by Snow, Nicole
“Fine. You wanna play rough instead of treating this like a civilized business arrangement, I can do that.”
She snorted. “Civilized? I don't think violating at least ten Federal laws and keeping me hostage fits the definition. Neither does blowing up my uncle's nightclub downtown and killing twenty well respected men.”
It was my turn to laugh, letting the derision roll out. Incredible. She still had no clue – no fucking idea – what I'd really done.
“Come on, babe. You wanna be a part of the media, I get it. Just thought you'd know by now half the stuff you read about's pure bullshit.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What? Are you going to tell me the bombing didn't happen and it wasn't you? I never figured you for the tinfoil hat type.”
“No. I didn't tell you a single lie during our other talks, except for the fact that my Uncle Volodya's place wasn't really called the Red Eagle, and he never died on a Wednesday. That was code for Lev and Daniel to break me out.” I paused, reached over to the coffee pot, and poured myself a tall mug. “I blew that fucking place to kingdom come, and the only regret I've got about it is not having your asshole uncle there to die with the rest of those freaks.”
She shook her head. “Great. So you admit you're a killer.”
“Admit it?” I blinked. “I've never denied that shit once. I own the fuckers I kill. What you don't get is that every asshole I'd knifed or burned or shot has always had it coming. You really don't know shit about the underside of your family's business, do you? If you did, you'd know the guests Gioulio has at his parties are some of the most sadistic, twisted motherfuckers in the entire city.”
She looked at me like I'd just spat out a tall fucking tale. Okay, maybe I had, but this one was all true.
“What are you talking about? Don't tell me this is some kinda Eyes Wide Shut crap. You killed them in cold blood. All because my uncle was your target.”
“No. I wanted to make sure I killed all those fucks. I just missed a couple when Gioulio and his guards didn't show up on schedule. You're missing the point – none of them were collateral damage. All twenty of those assholes deserved to be executed. You don't know them. I do.”
Another shake of the head. Another flick of that dark, smooth hair. Fuck, how good would it feel to just grab it while I shoved my cock between her legs? I'd hold on and rock her, pluck it like reigns, just short of ripping it out while we fucked.
“If you want me to even consider a word you're saying, you'd better tell me what's going on.”
I folded my arms. “Not 'til you eat some more breakfast. Go on. I'll fucking wait.”
She glared. At first, I didn't think it was gonna work. But then her small hands reached for more muffins in the center of the table and another orange. I watched and waited as she ate, sipping my coffee, trying not to admire the cleavage peeking through her top too close.
Grigor and his maids did a good job picking out her wardrobe. Shit, she was dressed a lot like the Latvian girls I'd fucked a couple years ago, two dark haired, blue eyed chicks straight from the old world. They barely understood a word of English and even less Russian, but their cunts understood my dick pounding them to blubbering pieces. One of them tore stripes in my back when she clawed me, and a few warm streams of blood poured down my ass.
It was the roughest, craziest fuck of my life. And I had a damned certain feeling it wasn't half as intense as what I'd feel unloading my balls inside the Italian girl playing bitch across from me.
Sabrina's fork clanged on the ceramic plate when she was done. She blotted her mouth dry and then looked at me.
“There. Is there anything else you'd like before you can trust me with an adult conversation, instead of treating me like some little girl you've got locked up in your tower?”
The poison on her tongue made me grin. “Babe, you're gonna stay locked up for a good long while. Even when I tell you the crazy fucking truth, it's gonna take you time to chew on it. Digest it. But you'll turn on that fucker. You'll help me kill your uncle. I know you will.”
She waited. I swore I heard her foot tapping on the tile underneath the table.
Impatient. I liked that.
All right. Enough fucking around. It was time to let her know what really happened that night.
“It was an assassination, plain and simple. My brothers and I had enough intel to know how Gioulio ran these parties. Shit, he'd been doing them since your old man died and there was nobody left in the windy city to stand in his way. Drugs and guns are the bulk of this business. Always have been, always will be.
“But that shit's hard money. Your uncle wanted to diversify into something easier. Nothing like trafficking with some rich, well oiled assholes to bring in a few easy million more.”
I watched her jump and squirm in her seat. Heard her swallow before she spoke.
“Trafficking? Like...women?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Seems like no matter where you go, powerful fucks like to play devil when they're done pretending to be angels all day in front of the public. It's not all about the money either. By giving the high and mighty an outlet for their depraved desires, your uncle gave himself something sweet to hold over their fucked up heads if this city ever gets a mayor who wants to go tough on crime. Probably part of the reason Ligiotti business has been smooth as ice since your old man died.
“Gioulio's got himself a stable of girls he keeps for his boys. Slaves who have to do anything and everything short of holding out their throats to get cut.
“Not that there's a helluva lot of difference sometimes. You should've seen what that banker, Wilkins, did to this Sicilian girl your uncle imported...left her bleeding and infected for weeks with the chunks he tore outta her with his teeth. Then there was that fuck on the city council. Bastard liked to put out his stogies on fresh young skin. My boys told me the last chick he had needed plastic surgery after the fucker was done with her. Gioulio charged his ass a hefty damage fee and an extra premium for the night I blew him straight to hell.
“Then there was that real estate mogul, Chuck Winston Mayhar. You know you're dealing with a bastard when a man flaunts three fucking names. Too many business trips to Japan for that boy, where he got into some really sick stuff he saw in his comic books. He couldn't even get your uncle to say yes to half the twisted shit he wanted, but damn if he didn't keep trying. The boy picked this pretty little blonde from a shelter in Rome, had her shipped back here by Gioulio, and –“
She'd been reaching for the tea, and the half-empty cup crashed on the table. Sabrina was red in the face, bunched up like her seat turned into needles. She almost leaped halfway to the ceiling when the china smashed.
“Enough,” she said weakly. “You made your point. Please, I don't want to hear anything else.”
Fuck. I kinda felt bad for her. But only a little bit.
I'd done my fucking job. I'd planted the seed of doubt by shining the bitter truth right in her eyes. And shit, that wasn't even half of it. I'd read the files my brothers collected before we put the bombing together.
Every one of those sick motherfuckers was the kinda stomach turning shit no sane prostitute would ever do. All the money in the world wouldn't buy them what they needed to get off from any regular escort service. That's why they went to Gioulio, the magic man who could fulfill their depraved desires, all because the girls he pimped didn't have a choice.
I'd stopped trying to figure out why some dudes needed to torture and kill to get their nut. All I needed was right across the table, staring at me with huge, tormented eyes, and a pussy that would rocket me to heaven when I finally got it wrapped around my dick.
I reached across the table and grabbed her hand with both of mine. I held her, refusing to let go, lacing my fingers through hers and stroking up her arm.
“Don't worry about the mess. Housekeeping will take care of it. Look, I'm not saying this shit to hurt you, Sabrina. I'm trying to make you understand there's more to every story than what you read. I've d
one terrible things to terrible people. I don't regret a goddamned thing.”
She took a long, ragged breath. Her lips opened, like she wanted to say something, but she couldn't get it out. A fast moving tear swept down her red right cheek.
“I need you to help me because you're different, babe. Your asshole uncle knew that. It's why he kept you sheltered. If you were remotely like him and his crew, you wouldn't be crying over this shit. You'd be feeding me excuses.”
“I don't...I don't know what to believe,” she forced out.
I tightened my grip on her. “You will. Very soon. It's been a long morning for both of us, and yesterday was even longer. Come on. Lemme walk you back upstairs so you can get some rest.”
I wasn't gonna drop the rest on her when she was like this. That was for later. I had to chisel away every evil piece of Ligiotti bullshit left in her, everything Gioulio had hidden and twisted inside her.
She walked limply in my arms as we headed up the stairs, back to the big bedroom. I got her into the chamber and laid her on the bed, pulling off her shoes.
Two black heels with straps. Didn't know the girls in charge allowed her such luxuries. Didn't know she'd choose that kinda shit to wear around here either.
Maybe she was hoping to use them as a weapon – whack me in the head or take out an eye when I wasn't looking. Whatever the case, she wasn't gonna do a damned thing now.
I let her smash her face into the pillow while I stroked her back. Soon, her breathing grew slower, more normal, and I lightened my caresses.
It wasn't easy to walk away while she slept, but I fucking had to.
This job was far from over. And if I'd stayed there another minute, I knew my dick would rip right through my pants and plunge into what she had underneath that sleek purple skirt, pulling me into her like a fucking magnet.
I'd hurt her enough for one day. I did what I had to. The only screaming I wanted her to do was the kind she made when her mind was exploding with a good, deep fuck.
God willing, we'd get there soon.
I headed for the gym. I needed some time to think, something to distract me from the lust boiling my blood. I walked into the spacious exercise room, stripped off my shirt, and went to work on the punching bag.
Everything Sabrina stirred up came ripping out in my punches. The ceiling rattled with my blows, angry and hot, filled with all the obligations and vows I had left to fulfill.
Too many promises were piled on my back. Heavy, heavy promises, one-ton obligations, ready to snap my fucking spine like a brittle twig if I took a single step outta line.
Oaths to my family, oaths to my brothers, oaths of seething vengeance.
Vows to my flesh, my blood, my heart.
I had no guilt, despite the way I'd stolen her and blown apart the only world she'd ever known. Dealing with Gioulio and his boys was the first priority, yeah, but fuck if I wasn't gonna make her whole.
If I could make her work with me, see me for the man I really was, then I'd remake everything she knew. I'd push my dick in that hot, wet space between her thighs, that pink slit I craved worse than freedom itself when I was behind bars. I'd fucking brand her, own her, fuck her 'til she opened her eyes and saw exactly what I wanted her to see.
This girl was gonna see the stone cold truth soon, the truth about me and everything else.
I hit the floor, sweating and shaking, totally spent. The black leather punching bag bobbed in the air, the impressions from my fists fading like evening shadows.
This was my chance to start over, living like a free man, and no fucking way was I gonna squander it. I wouldn't let Sabrina waste a minute more of her life without a good man, hiding in the dark from her fucked up family.
I couldn't make any promises about being good. But I sure as shit was the man she needed, and soon she'd see it, plain and pure as the sweat sliding down my chest.
5
Captive Trust (Sabrina)
I expected him to throw me down and fuck me, leave me locked up, subject my body to the craziest tortures until I gave all three psychopaths what they wanted.
But the bomb he dropped on me that morning was worse than anything I could've imagined.
I trailed him limply to my room, slow and blasted like a zombie, my brain melting in my head.
The 'truth' he'd told me about the bombing at Club Duce defied everything I thought I knew. It was sick, wrong, insane – and just terrible enough to be true.
No, I wasn't ready to give in and believe him yet. But if I totally doubted what he'd said, I wouldn't have spent the evening cramped up in bed, feeling my stomach twisting in bows.
I used the intercom to hail the servants after a couple of hours. Thank God they actually came, an old woman with a thick accent carrying a silver tray. Toast, a carafe of mineral water, and lots of Pepto Bismol.
I was sick right down to my soul. I didn't know what to believe, didn't know where I was, didn't know what I'd really left behind anymore.
Uncle Gioulio always scared me when I was growing up. His personal thugs were always around at dinners and birthdays, menacing as well trained wolves.
Once, he took me out to get a prom dress, a strangely touching attempt to make me feel better about the fact that no boy had the balls to ask me out. When we came out of the shop, he opened his trunk and I saw the black bags inside.
“Fucking shit. Can't believe I forgot to unload my lamb from the butcher,” he'd said with a grin.
I couldn't unsee the very mangled, but human shapes beneath the plastic. A man's limbs, torso, and head, clearly dismembered, folded neatly into the trunk and forgotten. The faint stink of rotting flesh didn't lie either.
He rushed me home and then waited with the servants while his men came to deal with it.
He was a brute, a killer, and seriously intimidating.
Still, he took me under his wing after papa died. He protected me, even when he wasn't around, sending steady checks and fleshing out the already sizable accounts I'd inherited. I lived like a spoiled brat during my teens and put the richest sorority girls at college to shame.
Good old Uncle Gioulio was always there for Christmas or New Year's, my last real blood relative. Even when he had two drunk, slutty bombshells half his age draped around his neck, he brushed them off for a couple hours to have a glass of limoncello or good wine with me.
Now, I wondered if those bombshells were just well paid whores with a taste for older men, or well trained slaves ready to suck his cock because they had a well concealed gun to their heads.
Later, I got up and took a nice, long bath. I had to hand it to Anton – this little prison he'd chosen had all the amenities I was used to, and maybe a few that were even nicer than the condos and suites I'd grown up in. The hug jacuzzi in the adjoining bathroom helped work out the creases in my skin.
But it didn't stop me from cursing my captor and all the Ivankovs at least a dozen times in the space of two hours. Yes, he'd rattled me, but he hadn't broken me.
I didn't know what kinda help he wanted either – probably something to do with handing me a knife to gut my own family. I wasn't going to do that. I promised myself I wouldn't do a damned thing until I had absolute proof he wasn't bullshitting me. Even then, I wasn't about to commit to helping him.
I had to know. A bland, but filling dinner laid out by the old servant helped calm my nerves. Tea, bread, and some kind of broth. I fell asleep quicker than I expected, saving my energy for tomorrow, when I expected to lay into him.
The dreams came, harsher and more fragmented than before. Bastard.
Bastard. Brute. Demon.
He'd abused me with cruel knowledge and captivity as much as seduction. My psyche let me know that night how messed up I really was. I still wanted him in all his awful glory.
My virgin pussy burned, clenched, and ached in my sleep. I rolled over, wrapping my wrists around the sheets, imagining how good it would feel to shove my fingernails through his hair. He'd made me come so hard with just
his hands.
Jesus, what would his mouth or that huge ridge I'd felt between his legs do?
Would his tattoos come alive and dance on his skin when he held me down, pushed inside me, and fucked me until I shook and whimpered? Would I lose myself in the dark ink or his Neptune blue eyes first?
One way or another, I knew he wouldn't hold out forever. He would take me, whether I was ready for it or not, whether I wanted it or not – and, of course, I did. I could only choose how I was going to come up for air after he held me down, filled me, drowned me in his scent and strength and sex.
A rap on the door woke me up late morning. I yanked down my nightgown, shamed awake by the sopping wet heat between my legs.
I threw my legs over the bed and waited, sliding my cold feet into the burgundy slippers they'd given me. Another bang.
“Coming! Just hold on.”
I had exactly twenty seconds to collect all my wits. When I flung open the door and saw him, I was ready to demand answers. I'd give it to him point blank, tell him I wasn't just going to be his wind up toy, marching in whatever direction he sent me.
“Anton, I –“
I threw open the door and stopped. The thick, blue eyed devil named Lev was standing there, a smile spreading across his lips. Before I could think about stopping him, he pushed his way in and shoved a small black box into my hands.
“Gift from Anton. My brother's very busy today, and he won't be by personally.” He stopped, one hand on the wall. His sleeve rose just enough to see he had black stripes of his own going up one arm.
“I see you've settled in much more nicely today” His eyes moved up and down my body, making my skin crawl. “Hm. Perhaps I regret thinking about putting you down after all. Has he fucked you yet, or is there still room for an Ivankov to lay first claim?”
He started coming towards me. I dropped the box, ready to lunge, scratch at his eyes. He was almost as big and strong as Anton, and my odds against him weren't any better. But he caused me to feel repulsed in a way Anton didn't.
