by Mj Fields
Watching her kissing other women was like watching a child try to learn how to ride a bike, except she never actually grasped the concept.
When her brother contacted me because of a post he saw on her social media page, I thought for sure I was done, unemployed. In fact, I was more than ready to move on from the hell that is Valentina and her spoiled bratty ways and be able to accept one of the many positions that had been offered to me by others over the past few years.
But when Dominic laughed and said, “At least I don’t have to worry about her falling in love. My sister is no more gay than I am,” that dream was crushed.
Now Valentina has brought two new “friends” home with her.
I listen from my room in the suite as they purr. It is the only time I get turned on by anything involving Valentina Segretti.
With all security measures in place, alarms set, and cameras on, I am able to shower and fall asleep without worrying about her self-destructive ways.
When I awake to the same two women Valentina has been with in my bed, I try to stop what is happening and fail.
I am a man. A man who sees beauty in women and their pleasure. In the giving and taking. And yes, in the sharing.
As they suck my cock together, I lie back and let them.
When I hear the door open, I look up.
Valentina.
Seconds from coming, I know I have a battle commencing.
When I sit up, ready for her to start her bitching, I instead watch as she walks toward the bed without anger or malice in her eyes. She then pushes her robe off her shoulders, exposing her naked body, before she climbs onto the bed and begins eating one of the women’s pussies. The woman stops sucking my cock to lie back and enjoy herself.
I nearly get caught up in the act of watching, but quickly make the right decision for all parties involved.
I pull my cock from the other’s mouth and guide her head between Valentina’s legs. Then I position the woman Valentina is licking so her head is between the other woman’s legs. Then I step off the bed and watch as the three women, all give and receive pleasure, formed in a circle of naked and beautiful purring bodies.
After a moment, I force myself to walk out of the room and into Valentina’s, where I finish myself off in her shower, and yes, to the thought of her and the other two women.
I wake to the smell of coffee and push myself up on the couch to sit.
Valentina walks over to me and hands me a cup.
I hesitate for a moment, because this—her bringing me anything—doesn’t happen.
“Franco.” She steps closer. “I made you coffee.”
I take it and look at the mug.
“It’s not poisoned,” she jokes as she sits entirely too close to me.
I move down to sit farther away. Still, it’s uncomfortable, but I’m not ready to stand yet.
“Thank you.” I hold the mug up before taking a sip.
As the silence becomes awkward, I look over, feeling her eyes on me. With the black coffee mug to her lips, she smiles. She fucking smiles.
I look down. Her and I do not have this type of a relationship.
Then I notice she is wearing one of my shirts, the one I had on last night.
“It was hanging off the back of your chair,” she says. “I just grabbed it. Don’t read too much into it, Franco.”
I nod and take another sip of my coffee.
Silence again.
I have nearly prayed for silence for years now. I have daydreamed about shoving something in her mouth to shut her up. I have even considered taping her mouth closed. And yet, right now, right this moment, as I feel her eyes on me, I wish she would fucking say something, anything.
I try to think of what to say. How to tell her a line was crossed last night, one that will never happen again, without coming off too harshly.
Then she says, “You should have stayed last night.”
And I immediately wish she would shut the fuck up again.
“You have an impressive cock.”
I nearly choke on my coffee.
“I would have given you the best blowjob of your life,” she says matter-of-factly as I try my best not to spit out the mouthful of coffee. “How did I not know you were hung? Hell, I didn’t even know your nipples were pierced.”
I swallow down my coffee. “Our relationship is business.”
“Was business,” she says with a smile in her voice. “Now that I’ve seen everything under your clothes, I’m going to want—” She stops when I stand.
I turn around and look at her. “Our relationship is business.”
She leans forward, and the shirt she’s wearing—my shirt—falls open. “Was. Now that I’ve seen you, I’d like to continue—”
“Is, Signorina Segretti.”
Her face hardens as she stands. “Look at me, Franco. I am what everyone wants, and few have had. I am every man’s fantasy, and women’s, too.”
When I look away from her, she grasps my face and turns me toward her.
“You want to fuck me—”
“I’ve had the opportunity many times, Signorina Segretti,” I hiss, pulling her hand from my face. “You’ve begged me to fuck you, and I’ve told you no every time.”
“But—”
“No. Our relationship, it’s business. Last night was a mistake. Nothing’s changed. I told you a year ago what I like.”
“And I—”
“Enough!” I yell, causing her to jump.
She looks a little less aristocrat and a hell of a lot more like the young girl who used to wander around the grape vines.
At that thought, something fucked up happens. My cock twitches, and then, then I remember just how fucking beautiful she looked last night … until she opens her fucking mouth.
“Drunk! I’ve offered you my body while drunk, when you dragged me out of the clubs and I wanted to get laid.”
I turn my back on her and walk toward the kitchen to put my cup in the sink.
She gives a malicious laugh. “Clearly, I need to stop playing with pussy if your cock is even being considered. Thank you, Franco, for reminding me that you will always be beneath me.” She pauses then continues with a smile in her voice. “Just like the others, as you have always been and always will be.”
My fists clench at my sides as I hold back what is fighting to come out.
I put up with her for Dominic, for my family, but this, this isn’t worth it.
Before I have the opportunity to tell her she’s never been and never will be above me, she starts in again.
“I’m showering, then sleeping, and tonight, I’m going to see Lacuna Coil.”
I walk to my bedroom, ready to pack it up, when I get a call.
I look at the phone and see Dominic’s name appear.
I feel a knot in my stomach. Guilt. Fuck.
“Signore Segretti, how is New York?” I ask.
“Franco, it’s still Dominic,” he replies. “New York, New Jersey, they’re fine. I need you to be more watchful over my sister for the next few months.
I begin to tell him I would sooner play in a pit of snakes when he continues.
“As you know, I’ve been working on getting my family’s company back into the rightful hands. DeLuca is a fucking snake. I’m going to bring him down. Keep her safe, Franco. I’m counting on you.”
“Yes, signore.”
The call ends.
I sit on the bed, looking at my phone and wishing I had told him I’m done, but the name DeLuca, Dominic and Valentina’s step-grandfather’s last name, gave me pause. He’s the reason my parents nearly lost everything. I want him to know how that feels. Him and his son, Benito, are also the reason I am stuck watching over her.
Tonight is the third Lacuna Coil concerto I have been bound by duty, my respect for Dominic, and loyalty to family, to attend. Thankfully, it’s the last in the area.
Valentina is out of control with her drinking, her dancing, her fascination with the band, an
d for the man she watches on stage.
The one she covets ties women to a wooden X, what I now know is a Saint Andrew’s cross. I know she hopes to be one of them. I know because she dressed in much less tonight, like all those before her.
He picks women from the crowd. I’m sure it’s staged, but still, I stay close to her. There is no way I will allow her to be one of those he pulls up, whispering in her ear, before she drops to her knees and spreads her legs so her undergarments are exposed as he blindfolds her with a blood-red fabric, then uses his crop to titillate and tease her, as he has others.
The crowd loves it. They are seduced by it.
I am not.
Throughout the night, three women are pulled up to the stage, just like the previous nights. Three and he is done.
Knowing Valentina isn’t one of them puts me at ease, enough so that I allow my eyes to leave her long enough to spot what it is that does seduce me.
I make eye contact with the two women who have moved closer to me as they dance. I know what they want. I just haven’t paid enough attention to find out whether or not it’s what I want.
They aren’t as soft or sensual in their interactions as I like, but it’s been a couple weeks since I have found a release, so I decide they will do.
Standing between the two women, two hands travel slowly up and down my abs as they kiss. Tongues licking, lips sucking, tasting, pleasing, giving, taking.
I look away from them to watch as Valentina dances between two men. I breathe a sigh of relief that she is moving past her desire for women, because that phase, albeit brief, made me see her in a different light.
I look down as the woman on my left pushes up on her toes to run her tongue across my lower lips. I catch it between my teeth.
The band is too loud to hear the sound of a moan, but I clearly see it in her eyes, and I’m sure she sees it in mine.
The other kisses my neck up to my ear and whispers, “Let’s get out of here.”
I step back and pull a key card from my pocket with the hotel name on it. “Room 297. Do start without me.”
“Hassler, Roma?” Her question is followed by a smile.
I nod, then kiss each on the cheek. “Partire. Go.”
I watch them leave. They are beautiful and spirited. Tonight will be pleasurable.
I turn back to find Valentina, but she isn’t where she was moments ago. I scan the room and still don’t see her. I look up and thankfully don’t see her on the stage. Looking left, I spot her. Her head is down, not up, so her perfect little fucking nose isn’t in the air.
I step forward to get a better look at those around her. She isn’t looking at any of them, her body isn’t positioned to even see them. A step closer, and I see the man from the stage. She’s following him.
I push through the crowd, making my way toward her. “Valentina, stop!”
She looks toward me, narrows her eyes, and then continues following him.
When I reach the stage, my attempt to push myself up on it is thwarted by four men.
“I need to get to her!” I yell at them as I push them off. “I’m her bodyguard,” I snap at them once I have gotten their fucking hands off me.
“She’ll be back,” the largest one informs me.
“Did you fucking hear me? She’s mine,” I snap at him.
Another one snickers. “Not tonight she’s not. She’s Sabato’s.”
Assessing the situation, I try to calm myself down. Pulling out a gun isn’t a good fucking idea. I have yet to have done so. I’m smarter than that.
I turn my back to them and pull out my phone. She doesn’t know I track her. If she did, I would hear it from her. She’s not far. She’s still in the warehouse.
I quickly search the name Sabato and his image pops up immediately.
Sabato Efisto.
My stomach turns in recognition of the name. His father is mafioso, a man who all fear. A man I have seen, who I once feared, but no longer do.
Any man who runs sex clubs and must pay for a woman’s affection is no man at all. He’s weak.
I google the building and scan the image for exits and entrances. Then I turn back to the men still watching me.
“When she returns, tell her I am waiting in the car outside.”
Two of them nod, the others smirk. My blood boils knowing they assume she has chosen him over me. They assume she is mine, because I fucking said so, but it wasn’t meant in that way.
I don’t want Valentina Segretti to be mine. She simply is.
Outside, I walk around the building. I try a few doors in hopes of not having to break in. However, the club is secure, leaving me no choice.
I look at the building’s image again, then hit the tracking app to figure out which door is closest to where my charge, my responsibility is located.
After finding the door, I assess the lock. It will be almost as easy as picking the locks on the bathrooms in nearly every fucking hotel we stay in, something I’m used to since she locks herself in the bathroom and falls asleep while soaking in the tub almost nightly.
I pull out my pocket tool, unfold the tension wrench, and get to work. Less than twenty seconds later, I’m in and backstage.
I spot her immediately. She’s tied to a wall, her ass sticking out at him as he whips her.
When I hear her cries, my blood boils again. Five steps closer, I watch as he plunges into her.
When two men grab me, I yell, “Valentina, no more!”
As she turns toward my voice, I see tears streaming down her face.
“I will kill you, Efisto!” I scream as they drag me away. “Do you hear me! I will kill you!”
He doesn’t look toward me; he keeps fucking her as she watches them drag me away.
Outside, I am thrown against the brick wall. Then one of the men raises a fist to me.
“You do, and I will pull my fucking piece,” I warn him.
Never have I threatened to use my gun, but it works, so I don’t have to use it.
“Go get her, bring her to me, or so help me God, you will feel the wrath.”
“You do not call the shots here,” one hisses.
“Valentina Segretti,” I pause so the name sinks in, “is my charge. I repeat, do not make me pull my piece.”
Within ten minutes, Valentina is walking out, mascara staining her cheeks, her normally perfect hair a fucking mess, yet she is smiling an indignant yet smug smile.
“Franco, the car now.”
Capitolo Tre
Six Months Ago…
Dominic is close to getting his family’s company back, and Valentina is on break from college. She’s been skipping classes, a lot, and sleeping more. This makes my life easier, but it’s also worrisome.
I suspect it has a lot to do with meeting that man, the one she has contacted several times over the past year and a half.
Sabato Efisto.
When she visited her home for a week last spring, then two weeks in the summer, and again at Christmastime, I know she met up with him on my holiday and days off. However, I do not need to know these things. Dominic sets up protection for her when I am not with her, even when she’s there. She has no blood relatives left, besides Dominic, but home is home I suppose.
Now she’s with them again, and I’m home.
When I’m at home with my family, it’s a habit to check up on her. It’s not like there is much else to do there. My parents are content reading, doing crossword puzzles, making wine from their own small vineyard, gardening, and cooking. They are in bed by nine o’clock every night, while I am accustomed to staying up much later.
There are no clubs here. Anghiari is a small Tuscan town. It’s beautiful, yet dreadfully boring, which is why the home I purchased for them was inexpensive, yet it still has beautiful views. Antoinette, my sister, would have loved it.
After Antoinette’s death, our parents mourned then moved on.
I suppose it’s my fault they didn’t fall into a state of depression or mourn
in the manner most do. I’m sure it was difficult that their only living son wasn’t speaking. There was just nothing to say. Nothing could bring her back. We never knew who it was who had broken her heart so badly that she felt the need to take her own life.
Outside my parents’ house, there is a small barn, and inside a locked room in that barn is where I keep some of the things that are important to me.
Unlocking the door to the room with my valuables, I take a deep breath before stepping inside and turning on the light. I look at the boxes that I haven’t opened in years and see the one with the faded “A” written in my handwriting. Walking over, I question why I’m even in here. It comes to me quickly.
Valentina’s moods have been similar to those of Antoinette’s at the beginning.
It was so long ago that I don’t remember what led up to her suicide.
My parents don’t bother coming in here and have never asked what I keep locked up. I’m glad. I wouldn’t want them to see that I had pulled some of her things out of the boxes they donated or threw away.
I lift the box I know has pictures, family pictures, pictures of things I found beautiful. Pictures my sister made me take of her when she was feeling especially pretty.
I set it down and look inside. My old cameras are there. Four of them. An instant camera, two that take film rolls, and the one I received the Christmas before she died, a digital.
I pick it up and look at it, briefly considering maybe taking up photography again. Then I set it down and grab the box with Antoinette’s things.
When I open it, I don’t feel anything. I feel numb. The pain is gone. The questions left unanswered will never be answered, but missing that one person, the one who was most like you, come back.
When she was angry at our parents for being too strict, I listened with understanding. When I entered secondary school, shy and scrawny, giving me the inability to make friends fast, she dragged me to eat lunch with her and her friends.
Dinners were much more entertaining with her. More talk, less silence. She was always talking. Holidays with family were never boring; there was always someone to play with or to share snickers over the awful sweaters Grandmother would give us year after year.
