Dirty Behavior: A Dark Mafia Romance (Behavior Series: Book Two)

by Leah Holt

  It was ironic in a way. To be so well dressed when you're going in to spill blood. Most men dressed like that would do anything to dodge a fucking splash of wine, but these guys were ready to blow you away with one click.

  And I was sure they didn't even have to think about it.

  Dante made that clear when he pulled the trigger without hesitation.

  Inside I wanted to yell and scream, but Dante had warned me to behave. His warning had been heard loud and clear. I wanted to listen to him, I wanted to do anything and everything I could to make sure his father didn't kill me right there.

  The men from earlier were fucking dirt, they were sloppy and careless.

  But Bane . . . He wasn't a man who made those mistakes.

  “Good. Then you know what I am. Unfortunately for you, tonight you saw more than you were supposed to. For that, I am sorry. Ivy, I would suggest closing your eyes, I'm a firm believer that will make it easier on you. Watching will only hurt you more.” His hand slipped free from his pocket, the shine of silver sparked as he lifted a gun chest high. “I want you to know this isn't personal, it's business.”

  All the strength I had, all the anger that had built up inside of me melted away.

  This was a man to fear.

  He was death, he was the devil in the room.

  Closing my eyes, my mind flashed through vivid images of my life. And I was happy they weren't the bad memories. They were bright and at the same time meaningless.

  They weren't the memories I would've expected to have in that moment. I guess I had imagined the idea of your life flashing before your eyes as being filled with mile stones that you've gone through, and memories you never wanted to live again.

  The first kiss, the first time I sat in a car after I got my license, all the firsts . . .

  Then the darkness, the day I was taken, the day I woke up in Remo's house, the first strike from his fist, the basement from earlier . . .

  But it was nothing like that.

  I saw the small town in Maine I grew up in, the horses of my neighbor as they trotted around outside, and the apple pies my grandmother would bake every year in the fall.

  The smell was on the tip of my tongue, the cool air was on my face. I could feel the breeze as it swept through my hair, and hear the faint sound of the rooster I used to dread hearing every morning.

  The pictures I saw were peaceful and soothing. I even felt the faint hint of a smile on my lips as the wind cast shadowed memories against my skin.

  Then I felt the muzzle of the gun against my forehead. It was cold and hard, the smell sharp and like burning metal mixed with charcoal. Reality cracked like a whip across my face.

  My memories snapped to black, returning me to the bedroom and the cuffs around my wrists, the two men standing over me and the darkness they harbored.

  This was it, this was the moment everything would change. I wouldn't grow old, I wouldn't have children, I wouldn't see my mother again . . .

  Taking a deep breath, I let my body relax. There was nothing I could do but accept the punishment brought upon me for doing nothing but ending up here.

  Bane had said this was business. This is Remo's fault. Deep down I knew he had something to do with this. I did nothing to deserve dying here this way.

  He stole my life.

  He stole everything.

  Seven

  Ivy

  Everything around me was gone. There were no sounds but my own heart beat thudding against my ribs. The pounding grew louder and louder, and the numbers just started on their own.

  Counting each thump brought a sense of relaxation to my body. There was a level of control in every number. Each digit solidified my impending fate, but every number came when I said it would.

  As the world washed away, I drifted into this hollow space. A warm feeling spread over my body as I excepted the weight being cast down on me. Inhaling a deep breath, I lifted my head towards Bane.

  I wasn't going to go out cowering like a weak, frail invalid. This man would see my face, he would remember my eyes, my lips, my voice.

  Because I was strong, because if I let him think he could hold any power over me it would only fuel his ego.

  He was going to take something from me and I wanted to do the same in return.

  I wanted Bane to leave that room knowing and feeling what he had taken. He wasn't just taking care of business, he was taking my soul.

  Opening my eyes, I stared beyond the barrel, straight into his. Bane's brow lifted, the deep wrinkles in his forehead arched up. The thick lines running with his lips smoothed out. Rolling his finger over the trigger, I thought that for a brief second there was a twitch in his hand.

  With my head held high, I gave him one final thing to remember me by. “I might know who you are, but I'm the lucky one, because I'll forget you. But you . . . I want you to see me so you can remember me forever. Because after you pull that trigger, I'll never see you again, but you'll see me every time you close your eyes.” Letting my lids lower into a calm silence, I waited for him finish me off.

  The clouds surfed through the mental pictures in my head, filling in with the faces of everyone I used to love, and who used to love me. I felt light, I felt weightless, I felt free.

  “Dad, just listen to me!” Dante's voice was demanding, silencing the click of the gun as it forced its way into my quiet space of death. “Tony fucked this up, and we didn't take her just to kill her. You want what's owed to you, do you think Remo will pay if you just kill his woman?”

  Hearing him say his name made my heart stop inside my chest. Remo was the reason I was here.

  I fucking knew it!

  That fucking asshole!

  He had taken enough from me, and now I was about to lose my life because he fucked with the wrong person.

  I knew right then that if there was an afterlife . . . I was sure as hell going to haunt that motherfucker for the rest of his days.

  “Remo will do what he needs to do, with or without her.” There was no fault in his words, Bane wanted me dead.

  “We can still use her, trust me.”

  “I've trusted you enough and look what it got us. A fucking woman who needs to be removed. I'm not taking any chances, not with this. MOVE, DANTE.” Bane's voice was just below a full yell. It sounded like he was trying to hold back his rage.

  Or maybe he wasn't. Maybe that's what made him who he was. His level voice, his ease to take out anything that got in his way.

  My muscles shuddered, heart racing a million miles a minute. The other guys were sick, but this man was the hand that feeds the beasts.

  He held my fate.

  Cracking my lid open, Dante was standing between his father and me. His arms were up, blocking my view of his dad. I couldn't see Dante's face, but his stance had a protective nature.

  Is he trying to save me?

  Does he care if I die?

  Why would he care, no one seemed to care.

  A warm fuzzy rush flooded my veins, stomach bucking in wild knots of fear and comfort.

  If Dante hadn't been here, if he had never shown up at all . . .

  Where would I be?

  “NO. I'll take care of this, it was my fuck up, so I'll do it. This is how you wanted it done. You don't want to kill Remo, if we snub her too, then what? Do we kill them both?”

  There was a long, excruciating pause between both men. I found myself leaning closer to the edge of the bed, trying to find the answer myself. My ears were popping, a ringing inside my head had sprung to life and was making it hard to hear anything at all.

  I wasn't ready to die. And all I could hope was that Bane would lower his gun and let me live. Just a little while longer, that was all I wanted.

  As if the force above had heard my prayers, the gun lifted off my skin, leaving its impression in memory.

  “Fine, you fix this. Get me what's owed to me, and make sure you don't screw up anything else, Dante.”

  “I will, don't I always?”
/>   “I'm serious, Dante, take care of it. And when you get what's owed to us, take care of her.” Bane stuffed his gun back into place, and both men walked out the door as if I hadn't been in the room to begin with.

  No one looked at me, no one said a word to me. They just left as if this was all normal, just another conference call about business.

  But this was nothing like that. This was about me, about a person who ended up in the wrong place because of circumstance.

  Their feet thudded back down the stairs, leaving me to keep breathing. I felt numb. I was here because of Remo, but not for the reasons I thought. He hadn't grown tired of me, this wasn't some trick of his to get me to crack and give him my virginity.

  The Pisanis didn't have me because he asked them to take me . . . Remo had screwed up, and I was left to mend the pieces he had broken.

  Could it still be a game?

  The idea made me flood with feelings, too many to sift through. But one stood out, one took hold and consumed me.

  Anger—it came in and swept my body. I was being used, a slave to another owner for money. For a second time, someone had killed who I was to gain in their own lives.

  My name was no longer mine, my life no longer meaningful, my world no longer a choice of my own. My hands were tied, literally.

  I felt like I had sat there inside my own head forever. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, I wanted to curl into a ball and disappear. I was so wrapped up in my hatred for being forced here that I hadn't heard Dante come back in.

  “Ivy?”

  Slowly lifting my head off my chest, I looked up at my captor. “What?”

  “Here.” Shoving a plate onto the bed, Dante sat on the corner of the mattress.

  There was a sandwich on the plate, a handful of chips, and a bottle of water. “And what am I supposed to do with that?” Shaking my wrists, the cuffs clanked against the headboard.

  Hanging his head, a tight smirk peeled to one side. “I'm not un-cuffing you.”

  “I'm not hungry then.”

  His thick fingers wrapped around the sandwich, tearing off a bite-sized piece. Lifting it to my mouth, he nudged it against my lips.

  He was lucky I didn't bite his fucking finger off.

  I wasn't taking his food. I didn't want anything from him, not a fucking thing. I didn't want to give him any reason to hold anything against me. If he fed me I might owe him more. Wasn't that how this shit worked?

  They give you things and you're forced to repay them in some twisted mind game. Work in order to get food, cleaning to gain more string on my leash.

  One task for another breath of air.

  Fuck that.

  I wasn't going to owe anyone shit.

  I would starve to death before giving this family one fucking ounce to hold over my head. Dante could keep his food, keep his clothes, and I was going to keep my self-preservation.

  There wasn't even a guarantee that any of this shit was still real. Maybe he was just fucking with me too and trying to screw with my head. According to Remo they all worked together. What if this was a game? What if Remo had asked them to scare me into submission for him?

  There was so much about this whole thing I couldn't quite grasp. I didn't know exactly how I fit into this puzzle, or why they would try and use me to get to Remo.

  I was just a pawn. But the nature of my place still wasn't clear to me.

  Remo could be involved by his own hand. He could have put this whole fucking thing together just to make me crack.

  How was I supposed to know for sure?

  I still didn't have all the answers. I knew they were serious, but how could I know they would give me back?

  What if it didn't matter, what if they did decide to kill me anyway?

  “Just take it, you have to be hungry.”

  “I don't want anything from you. You can take this fucking dress back too.” Wiggling my hips, I rocked my shoulders. “Get it off me.”

  “I just saved you for a second time, you might want to show me a little respect.”

  Furrowing my brows, my mouth crinkled, pursing tight. “Are you serious? Respect?” Shaking my head, I jingled my wrists. “I've been kidnapped, thrown in a trunk, and

  chained . . . Fuck you.”

  “Yeah, but you weren't raped, you haven't even been tortured, and I stopped my father from blowing your head off. I could easily make you cry for your life, Ivy.” Dante's face drew in, a thick breath filling his lungs. Scooting himself closer, he danced his fingers over my thigh.

  “Don't touch me, you piece of shit.” How dare he even lay a finger on me.

  “I'll do what I want, and you'll let me.”

  “You're a spoiled sick fuck, and you will never touch me.” I wanted to scream in his face, but the anger I felt went deeper than just letting the words fly out in a storm.

  If I was stronger I would've torn these fucking cuffs off by now and made him sorry he even thought he had the option to take me.

  “What are you not understanding about this?” His demeanor was eerily similar to his father's. Calm, collected, smooth.

  Dante didn't know fear.

  How do you inflict fear in someone who isn't afraid of death?

  As the thought fluttered through my head I realized that we weren't that different. We both had seen enough and been through enough to know that sometimes death was a friend holding their hand out to help you up.

  “You're just like them, just like Tony and Vince.” Veering my stare, my lips drew in paper thin.

  “If I wanted to be like them, I could. If I wanted to take you right now, I would.”

  His eyes fell over my body, settling on my neck, my breasts, my sex. Licking his lips, his fingers teased the edge of the dress. “Do you want me to take you? Is that what this is?”

  “No.” Bending my knees, I tried to move away from his touch. But I found myself warming, tingling, hoping he wouldn't stop.

  What is wrong with me?

  As much as I wanted to disappear, I wanted to be felt and caressed. His touch was welcomed by every inch of my skin while inside I fought with my body to resist him.

  But my lashes went unheard by the sparks that ignited, they fell on deaf ears as my muscles loosened and my sex twitched with arousal and need.

  “I don't believe you. I see how you look at me, and you don't have hate in your eyes. There's something else there, something more.”

  Could he read my body better than I could?

  Could he see my heart racing, feel my pulse speed up, smell my sex grow wet as he laid his fingers on my skin?

  “I want nothing from you.” Flicking my eyes to his face, I wanted to push the feelings away. “Why the fuck would you even think that?”

  I shouldn't have had this sick desire for the man who stole me.

  But I did. And no matter what I told myself, my body deceived me.

  His fingers made my skin heat, the way he looked at me made my sex melt. My chest was buzzing and doing flips as his hand gently touched my body, and I liked it.

  I didn't want him to stop. Inside my muscles were begging him to stroke me harder, to wrap his fingers tighter. His touch wasn't hurting me, it wasn't causing me pain. It was soft and delicate, inviting and needed.

  No one touched with a tender hand, the only thing I'd felt recently was pain and suffering.

  Biting his lower lip, his head lowered. “Then why is your skin so hot right now?”

  Cocking my jaw, I clenched my teeth. I wasn't going to answer him, he didn't need to know how much that gentle stroke of my flesh sent fire into my core.

  “Are you having trouble finding the words, Ivy?” Shifting his waist, he was right beside me. I could feel the material of his pants brush my thigh. The course fabric scuffed against my skin, sending tingles cascading all over. His scent tugged on my senses, turning my head upside down.

  “You did good tonight, you listened for the most part. Besides that little shot off at the end—which you're lucky he didn't
just pull the trigger right there.” Bouncing a single finger in the air, he glared at me through hooded lids. “I'm impressed and you should be happy.” Dante's hand drifted up over my hip, cupping my lower belly. “You're shaking.” Watching my face, he tilted his head. “But you're not afraid, are you? Do you like when I touch you?” Turning away from him, I looked down at my feet. “You do, don't you?”

  My nipples hardened, scraping the thin material. Goosebumps sprung over my arms, riding my ribs, and making my body shiver. “Stop.”

  “Stop what . . . This?” His strong hands slipped higher, tracing my ribs, and gently brushing just under my breast.

  Inhaling a sharp breath, my lips parted. “We ca—I won't do this. It's wrong.” I could feel the juice coating my thighs, eager and willing. So fucking willing for him to take me.

  I didn't know why, but being cuffed to the bed and at Dante's mercy made me fucking hot. It was so wrong, I knew. It was the worst kind of desire to feel. To want what you know is evil and bad.

  But I couldn't shut it off.

  “It's only wrong if you don't want it. Tell me what you want, Ivy.”

  “I want to go home.” Spitting out the first thing that came to mind, I realized my answer didn't even sound believable.

  It slipped out because my mind had been trying to drift to different places so I wasn't here. But my voice wasn't convincing, the answer wasn't strong.

  I wanted something else, something more.

  “Are you sure about that?” His fingertips ran over my shoulder, curving up my throat. “Is that what you really want?”

  No.

  I want you to take me.

  I want you to give me what I've never had.

  I don't want to go back to Remo, I want to choose who I give myself to.

  But Dante obviously didn't know about the arrangement between Remo and my father. His entire family thought I was precious to him. They had no idea how wrong they were.

  At least that was what I was hoping. If they did know and this was all part of Remo's game, the Pisanis deserved a fucking academy award for their performance.