Ricardo

by Marita A. Hansen

  She stepped back. “Stop that.”

  “I can’t help it; it’s truly amazing. If you object to me touching you, touch me instead.”

  “I haven’t seen you in twelve years.”

  “I just asked you to touch me, not to fuck me, and I haven’t felt someone like this in eight years, so please, Bianca, touch my face. I want to see if I can feel that too.”

  Willing her hand to stay steady, she reached out and ran her fingers over his skin, his stubble prickling her flesh. Her body heated more, the pleasure from just the barest of touches too much for her.

  He closed his eyes and moaned, “I can feel it,” the look on his face almost undoing her. She removed her hand, willing herself to calm down. The man was igniting every fiber within her body, making her want to do more than touch his face.

  He opened his eyes, his stare intense. “Please don’t stop,” he breathed out.

  She raised her hand again, running her fingers over his other cheek. She didn’t understand why he was making her feel this way. She should be telling him to go away, not imagining making love to him.

  She went to pull back, but he grabbed her hand, making her freeze. He stepped in close, giving her the impression he was going to kiss her, those sexy lips of his now a whisper away. Unable to handle it, she let her legs drop out from under her, pretending to faint, because she knew once she tasted him, she would fall right back into his trap.

  He grabbed a hold of her and settled her on the bed, the pleasure on his face now gone, only concern coloring it. He brushed her hair back. “What’s wrong, Bianca?”

  “I just felt faint,” she replied, feeling bad for lying. “I haven’t drunk much, I’m probably dehydrated.”

  Ricardo placed his cigar on the bedside tray. “I’ll get you a drink.”

  He disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a glass of water. He placed an arm under her, pulling her into a sitting position, his touch again affecting her. Keeping her eyes down, she sipped at the water, not wanting to look at his stunning violet eyes, the man overpowering her both mentally and physically.

  ***

  Bianca was looking down, acting shy, her beautiful face captivating Ricardo. His eyes lowered to her mouth. He watched as she sipped the water, wondering what her lips would feel like to kiss. He’d thought he would never feel like this again, the drug stealing that pleasure from him eight years ago, but with Bianca ... he had felt her smooth skin and the warmth of her body when he’d touched her arm. How was that even possible? He could hardly feel anything else.

  His eyes lowered down her body, his cock rising in response. He wanted to strip her bare so he could run his hands all over her, to see if he could feel every curve and groove. He also wanted to pull her on top of him so he could feel her weight pressing down on him, but most of all—he wanted to fuck her. He breathed out, willing himself to calm down, because he couldn’t do any of that. She was no longer his.

  He glanced at the cigar now smoldering by the bed. Salvatore was known to lace his cigars with drugs—his brother’s only vice. Was it affecting his mind, making him think this was real? It could be possible, considering he hadn’t felt Bianca yesterday when he’d carried her to her room. But then again, he hadn’t touched her flesh, only her clothes.

  She swallowed down the water, her throat catching his attention. He wanted to kiss her there, to see if he could feel his lips brush over her smooth skin. His cock twitched, agreeing with him.

  He removed the glass from her lips, again willing himself to stay in control, because he was so fucking close to pushing her onto her back and taking what he wanted. “Do you feel better?” he croaked out.

  She looked up and nodded, her bright blue eyes enchanting. She let out a shaky breath, drawing his attention to her heaving breasts, something that had changed considerably since he’d last seen her. She hadn’t been this well-endowed when he’d dated her. She was now much curvier, something he liked very much. She had aged very nicely, filling out in all the right places. She’d been skinny in her youth, too concerned with watching every bite that went into her mouth, but now... He bit his bottom lip, aching to kiss her, to feel her flesh against his.

  Her pupils grew bigger as she stared at him. A small smile prickled at his lips, Ricardo realizing she was feeling the same attraction. The woman wanted him just as much as he wanted her. He knew he was a selfish bastardo for what he was about to do, but it wasn’t going to stop him.

  He placed the glass on the bedside cabinet, then laid her down on the bed. She didn’t fight him, although her eyes were wide with both fear and lust, a tantalizing combination. He bent down to kiss her, but stopped an inch away from those beautiful bow lips, the marks on her neck slapping sense into him. She’d been attacked sexually only the day before, yet he was about to fuck her without a care for her wellbeing.

  He pushed away; infuriated that he’d allowed himself to lose control. “Please accept my apologies, Bianca; I won’t bother you again.” He went for the door, needing to get away from her before he did something he would regret.

  7

  Bianca lay still on the bed, what Ricardo had done shocking her to her core—literally, because she was throbbing between her legs. The man’s touch had sent her over the edge, making her lose all sense. She’d been wildly attracted to him when he was younger, but nothing like this, not this intense. Maybe she was overwhelmed with everything that had happened over the past day, then seeing Ricardo again had taken things to a whole new level. She just needed to calm down, because she probably wouldn’t feel the same way tomorrow. Still, she wished he hadn’t taken off, especially since he’d wound her body up so tight. She smiled, imagining all the ways she could use him to unwind it. The thoughts shocked her. Last night she’d been attacked sexually, yet the very next day she wanted to do the same to Ricardo. It was wrong and didn’t make sense, but then again, she’d lived with the D’Angelos. Had their depravity damaged her mind to the point that she couldn’t control her sexuality? She’d seen so much while living with them, experienced more than she wanted to remember. It made her skin crawl just thinking about the sex slaves they had locked up in their house, the D’Angelos human traffickers.

  She closed her eyes, wondering why everything had to be so complicated. All she wanted from the Santini was protection, not to rekindle an old flame. The memory of Ricardo running his finger down her cheek returned. She laid her palm on it and closed her eyes, imagining Ricardo still touching her, the memory of his rough fingertip sending goose bumps across her flesh.

  She knew she couldn’t give into her feelings for him. If she wanted to survive, she had to clamp down her lust, because there would be no happy-ever-after with Ricardo, only a road paved with heartache.

  ***

  Ricardo headed for his new office, intent on throwing himself into work so he didn’t think about Bianca. There was no way he’d give into his desires, because he had control, unlike those disgusting cretins who had assaulted her. They were the bottom-feeders of the Donatelli. Prior to the mafia war, the weasel Tito and his buffoon of a friend had worked at a Rosso strip club, making money from pimping out girls for lap dances and sex.

  He stopped at the bottom of the staircase, realizing he’d forgotten to talk to Valentino’s daughters—what he’d actually gone to do before Bianca had distracted him. He turned to go back up the stairs, Vinnie’s loud holler stopping him. He turned around, his eyes going to the main archway that led onto the foyer. Vinnie walked through it with a casual swagger. His brother was still wearing the leather pants and muscle shirt from earlier. He had a dragon tattoo wrapped around his left arm, while flames licked up the other one, a skull and devil amongst them. Their mother had been horrified when Vinnie had come home with the tattoos. She’d demanded that he get them removed, but Vinnie had stood his ground, stating she hadn’t complained about their youngest brother’s tattoos, which were much more extensive. However, there’d been a reason for that. Alessandro had gotten them to h
ide vicious scarring he’d received at the hands of kidnappers, and now he was experiencing another kidnapping, Alessandro having lived through far too much in his twenty-seven years.

  Vinnie grinned at him. “So, who did you fuck?”

  Ricardo’s brow furrowed. “No one.”

  “Then why do you look like some woman attacked you? Because, man, you definitely look like you got some figa,” he said, referring to pussy.

  “Well, I didn’t.”

  “Then maybe you need some advice from a chick magnet.”

  “Alessandro isn’t here,” Ricardo said to annoy Vinnie, though it didn’t appear to have worked, because his brother continued to grin like an idiot.

  “And guess who taught him.” Vinnie pointed at himself. “And if you, my female challenged brother, want me to show you how to get into a chick’s panties, just say the word and I’ll bestow my wisdom upon you.”

  Ricardo walked down the stairs, stopping in front of Vinnie. “I don’t need advice from a younger brother; I can get a woman when and where I like.” His eyes moved to Lisa as she appeared from the office passage. “Case in point,” he said, indicating to her, though not loud enough for her to hear. “I could have her groaning underneath me without blinking an eye.”

  Vinnie’s blue eyes followed Lisa as she disappeared around a corner. “No way, man, that fighetta is hot for me.” He squeezed his crotch. “Maybe tonight I’ll teach her a thing or two about how a real man fucks.” Vinnie yelled out as Ricardo shoved him into the wall.

  Ricardo placed an arm across his brother’s chest and moved his face in close. “If you touch her, I will shove your hands up your ass, teaching you a lesson on how to talk about a lady. Hai capito?”

  “Sì, I understand,” Vinnie nodded hard, all humor gone, “and I was kidding. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  Ricardo pushed off him. “Well, keep your jokes to yourself, because I don’t have a fucking sense of humor.”

  Another smirk instantly formed across Vinnie’s face, his brother’s memory shorter than a Donatelli cock. Non-existent. “So, was she good? Because if you’re warning me off her, it means you must’ve got some figa.”

  “You’re brain dead, Vinnie. You look like you’re going to piss yourself one second then the next you’re talking merda. I don’t think you can hold a thought in your head long enough to remember that I just fucking threatened your greasy ass.”

  Vinnie’s smile dropped. “Hey! I’m not the greasy one, Dominic is.”

  Ricardo shook his head. “You both are.”

  “No, man, I’m the sophisticated one.”

  Ricardo laughed. “You’re as sophisticated as Mr. Bean, and stop calling me man. It’s Don. Address me as such.”

  Vinnie rolled his eyes. “I was obviously wrong: you didn’t get laid, ’cause you’re still uptight as ever. Well, I’m outta here; I’m not interested in you killing my vibe. Later, man, dude, Don, whatever the fuck you want to be called.” He headed for the back of the house, probably going to his music studio. Vinnie and his twin were the musicians of the family. Unfortunately, Ricardo didn’t like their taste in music, which was heavy rock. He thought it was a waste of their talents, especially since the twins had been classically trained. They had even been choirboys—until they’d gotten kicked out at the age of twelve for tying firecrackers to Padre Donatelli’s shoelaces after the priest had fallen asleep during bible class. Ricardo smiled at the memory, the look of terror on the Padre’s face something he would never forget.

  A second later, Vinnie’s twin appeared, no doubt heading for the music studio as well. “What’s happening, man?” Dominic asked, raising his pierced eyebrow, the twins having a similar speech pattern.

  “Your twin’s a prick,” Ricardo responded, not bothering to correct Dominic on how to address him properly. Like Vinnie, he wouldn’t listen.

  Dominic grinned. “You mean he has a prick, and it’s a lot smaller than mine.”

  Ricardo barked out a laugh. “You’re identical twins.”

  “In everything but the cock.”

  “Well, I’ll be sure to tell Vinnie that.”

  “No, don’t; it’s cruel to rub his shortcomings in his face.” He laughed. “Comings, get it?”

  Ricardo rolled his eyes, although he kept his smile. He was grateful for a shot of humor, no matter how bad it was. The smile fell from his lips. It felt wrong to cracks jokes after the deaths of Ghita and Valentino. There was nothing to laugh about, only mourning appropriate.

  Ricardo exhaled. “I’ve got a job for you.”

  “What is it?”

  “I need you to find two goons for me. Tito Donatelli and his pimp friend Malik.”

  “What’d they do?”

  “Malik tried to rape Bianca.”

  Dominic’s face hardened, all humor gone. “How do you want him delivered, sliced up or an empty canvas?”

  “An empty canvas, and both of them, so I can color them pretty with their own blood.”

  Dominic smiled, his blue eyes sparking malevolently. “Make it epic.”

  “I will, just get them as soon as you can.” Ricardo patted his brother’s shoulder, then headed back up the staircase to see Valentino’s girls, knowing he could trust Dominic to deliver, his brother never failing him in the past. Although the twins looked like rockers, they were accomplished killers. They fought the dirtiest out of all of the brothers, the two often working as a team, definitely not ones to fight fair.

  Ricardo headed down the passage to his nieces’ room, willing himself not to veer into Bianca’s again. He had responsibilities, and right now, they involved two teenage girls. He knocked on their door, calling out their names. The door opened a few seconds later, Mira answering with a somber expression. She looked like a replica of her dead mother. She had dark blonde hair and big brown eyes. She hadn’t smiled since he’d seen her, the girl obviously still mourning the loss of her mother. Her younger sister appeared next. Siena had brown hair and pale blue eyes. She was skinny and not as pretty as her older sister, but she was full of life. She was practically glowing as she talked about the PlayStation Dominic had brought up earlier.

  Ricardo waited for a break in her chatter before cutting in. “I have something I need to tell you.”

  “What? What?” Siena yelled. “You got us a Wii too? Or an x-Box? I want one of those.”

  He shook his head, a sadness enveloping him. “Please sit,” he said, directing them to the closest bed.

  The girls sat down, both of them now silent, their innocent eyes focused on him. He bobbed down in front of them, knowing this was going to be one of the hardest things to do—destroying two girls’ lives with four simple words: “Your father is dead.”

  “What?!” both of them cried.

  Mira covered her face, her shoulders shaking, while Siena... She leapt at Ricardo, hitting and screaming at him that he was lying. He didn’t stop her, knowing she needed to let it out. The girl’s face was wracked with pain and anger, her little fists beating at him as she demanded that he take the words back. After a few minutes, she started to tire, her sobs now merging with her sister’s. He wrapped his arms around the girl, forcing her to go still. She latched onto him, hugging him back. He couldn’t feel her arms, but he could feel her sorrow.

  Ricardo kissed the top of Siena’s head, murmuring that he would always look after her and her sister, vowing his life to the girls. Mira pushed to her feet and wrapped her arms around him too. He included her in the embrace, the girls now his daughters.

  8

  Ivy parked her car in front of the Santini compound, looking forward to the interview with Salvatore. Excitement buzzed through her veins at the thought of meeting the infamous Santini. Her sister had been skeptical about her desire to join with the gunrunning family. Menna didn’t trust anyone other than the Vipers, but Ivy knew they needed a powerful alliance to take down the Black Russian—and the Santini were it.

  Two soldiers greeted her as she got out of her car,
both of them swarthy-looking. They were dressed in suits too hot for the weather, the larger of the two sweating like a pig. The slimmer man placed his hand on his holstered gun. He wasn’t unattractive, but he wasn’t exactly a Santini. Pedro had given her pictures of every member of the family, the images of the men piquing her interest the most—as well as her libido.

  “Hold your arms out,” the fat soldier said. “I have to check you’re unarmed.”

  She did as instructed. The man ran his hands over her body, including in between her legs. He didn’t appear to be taking advantage, his face lacking emotion. As he continued to check her, she glanced at the property. All she could see through the massive iron gate was an expanse of green. The site had obviously cost the Santini millions, because not only was the property huge, they had a priceless view of the Mediterranean Sea.

  Once the fat soldier had finished patting her down, he held out his hand. “Passaporti,” he demanded.

  She pulled out her old and new passports from her jacket and handed them over, both stating her name as Isis Massari. She couldn’t hide her ancestry, so she’d stolen the identity of an Egyptian tourist the Black Russian had kidnapped, someone nobody would miss.

  The soldier pocketed her passports. “You’ll get them back once we’ve verified them.”

  She nodded. “I also have luggage to take in.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Why would you bring luggage to an interview?”

  “I don’t trust my innkeeper, plus I was also hoping I’d get the job, so I didn’t have to return to my lodgings.”

  “I’ll need to check them.”

  “Of course.”

  “Open your trunk, and take it slow. If you have anything in there we’re not happy with, my partner will shoot you without hesitation.”

  She pretended alarm, but still headed around the car, opening the trunk for him. The other soldier moved behind her as his partner rifled through the first suitcase. Appearing satisfied with it, he moved onto the next one, not finding anything other than clothes, shoes, books, and a few knick-knacks. She refrained from smiling, the man having missed the hidden compartments, which held her weapons and poisons. She’d gotten the suitcases past airport security, so didn’t think mafia goons would catch her out.