Russo Saga Collection

by Nicolina Martin

  “Why did you abandon me?” I scream and shove the contents off the side table next to the bed. Syringes, pills and tissues go flying to the floor. “You’re not allowed! Why?”

  “Sir.”

  Someone speaks behind my back. A hand on my shoulder.

  “Get the fuck off me!” I grab the hand and twist it, making the person yelp but pull away. Covering Elena’s frail little body with mine, I try to give her some of my warmth, my air, my beating heart. “CPR! Why isn’t anyone giving her CPR?” I shoot to my feet and start compressing her chest, try to blow air into her mouth, but there’s a sickening resistance and her chest won’t rise.

  “Sir!” says the voice I don’t know.

  “Salvatore. Please! Please leave her alone,” Rose’s broken voice to my right. “She drew her last breath ten minutes ago. It’s no use. She was in pain. The cancer was everywhere. She was done. She was happy that the end was near. The last three days she’s been in a coma. Leave her alone, please.”

  I fall, my ear to Elena’s chest. There’s no thumping. All I hear is the high-pitched ringing in my own head. “Why didn’t someone tell me?”

  “I told them to call you,” says Rose quietly. “She wouldn’t have wanted me to, but I had to let you know, let you get here in time for a goodbye—” Her voice breaks. “But it was too late. I’m so sorry.”

  “Leave me alone,” I say. “Please.”

  “Sir,” says Dustin.

  “Go!” I roar. “All of you. Get the fuck out. Leave me alone!”

  I close my eyes and remain with my head resting on Elena’s still chest. Behind me there’s a shuffle of feet and the whisper of the door falling closed. Elena’s voice haunts me. Her wise words, always level-headed, always composed. She never wanted to be a victim. Not even the day, all those years ago, when my sadistic ways finally broke her, when she professed her love for me and begged me to let her be my equal, my woman, and I told her no. I told her that all she was to me was a set of holes and a quivering mass of flesh for me to use. It crushed her and still she wanted to stay, not as a lover, but as something, still she wanted to remain in my life, so I employed her. I will never know if the friendship I’ve felt was mutual, or if she just put up with me to please me.

  I have considered myself heartless, but the ache in my chest builds, choking me. Her unbeating heart has kicked mine alive. Too late. Too late for her. I should have treated her better. I should have fucking been there for her. She shouldn’t have had to suffer alone. I twine my fingers with hers. She’s still soft and warm to the touch and it nauseates me to know that soon she won’t be. I’ve seen so much death, caused so much death, and never has it bothered me. Not until now. She was only sixty. She could have had so many more years.

  Years of what? As your slave? Your punching bag?

  The voice in my head isn’t my own. And it isn’t Elena’s. It’s Chloe speaking from across the globe. I hear her. I know she’s right. It’s too late to make it up to Elena, but it isn’t too late to make it up to Chloe. It’s become so fucking hard to breathe, my insides ache, my every muscle in pain, as if I have the flu.

  I stand and look over my former mistress, my partner, and the closest thing I’ve had to a friend. I correct the sheet, put her arms to her sides, stroke her cheek, then I bend forward and plant a kiss on her mouth.

  “Goodbye,” I whisper. “Go with the angels. I’ll pray for you.”

  My steps are heavy as I leave the room and let the door fall closed behind me. Outside stands Rose, Dust, and three of the staff.

  “Take care of her,” I say to Rose.

  “Always, sir. We all loved Matron.”

  I hold her gaze until I’m convinced she truly means it, then I nod and turn to Dustin. “It’s time to go.”

  It’s as if invisible strings want to hold me in place, but I push forward, out of the building, to our car that stands on the sidewalk where we came to a screeching stop when we rushed here.

  Neither of us enter, Dustin stands by the driver’s door, I have my hand on the door handle to the backdoor. A drop of rain hits my hand, then the sky opens, still neither of us move.

  “Where to, Boss?”

  “Call my pilot. Tell him to fill the tank and be ready. Now. Take me to the airfield.”

  Dustin looks as if he’s going to object, but then he nods and hops in the car.

  I’m numb when we pull out into the busy traffic. The rain pours down. Dustin is on the phone. I can’t even think one thought to its end. I stare out at the buildings, at the people rushing on the sidewalk, living their lives. Do they know how sudden it can be pulled from them? We’re all just a hair’s breadth from death at any given time.

  Raw sorrow tears holes in my chest as I board the little private jet. Dustin remains by the car, standing under a black umbrella, looking at me curiously. I turn my back to him, to everything, and head for the cockpit.

  “Take me to Sicilia.”

  Chapter 26

  Chloe

  I’m sitting in my armchair with my feet propped up on the table, reading an Italian comprehension book for kids. There are no translations, but with the help of the pictures I try to learn the words. A commotion from outside makes me put the book away and stand, then my door flies open and a wild-looking Salvatore enters, his presence filling the room, dark, dangerous, him. My heart skips a beat before it jumps to my throat.

  He slams the door closed and then he just stands there, his chest heaving, pinning me with his black gaze.

  “Hi,” I finally say, breathless.

  He shoves a hand through his hair, messing it up, leaving strands sticking in all different directions, then his arm drops. The stubble on his cheeks is longer than usual and there’s something wild about his whole appearance. A quick bolt of fear shoots through me at the unreadable expression on his face, but then my feet move before my brain catches up with what I’m doing. I need to touch him and see if he’s real. He shoved me away when I needed him the most. When I still craved the safety he provided, he instead sent me out of the country. I’ve felt incomplete ever since, even though I try to get by, because what else can I do? I end up so close that I feel his every exhale fanning my face. His eyes are desolate depths of agony. I have never seen him like this and my chest clenches in sudden worry.

  “How are you doing? Is… Is the fighting done?”

  He shakes his head. “Don’t move.” His eyes dart across my face, then his hand comes up to cup my cheek, warm, large, tender, his fingers threading through the hair behind my ear, toward my nape.

  “What are you doing?” My voice is suddenly hoarse.

  “I think I’m dying.”

  “What?” I jerk back, but he pulls me close again.

  “Don’t move.” He lowers his head. “I want to taste you.”

  I freeze up, my heart thrashing. His lips brush mine, just a barely-there ghost of a touch. His other hand comes up to cup my other cheek. I can’t breathe. Is he kissing me? In all this time he has never kissed me. His hold on my head gets firmer as he presses his lips against mine.

  “What are you—” I try to say. My feeble attempt at speaking parts my lips and then he’s there, clutching me, kissing me. I moan as the tip of his tongue meets mine and my body melts into his. I’ve longed to feel him, and I can’t even imagine why. He’s a monster. When I don’t object, he claims my mouth fully, devouring me, stealing my breath away. As always, when he touches me tenderly, I’m like clay in his hands. His thumbs stroke along my jawline and then they slide down to my throat. He could easily strangle me with this grip, but the thought doesn’t frighten me. He’s not hurting me, he’s desperate for me, and his emotion travels deep into my soul, making my whole being tingle.

  The air thickens, as if a thunderstorm builds around us, bolts shoot in the non-existent space where his body is pressed against mine, an electrical feeling that makes my gut clench, and if he wasn’t holding me so tightly I’d drop into a limbless heap.

  “I need
you,” he growls into my mouth.

  I jerk and make a move to fall to my knees, the thought flying through my mind that he’s crazy to come all the way here for a blowjob. He grabs my shoulders and stops me, then he falls to his knees, his arms circling my hips, his cheek pressing against my belly. His breaths hitch. He’s shaking, trembling. I hesitantly lay my hands on his head, threading my fingers through his rich black hair with the few strands of silver on the sides. It’s silky. I can’t remember if I’ve touched his hair before.

  “What happened to you?” I whisper, afraid to disturb the eerie moment.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I’m lost, Chloe. I’m so fucking lost. Everyone is gone.” He buries his face in the softness of my belly. I haven’t worked out since I got here, and the food is amazing. I’ve regained an appetite and I feel stronger than I have for a long time. The dresses Alessandra gave me have definitely gotten a bit tighter over my hips and chest.

  “Salvatore… I don’t know what to say.”

  “I lost Elena,” he grits out.

  I wait, confused, but he doesn’t elaborate. “Who’s Elena?”

  “Of course you wouldn’t know,” he mumbles.

  A spark of jealousy lights an ache inside me. Someone who means so much to him that he crosses the Atlantic for her.

  To be with me?

  “Tell me?”

  Salvatore stands. He’s so close that the heat from his body permeates the distance between us. His naked arms touch mine and neither of us pull away. Then he moves past me and falls on the bed, shoes and all, his back to me. I don’t know what to do, what to think about this sudden change in his behavior. When he doesn’t move, or speak, I go and sit on the edge of the bed. Tentatively, I lay a hand on his shoulder. He inhales an erratic breath and holds it. It hitches on the exhale. He’s in pain. I act on instinct and crawl up next to him, putting my arms around his wide chest, clutching him to me, spooning him. His shoulders shake. Shudders ripple through him. It’s as if his soul is crying, but his body fights it.

  We lie for a long time. The shadows in the room get longer as the sun begins to set. The house is dead quiet. I’m guessing Alessandra was told to take a hike. All that is heard is our breathing. His has calmed. Finally. I don’t know if he’s awake. After a while I’m pretty sure he’s sleeping. My muscles are getting stiff, but the ache in my heart exceeds the physical discomfort by far. I don’t dare to move. If he has a moment of peace, I want him to have it.

  When he stirs, night has fallen and the room is dark except for a ray of moonlight that hits the floor.

  “Hi,” I whisper.

  “Thank you,” he says and turns. His face is shadowed and still his features are clear to me, etched into my mind. Sometimes I think I’ve never seen another man in my life. Salvatore leans in and rests his forehead against mine. “She was my friend.” His voice is so different. Dark and hoarse, breaking on the last word, filled with unfathomable sorrow.

  I wait for him to continue, but seconds tick away and the silence builds. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  He swallows audibly. “I didn’t make it in time. I didn’t even know she was ill. I should have been there. I should have seen it. She was so thin, nothing but skin and bone. I’m a fucking idiot.”

  “Your friend died?”

  “Not even twenty-four hours ago.”

  “You came all the way to Sicily? Was she from here? Is her family—”

  He shakes his head. “I came… I just needed to rest.”

  “I’m so sorry for your loss, Luciano.”

  His eyes fly open and my cheeks heat up when I realize what I just did.

  “It’s the second time you’ve said my name.”

  I frown. “Second? I don’t—”

  “I held you. You were bloody, terrified. You whispered ‘Luci’.”

  I did? I stare at him, my heart galloping. Why does it mean anything to him that I said his first name?

  “Who am I?” I swallow hard, my heart galloping. “Luci.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “To you. Why are you here? Why am I here? Why do you care? You’re not just protecting your ‘property’, are you?”

  “I had nowhere else to go,” he whispers. “Everyone is pulling me in every different direction. ‘Boss’. ‘Sir’. ‘Uncle’. Fucking no one just… You’ve never demanded anything from me.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “My freedom?”

  Salvatore turns on his back and stares up at the ceiling.

  “Why did you take me?”

  He scoffs. “Because I’m an idiot.”

  “Yeah, you are.” My mouth says it before I even think it over. I inhale in sudden fear that I stepped over the line, but he doesn’t react. I put my hand on his arm, stroking softly over the coarse hair, his skin warm. “I’m lost,” I whisper. “I have had so many lives. I don’t know who I am anymore.”

  “Yeah… I haven’t helped, have I?”

  I don’t know what to say.

  “Do you hate me, Chloe?”

  My heart skips a beat. I have no idea how to answer that. I should. I have. But there is so much more. There’s no heart of gold in this man. He’s as dark as they come. But there’s honor in him, pride, hurt, desperation. He wants to be acknowledged. He wants to be cared for, loved. He just doesn’t know how to ask for it. I shouldn’t be the one who thinks she can provide it, but he’s awoken something in me that’s not only sexual. Our mornings together with David. Sitting in a comfortable silence late at night on the patio, when his house had calmed down.

  “I’ve lost you too,” he says, his voice a shade darker, more desolate than ever.

  “You haven’t ‘lost’ me. You can’t lose something you’ve never had.”

  A sound escapes him, a mix between a whimper and a groan, and then he turns on his side, away from me.

  “Hey.” I put a hand on his shoulder, terrified of my own actions. I have no idea what I’m doing. All I know is that he is nothing like himself, and that I can’t stand to see his pain.

  He stiffens. “Don’t touch me, if you know what’s best for you.”

  “I’ve never known what’s best for me.”

  Luciano grabs my hand and spins around, pulling me under him in one swift move. His body is heavy on mine as he leans close. “Is that so?” he growls.

  “I barged into your office, didn’t I?” I gasp.

  “You associated with bad men in your teens. ‘Christine’. You fascinate me.”

  “It seems to be the theme of my life,” I say, out of breath. My body tingles everywhere it’s in contact with his. I’m oddly proud that he’s so taken by my sordid past.

  “You’re a bad girl, Chloe. I smelled it on you the day you set foot in my house. I know you checked me out, all those years ago, back when David was in your care. Danger tugs at you, doesn’t it? Does it make your heart beat faster, your adrenaline flow? Does it make you high on life?”

  “I don’t know,” I whimper.

  He’s right. It does. Fucking hell, it really does. Salvatore’s darkness, mixing so confusingly with streaks of light, small windows when I see vulnerability and his love for David, pulls me to him. Most of the time when he’s hurt me, he hasn’t only hurt me. He’s set me alight in the most shameful ways, and I want more. I don’t want the hurt of that one time when he beat me, but he’s shown me in more ways than one since then how sorry he is.

  He’s awoken a need in me I didn’t know I had, and he knows. Of course, he knows.

  “Yeah, you do,” he growls and falls heavier on me, burying his face in my neck. His hot breath makes shivers run down my spine and it’s getting harder to breathe. “Mmm,” he moans. “You smell so good.”

  Then it’s like all air leaves him and he falls on his side, pulling me with him. His gaze becomes distant and his face contorts in pain again. I don’t know why I know it, but he’s not going to hurt me tonight. He’s crossed the ocean to be with me. I can’t fathom it. It shoul
dn’t feel even the slightest good, but my heart swells. Yes, I am pulled to him. Like he said. I’m mortified that he took notice, but I’m not surprised. Nothing seems to slip by him. Yes, I was attracted, mesmerized by this tall, dark, mysterious man. Then he broke me. Turned his cruel side to me. Luciano Salvatore has made me feel every emotion there is. Everything between the deepest hate and the most depraved lust. Longing, warmth, safety. Everything but love.

  Until tonight.

  Tonight, there’s no cruelty in him. I sense deep, raw mourning, honest despair. Tonight, he’s a human who has experienced loss, and I suspect more loss than this Elena. I think of Ivan, the gentle giant who I know must be close to Luciano. I think of his nephew, Christian even though I really don’t want to think of him, but it must feel horrible for this mob boss who’s clinging on to me tonight, as if for dear life.

  He’s made me feel every emotion on earth except for love, but tonight my heart can’t make the distinction as it breaks for him. I ache, and I don’t know what it means. I just want him back from this void. I want the man, the crazy, dominant, dangerous, unhinged, confused and lonely man. This broken person scares me more.

  “I’m sorry,” I say and caress his cheek. “I’m sorry for your loss. No one deserves to lose a friend.”

  “Not even me?” There’s a hint of hostility in his voice. He’s building a wall, protecting himself from my rejection. He’s afraid.

  “Not even you, Luci.”

  I gasp when he pulls me tight, almost crushing me in his strong arms. He rests his chin on the top of my head and I’m lost in the scent of him, in his heat, his rapidly beating heart against mine. “I’m sorry, Chloe,” he mumbles, so quietly that I have to strain to hear him. “I’m so sorry. You never deserved this. Any of this.”

  I don’t know how to respond. It’s impossible to say that it’s all right. What he has done will never be all right. Still I don’t want to break loose from his hold. I’ve come to crave him. It frightens me. No, it doesn’t. It should frighten me if I had any sense, but I think sense left me a long time ago.