Trigger (Pericolo #3)

by Kirsty-Anne Still

  She gulps back on the truth. “You’ve been planning this for some time.”

  I give a small smile while allowing a burst of mirthless laughter to uncoil from my throat.

  “You could say it’s been my life’s work,” I confess with a shrug but bring my hand to frame the side of her face, allowing her to rest in my palm.

  “What will you do after?”

  “I plan to dance in the ruins,” I admit, my voice full of conviction. “With you.”

  Of course, the plan I’ve worked meticulously hard to build never included this brunette wonder, but now that it does, I can’t imagine erasing her out of it. Before, I imagined the bloodiest of anarchy followed by my seeking of total absolution for my every sin. Most will say I’m crazy to think that I’ll ever cut this life away, but I intend to do so even if it means using the sharpest of blades to do so. I know it’ll be the death of me one day, but I have a reason to seek for that blissful future. That’s all that’s keeping me going, taking my each new footing with caution.

  “We’ve just been invited into the war zone,” I tell her, my thumb stroking her cheek. “I promise to get you through it as safely as I can manage. I just need to know you trust me with your life.”

  “You never have to ask,” she says, her hands coming up to cover mine. “You had it the moment you let me into this world.”

  “Good,” I whisper, thanking God she’s here with me. “Your life is the most important thing I care about now, Ryleigh Turner. I won’t ever fail you again. Not now that I have you right where I want you.”

  I place my other hand on the other side of her cheek and pull her forward. I seal my promise with a tender kiss to her forehead.

  This woman was never meant for my downfall, but the opposite. This beauty was brought into my life for my rebirth.

  She is the first steps toward finding repentance.

  Likewise, I’m hers.

  I don’t care that the blood of a thousand men lines our path.

  ***

  I watch her straighten her skirt, observe the wiggle of her perfect little ass. I told her that meetings are handled with as much professionalism as possible. After a panic, Ryleigh threw on a leather pencil skirt and a deep red blouse tucked into it. I had to call on someone to bring me shoes, and she about lost it when one of my men turned up with a pair of Louboutins for her.

  She needs to realize her place by my side means she will have gifts like these laid at her feet.

  “Will you stop checking out my ass and get up here,” she growls, finally standing straight. “I’m about to break my neck in these heels.”

  “It’s not like you haven’t worn hooker heels before, cara,” I mock teasingly as I rush to her side. As I step in line with her, she’s shooting me a death glare, and I laugh. “Too soon for whore jokes?”

  “Too soon,” she grumbles, linking her arm in mine. “I’ve still not rid myself of the stigma!”

  “You will,” I say, starting to take the lead forward. “And only my opinion should matter to you now.”

  “Should it?” she asks, stopping at the top of the stairs to pull me back into line. “And why’s that?”

  “My queen,” I whisper at her, keeping it simple as my hand comes to graze her jaw to keep her attention heavy on me. “Show them power, show them poise, and show them that you aren’t like any other woman who’s walked into one of these meetings.”

  “What about Amelia?” she asks, her voice clipped.

  “Amelia is a law unto herself,” I counter, and a sigh corrupts my sentence. “Especially lately. Ryleigh, you hold many attributes that Amelia never will, and likewise, she holds a lot you’ll never be able to attain. But in a final sense, you two are so alike. I hope I am proving to you that I can love you and do love you more than I do her.” I hope to God she doesn’t live in the shadow Amelia creates because these two women will never be alike. “You are scaring a lot of men, so don’t start to compare, just continue what it is you bring to the table. Can you do that?”

  “I think so,” she meekly replies.

  “I don’t want to hear you think you can,” I tell her, fighting with her not to lose her doubt. “I need to hear that same conviction you came at me with.”

  “Okay,” she utters, taking in a deep breath. “Let’s see what Marcello wants before I lose it all.”

  “Count it done.”

  We walk in, arm in arm, and cross through the foyer heading toward the main room. The moment we walk in, everyone stares. I feel my back become straighter, as does Ryleigh, and I feel as if we are being paraded around. For once, I love walking through this room.

  “Ah!” Marcello exclaims the moment his eyes find us. “Dante,” he says, advancing toward us. “And the beautiful Miss Ryleigh.” He ignores me to take her hand to kiss. “You seem to look more stunning every time I see you.”

  “Thank you,” Ryleigh replies. While playing nice, I can hear the bitterness in her voice. “I just don’t understand why I was contacted.”

  “Oh, you’ll see,” Marcello tells her, unwilling to let her hand go. “Come, grab yourselves a drink and get to know the others, Ryleigh.”

  I release her arm, only so I can place mine around her, pulling her close as I draw her toward the masses. It’s an act of dominance, but a bid to keep her feeling safe and protected by my side.

  “Go and grab Miss Ryleigh here some champagne, Dante,” Marcello orders. I know not to argue, but I worry about leaving Ryleigh with my grandfather. “I’m not going to touch a single hair on her head.”

  “Go,” Ryleigh whispers, urging me.

  I leave, feeling the palms of my hands becoming sweaty with anticipation. I hate having the control taken from me just by leaving Ryleigh in the lion’s den alone to fend for herself. Rushing to the bar, I order myself a whiskey and a glass of champagne. The moment the tumbler of liquor is placed down, I drain the glass and order a second. When the barman sets the second down, I take it and head back over to where I left my grandfather and Ryleigh.

  It’s as I come back, the members of the Valens now gathering, I sense a change in the air.

  Something feels different today.

  As I edge forward, I notice the doors are closed. We remain in the main room where parties are held instead of heading to the meeting room. I sense every hair on my neck begin to rise, and I go to rush toward Ryleigh, but my grandfather has her in his clutches. I set the glasses down and push between the members of my family and my grandfather’s organization.

  “Gentlemen!” he roars, his hand holding Ryleigh’s dainty one as he works out to the center of the room.

  I stop in my spot, knowing I have to trust Ryleigh to handle this. I feel immense pride wash over me as she remains confident, not searching for me quite yet to look nervous. Instead, she lets Marcello lead, prepared for whatever he’ll decide to rain down on her.

  “You should meet the newest Valens,” he declares, pride lapsing into his tone. “Most need an initiation, but Miss Ryleigh has proven how willing a candidate she is to this life by giving us two successful kills and holding strong while watching my grandson work.”

  “I think you have my motives wrong,” Ryleigh begins to say, her voice strong, convicted.

  “No, no,” Marcello admonishes her claim, unwilling to let her finish. “Your life as my grandson’s woman raises the stakes quite considerably,” Marcello says, aiming his vindictive tone at Ryleigh. “You see, us Italian men, we need a good woman to thrive. While we do well on our own, we do better with a woman to love us. Being by his side gives you automatic membership.”

  “I’m not here to watch his work,” Ryleigh counters, unwilling to let my grandfather assume her place by my side. “I’m here to join him in it.”

  “Sounds like a charlatan,” my uncle, Andrea, yells out. “Are we really letting any sort of riffraff in nowadays?”

  “Well, we give a vote of confidence to the boys who show remorse when we go on kills,” I remark, mocking my uncle with
my comment about Tommy. “Why not allow a woman who loves the feel of blood on her hands?”

  “You really think she’s cut out for this?” Andrea asks, laughing at the lunacy of the idea.

  “I don’t have to think,” I ground out, feeling my anger building. “I’ve seen her work.”

  “Men! Step down,” Marcello starts, unwilling to allow us to argue. “Right now, we are here to discuss Miss Ryleigh and not to argue over family politics.”

  “What is there to discuss?” I ask, almost rhetorically. “I chose her to be by my side. I finally chose a woman who can look me in the eyes after each kill and not see a lesser man.”

  “I would like an explanation,” Marcello begins. Even though he’s looking at me, I know he’s not talking to me. “That’s why I really brought you here,” he begins to say, grabbing onto Ryleigh to pull her more into the limelight.

  “Get your fucking hands off her,” I say, finally stepping into the middle of the circle. “I never granted you permission to touch my girl like that and she certainly didn’t.” I edge forward, noticing how my grandfather merely smirks at me. “She isn’t something brought here for you to manhandle, Marcello. She’s more than something you can toy with.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” Marcello counters, defying me. “If she wants to really be initiated into the family, she deserves the inquisition led by me,” he tells me, and he tightens his grip around Ryleigh.

  “Marcello, I am not scared of you...” I trail off, hoping the threat biting my words is enough. “I will have every man in this room see what I’m prepared to do for my woman.” I edge further forward. “The choice is yours if you don’t let her go.”

  I can feel my hand twitching by my side, rolling into a fist before flattening by my side to repeat the action. He’s testing me, and I’m starting to feel volatile emotions preparing to spread into my bloodstream.

  “Marcello,” I grind his name venomously.

  “Step back, boy!” Marcello bellows at me, but I don’t move. “Take a step away or I’ll add to the girl.” I see his hand move into his pocket only to retrieve a small knife, the same one my father used to use. “Choice is yours.”

  I look at Ryleigh, sensing the fear she’s trying so fucking hard to suppress. At first I don’t move, unwilling to let my girl suffer at my grandfather’s hands again, but she gives me a curt nod, telling me she’s fine.

  When I step away, I don’t move for my grandfather’s demand, but for Ryleigh.

  “Now,” Marcello starts, diverting his attention back to my girl. “I heard you love a kill just as much as the rest of us.” He inches forward, the knife still poised at his side. “How did a woman like you acquire such bloodlust?”

  “Because I felt men like you deserved their just desserts,” Ryleigh responds, yanking her hand away from my grandfather. The room gasps, but Ryleigh remains unwilling to act scared. “You’ll have to forgive my ignorance. I grew up in a bit of solitary, so my manners aren’t quite as polite as you may be accustomed to.”

  “Apparently,” Marcello mocks, crossing his arms across his chest. “You must have had a lot of misdeed and unfortunate treatment to be able to stand in front of a crowd of men who could really have fun with a girl like you and not even recoil.”

  “Like you would never know,” Ryleigh responds, her voice sleek.

  “And what does your family think of your life choices?” Marcello asks, a hand coming to his chin as he watches her thoughtfully. “I mean, first you dance for men, and now you kill them. Quite the escalation.”

  “I have no family, and dancing for men was merely a job,” Ryleigh states clearly. “It pays the bills. As for killing them, they shouldn’t double-cross a girl with nothing to lose in this life but herself. You see, Marcello, some people hand themselves to men like you for payment. I handed myself to your grandson with one plan.”

  “And what’s that?”

  Ryleigh smirks confidently as she answers, “To finally find myself.”

  “And is that working?”

  “Like you wouldn’t even believe,” Ryleigh replies, still remaining unnerved.

  “Okay,” Marcello begins with mirth lacing his words. “Then let me tell you exactly how this game of yours works, Miss Ryleigh.”

  “Go for it,” Ryleigh responds with a smile. “But I would appreciate you putting the knife away.”

  Marcello laughs, bringing the knife up as if to toy with Ryleigh. “Do you want it put away because it scares you?”

  “No, because, as the woman by your grandson’s side, I deserve a bit more of fucking respect than you’ve been showing me this evening.”

  While I know the truth, believing having my grandfather so close with a razor sharp blade reminds her of her past, I know what she just said was the right thing. She’s showing no room for terror, her fear suppressed beautifully by her drive to be the best and all for me.

  “Fine,” Marcello agrees, folding the knife away and sliding it into his pocket. “I’m only going to say this once, and I want everyone here as my witness.”

  “Get on with it, Marcello,” I say, pushing him to hurry his ass.

  While giving me a look of pure disdain, Marcello doesn’t hold my attention for long as he diverts it back to Ryleigh, creeping closer to her as his entire demeanor shifts and changes. He becomes the man who ruthlessly created the Valens, the man who killed his own and slaughtered many more in order to put fear in the men who come to work by his side. He’s trying to terrify Ryleigh, to catch her out, to belittle her. I tried that once.

  It didn’t work for me, the man who handled her so carelessly, so why would it work for my grandfather?

  “One trip up, Miss Ryleigh, and I will have your head on a stake for a display piece in this very mansion you stand,” Marcello alerts, initiating his first threat. “I don’t like rats. I much less appreciate women who try to play with the big boys and dabble with the dark side when they can’t handle it.”

  “I grew up on the dark side, sir,” Ryleigh responds, unmoved by his threats. She mocks him with her use of the term ‘sir,’ and while I should hate her for riling my grandfather, I find it incredibly empowering. “I was waiting for my chance to shine.” She takes a step forward, finally matching Marcello. “Be prepared to see what I can handle.”

  “Oh, I am ready and waiting,” Marcello tells her. “Now that you’re in this world, hands red from blood, it won’t ever let you go,” he tells her, his tone darkening. “Are you prepared for what the greedy beasts will do to see your very demise, Miss Ryleigh?”

  “Let them do their worst,” she replies, using her threat for me on my grandfather.

  At this moment, I realize just how far we’ve come in the passing weeks.

  I met the game changer, and now it’s time everyone else does, too.

  ***

  I stand under the shower’s spray for too long, allowing the water to clear my head. I’ve been trying to develop some sort of plan, elaborate what I have and iron out any and all creases, but I’m coming up empty. Marcello’s threat has me failing to think rationally.

  Suddenly, all the heat and steam in the shower rushes away, and I turn to find Ryleigh stepping in behind me. She looks so incredibly innocent as she stands naked with a coy smile curled onto her lips.

  “About tonight,” I start, saying the only thing that feels right.

  “Shh,” she quiets me, stepping forward. She puts her arms around my neck; thankfully, my stature shields her from the water raining down from the showerhead. “We knew he would be our biggest competitor, and I guess he opens the playing field.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “Easy. I’ve played you, so I’ll play him. He doesn’t scare me by throwing empty threats around,” she tells me, lifting up onto her tiptoes to kiss me. “You did it once. You were scared to love me, and now, we’re stronger than ever. I took a lot of your shit to be standing here.”

  She makes a good fucking point.

 
“Now, let me show you how I can look after you,” she whispers, just slightly louder than the shower of water. “You take control so often. Now’s my turn.”

  “What are you planning?” I ask her, pondering what she has planned for me.

  “Trust me?”

  “Always,” I tell her, nothing sounds surer than trusting her.

  “Good,” she whispers, her hands unraveling from my neck so they can sit on my chest. “Now, be a good boy and hold on tight.”

  She sinks down to her knees, her hand running down my chest and over my abs until she’s right in front of my erect cock. Her eyes look up at me, a grin poised on her mouth as her hand moves to encircle the base of my cock. Immediately, her touch sends a thousand volts through me, and I brace myself. Slowly, she starts to move her hand up its full length, working me with gentle ease. I close my eyes, telling myself not to ejaculate yet. I’m not a teenage boy getting his first fucking hand job, but the way Ryleigh makes me feel, I might as well be!

  Fuck!

  I put my hand out on the wall when I feel her soft, delectable lips begin to kiss the tip of my penis. I shallow my breathing and open my eyes. If this girl is about to give me a blowjob, then I want to watch every fucking second of it.

  She works my shaft with her hand while her lips kiss the head of my cock, but only until she slips it into her mouth, suckling, but not taking my whole length quite yet. She’s making me fucking wait for the full sensation of gratification, and I’m fucking savoring this. She rolls her tongue around the head, flicking and sensitizing me, and I feel the heat rise in me.

  Inch by glorious inch she takes me in her mouth, pulling away to take a bit more of me. But she never takes me completely out of her mouth. If anything, she pulls all the way up to the shaft, stopping so the tip of my rock hard cock remains in her mouth, that filthy tongue of hers working its magic. Her hands come to sit on my ass; her fingers dig a little as she takes the whole of me once more, not even gagging as she deep throats me entirely.