Dynasty: A Mafia Collection

by Jen Davis

  Her voice snapped me out of my wicked trance.

  I looked down, witnessing how she clutched her arms around her shivering body.

  What the fuck have I done?

  I stepped back, water spilling over my face like it was possible to wash away every sin I ever committed—including this one.

  Without looking at her, I got out of the shower. “You have two minutes to wash yourself. And I told you before, you don’t get to use my name.” I needed to tap into that rage, into the hunger for revenge again. I needed to pull my fucking shit together.

  Turning around, I pulled one of the black towels off the rail. I grabbed my pants and slipped them on before reaching for my shirt.

  While buttoning up, I turned then balked when I saw her standing there, completely naked and dripping wet. Her blonde hair looked dark as it clung to her face and shoulders, water streaming down from the ends. Her ivory skin was perfectly unblemished with just the faintest kiss from the sun. Crystal blue eyes sparkled and beamed even though she had been put through so much in such a short period of time.

  But then my gaze settled between her legs, on the bare, beautiful, soft skin of her pussy that taunted me, teasing my already painfully hard cock.

  Dark visions of red fogged my mind. The vivid sound of beautiful, panting breaths filled my ears, and it all made it too hard for me to stay in reality—a reality where I was her captor and she was a slave…a slave I would ultimately end up killing.

  I tossed the towel at her. “Dry yourself.”

  “I don’t have anything to wear.”

  Pulling my hands through my hair, trying to get the ink black strands to look less…fucked, I searched around the bathroom but found nothing remotely wearable.

  “The towel will have to do. You can wrap it around yourself.”

  “Please, Castello. Just give me something to—”

  “Stop!” The way the word please rolled off her lips, the sincerity behind it made it even more difficult for me to control myself. I started pacing, my head feeling like it was about to explode, my body feeling like it was about to burst into flames. “Just wear the goddamn towel. And this is the last fucking time I warn you about using my name.”

  Without drying her first, she wrapped the towel around her. “What should I call you, then? Master? Sir? Boss? Lover?”

  It just happened. I snapped and launched myself forward, grabbing her around her throat and slamming her against the wall. “You’re playing with fire, little mouse. Do not test me. Do not think that you have the balls to go up against me, because you will lose. I saved your ass from getting beaten to a pulp once, but next time I won’t be so fucking nice.”

  “You wouldn’t have needed to save me from your brother if you didn’t give him permission to beat me in the first place.”

  Good God, this woman was treading on dangerous ground, pushing me, provoking me, causing the blood in my veins to boil with a lethal mixture of rage and lust.

  I squeezed my fingers tighter around her throat, leaning my face closer to hers. The citrus scent of the shampoo she used was familiar since it was my goddamn shampoo. But on her, it smelled fucking delicious, tantalizing my taste buds. I wanted to taste her, lick her, bite her, devour her until there was nothing fucking left.

  “You need to know when to keep your goddamn mouth shut.”

  “And you need to learn when to keep your fucking fingers to yourself.”

  I smiled. Her bravery—or stupidity—amused me. I loosened my grip around her neck a little then lifted a finger, tracing it softly across her luscious lips. “You mean this finger?” I placed my middle finger on her lips as well before forcing it inside her mouth. “Or this finger? They were both inside you, little mouse, and you rode them like your fucking life depended on it.” Around and around, I swirled my fingers through her mouth, expecting her to take a chance and bite down, but she didn’t. In fact, I felt her tongue move, grazing against my fingertips, like she was inviting me, coaxing me to give her more.

  If only you knew how much more I wanted to give you, little mouse…and how much I want to take from you…

  “Can you taste yourself on my fingers, your pleasure?”

  Her blue irises grew brighter with every passing second, but she didn’t try to hide the anger and the hate.

  I loved it.

  I loved how she looked at me with hate and lust, rage and desire, fury and need.

  With a sexual hunger starting to bubble in the pit of my stomach, my cock twitching, wanting, demanding to take her, I licked my lips while keeping my gaze on hers. Her chest was rapidly rising and falling, pressing her breasts harder against my body, aggravating the ache in my groin.

  “How do you taste, little mouse?” I leaned closer, never taking my eyes off her mouth. “Tell me what you taste like.”

  Her lips parted, her warm breath dancing across my wet lips, making me inch closer and closer.

  “Sweet,” she replied softly. “I taste…sweet.”

  Jesus fucking Christ.

  Just as I readied myself to take her mouth with mine, to taste her, a hard knock on the door resounded through the room. I recoiled, instantly pulled back down from wherever the fuck Tatum and I just went.

  “Castello, are you in there?”

  “Uncle Gino,” I whispered before treading back, far back, getting as far away from her as possible.

  “Yes. I’m in here.”

  The door creaked open, and Uncle Gino peered inside. “Is everything all right?”

  I inhaled sharply, thinking that everything was far from fucking all right.

  “Everything is fine, Uncle Gino. I just let Miss Linscott in here to take a much-needed shower.”

  He turned his gaze to where she still remained plastered to the wall.

  “Turn around, my dear.”

  Tatum hesitated, and her eyes found mine. I nodded, and she turned around slowly.

  Uncle Gino stepped closer, pulling the towel down just an inch until he saw the marking of the first lash. Immediately, he removed his touch and stepped back.

  “Those marks will need some ointment but should heal fully.”

  All I did was nod, unsure how to interpret Uncle Gino’s concern for Tatum. He was a part of this family. He lost a brother through her and her family, yet the entire evening I never picked up on any animosity or hatred directed at Tatum from him. And here he was telling me Tatum’s markings would need ointment to heal.

  I squared my shoulders. “I’ll take care of her.”

  “I know you will.” He turned to face me. “They are looking for you in the dining hall. I suggest you take Miss Linscott to her room and make sure she’s secure, at least until all the guests have left.”

  Secure? I knew what he meant by secure. Keep her away from the other men.

  “I will be there in a minute.”

  “Good.” He turned to face Tatum. “Good evening, Miss Linscott.” And then he left, leaving us, and the sexually laden atmosphere around us, alone.

  “Come on.” I waved, summoning her closer. With slow, tiny steps, she approached me, and I grabbed her arm as soon as she came close enough.

  “You’re not taking me back there, are you?”

  “Not tonight.” I gripped her arm tighter.

  “If not tonight, when?”

  “Soon.”

  How was I supposed to tell her it would be in that exact same dining hall that she would take her last breath…along with her father?

  Soon.

  Chapter 15

  Tatum

  We stepped out of the bathroom, Castello clutching my arm with his tight grip. We walked into a bedroom, and I couldn’t help but admire the décor.

  It was a beautiful, elegant room decorated with shades of gold, beige, and light browns. A huge king-sized bed stood right in the middle of the room with soft, cream-colored curtains hanging from the ceiling draping the sides of the bed. The walls consisted of dark cherry-wood and light oak panels that contrasted bea
utifully with the rest of the room. Large windows were draped with the same curtains surrounding the bed, and the moon was shining directly through them, casting a silver light across the room.

  “Whose bedroom is this?”

  Castello stopped for a second before answering, “Mine.”

  Dumbfounded and confused, I glanced around the room and back at him. “This is your room?”

  “You look surprised.”

  “Well, yeah.” My gaze swept over the bedroom once more. “I did not imagine your bedroom to look so…so…”

  “So what?”

  I looked up at him. “So light.”

  “Is the bedroom too light for a monster like me?” Dark eyes, filled with so many secrets, yet determined to keep them hidden, stared down at me. For a moment, I allowed myself to see past the hard edges of my captor to find the soft frames of a man who lost a brother, a father—the life he had known. The more I stared at him, the less he started to look like his twin brother. The physical resemblance was undeniable, but besides the scar, it became easier for me to know them apart just by looking into Castello’s eyes.

  Carlo’s eyes were always sharp, carefree, zealous, and full of life. Castello’s were hard and cold, trying to hide sadness he didn’t want anyone to see.

  My gaze fell to the plush white carpet beneath my feet. “Are we not all monsters?” I whispered. If my time as his prisoner had taught me anything, it was that there was a monster hidden in all of us. Some suppressed it, some hid it, and some embraced it.

  “I suppose we are.” He tugged on my arm. “Come on.”

  “Wait. Can I look at it?”

  He stared back at me questioningly. “At what?”

  “The view, from your bedroom window.”

  “You want to see the view?”

  I nodded. “Please.”

  With a calculating gaze, he stared at me, and I wasn’t sure he would allow it. But he nodded and started to guide me toward the window.

  Judging from how high up we seemed, the house had to be huge, at least three levels.

  The full moon was high, breaking the dark of night, allowing me to see parts of what looked like a huge back yard filled with tall standing trees, a vast landscape of grass, pebbled paths, and sleeping flowers.

  “It looks beautiful.”

  “Yes, well, looks can be deceiving.”

  I glanced up at him. “You don’t like the view?”

  “I don’t like the memories.”

  “Which memories?”

  He sighed, rubbing his hand at the back of his neck. “It doesn’t matter. Come on. I have a party I need to get back to.”

  “Carlo? You don’t like the memories of Carlo?” I pried while he pulled me away from the window and toward the door.

  “Now is a good time for you to shut up.”

  “I bet the two of you played for hours in that garden when you were little.”

  He tugged me hard against his chest, angry eyes glaring down while he tightened his grip on my elbow. I flinched.

  “Do not speak of things you know nothing about.”

  “I miss him too.” There was no rhyme or reason for me saying those words, but I wanted—no, needed him to know that even though the Carlo I knew wasn’t the real Carlo, I still missed him. In a way, I mourned him too now that I knew he’d been dead all these months.

  “You know nothing of my brother. The Carlo you knew was a lie.”

  “Which only aggravates my wounds even more, the fact that the person who told me day in and day out that he loved me lied to me.”

  “That makes you a fool.”

  I lifted my chin. “I might be a fool for trying to love someone even though he lied to me, but at least I’m not blaming anyone else for my pain.”

  A slow smile crept up at the corners of his mouth. “Do you think because of what happened in the shower that you know me? That it changes things? That you now have the right to pry into details of my life?”

  “That’s not—”

  “Do not think for one second that because I came on your motherfucking stomach it changes anything. You are still the woman responsible for my family’s loss. You are the reason I hate the fucking memories whenever I look out that goddamn window. And you are still the woman who will pay for my brother’s death,” he leaned down closer, “with her life.”

  The anger in his eyes swirled like black smoke, his words piercing my chest like a thousand daggers. My retort burned the tip of my tongue, but I knew I had pushed this man far enough…for now.

  Within seconds, he had hauled me out of his bedroom and down the hall. For a few moments, I was sure he was angry enough to want to take me back to the dining hall, to let Vico finish what he started with his belt. But he didn’t.

  The relief that flowed through me when Castello took me back to my room rather than the dining hall was indescribable. I never thought I’d be glad to go back to the room that had become my prison. There was no way I would have been able to survive another round of being exposed to all those men—especially Vico.

  Castello stopped in front of the closed door with a security padlock and glanced my way. “Turn around.”

  What did he think I could do with the security key? It wasn’t like I had a keypad on the inside of the room.

  I turned around, looking down the hall. For a second, I pondered the thought of running, trying to escape. But where would I run? I didn’t know the house, and I definitely didn’t want to risk ending up in the dining hall of horrors again. And with all the men currently occupying the house with their whiskey and cigar breaths, I was much safer back in my room, locked and tucked away.

  I clutched the towel tighter around me. “You believe me.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “Excuse me?”

  “You believe Carlo lied to me.”

  “What gives you that idea?”

  There was a beep and the door opened.

  “In your room, you said the Carlo I knew was a lie. So you believe me?”

  Castello grabbed my arm. “Whether I believe you or not, it seems like lies swarm around you like flies, little mouse.”

  My skin tingled under his touch as he dragged me inside. I mentally cursed my body for reacting yet again—even after the scalding words he had spat out at me moments ago.

  Closing the door behind us, Castello led me toward another door, but not before I noticed the huge monitor to the right, which was currently turned off.

  “Is that where you sit and watch me?”

  He glanced at me. “Ignorance is bliss.”

  I cocked a brow. “Knowledge is power.”

  “Not for you.”

  He pushed a red button, and I heard the familiar sound of air escaping before the door opened. Castello stood to the side. “After you.”

  “How chivalrous of you, allowing me to enter my prison first.”

  “It’s not chivalrous. It’s called manners.”

  “Now, there’s something you don’t see every day. A kidnapper with manners.”

  Two strong hands grabbed my shoulders, pushing me forward and shoving me on the bed.

  “You need to learn your place, little mouse.”

  With a jerk, he twisted me onto my back and straddled me. My arms and legs flailed, trying to fight him and punch him, anything to protect myself from him.

  “Get off me!”

  His thighs squeezed tighter, holding me in place just as his hands gripped both my wrists. With a hard jerk, he pinned my hands above my head, black eyes fixed on mine.

  “That smart mouth of yours is going to get you killed.”

  “You plan on killing me anyway.”

  “Well, your snarky remarks sure aren’t buying you any fucking time, I can guarantee you that.”

  I squirmed beneath him, pulling my arms as hard as I could, trying to get free.

  “Stop moving, Tatum.” He tightened his grip and pushed his body harder down on mine. “Your fight is doing nothing but turning me on.”
>
  My squirming ceased, my heart stammered, and like a fucking light switch my body went from rigid fear to burning desire.

  I swallowed, and his gaze caught the movement. “Did you enjoy it? When I had my fingers buried inside you, making you come?”

  “No.”

  “Liar.” A smug grin appeared on his face, drawing all my attention to his lips. “Even though I’m sure that’s probably the best orgasm you’ve had in your life so far, you’re still not fully satisfied, are you?”

  Taking both my wrists in one hand, he brought the other down to where the towel was tied above my breasts, and he licked his lips as he started to loosen it.

  “Your body wants so much more. It needs to be fully used and utterly fucked, doesn’t it?”

  I gave another jerk, more squirming in an attempt to at least look like I hated him having me restrained, when in fact, my body relished it.

  His dark eyes remained on my chest as he pushed the towel to the side, my nipples hard and already sensitive, craving his touch.

  I glared up at him, lifting my chin. “Whatever my body wants, I can promise it’s not you.” It was such a lie. The lack of conviction in my voice was proof of that.

  His grin spread even wider. “There’s only one way to find out.”

  Oh God.

  Slowly, torturously he dragged his finger down between my breasts, over my middle, leaving a trail of burning flesh in its wake. Every inch of flesh he touched sent bolts of electricity straight down between my thighs, and I knew exactly what he would find if his fingers continued their voyage south.

  Lifting himself an inch to the side, his hand dipped between us. All I could do was give another jerk, another tug in a bid to fight the hankering and the yearning, the anticipation of his touch, but it was no use.

  The second he cupped me between my legs, my head fell back, my eyes rolling closed as the most intense sexual need flared up with such force it possessed me completely. As one finger slipped through my slit, my body shuddered and my hips bucked shamelessly, wanting more.

  “Like I said”—he pushed his finger inside me and I moaned—“your body can’t lie to me.”

  Then his finger was gone, and he lifted himself off me, leaving my body screaming and yelling and swearing while my mind went blank with relief.