Russo Saga Collection

by Nicolina Martin

  “Stop fighting me. Tell me you’re mine. Tell me to fuck you.”

  “God, I hate you!”

  “Do you now?” I caress along her slit, circle her swollen clit. She’s hot, dripping wet, and squirms, pushing against my hand. “Do you want my cock in you? Do you want me to spread your pussy wide as I push inside?”

  A shudder runs through her. “Mm-hmm.”

  “Good girl.” I stroke my rock-hard cock up and down along her slick folds, then I push inside, just a little, right past her tight opening. Chloe pants loudly, her hands clenching into tight fists. I rock a little back and forth, but I wait. I wait for her to come to me.

  “God, you’re evil!”

  She squeals as I fill her with one hard thrust. “I’m not evil when I slap your butt?” Her only answer is an incoherent noise that turns into a throaty moan as I begin to pound in her. “Hands on the couch,” I growl, almost losing myself in the sensation of her tight pussy. Letting go of her hands, I grip her hips and slam into her with full force. Chloe clutches the cushions, her knuckles whitening as her moans get louder and louder. I’m not gonna last much longer and I want her with me. I sneak a hand between her legs, rubbing against her clit. I don’t feel particularly skilled in this moment, or in control whatsoever. “Come for me,” I say with a groan, shudders running through me. My heart is about to burst through my chest when she starts convulsing, her walls spasming, squeezing me impossibly tight and I explode, coming so hard that my mind goes absolutely blank, as if I’m frying every neuron, killing brain cells. All I see is her, writhing beneath me, all I hear is her cries, her panting that matches mine in its frantic intensity.

  Finally, she stills. My legs shake as I pull her up to me, my cock still in her. “That was amazing. Are you okay?”

  She half turns, her mouth open, her eyes glazed over. “Okay? You’re asking me if I’m okay?”

  “Eh… Yes.”

  “I’m exhausted, I won’t be able to sit for a fucking week, my pussy aches, and it was one of the most mind-blowing orgasms I’ve ever had. I’m not okay. I’m out of my mind.”

  “Want something to eat? A glass of wine?” I slide out of her and pull up my pants. My come drips along the inside of her thigh. I unbutton the first button of my shirt, the cuffs, and pull it over my head, pushing it carefully between her legs to soak it up.

  Chloe’s gaze travels across my naked chest and it is an almost physical sensation, seeing the hunger in her eyes.

  “I don’t know who you are anymore, Luci.”

  Me neither. I feel vulnerable like an open wound, flayed, and filled with trepidation. “Stay with me.” The words fly out of my mouth before I even know it.

  She frowns, holding my gaze. With her flushed cheeks and her tousled hair she is so fucking beautiful that my stomach clenches. I file this image away. I always want to remember this moment.

  “As in…? I thought I didn’t have a choice.”

  “I’m giving you the choice.”

  “Why?” she breathes, her eyes widening.

  I take a step back and rake my hand through my hair. “I can’t go back to locking you up. Not after all that’s happened.”

  “Stay? With you? You’d let me go if I asked you?”

  I hold her gaze. I don’t want to answer that, but I force myself to move my lips. I don’t want her to go. “Yes.”

  “Can I have that glass of wine? And then a few more, please?”

  I gesture for her to move toward the lounge.

  “I need a shower. And some new clothes.”

  I take in her half-dressed state and then look down at my own crumpled appearance. “Definitely. Don’t move. I’ll show you where. I’m sleeping in a guest room since—” I take a few long strides back out in the hallway and grab her bags. “Come on.”

  She winces as she follows next to me. She knows what I’m talking about. “What are you doing with your bedroom?”

  “I’ve had everything in it ripped out and burnt. Literally. I’m redoing the whole wing.”

  Her eyes darken as her lips tighten. “Good.”

  We move up the stairs to the second floor and I show her the guest rooms with their en-suite bathrooms. “I’ll make myself presentable as well. Meet you in the lounge.” I force down the urge to make a question out of it. I refuse to show her how uncertain I am.

  Chloe nods. “Sure. And wine. I think I need to get fucking drunk, Luci. I don’t know anything anymore and it’s freaking me out.”

  I laugh, relieved. At least she’ll stay for the night. “Wine it is.”

  The water is still clattering in her bathroom when I’m done. I’ve kicked my butler into action and had him prepare a light meal to go with the wine. I’m deep in thought, my nose in my phone, checking the emails that have trickled in during the evening when I sense movement. Looking up, I meet her curious gaze. It’s as if time stops. She came to me. She didn’t take the first chance she had to flee. I don’t know if she’ll stay, but I didn’t lock her up. My gate guards have been ordered to let her out if she comes running, and to notify me of course. But it didn’t happen. She wears a long-sleeved beige pullover that hangs loose in the back and is tucked inside the waist of her light blue jeans in the front. Her hair is still damp and tied in a messy bun on her head and she wears no makeup. She looks new, hesitant, her soul bared.

  She chooses the couch opposite me and takes in the food and the wine. I fill her glass and she immediately gulps down half the glass.

  I raise an eyebrow. “Do you know how much that costs?”

  “You can afford it. Keep filling the glass.” She spears a piece of Parma on her fork and puts it in her mouth, groaning as she chews. “Thank you. I needed this.”

  “I figured I might have worn you out.”

  She huffs. “Yeah. A bit.”

  “Did you like Bietini?”

  “Oh, it was wonderful! The people, the silence, the feeling that time didn’t matter. Alessandra made me feel like one of them, as if she was my sister. Actually, can I have her number? I want to tell her I’m home.”

  Home?

  Time stops. Chloe keeps my gaze, then drains the glass and holds it up.

  “Sure.” I refill her glass before I tap up Alessandra’s number on my phone. “I’ll share her contact info.”

  She jumps as her phone buzzes and then digs it out of her back pocket. “Damn, I’m totally not used to carrying around one of these anymore. Hang on.” She taps away on the phone, her thumbs moving quickly over the screen, then she puts it on the table. It only takes a few seconds before it buzzes again. She looks at it and smiles, holding it up for me to read.

  ‘I’m glad to hear you are okay. Tell him to behave or he’ll have the whole village to answer to. You’re one of us now.”

  My heart somersaults. Those simple words mean the world; to hear that she embraced my people, and that they loved her.

  “What makes you happy? More than fresh air and country life?”

  “Oh. Ehm… I used to love to take rides along the coast. I walked a lot. I liked to exhaust myself, work every muscle until they burned.”

  “So, you do like pain?”

  She scoffs. “Shut up. You want me to answer your question or not?”

  I gesture for her to continue as I pick up a piece of marinated asparagus.

  “Silly, brain dead TV shows. Music. I love music. I used to love to go to concerts.”

  “Yeah? What kind of music?”

  “Rock. Punk… Leather and lace kind of music.”

  “I listen to opera.”

  “How Godfather of you. ‘I’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse’.” She makes her voice grave, faking a heavy Italian accent.

  I laugh. “You’ve got that down to a T. I’m just kidding. I hate opera. I don’t have time for music, or movies, or concerts. I have very little free time.”

  “Can’t you decide that for yourself? Isn’t it your business?”

  I shrug. “I set the ball in motion
and it doesn’t stop rolling. People will question my authority if I slack off.”

  “You’ve seemed to have had a lot of time for me.”

  “I’ve been motivated.”

  She cocks her head. “Why?”

  I hold her gaze. I don’t know how to answer that. I wanted a plaything, a slave. Had she budged early on, she would have been that and nothing else. I would never have gotten to know her. I would never had seen her with my son, never have known her background. “I have no answer that would come out right.”

  “Since when do you care about that?”

  “Since now.”

  Chloe is silent for a long time. The air between us thickens. She drains her second glass and I refill it. “What changed?” she finally asks.

  “My whole world changed. Everything. I’m in a deep fucking pit and I’m trying to claw my way back up. I realized how wrong I’ve done you and I want to make it right.”

  “How?” she whispers. “How are you going to make it right?”

  “What do you want, Chloe?”

  “My freedom,” she says without hesitation, holding my gaze.

  My heart sinks. “You want to leave?”

  “Let me be free to come and go? Like… a normal person.”

  “I can do that.”

  Her eyes widen. “A car.”

  “Anything.”

  “My things? Where are my things?”

  I frown.

  “From my apartment,” she adds. “My stuff.”

  “Oh. I had them stored. I made it look like you moved.”

  Her face lights up. “Really? You went through a lot of trouble to throw a girl in chains.”

  “I had someone do it. No trouble.”

  “Perks of being the boss?”

  I shrug.

  “Your old bedroom, you’re redecorating it?”

  “I’m tearing down the whole wing. I’ll have it rebuilt.”

  “Do you have a plan for it?”

  “Some… but I haven’t had the time to sit down with the architect.”

  “I… That’s another passion of mine. I love to decorate. To have that whole part of the house to play with would be—”

  “It’s yours,” I say without hesitation. “Knock yourself out. I can’t wait to see what you do with it.”

  Her features brighten. “Cool.” She drains the last of the wine. “I’m tired.”

  Tired. Just that. Not demanding a key to a car.

  “Come,” I say and take her hand. “Let’s go to bed.”

  Chapter 33

  Luciano

  “Elena changed my life. We met in Chicago many years ago when I was nothing but a pup who rushed aimlessly through existence. She put me on my path and never let me stray. We began as friends and continued as business partners. When she wanted to move back home to care for her dying mother, I followed. She always had my back; she was always there. I miss her every minute, with every breath I take. She had one of the most brilliant minds I have ever come across, was loved by everyone she met, always had an ear for other’s troubles, and never asked for anything in return. Her passion for the weak, for the beaten and the cast outs was admirable, and she leaves an empty space in this town that will never be filled. I’m proud to have counted her as my friend.”

  I stand before the crowd, before the people who honor Elena’s life and who grieve her death. I’m the last one to talk. In front of me sit all the girls from the brothel, none of them looking even remotely seductive or cheap today. There are also a few people who were her friends outside the organization: two men and a woman, that I’ve never seen. Ivan sits next to an inconsolable Carmen who sobs constantly, clutching David’s hand. David squirms, looking uncomfortable in his black suit, tailored for this occasion in the softest possible material, with nothing that itches. He’s got red sneakers on that stand out like a sore thumb in all the black. Getting him into proper shoes was impossible. My eyes fall on Chloe, sitting next to my empty chair in the front, on the other side of David. We tiptoed around the subject for days, but finally she asked if I wanted her here.

  She looks somber, her eyes trained on me. There’s an invisible string between us, a pull. It’s more than sex. It’s been more than sex for a long while. The change began that day I found her next to David, sitting on the floor in the hallway. She comforted him. The door was unlocked, she could have run, but she prioritized the scared little child. I refused to acknowledge it for a long while, but inch by inch, disaster by disaster, she has become someone I can’t live without. Won’t. Burying Elena today hammers that fact in with deadly strength. I’ve fought my whole life to never let anyone close, to never love again for fear of losing it, but my experiment has become my own downfall.

  I need this woman.

  The sky is fittingly overcast and the grass is still wet from the morning rain. As we all stand, the priest says his final words and then the casket is lowered into the ground. I choke down the scream that wants to escape me. It’s not fair. She had so much time left. Should have had.

  A cool hand in mine makes me twitch. I look at Chloe and then down at our joined hands, squeezing a silent thank you.

  I really fucking need this woman.

  When we break up the gathering and move toward the cars parked to the side, I keep seeing the casket before me on repeat, that shovel of dirt thrown upon it, the red roses, the weeping girls. I hate that I can’t just call her, that I can’t show up late at night in her kitchen when I can’t sleep. I hate that she doesn’t exist anymore. I still can’t fathom it.

  Chloe stands next to me on the sidewalk, her fragile beauty enhanced by the black skirt and matching suit jacket with its wide collar, her hair in a simple bun at her neck. I put my hand on the backdoor to the car, then I drop my arm. She looks up and frowns.

  “Walk with me,” I say. I knock on the window and wait for it to slide open. “Wait for us outside.” I tilt my head toward the exit of the cemetery, then I put a hand in the small of Chloe’s back and pull her with me, away from the open grave, away from the flowers, and the silence of the dead.

  “Are you okay?” she asks.

  “How did you feel when your parents died? You were ten, you have to remember that day as if it was yesterday.”

  She looks down, inhales. “Time froze. It was as if the air suddenly got ice cold, and it was in the middle of the summer. We had a babysitter. Mom and Dad had been to the cinema. They had a date night every Wednesday. They got mugged and shot. Dad had tried to defend Mom. He was found lying partly across her body. The one shot had penetrated them both. I went to school the next day. I just couldn’t believe it. I was in such shock. The babysitter stayed the night. Then we went to an emergency foster home for a few weeks before an aunt agreed to take us in, one of Mom’s sisters. The other relatives didn’t live close and had children of their own. They didn’t step up. Neither did this aunt until she was told she’d make some money. I don’t think I mourned properly until years later, when I lashed out instead, got reckless, uncaring. My brothers got in with the wrong company. My little sister went missing. It tore us apart. We had no one who fended for us, and it all went to shit. I put the lid on. I think it hurt too much. It was the little things, you know, that kept stabbing me.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like coming down for breakfast and just getting a sandwich instead of milk and cereal and freshly cut fruit. Like always taking a left turn for the bathroom instead of a right.”

  “Because you weren’t living in your house anymore?”

  She nods.

  “You inherited money at least?”

  “Yeah, but dear Auntie managed to use it all up before we turned eighteen and could claim it.”

  “Is she still alive?”

  “I think so. I haven’t talked to her once since I moved out.”

  “Give me her address.”

  Chloe twitches. “Eh, no. What are you planning on doing?”

  “Have I not told you? No one fucks w
ith what’s mine.”

  “What the fuck? Luci. I know you’re messed up right now, with all that’s happened, you’re not thinking straight. Just leave it. It’s in the past. If you go poking, you’d hurt me, can’t you see that? I’ve moved on. I don’t think about her. Ever.”

  “You are now.”

  “You asked.”

  I cock my head in acknowledgement. True. “Very well.”

  We’ve reached a small stone wall at the end of the cemetery. Behind it there’s a grass covered riverbank and a slow flowing river. I hop over the wall, give Chloe my hand to help her climb it as well and then I sink down on it, my back to the graves, resting my eyes on the water.

  “I was five,” I say. “When my parents died.”

  “Oh my God. I didn’t know! I’m so sorry!”

  “Don’t be. It’s not your fault. I don’t remember it at all. I don’t remember them. My sister Bianca is ten years older. All impressions I’ve got of my parents, I got from what she told me, so I have all these faked memories I’ve built from a couple of worn photographs, and her stories.”

  “It’s horrible to lose your parents. There’s a hole inside you forever. It never mends. Every new milepost you pass, every achievement, you instinctively want to seek their approval, but there’s no one there.”

  I can’t relate to what she’s saying. All I remember is a childhood of pain and abandonment. My sister was–is–special. She did take me in, let me live under her and her husband Jackie’s roof, but she’s unable to show affection and the little kid I was needed it badly. She popped a few kids, which gave me a sense of connection, and later a few of them became my business partners. But seeking approval? I don’t think I ever did. I made my own luck, made sure that I’d never end up poor and dependent again. And I hated. I hated everyone and everything.

  “Yeah. There’s no one there,” I finally say. I don’t know what to say. I don’t talk about my shit. Not with anyone. Elena was the only one who knew everything, she made me forget temporarily. Our games, my increasingly brutal exploring of my sadistic side blanked out my mind for a few moments when we were together, put me in another space, and now she’s gone. I’ve sought it ever since, found it occasionally, lost myself in feeding off others terror instead of my own.