking possible. But rumors and lies are what cause ripples and waves, and it’s what I’m dealing with now.

  And the Circle–all those mafia heads working together–might be to prevent bloodbaths and to keep order among organized crime, but it’s the first damn time it’s working against me. It’s binding my hands while I need them to wring Ridge’s neck and Caleb’s right after, and all those who are loyal to them. I’m going to kill them all.

  Except, I have to wait and plan my next move. Torin and Rhyes left and will be here early tomorrow morning to go over everything again with a clear head. It’s the reason why my ass is in the loveseat in the middle of Winter’s art studio. I don’t think she’s noticed I’m here because she’s engrossed in her work.

  When I walked in here–something I’ve never done before tonight–she was blow-drying the wall. I wanted to make sure she was okay since she just closed up after the call I received and grabbed her plate of food and excused herself to let us men discuss things.

  As if there was something to discuss. We let them grab us by the balls, sliding right through our defense. Fucking hell, and in all this mess Winter was hurt. It shouldn’t come as such a surprise; I’m a mafia boss, my wife is bound to be a target. But the feelings ripping through my body when it actually happened were life-changing.

  So, here I sit, watching her work. And I must say, it strangely has a soothing effect on me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone engrossed with a task as simple as throwing paint on a wall. And I know it sounds degrading because my woman is damn talented.

  At first I was staring at a white wall with bumps and curves but then she added colors and the wall practically came to life. I might not exactly know what I’m staring at but I’m pretty sure there are two hands where one is holding some kind of chunky ice thing and the other is touching it, spreading crimson all over. It’s enthralling. Fucking beautiful.

  Winter steps away from the wall. All I can see is the back of her head and it seems as if she’s scanning her creation to see if she missed anything. She slowly inches backwards, stretching her arm out to place her brush and palette on her desk. Snatching a cloth in return to wipe her hands.

  I slowly rise from the loveseat and come to a stop when I’m right behind her, murmuring the word, “Breathtaking.”

  She yelps in surprise and spins around, hand on her chest, and breathing hard. “Holy shit you scared the crap out of me,” she scolds and throws the cloth at me.

  The cloth bounces off and falls to the floor. I reach for her hand that’s covering her heart. My eyes go to the wall and I now notice the complete artistic meaning behind . . . fucking hell, there’s so much meaning to this mere paint on a fucking wall.

  One hand holding to what I now clearly see is a heart of ice while the touch of fingertips of another hand spreads blood. Either making the heart bleed or changing the heart of ice and giving it the blood to fucking warm it up to make it beat and function.

  “I was heartless before you,” I admit, my voice wrapped with the surprise of my own admittance.

  Her arms slide around me, pressing her warm body against mine. “I wouldn’t say heartless. Loyalty and respect has to come from somewhere.”

  The corner of my mouth twitches as I place a kiss on the top of her head. “I think I have to agree with you. But I never thought a woman would be able to squeeze something out of me I didn’t think a mere organ was capable of.” Fuck. She might think this is a confession of love, which it isn’t. “Affection or adoration isn’t something I show to anyone. Even my brother and I have a twisted connection.”

  Her body shakes lightly against me and I hear a soft giggle before her head tips back to connect our gaze. “Well, thanks. I guess I think you’re adorable too.”

  A bark of laughter escapes me and I tighten my embrace. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called adorable.”


  “There’s a first for everything,” she says on a soft breath.

  Our heads inch closer until our lips meet in the middle. Gentle. Soft. Rapidly changing to a surge of desperate longing for closeness. Before this woman there was mere fucking. Yet fucking is not on my mind since the longing goes beyond shoving my cock in and out of her tight pussy to get off.

  I want to completely possess her in every way for so many reasons, but one reason is to make sure she knows she belongs to me.

  It’s as if our connection is making our thoughts mingle when she pulls back and whispers, “I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to end up alone again. Not when I finally–” Her voice cracks and she swallows back the words she was going to say.

  “Not when we finally,” I tell her and leave the rest unspoken since the both of us know very well the meaning behind those words and yet aren’t ready to voice it.

  Each of us drowning in another kiss until I scoop her into my arms and carry her to my bedroom. The thought of waiting for our wedding night–which for me is now tainted with the many things going on–is unbearable.

  Walls have crumbled down and something else has risen to the occasion. Things have shifted between Winter and I and it has strengthened me instead of weakened. Blood on the sheets, a presentation, a fucking stand of powerplay. One, all, I’m going to leave the outside world for what it is and right now will ignore everything except for the woman in my arms.

  Wheels have been turning for as long as the hands of time have existed. I didn’t become the boss as a career change; I was fucking born into it by blood. I make my own decisions, write my own damn laws, and I will kneel for no one.

  No one. With the exception of the woman I’m placing on the bed while I willingly fall to my knees in front of her. I quickly rid her of her clothes to have her completely bare before me.

  Skimming her soft skin, I keep my eyes locked with her when I inch closer to her sweet pussy. Her scent is drawing me in and I have no choice nor reason to resist her. I willingly open my mouth and lick her folds. Spearing her pussy and sucking those tender lips before I give all my attention to the bundle of nerves peeking out from underneath its hood.