Dark Blood: A Mafia Hitman Romance

by Isabella Starling

  Da Costa has now moved into the house he’d bought for Sofia, and lives with Bianca. I know she liked being close to her father, but I also know the real reason he is here – it’s closer to the hospital, and he’s getting too tired to make the trek from his home daily. He’s fading away. He doesn’t have much time left.

  Bianca has been distant. Despite the smiles, the giggles, and the long conversations…. It’s like she’s playing a role. She won’t let me close. Not physically, not emotionally, not in any sense of the word. When I try to kiss her, she pushes me away. When I ask questions, she shuts up like a clam. She won’t let me in, and it’s fucking killing me. My beautiful, delicate girl, like a flower in full bloom. And she is wilting away in front of me.

  It’s been three weeks since the day I kidnapped Bianca Da Costa. Twenty days since she sucked my cock and let me touch her. Nineteen days since the day she was changed forever.

  When the phone rings in the middle of the night on the twenty-first day, I know what’s coming. The call is coming from inside the house, after all. The housekeeper is somber. She simply tells me to wake Bianca and come to her father’s room. It’s time to say goodbye.

  I wake her up gently, living for the moment when she cuddles up closer to me. The seconds before she remembers what happened to her and changed her forever. Fear replaces feeling her soft breath against my chest right before she opens her eyes and witnessing her sweet smile.

  I would never hurt her. Probably couldn’t bring myself to hurt her even if she begged me. But still, it seems as if she’s scared of me the most.

  We still share a bed. She curls up beside me and moves closer once she’s asleep. But when she’s awake, she keeps her distance. She seems too afraid to even look at me. And it’s fucking tearing me apart on the inside.

  I try to forget all of that as I stir her awake from her sleep. I do relish the moment she leans closer to me, though…. But once her eyes open sleepily, it’s over. She moves away instantly, protectively shielding her body from me by crossing her arms in front of her chest.

  “What is it?” she asks, yawning.

  “We need to go to your father’s bedroom,” I urge gently. She casts a glance at me over her shoulder, her eyes sharp.

  “What? Why?”

  I put a palm on her bare shoulder and she flinches. She fucking flinches, like I’m going to throw her across the room or something. I hold back my frustration and sigh instead. “Come on. I’m sure we’ll understand once we get to his room.”

  I can see the tears already pooling in her eyes, but she won’t let me comfort her. She pushes me away and gets up from the bed, wrapping her already pajama-clad body in a thick, fluffy dressing gown with hearts on it. The image of innocence…. And I don’t even dare look at her twice or too closely for fear of scaring her off.

  I offer her my hand, and she reluctantly takes it.

  Walking through her house in the middle of the night feels like we’re two naughty children, up to no good. I almost feel like we’re about to play hide and seek, but once you’ve seen a real monster emerge from the shadows, you’re not so thrilled about playing in the darkness any more.

  I knock on her father’s suite door. We’ve set him up in the east wing, and he has every comfort that’s accessible for someone with his money and status. Except for a cure. That isn’t an option, not even for one of the richest mobsters this side of the coast.

  A nurse opens the door and there is no hiding her somber expression. As soon as Bianca sees her face, her fingers tighten around mine. I can feel the tension pulse in her body, the absolute, crippling fear that’s taking over as I guide her into the room.

  Her father looks small and frail amidst the large stacks of pillows on his bed. He’s simultaneously pale and yellow, symbolic of his failing kidneys. Bianca gasps, tearing her hand out of mine and rushing towards her father’s deathbed.

  It’s as if she’s noticing it for the first time. The loss of will, hair, appetite, everything. The slow decay of his body. The man whom I’ve grown to admire and respect barely manages a smile as his only daughter kneels in front of his bed. He tries to raise his hand to touch her hair, but he is too weak.

  Bianca starts sobbing. Soft, heaving motions of her breasts. I feel choked up, and I’ve no idea what to do with myself. I’ve felt like an intruder since the day we rescued her, and I don’t feel much more welcome now.

  But her father’s tired eyes float up until they reach mine, and he motions for me to come closer. I walk to stand beside him, my feet wobbly, gulping down the lump in my throat. So this is really it. He’s about to say goodbye for the last time.

  Once I reach Da Costa’s bed, I see a figure sitting in a shadowed part of the room. My eyes widen as I recognize the other man in the room.

  It’s my father.

  He sees I’ve noticed his presence, and he slowly lifts a finger to his lips motioning for me to stay quiet. I nod. My father has tears in his eyes, but I don’t ask why. I understand. There is something there, an age-old friendship. Grudges no longer matter.

  I step to Da Costa’s bed, standing behind Bianca. I hate how she tenses in my presence.

  Bianca’s praying in Italian, holding her father’s hand. I feel utterly useless as I listen to her feverish prayers, wishing I could be of more help, wishing I could comfort her. It seems as if I can’t do much for this broken family. I can only stand by and offer a shoulder to cry on.

  “Bianca,” Da Costa says in a deep, but tired voice.

  “Yes, daddy.” Tears are streaming down her face. She’s even beautiful when she cries, my princess. “Tell me what it is, please. Daddy, don’t go….”

  “It’s alright, cara,” her father mumbles. His time is drawing close. We don’t have a lot of time left. Instinctively, my hand lands on Bianca’s shoulder and I squeeze it gently, letting her know I’m there for her.

  “Bianca….” Da Costa chokes on his words, clearing his throat weakly. “Find him.”

  “Who, Daddy?” Bianca asks through heaving sobs.

  “Your brother.” Da Costa looks right at me. “The little boy Abbate told us about. Find him and take care of him, darling. He is your brother.”

  After the final word leaves his mouth, he looks completely ovrecome, as if the small speech took the last of his efforts. Bianca weeps, nodding and promising to do exactly as he asks. My father approaches the bed slowly, laying a hand on Da Costa’s shoulder. The old man’s eyes drink us all in, and his lips curl upward. Not exactly a smile. More of a smirk.

  He breathes a long, heavy breath of relief, his mouth set in that signature Da Costa grin. And then I feel him leaving the room, sense him leaving his body.

  Bianca feels it too, and she sobs louder, her weeping racking her body. She crumples to the floor, but I’m faster, and I gather her up in my arms. I hold her close, and it feels as if I’m the only one holding the pieces that make her Bianca together.

  A nurse approaches and silently draws a white sheet over Bianca’s father’s body. I turn around to look at my father, but he’s gone, as if he was never even there. But he was.

  Bianca lets go of me. Her body goes slack, her legs giving out. She’s not sobbing anymore. She’s empty, just a shell of the girl she used to be. But I’m going to fix it all, even if it’s the last fucking thing I do.

  I pull her into my arms and she curls up against my chest. I can feel her heart beating against mine, the beats fast, but regular. I kiss her forehead tenderly and carry her out of the room. And for the first time in weeks, she lets me touch her, hold her, love her. She melts into my embrace and I melt into her. Even when she’s not mine, I’ll always belong to her.

  My beautiful girl. My princess.

  15

  Bianca

  Daddy’s gone. I knew this day was coming, of course. I tried to fool myself until the very last moment, until I saw daddy deathly pale in his bed and knew the reaper was coming for him. I tried to push everyone away – Matteo, daddy, everyone. I tr
ied to make it work on my own, pretend I was okay. Pretend I wasn’t shattered to pieces by everything I’ve gone through.

  But now I want to open myself up to him. Matteo. I let him see the ugly and the broken, and I let him glue together the pieces. I let him carry me to my room and make quiet arrangements for my father’s funeral. I am too weak to do anything else.

  I haven’t been paying attention to many things these past few weeks. I’ve been too busy shutting my eyes and closing myself off from reality, pretending none of the bad stuff was actually happening. But I know the gist of it.

  I am daddy’s only heir, apart from the mystery boy we’ve yet to find. But I don’t have to marry that man anymore. After I was rescued, daddy promised me I wouldn’t have to. He took one look at Matteo, and even when I wouldn't let myself believe it was true, he knew that we loved one another and belonged together.

  Settled into my princess bed, I wait for my dark prince. I wait for him to share the final arrangements for the funeral with the assistant in hushed tones. The woman gives me a sympathetic look. She’s the very one who warned me to be careful a month ago. I wish I had listened.

  Matteo tells her goodbye and shuts the door after she leaves. He stands in front of the closed door, shoulders tense. He exhales slowly, and I watch as the tension rolls away from his body in waves. Then, he turns around to face me.

  And finally I let myself feel all of the emotions. The way I missed him. The way I ached for him when I pushed him away. The way I love his patience, and how I regret he didn’t make me obey and bend to his will at the same time.

  He walks over to the bed slowly. He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, and I stare at his strong, muscular arms. He fell asleep clothed again, lying next to me. He hasn’t let me out of his sight in weeks.

  “Bianca,” he says. His voice is dark coffee and sex. “Are you all right?”

  I don’t answer. He comes closer. Once he’s a few steps away from me, I ease out of bed until I’m sitting on the edge of it looking up at him. “Hold me,” I say to him.

  “What?” He seems confused.

  “Please…Matteo. Hold me tonight.”

  He stares at me for a long moment before nodding. “You know I’ll do whatever you want.”

  I push the duvet off me and pull my shirt off with one fluid motion. It joins my dressing gown on the floor. Matteo looks uncomfortable as I get up and wiggle out of my pajamas as well. I don’t stop until I’m standing in front of him completely naked.

  “Bianca…,” he says, his voice husky. It’s a warning as much as it is a promise. Get dressed now or I won’t be responsible for my actions any longer.

  “No!” I cut him off sharply. “Now. I need you now, Matteo.”

  “Bianca, this isn’t the time,” he says tiredly, rubbing at his eyes.

  Furiously, I get off the bed and stride over to him. I force him to look at me, wrapping my arms around his neck and jumping up, forcing him to reach for me. He’s startled, but he still catches me and instinctively grabs to hold my ass. My legs wrap around his waist and instantly, I feel his hardness pressing against me.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, trying hard not to cry. “I’m sorry I pushed you away.”

  “Princess….”

  “No,” I tell him, shaking my head fervently. “I shouldn’t have. I…I need to be yours now. Now that it’s all over, I need to know I belong to you.”

  “You’ve always been mine,” he growls in response. His cock is throbbing, a hard rod pressed against me, and I know he wants to be inside me. I press my center closer to him and he groans. “Don’t do that.”

  “Make me whole again, Matteo,” I beg him. “I need you to fix me.”

  He’s hesitating, but his grip on my ass and thighs doesn’t loosen. “You don’t really want this,” he says softly. “It’s not the right time. Your father….”

  “Was a wonderful man.” I really am crying now.

  “Bianca, please. Not today.”

  He starts to let go of me and I slip to the floor, my feet landing on the thick carpet. I feel furious and I shriek, attacking him with my fists. Matteo lets me hit him, my small hands pounding against his rock hard chest. He doesn’t stop my attack, he only watches me as I unleash my fury on him.

  I’m crying by the time I land my third punch. Big, fat, ugly black tears, the leftovers of my mascara running down my cheeks. “Love me!” I scream at him. “You need to! Someone needs to! Someone has to take care of me!”

  Finally, fucking finally, he grabs my wrists. He leans in closer and looks at me with dark eyes. “I won’t go easy,” he warns me, just like he did once before.

  “Good,” I tell him, and his grip on my wrists tightens.

  “Are you sure? Are you on birth control, baby?”

  I remember the awkward visit I made to my doctor with my bodyguard in tow. I’m sure my father was informed of my decision to start taking birth control pills because he became even more insistent that I not be allowed to date. I didn’t care. I always hoped one day I would meet someone, meet my prince. , I

  “Yes,” I breathe. “I am. For a year now.”

  “You want this?” Matteo asks. Even as he’s saying it, I’m grinding my hips against his. I need him to complete me, to make things right.

  “Fuck yes, please….” My words are barely above a whisper, and as soon as they’re out of my mouth, he grabs me by the waist and half pulls, half carries me until I’m pressed up against the wall.

  My back presses up against the hard surface and I breathe deep, labored breaths. “Please,” I beg him. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry I’ve been so cold. I didn’t want to deal with it all. Now I just need to feel you. Please, Matteo.”

  His hands are roaming my body, and it makes me moan louder. “Why now?” he whispers into my ear before releasing his tongue to swipe along my jaw. “I feel…wrong.”

  I grab his face with both hands and force him to look into my eyes. “Because daddy wanted you to be there. He wanted you to protect me. And I think he was right.”

  He groans and pulls on my long mane, exposing my neck to his mouth. He latches onto my skin, sucking, biting, making me beg for more. I’m so far gone now, everything else around me has disappeared. It’s only Matteo and me, the heat of our skin, the beat of our hearts. I need to feel him everywhere. I need for him to be inside me.

  He seems to know what I’m thinking every time, and he picks me up again, carrying me to my bed. He lays me down gently, and I’m once again realizing how vulnerable I feel when he’s fully clothed and I’m stark naked.

  “Take my clothes off,” he orders me. I can sense his urgency building, even though his voice remains steady. Eagerly, I kneel in front of him. I tug harshly on his shirt, several buttons flying off as I do. I pull it off his arms, pausing to admire his body. A long tribal tattoo stretches across his chest, along with several scars. My fingers trace them all. I move on to his jeans. My hands are shaking; I’m trembling so hard, but I still undo his zipper and pull down his jeans along with the body-hugging black boxers he’s wearing.

  His hand goes to the base of his cock and he strokes it in provocatively slow motions. I get up on my knees until I’m level with his mouth, needing him to be closer. “Kiss me,” I beg him. “I need to feel you.”

  His mouth comes down hard against mine and I can’t even return the passionate kiss because I’m so overcome with jolts of excitement. I can’t focus. Instead, I become a mess of moans and whimpers as his mouth descends on mine, his tongue slipping into my mouth and exploring every wet part of it.

  Matteo falls to join me on the bed, his naked body covering mine with his comforting weight. For the first time, our bodies make contact in the most intimate way possible, and I arch my back, desperate for us to fuse together. He takes hold of my wrists and pins them above my head, and I reach out to grab onto the bedframe.

  “Keep them there,” he orders me, and I nod, completely overcome with anticipation. I don’t know if I can obey t
hat order. I’m too desperate to explore every inch of his skin with my fingertips and tongue.

  His mouth teasingly descends my neck, cascading down to my breasts and then over my stomach. My back is arched in an almost impossible and painful curve, desperate to bring his mouth closer to my skin. “Please,” I beg him. “Don’t…don’t torture me.”

  For it is as much torture as it is ecstasy, the way he coasts along my skin with his lips and tongue, always steering clear of the parts of my body screaming for his touch the most.

  Finally, fucking finally, his lips suck my nipple into his mouth and I hiss as he bites down. I can feel how wet I am, and I blush, knowing he’s sure to smell my arousal. As if on cue, his hand wanders down between my legs, slapping my thighs apart.

  “Spread,” he orders me, and I moan in response to his wandering finger trail as I follow his order. His fingers travel along the inside of my thighs, almost to my center. I’m squirming, panting in heavy breaths, needing him to caress my wetness, but he continues to explore, teasing me.

  “Matteo…,” I breathe, feeling frustrated. But he bites down on my nipple again instead, harder this time, and I throw my head back in ecstasy. “I can’t hold on much longer.”

  Finally, his fingers find and stroke against my clit before delving into the wet folds of my pussy. I whimper loudly and needily. “I… I can’t…I…oh God, Matteo,” I breathe heavily.

  He grabs me by the waist and presses his body dangerously close to mine. I’m shaking all over. “You cum when I tell you to,” he growls at me. “Not a moment sooner. Do you understand?”

  My eyes are wide and glazed over as I look up at him. I can’t focus, but I nod silently, begging with my expression for him to continue. And mercifully, he does.

  He holds me in place by grabbing on to my waist, and positions himself between my legs. I wrap my legs tightly around his waist instinctively, and I whisper for him to go on. Taking hold of his thickness in one hand, he positions his cock at my entrance. I’m scared, but I still beg him to push inside, to claim me as his.