Dark Blood: A Mafia Hitman Romance

by Isabella Starling

  I’m surprisingly calm given the situation. I guess I’ve been preparing for this type of thing my whole life. Losing control, losing my free will. The only change is the man who is in charge.

  “Don’t you want to know why you’re here?” he asks me quietly.

  “You’re with the Abbate family,” I say bluntly.

  He turns around, his motions abrupt. I almost expect him to hit me, but he comes up to me instead, getting on his knees until we’re dangerously close. My heart is pounding and I can feel sweat prickling my back. I feel so vulnerable and exposed…. He did tear off my dress.

  “How do you know?” he asks, a genuine curiosity in his voice.

  I shrug. “The Abbate family hates my father. I assume Angelo is finally getting revenge for whatever ill he believes my father caused him.”

  The man’s fist slams into the wall behind me, mere inches away from my face. “You think the reason is so trivial?” he asks me, then laughs. The sound is bitter.

  “I don’t know the reason,” I admit. “But I’m sure my daddy wouldn’t hurt Angelo Abbate on purpose.”

  “You’re wrong, little girl,” he says. “So very fucking wrong.”

  I raise my head stubbornly, feeling as foolish as I am brave. I don’t say a word though, biting my tongue instead. The man stalks away, shooting me warning glances.

  “Aren’t you afraid of me?” he finally asks.

  I ponder his question. In truth, I am not afraid. I wanted to get away from daddy’s plans for me. I prayed for a solution every night before I went to bed. I know this is God’s penance for questioning daddy’s way.

  “I don’t know,” I tell him softly. “I know I should be. You’re a monster.”

  “And you’re the goddamned beauty,” he snarls at me. “Except this isn’t a fucking fairytale, and by the end of the night, you might be dead.”

  I don’t react the way I assume he wishes I would. Instead, I stare at my bound hands.

  “Do you know what happened between them?” I ask. I’m genuinely curious. The Abbate family has been our rivals for as long as I can remember, but I can’t really pinpoint what started the feud. Maybe this man can shed some light on it.

  He doesn’t say a word, his lips pressed into a thin line. Finally, he shakes his head no. I guess he doesn’t know everything either.

  I have an idea then. “How much is Abbate paying you?” I ask the man, a feral tone I don’t recognize in my voice. This isn’t just about survival anymore. It’s about freedom – my freedom.

  “None of your goddamned business,” the man snarls. “Why do you care?”

  “I could pay you more,” I say. “I have money.”

  “I don’t want your daddy’s money.”

  I shake in the chains impatiently. “Not my daddy’s. Mine. I have a trust fund my mother left me.”

  He gives me a curious look. “You want to pay me yourself…to get you back to your dad? What the hell is the point in that?”

  I hesitate for a moment, wondering whether I should tell him the truth. Of course I shouldn’t, he’s a hitman! But I can’t help the words slipping from my lips now.

  “I don’t want to go back to daddy,” I admit, probably for the first time. “Just get me out of here. Get me away…. I won’t talk. I won’t come back, I swear. Just give me freedom.”

  A thousand possibilities bloom before my eyes. I could get away and start anew. No daddy to keep track of me, and no Lorenzo to make sure I behave. No enemies and no past. A way to wipe away the crimes of the past and pretend I’m the girl with a future.

  “You’re delusional if you think I’m going to do that.” The stranger smashes my dreams to pieces. “My father would fucking have my head on a plate.”

  I raise my eyes and search his face desperately. “Your father?”

  He turns around swiftly and I realize he slipped. He didn’t mean to say that…. But it’s out in the open now. “Your father is Angelo Abbate?” I ask out loud, inhaling a sharp breath.

  “Shut the fuck up,” he growls in response.

  “Are you…?” My breath catches in my throat, and for a second, I’m scared he’ll push me up against the wall again. But he remains standing still, with his back turned towards me and his shoulders nervous.

  “You’re Matteo Salini,” I finally realize. I can’t fucking believe it. The Blood Hound.

  Matteo Salini is Angelo Abbate’s bastard. One of the unlucky ones, whom Angelo never accepted as his own, hence the last name. Instead of treating him like his own, like daddy did with me, Angelo recruited Matteo to be his hitman. I know, because I’ve heard stories about what he’s done to him.

  Matteo was pumped full of drugs and trained to kill like a dog. Smell blood, draw blood, kill, kill, kill. He’s the best hitman there is, the best weapon the Abbate family has.

  I’m also certain Matteo Salini, the handsome monster in front of me, killed my brother Lorenzo.

  “Did you kill Lorenzo?” I whisper in Italian.

  Finally, Matteo looks over his shoulder and his gaze tells me everything I need to know. Desperate, with a sadness deep within but always, always underlined with cruelty. He’s a goddamned savage. He took my brother from me. He sentenced me to the fate daddy picked for me, or to this hellhole of a prison. Two options, two different kinds of death.

  “Assassino,” I scream at him. “You killed Lorenzo, you fucking monster.”

  He looks broken. Like a sad little boy. But I don’t give a fuck who made him do it. I don’t care if he was on drugs. I will have my revenge for the death of my brother.

  “Bianca….” he starts.

  “You dare say my name?” I retort.

  “You’re the prisoner here,” he snarls in response, darting across the cell to hover directly in front of me. His expressions change faster than the weather. He must be really fucked up.

  He’s right in my face, and I feel like I’m being faced with a vicious snarling dog. “You’d better fucking behave.”

  I muster up all my courage and spit in his face.

  He stares at me for a long moment, then chuckles like I’m amusing him. My spit runs down his cheek, onto his lip. He licks it. I look away, unable to look at him. Disgusting cazzo.

  He grips my cheeks again and makes me eyeball him.

  “I killed him,” he tells me, confirming my doubts. “I followed my father’s orders. You’re a daddy’s girl, Bianca.” He purposefully emphasizes my name, probably to mess with me because I told him not to use it. Prick. “You should be able to understand what it’s like to follow your capo’s orders.”

  I blush and try to look away, but he won’t let me. His grip on my cheeks tightens.

  “I am sorry you lost your brother,” he says. “He was a pawn. We all are.”

  I stay quiet. I don’t think him worthy of a response.

  Matteo’s finger is caressing my cheek. I don’t even know whether he knows he’s doing it. It’s the lightest touch, soft, feather-like strokes. I lean against his hand despite not wanting to.

  “What’s this?” His voice is softer, and alarm bells start to go off in my head. “Has beauty succumbed to the beast already?”

  I close my eyes, holding back tears. His finger moves to my lips and he parts them softly. So gentle for such a monster.

  Suddenly, his fingers leave my face and I cry out a whimper, feeling the loss of his touch. I open my eyes and Matteo is looking at me curiously.

  “You like this….” he realizes out loud, and I blush furiously. It’s true. I’ve never been touched like that…. Daddy sometimes hugged me, but mama wasn’t one for physical affection, and neither was Lorenzo. Of course, being locked away in private schools, I didn’t get to experiment with anyone else.

  Eighteen years old and I’m still a freaking virgin. Looks like I’ll die one, too. Unless….

  He sits down in front of me. My legs are trembling and I pull my knees up to my chest, trying to protect my body from his inquisitive touch.


  Matteo comes closer, scooting up to me until my body is pressed against the wall. His palms land on the wall on either side of my head, his face inches away from mine. His features are striking, bold and chiseled. I want to touch him, see if his skin feels as stone cold as it looks.

  “Tell me what you want,” he orders me.

  Warmth. Home. Freedom.

  I don’t say any of it.

  “Did I fucking stutter?” he snarls at me the next second, and I flinch.

  “To be touched,” I cry out. “I want to feel someone touching me…. I need to feel I’m still alive.”

  “Where?” he asks softly, his lips so damn close to mine. “Where do you want to be touched? Show me.”

  I rattle in my chains, but I can’t move. He has me pinned down. I lick my lips instead.

  Then his mouth crashes hard against mine as if he’s heard my silent prayers to make my first kiss special. Damn fucking right it’s special…. I’m kissing the man who murdered my brother.

  I should be repulsed. I should be recoiling from his touch with disgust.

  But something happens when we touch, something I’m not expecting.

  Electricity bolts through me. A jolt shocks me into submission, and instead of fighting Matteo, I succumb to his searing touch. I mold to his tender caresses. My lips open up for him and my walls crash down, and I let him in.

  He doesn’t want me to enjoy this. He’s a selfish bastard, taking my first kiss and stealing my innocence with measured flicks of his tongue. Matteo kisses me roughly, demanding my mouth adhere to his wishes. And I feel myself going with it, shaking, gasping, and finally, breaking for him….

  “Don’t,” I beg against his lips. “Stop….”

  “You don’t want this?” he asks, taunting me. His lips trace my jawline. “So fucking innocent. Have you even been kissed before?”

  I shake my head no and he takes a sharp intake of breath. “Not fucked, either?”

  I don’t respond. Every muscle in my body is clenched, my knees pulled up to my chest. He pulls away, and I’m about to lose all my dignity and beg him to come back. It’s like I’m so desperate for a human connection, I’ll beg to have his lips on me again.

  But I’m lying to myself. There’s something else – something more. He makes me feel it all, the hatred, the desire, and the deep need in my bones. This hasn’t happened before. Not with anyone, even the boy I was briefly seeing at school before daddy found out. Those moments were sweet and clumsy, but this…. This makes my head spin.

  I look up at Matteo, shivering. He looks troubled, his dark eyebrows knitted together in worry. I’m still in protective mode, shielding my body from the effect he’s having on me.

  His gaze drinks me in, and stops between my legs. I feel vulnerable. With my knees pulled up, I suddenly realize my pussy is exposed. My panties aren’t see-through, but I’m worried they’re sticking to me, making me more exposed than ever.

  “You’re fucking wet,” Matteo says. He’s a safe distance away from me, and he can still see the wet spot blooming on my cotton lingerie. “Why do you want this? Why…?”

  I don’t want to answer his questions, and at the same time, I want to tell him everything. But I don’t get a chance, because the next moment, the door to the cell slams into the wall.

  “Matteo,” a cold voice rings out.

  Both of us look up, startled.

  I was the girl who cried wolf. I thought I was in the presence of a monster when I was with Matteo, but it wasn’t until now that I stared into the eyes of pure evil.

  Angelo Abbate is standing in the cell, his dark hunkering and thunderous eyes drinking in the scene before him. He narrows them on me and pure hatred overwhelms his features.

  It is then when I start praying again.

  4

  Matteo

  My father appears in the doorway and the color drains from my face. This can't be fucking good. And he's looking at me with a thunderous expression. He only briefly glanced at Bianca, but I could see his disgust from far away.

  "Matteo, what the fuck are you doing?" he asks. His voice is pissed, and he looks like he's about to beat me into a pulp on the spot. "Come talk to me outside."

  He walks into the hallway and I follow him like a goddamned sheep. What man can really stand up to his father, though? I've always been seeking his approval. I won't rest until he's proud of me. Won't fucking budge until he admits I am as much his son as are his children by marriage.

  I cast Biana one last look before walking out. She looks fucking terrified, her legs now stretched out in front of her. I'm regretting the change of positions. I'm regretting not touching that wet, hot spot between her legs and seeing just how much I turn her on. Fuck knows why.

  My father waits impatiently for me in the hallway.

  "She's not dead," he points out in an icy voice as soon as I join him in the hallway. His tone is raised, and I'm fairly certain Bianca can hear him.

  "You told me not to kill her," I hiss in response. "That's the only reason she's alive right now." Liar, a voice in my head accuses me. You couldn't kill her now. Not after seeing that looks of lust in her eyes.

  My father hesitates, possibly the only moment I've seen him indecisive in my entire life. "She will die," he says, and it hurts. Why does it fucking hurt? I imagine her pretty face roughed up and bloodied, and it makes me want to vomit. Shit.

  "When?" I ask instead, the pussy that I am.

  "Soon enough." My father's voice is careless. He doesn't give a crap about her. "Don't worry about that. As far as Bianca Da Costa is concerned, you've done your job. Now get the fuck lost."

  "What?" I sound about as shocked as I fucking am. "Why?"

  "Do I need a goddamn reason?" My father snarls in my face. "You have no business questioning my orders. Get the hell out of here before I let the dogs tear you to pieces."

  I stare at him blankly.

  "Go!" he barks the command.

  I'm about to stand up to my father for the first time. I don't want to leave. I want to stare at the pretty, vulnerable girl curled up in the corner in her cuffs. I want to taste her. And I want to find out just how tight that little pussy is of hers.

  "I'm not leaving," I say. I sound a little less imposing than I'd like to. "She didn't get food or anything to drink. You can't just leave her to rot down here!"

  "That's my fucking business," my father replies. "Did I fucking stutter? Get lost!"

  Hearing the words I'd just used on Bianca flung from his lips hurts. It makes me feel like I'm a monster, just like my father.

  The memories come flooding back. Being pumped with drugs, my system barely recovering from their venom. My vicious snarls as I'm led into the fighting cage. Tearing up men, tearing them to pieces. Killing, like a goddamn machine.

  And then the relentless pounding of my head, the buzzing in my mind when they weaned me off the drugs. They decided I wasn't fucking worthless when they saw me fighting in that cage. Decided to use me as a hitman instead. I was still killing people, ending lives. I just had a fancier outfit now.

  I shake out the sleeve of my blazer. "I'm coming back to bring her food," I tell my father stubbornly.

  "You're doing no such thing." He turns his back to me and points for me to climb the ladder. He goes up first, and then checks behind him to make sure I'm following. It's bizarre seeing a man of his girth and stature in such a dirty environment. It doesn't suit him.

  I'm about to step on that first ledge when her small voice calls out timidly for me.

  "Matteo."

  The word is spoken in what’s barely above a whisper, but I hear it. She's begging for me to come back. She's scared right now, scared as fuck. And I'm just deserting her in the middle of nowhere.

  I hesitate on the ladder, looking over my shoulder. I need to go back.

  "Don't even fucking think about it," my dad tells me. I look up, and by his frozen expression, I can tell he heard Bianca's whisper. He knows there's something going on there, and
he doesn't like it.

  Knowing I'll follow his orders, he climbs up the ladder. He doesn't look back again to check whether I'm following him, not even once. And being the dutiful and obedient dog I am, I climb up the ladder after him. Such a fucking pussy.

  We climb outside, and I shield my eyes from the brightness of the sun glaring down from above us. It's easy to forget what time of the day it is when you're in the dungeon. I almost forgot there's life up here, as well.

  My father is waiting for me on the ground, and he grabs me by the shoulders as soon as I'm off the ladder.

  "What the fuck was that all about?" he demands. "Why do you care about that goddamn girl? She's nothing."

  I hesitate, and I know it seals her fate. The moment I admit I'm not completely apathetic concerning her marks the end of her life. But at the same time, I can't say I don't care she'll die then too, won't she?

  "She's pretty," I manage to get out between gritted teeth. Fuck yes, she's pretty. Probably the most beautiful girl I've laid eyes on. That's not fucking it, though.

  My father roars with laughter. "That's all you've got?" he mocks me.

  I narrow my eyes at him. "I am a man," I respond. "You didn't notice her looks?" Just thinking about my father eyeing Bianca is threatening to make me violently ill. He just chuckles though, and pats me on the shoulder.

  "You're still a red-blooded man, I see," he tells me. "Good for you. Now go stick your dick in some pussy, it'll make you feel better."

  My lips are a tight line as I nod. I don't want that. I want that spoiled princess who is trembling with fear in her dark cold prison cell as we speak. "Thank you, father," I say automatically.

  "Don't fucking call me that," my father reminds me, and pushes me in the direction of the house.

  I move away and start walking in the direction of the mansion. There's a golf cart parked in front of the bunker, which I assume is my father's transportation back to the house. It looks so goddamned innocent compared to the fact we have a prisoner underground, it almost makes me laugh.

  "Oh, and Matteo?"

  My father's voice interrupts my thoughts, and I look back at him.