Bloodied Hands: A Dark Mafia Romance (Bellandi Crime Syndicate Book 1)

by Adelaide Forrest

  "That's a really good question," Sadie concurred, and I knew I would not get out of admitting the entire story. Not now that I'd started.

  "Can we just talk about this later?" I asked Sadie pointedly as I finished chopping my onion.

  "Nope, not happening, Ive." Duke crossed his arms over his chest. I fished my pan out, slipping butter in and hanging my head once the heat was on.

  "There was a slight incident at the restaurant," I admitted. "One of Matteo's business rivals became interested in me, cornered me in the bathroom. Matteo seems to think he's dangerous, so for the time being I'm stuck with Scar."

  "Shit," Sadie muttered, and I watched as Duke's eyes flared. He stood from the stool, striding around the island to turn off the heat on my stove.

  "Pack your shit, Ive."

  "Duke-" I protested. We'd been here before.

  "No, I let you try it your way. Do you see how well that worked out?" He pointed outside, where I could practically feel Scar watching our interactions through the mirror.

  "I can't."

  "Do not tell me you're getting sucked into his web again!" Sadie jumped up, hands on her hips. "Do you remember what happened last time? You were so happy with him, and fell so hard, and he crushed you!"

  "I'm not!" I ran my hands over my face. "I just, I don't think it will matter if I'm here or at your house. You don't know the full story yet." I knew my grimace was visible and watched as Duke's face morphed in anger.

  "What, Ivory?" Sadie's voice gentled, seeming to realize I was balancing delicately on the edge of sanity.

  "He was here this morning when I woke up," I whispered.

  "The goon? I figured he turned up at some point, since he's outside now," Duke said, and I turned wide eyes his way.

  "No. Not Scar, I mean him too." I sighed, even I knew I was doing a shit job of explaining a shitty situation. "Matteo."

  "What did he want? Introduce Scar?" Sadie asked, and I knew she was as confused as Duke looked.

  "Matteo was in bed with me when I woke up," I spat out.

  "You slept with him?" Sadie hissed, looking at me like I'd lost my mind.

  "No! I went to bed alone," I explained. "He—I think he picked the locks. Crawled into bed with me while I was sleeping. Scar and Matteo's security guy were down here when I tried to leave. They told me it would be pointless to run. That he would never stop," I gasped, feeling the weight of their stares on me.

  "Holy shit," Sadie whispered and her brow furrowed.

  "Duke?" I asked, watching as his face hardened to a point I'd never seen before.

  "He was in your bed with you? After he broke in?" I nodded, feeling tears pool in my eyes when he turned and strode out of my house without another word.

  "Duke!" I yelled, chasing after him.

  Sadie grabbed my arm, stopping me from following him out the door. "Let him go. He needs to cool off, think things through. You know how protective he is of you."

  I nodded, feeling like I'd fucked up again.

  I shouldn't have told them.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  "I don't know, Sadie. This time I really don't know."

  Ten

  Matteo

  I couldn't wait to get back to Ivory, but the life I lived stopped for no one. Taking a day off to spend with my angel just wasn't possible, especially not with Adrian sniffing around her like a rabid dog. Donatello poked his head in my office while Lino and I were going over some upgrades to one of the apartment buildings I owned within the city. "Paolo called. Mr. Bradley has left Miss Torres' home. In a fit, evidently."

  I smirked. "I can't imagine he's pleased to know I'm back in her life."

  Lino outright laughed. "Safe bet there. Wonder if he ever tapped that," he mused, and I leveled him with a glare. A lesser man would have cowered, but my beloved cousin only laughed in the face of what was a very real danger to his life. "When do I get to see her again? Is she still as hot as she was in high school?"

  Donatello stepped between us, likely saving Lino from very serious pain. "She will be my wife. You will not speak of her in that way again."

  Lino's eyes widened, and he barked out a laugh. "Holy shit. Didn't realize you were quite that serious about it, man. I just enjoy pushing your buttons."

  "I think I'd like to break your pretty fucking face," I growled.

  "I would advise saving that anger for people who want to harm Ivory," Donatello inserted, distracting me from turning Lino's face into a bag of meat. "With Ricci's interest, a message needs to be sent about what happens to people who cross the line with her. It's your best chance of keeping her safe if you truly intend to install her at your side permanently."

  I picked up the paperweight from my desk, the one fairly personal touch I allowed in a room that saw crime daily. The sea green globe reminded me of Ivory's eyes and had become a fixture in my life soon after I'd walked away from her. "Well, Ryker got a lock on the guys who robbed the bank. He's waiting for you if you'd like to convey a message," Lino said with a smug look. The bastard had been sitting on that information, withholding it from me the entire time he sat in my office, and we discussed apartment building renovations like I gave a shit about the specifics.

  "Call him. Now. Tell him to grab them and meet me at the warehouse," I ordered, already striding out of the office. I grabbed my phone out of my pocket, dialing Ivory's number. I'd programmed mine into her phone when I'd snuck into her bedroom the night before, so her voice was predictably guarded when she answered.

  "Of course, you went through my phone. Leaving no stone unturned when it comes to invading my privacy, huh?" I smiled, loving even that bit of fight and sass she had that hadn't been there before. I'd loved her innocent, but the slightly harder woman she'd become would be better prepared to live a life at my side.

  "I'm taking you out tonight. I'll be at your place at six." She started to protest, but it fell on deaf ears when I hung up the phone with a grin.

  My little angel was about to be mine again, in every sense of the word.

  And she had no idea.

  ✽✽✽

  It was a struggle to wipe the smile off my face when I made it to the warehouse. The warehouse was located inside my territory, a necessary evil when you wanted to be sure no innocent bystanders heard victims scream. Riverdale was one of the worst areas of Chicago, and it was a very rare occasion that someone was foolhardy enough to play the good Samaritan in that area. Regardless, the abandoned building wasn't welcoming in the slightest, but the locked room that had once served as a freezer was fantastic for ensuring nobody ever stumbled across someone I needed to keep around for a while.

  I should have been surprised to see Ryker's van parked in the back.

  I wasn't.

  As soon as the man found them, I had little doubt he'd set things in motion to get them here. He was efficient, his obsessive tendencies required nothing less. But there was nothing he hated more than an innocent woman getting wrapped up in a dangerous situation that she had nothing to do with. Even if I hadn't demanded blood because they'd put a gun in my woman's face, Ryker would have.

  He had strange values, considering he was my most violent enforcer and nothing fazed the man. I'd seen him do some fucked up shit and never blink. But he didn't do women or kids.

  Said that was the one thing his woman could never forgive. Not that he had a woman, or at least, not one who was aware he’d claimed her, since she was already married to another man.

  I shook my head, because obsessive didn't cover it.

  The man was a stalker.

  I knocked on the steel, exterior door, and Ryker opened it up quickly. "Took you long enough," he grunted, turning and striding away. I turned the deadbolt, locking out any trespassers.

  "I was on my way when Lino called," I snorted, and he leveled me with a dark grin.

  "I may have already had them in my van." He shrugged his nonchalance, but it was fake. His steel-blue eyes glittered with excitement.

>   There was a reason the man was my best enforcer. Violence simmered in his blood, an unending rage that never seemed to quiet. I'd never asked where it came from. Even I didn't dare. Ryker was not the man you asked questions about himself. He was loyal, friendly with me and my other guys, but his life started when he joined up. He didn't have a past, was a ghost before he came to me.

  That was something I understood.

  So we didn't push. People who did ended up dead.

  "How many?" I asked. I hadn't been able to ask Ivory exactly how many men had thought to rob the bank. I'd been flooded with too many emotions after over a decade of feeling nothing—suddenly overwhelmed by rage and fear and relief and real lust.

  "Four. From what I can tell, three were inside and one was the getaway driver. He never even laid eyes on your girl. Should we let him live?"

  I hummed. "We'll see how I feel in the moment." Ryker smirked, and I knew he was relishing the fact that for once, I would enjoy the violence I took part in. Too often I was just a cold spectator, rarely getting involved myself unless I needed to send a very serious message.

  Not this time. Not when it came to my Angel.

  When he opened the door to the freezer, I let my face slide into that cold mask that the rest of the world knew. "Mr. Bellandi!" One man started in as soon as I filled the room with my presence. Ryker stepped off to the side, leaning against his table where he kept his tools. His ass hit it, and he grabbed one of his picks that he normally used to insert under fingernails. The crazy fuck set to cleaning out under his own nails with it, and if I'd been in any situation where I could have, I'd have laughed my ass off at the horrified look one of the more bloodied men shot his way. "We didn't touch her. I swear!" the man blubbered on.

  "Yeah? Tell me how it went down," I challenged, crossing my arms over my chest and staring down the four men strapped down to wooden chairs that Ryker would throw in the incinerator after he finished up. I listened to the most bloodied man rattle on through his story, admitting that he'd pointed his gun at Ivory, but realized who she was as soon as he got close enough. Every muscle I had tensed, picturing what her terror must have looked like as she stared down the barrel of a gun for wanting to help an old lady. I could imagine the slime ball in front of me probably had filthy thoughts while he stared at her. Knowing the way Ivory seemed to draw people into her orbit, had there been need of a hostage, they'd have taken her.

  My Angel.

  Visions of her broken and bleeding body flashed in front of my eyes, and I reached behind my back to grab the handgun I'd tucked in there before leaving the estate. As soon as I held it in front of me, flicking off the safety, the man began to tremble. "Please, please no." I stepped forward, pressing the gun against his forehead. The stench of urine struck me, his pants wet as terror undoubtedly took over.

  "You scared my woman. Can you imagine how she must have felt now?" My voice sounded colder than normal, even for me.

  "Yes! Yes, she must have been terrified," he blubbered.

  "And yet, she didn't piss herself. One Hell of a woman, if you ask me," Ryker chimed in from the sidelines, watching with interest.

  I smirked at him, silently confirming everything he suspected of Ivory. He'd meet her for himself soon enough, and it filled me with pride to know that my friends, my men, would lay down their lives to keep her safe. I'd come a long way from the scrawny little boy who'd had to leave her for her own good.

  I'd burn the world down if it meant she was safe.

  I pulled the gun away from his face, watching as it morphed with relief. I fired a shot into his thigh, relishing in the way he screamed out his pain. Blood welled from the wound, turning his jeans an even darker hue. "You shot him!" One other protested. "You fucking shot him." I nodded to Ryker, who set down his tool and joined me as I shoved the gun back into my pants after hitching the safety on. Stripping off my suit jacket, I tossed it over the back of one of the spare chairs we kept in the corner. I undid my cufflinks, rolling up my shirt sleeves. Couldn't get them bloody before my date.

  My fist connected with the nose of the man who seemed to think a gunshot wound to the thigh was the end of the world. The sound of a nose crunching beside me meant Ryker had taken to giving the men a stern reminder of exactly who I was.

  Who Ivory was by association.

  "I'm feeling generous," I announced. "You get to live." I struck again, hitting the soft flesh of the man's belly. He groaned his pain, and I glanced out the side of my eye to see the man I'd shot panting so hard he steadily approached unconsciousness. "The only reason you're not dead is because you brought her back to me. I'm feeling thankful for that."

  "Yes, Sir," the smartest one grunted, taking Ryker's next punch like a pro. We set to giving them a reminder they would never forget.

  No one touched Ivory. No one looked at her wrong.

  Or they'd end up dead.

  Or beaten to shit at the very least.

  Eleven

  Ivory

  My phone rang on the counter, and I jumped so hard I nearly sliced my finger off while chopping chives. That stupid man had me afraid of my shadow.

  I wiped my hands off quickly, swiping the screen to connect the call even though I was really, really tempted to ignore it. "Hello?"

  "Hey, Angel," Matteo's gruff voice said over the line. "I'm on my way to you."

  I sighed, rubbing my temple in frustration. "I'm working. I can't go out tonight."

  "I have a feeling you'll be trying that excuse often. What are you making?" I shoved down the twinge of excitement at the prospect of Matteo eating my food. I loved feeding people, to where I preferred cooking for dates and boyfriends rather than having sex with them. At least I knew I was good at cooking.

  "Prime rib," I said hesitantly, glancing at the oven and roast that would be ready to pull out within a few minutes.

  "What a coincidence," he said, and I could hear the smirk in his voice. "I love prime rib, and I can't imagine you'll eat it all yourself."

  "I was planning on bringing some to Duke. His muse has been insane lately, and he forgets to eat if I don't feed him," I responded, wincing when Matteo's snort sounded over the phone.

  "I'll just bet he does," he said mysteriously. "I'll be there in fifteen."

  "Matteo!" I called out, hissing out an annoyed breath when he hung up on me again. I glanced over at my camera sitting on the dining room table, asking myself why I'd bothered with putting off cooking until so late that my pictures would suck.

  Oh, right. I'd wanted the excuse to not go out with Matteo.

  The timer went off, and I grabbed my oven mitts to pull the prime rib out of the oven. The wire rack over the pan served as an effective cooling rack, and I transferred it to set over a cutting board so I could use the drippings to make my au jus.

  With that finished, I snapped my photos of all the completed components before I sliced into the prime rib and prepped up three plates. One I popped into the fridge for Duke, knowing I'd shoot him a text that it was waiting for him if he got hungry. I'd just finished wrapping up Duke's plate when my front door opened, and I spun around quickly.

  “I locked that for a reason," I pointed out, staring at Matteo's stunning face as he stripped off his suit jacket while he prowled toward me. He tossed his jacket, so it landed on one of the stools at the island, stepping into my space until his torso pressed into my chest. I gritted my teeth, staring at the spot where his white dress shirt was open at the top. Even all wrapped up in a fine suit and with the potential to be a gentleman, Matteo somehow managed a small rebellion from the norm that hinted at just how ungentlemanly he could be. The lightest dusting of hair peeked out from the bottom of the opening in his shirt, yet another reminder that the boy was gone. Replaced by a beast of a man who was nothing but bad for me. His hand reached out, running a thumb over my bottom lip as he tilted my face up to his. Soft, coaxing lips touched mine, and I had to fixate on remaining still. I wouldn't make the same mistake I'd made the night before, wouldn
't kiss the devil in front of me.

  He pulled back, an evil knowing in his eyes as he stared down at me. He knew exactly what game I was playing, that my lack of reception to his kiss had nothing to do with being unaffected and everything to do with trying to prevent myself from falling under his spell. "I told you, you need an alarm system." He took my hand, guiding me over to the breakfast nook where I'd set the plates and put out a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. I knew it wouldn't be up to Matteo's standards, but I wouldn't have bothered if I'd been able to stomach not having wine with prime rib. I didn't want him to read into it, but Cabernet was just perfect. He put me in a seat, somehow knowing it was the seat I always sat in, with my back to the windows so I could see my kitchen—my inspiration. He took his own seat, pouring the wine into our glasses without commenting on the wine itself.

  "Would an alarm system keep you out?" I asked after the silence grew too large for my tastes.

  "What do you think?" He grinned, a flash of teeth that spoke to just how animalistic the man was.

  I sighed, rolling my eyes to the ceiling. "Then what exactly is the point in having one? If it doesn't keep intruders out of my home?"

  "I'm not an intruder, Angel. Soon enough, you'll welcome me into your home and bed. We both know these little games will be futile." He picked up his fork and knife, slicing through the prime rib that melted like butter in his hands.

  I couldn't blame it.

  Popping the meat into his mouth, he paused, chewing thoughtfully before emitting a deep moan of satisfaction that made me press my thighs together. "That's fucking incredible."

  I shrugged, picking up my glass and sipping at my wine. "It's just prime rib."

  And it was. Just great prime rib.

  "You're gifted. Truly." Matteo's voice was astonished, as if he was seeing something about me for the first time. It suddenly felt too intimate, which was ridiculous. My cooking was far from a secret. Thousands of people read my blog every day, but something about Matteo had always seen beneath the surface to every facet of my being.