“You’re seriously going to keep me locked up in here naked?” I can’t believe it.
“Yes, I am. When I think you’ve learned your lesson, I’ll let you know when you can wear clothes again.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” He’s crazy. No one behaves this way.
“Don’t push me, Princesca. Unless you want another spanking. That was a punishment, not for pleasure.”
My cheeks heat with embarrassment.
“I hate you,” I rasp.
He gives me that disarming smile and takes a few steps closer so he can loom over me. “No, you don’t, but that’s a subject for another time.”
My lips part to tell him he’s wrong, but my voice catches when the flicker of something deep within his eyes catches and holds my attention, throwing off my thoughts.
“How do you expect me to love you if you treat me like shit!” I wail.
The wild smirk on his face is another tell that foolishness has fallen from my lips again.
“I don’t expect your love. That is not what this is about.” His gaze becomes a stony glare. In the depths of his piercing eyes I see this whole ordeal isn’t just about money. There’s more to it.
He has money. He has power. What I see when I look at him is a thirst for revenge.
Revenge against Dad.
What did my father do to him? What did Dad do that would have such a repercussion on me?
Why do I have to pay for my father’s sins?
When he turns, I see the massive dragon tattooed on his whole back. Dark and inky, filling up the space. He heads to the window, locks it with the little key, and places it in the same pocket he stored my panties. Then he leaves me. Once again naked.
Naked and thinking of how the hell I’m going to get out of here.
I need to find a way to escape.
How though?
Massimo will make sure I don’t get the chance.
Chapter Eight
Massimo
She’s right. I’m a monster.
I just acted like one.
Is that who I am though? The man I’ve become. Has the thirst for revenge changed me into something I never wanted to be? Have my years of waiting for an opportunity to destroy Riccardo made me the kind of man who would prey on an innocent woman?
Woman… fuck. She’s barely that. She’s nineteen, and I’m twenty-nine. Ten years apart. I should know better. My fucking cock might stir for her, and I might have wanted to fuck her senseless, but truth is truth. She’s a virgin in every sense of the word. Never been kissed and never been touched, until I defiled her with my dirty mobster hands. Dirty Sicilian. If anybody witnessed what I did today and called me that, they’d be well in their right.
I’d agree. And I might do it all over again and feel shame all over again just to feel her lush ass jiggle beneath my palms.
It was wrong. All of it is wrong. She’s innocent in this mess, but she’s a necessary part of the plan to destroy Riccardo. Taking his heir will destroy him in more ways than one.
She’s my stolen virgin bride. I took the princess, stole her from Daddy’s nest and watched him sign her away to me. Phase one complete.
But fuck… she’s driving me crazy. The woman is driving me crazy and fucking insane if I can bring myself to admit to feeling an ounce of jealousy over her pathetic friend.
I’m drawn to her, attracted to her. The fact that she’s attracted to me too wasn’t really in the cards. It’s screwing with my mind, and I realize I didn’t plan for this part.
I’m turned on by lust and my dominance over her. Two days in, and I can’t seem to control myself. The lust is like a thirst for blood that leaves me wanting more. I fucking shouldn’t feel this way.
I head down the corridor and walk past Candace as she polishes the table on the second floor. She watches me as I deposit the bag of clothes in the room I use to store things. It’s two doors down from Emelia’s.
Usually, Candace would talk to me, but she says nothing. Not even good morning. Most bosses of my caliber would consider that insolence and kill her for it. We have a different relationship here.
Candace and Priscilla are the only two members of my house staff I treat like family. They’re also the only members of my house staff who aren’t terrified of me.
They know I won’t kill them if they cross me because their families have worked for mine for generations, right from Sicily. That’s why she’s acting like a younger sister would now, by giving me the silent treatment.
I grew up with Candace, so she is like a sister to me, and I treat her as such, even though she works for me. We both know she doesn’t have to do that though.
Priscilla was my nanny when I was a boy. When I got in last night with blood on my hands, she didn’t say shit to me one way or the other. She just handed me a rag and bowl of hot water, no words spoken. Neither she nor Candace have to tell me that they don’t agree with what I’m doing to Emelia.
Regardless to how I treat them, however, they know their place and would never state their opinion.
It was Priscilla who messaged me to let me know what was going on here yesterday. Emelia refused everything.
I thought having Candace and Priscilla tend to Emelia would be a good idea. Candace is twenty-five, so not that much older than Emelia, and Priscilla has that motherly presence. I guess I was wrong.
Candace returns her focus to her work and ignores me. The flush in her cheeks, however, suggests she probably heard Emelia’s screams. We weren’t exactly quiet or mindful of anyone hearing us, and her room is just down the hall. Candace would have definitely heard, and it would have sounded like I was torturing her.
Maybe it’s best she doesn’t talk to me today. I wouldn’t know what to say anyway, and I don’t want to end up confessing that I took out my frustration on Emelia over the recent shit with Pierbo.
I don’t wish to talk to anyone right now, except the guy waiting for me in the hall. When I get to the doorway, I see him. Tristan is standing by the massive fireplace, looking at my favorite painting Ma did.
Emelia is an artist. My mother was an artist too. She painted just for us.
When we all got our separate houses, Pa split up some of our favorite paintings so we could each have some. I got the majority because I have the biggest house.
Tristan turns when he sees me and raises a brow.
“Jesus Christ, what the fuck happened to you? You look like you’ve been bitten by wolves,” he muses and laughs.
I run my hand over my cheek where Emelia scratched me. Clawed me is a more fitting word.
“Don’t ask,” I seethe. He shakes his head at me.
“Like fuck. You have to tell me what happened.” He smirks.
“She slapped me,” I answer.
He laughs. “You’re serious? Does she have claws?”
“Tristan, please. Don’t. It’s all shit. Come, let’s go outside.” I need fresh air to help me cool off.
I walk on ahead through the double doors that lead onto the terrace. I was out here earlier, working out, and I left my T-shirt slung over the patio chair. I grab it, shrug into it, and sink down into the awaiting seat. Tristan sits opposite me and pulls out a document from the inside pocket of his leather jacket.
“What is that?” I ask.
“Shit that suggests we’re right. It suggests Pierbo didn’t really kill himself.” He hands me the document. I scan over it.
It’s an itinerary for a package holiday booked for a weekend. Next weekend. At the top of the page, in the column with the contact details, is Pierbo’s name along with a woman’s. Sheila Carmichael.
“Sheila… who’s she?”
“The woman who is carrying his child. He was going to take her away for the weekend. According to the preliminary autopsy records from the coroner’s office, he spoke to her a few hours before he died. Sheila said he called to tell her to pack sunscreen.” He frowns and straightens up. “That doesn’t sound like someone who would kill th
emselves a few hours later, does it?”
“Like fuck,” I answer.
The thing about this is, I don’t know where to go from here. We spent the whole day yesterday trying to find answers. While Dominic and Andreas did their own checking around, Tristan and I took to the streets. I hated going to the morgue and seeing a guy I could trust dead on the slab. Lifeless. I hate it more that there was a ninety-percent chance that his death was caused by Riccardo.
No proof though. All damn day, we moved from one area to the next, talking to one asshole after another, getting blood on my hands when I had to kill a prick who tried to stab me.
“What now? We’ve come to a dead end,” Tristan states.
I shake my head. “I don’t know. We gotta go with what’s on paper for the moment. Just until something says otherwise. Clearly, Riccardo got to him out of spite, but fuck, Tristan. It’s Pierbo. How does anybody get to a guy like that?”
“I don’t know. And it doesn’t sit well with me. Nothing adds up to anything more than what they’re calling it.”
I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. “We need to focus and stick to the plan. There’s too much going on to lose focus.” Especially for me.
I have big things happening over the next few weeks. The first is the Syndicate meeting where I’ll be initiated. After that will be an official family dinner where Pa will give me the ring and declare me to the family as boss. We have family flying over from Italy for that and other members of the D’Agostino clan attending. It’s a big deal. Then there’s the damn fundraiser I’d rather skip but have to attend because it makes the company look good. Riccardo will be there too. I’ll be taking Emelia to that, which will be the next time she sees him. That’s three weeks away. The week after is the wedding.
Anything could happen in the space of that time, so I need to keep my eyes open and my ear to the ground. I don’t doubt that Riccardo will be plotting some way to get Emelia back. I know he will.
“We can’t lose focus. That would be a big mistake. Andreas and I will sort things out for the company and keep an eye on Riccardo. Dominic will do his stuff. Everybody knows what they’re supposed to be doing, so don’t worry. You just be boss. It’s not an overnight job, especially doing the Syndicate business.”
He’s right about that. If it were only about learning how to run business for D’Agostinos, it wouldn’t be too bad. Pa prepped all of us to do that. The Syndicate is different, and my initiation will just be the start. The Brotherhood is a whole other ball game of power. The next level of unimaginable wealth. Wealth I never dreamed of having. Definitely not when we had nothing. Those guys talk in billions, not even millions. That’s why Riccardo is screwed. He couldn’t even scrape together a million dollars to give us, let alone the twenty-five owed.
“Thanks, I appreciate it, brother.” I raise my fist and bump it with his.
“No worries. So… you look shaken by this girl. What’s going on, Massimo? Where is she?” He smiles.
“Locked in her room.” Naked. I won’t tell him that part.
“Gonna keep her locked up forever?” He quirks a brow.
“Tristan, I don’t know what to do with her, and I don’t need to be told this is crazy. It is.”
“Of course, it is, but I sense you like her…” He gives me a curious stare. “The marriage was your idea.”
“It made sense. How else would we screw with the whole aspect of the Balesteri inheritance?”
“Fucking fuck the inheritance. Don’t give me that bullshit. You liked her at the ball.” He nods. I incline my head to the side.
This is what happens when people know you too well. Tristan isn’t just my brother; he’s my best friend. Nothing gets past him.
“Didn’t everybody?” I say as a final attempt. The way I remember it, every man with eyes who wasn’t happily attached at that charity ball was looking at her. They all wanted her.
“Fuck, who cares about everybody? Massimo, no one would fault you for acting on what she is instead of who she is.” He nods.
I have to laugh. “It’s the same fucking thing. Who and what.”
He shakes his head. “Nah. It’s not.” He gives me a wicked smile. “She’s Riccardo’s daughter. That’s who she is. The enemy’s daughter. But she’s a woman. That’s what she is. A very beautiful woman who belongs to you. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice that part.”
I sit back in my chair. “I noticed just fine.” And so did my cock.
Two times I’ve had her naked pressed against me, and both times I’ve wanted to devour her. Both times, I was very well aware that she’s a goddess with the body made for the way I like to fuck.
Tristan smiles. “So that’s it. You’ll marry her, and it will be shit? Or are you going to live at the strip club? Noticed how you didn’t go last night. Or maybe you got your dick wet here.”
“Tristan, drop it. This is business.”
“And what business is business without a little pleasure mixed in? When you have the kind of money we have, you’re king. You can do whatever shit you want.”
Footsteps echo against the pavement, and my next words fade.
Priscilla walks toward us. Beside her is the woman who’s probably the closest I could have called to a girlfriend. Gabriella Mineola. Her platinum blonde hair looks like a halo on top of her head, and the smile on her face is filled with the mischief we always get up to when she’s in town.
Tristan leans over to me. “Oh, I see. I didn’t know you were still getting your dick wet with her,” he states, voice filled with disdain. He can’t stand her.
“I’m not,” I answer just before Priscilla and Gabriella reach us.
Tristan and I stand. Priscilla simply gives a quick bow of her head then departs. Gabriella looks from me to Tristan, and her smile brightens, reaching her large green eyes.
“Massimo and Tristan D’Agostino. I think it’s been awhile since I’ve seen the two of you together,” she states, putting out her hand for us to kiss her knuckles.
Being polite, for me, Tristan gives her a handshake. I don’t touch her.
“I’m going to run,” Tristan states. “Remember what I said,” he adds, eyeing me with a sharp seriousness.
He’s talking about Emelia. I give him a nod before he leaves us. I return my focus to Gabriella, who is already looking at me. Her gaze turning more seductive by the second.
“Gabriella. Haven’t seen you in a while,” I state.
“I was travelling.”
It’s a fucking lie. The truth is, she had an affair with Senator Braxton. His wife found out, and he, instead of leaving his wife like she thought he was going to, he kicked her to the curb. I’ll pretend I was born yesterday, though, like she believes, and accept that she was travelling.
“Sounds good.”
“Look at you. How do you get more sexier every time I see you?”
“Don’t know.”
She runs her finger over my chest but keeps her gaze trained on me. “Remember the last time we saw each other?”
“I do.” I remember well. She stayed the whole weekend here, and we never left my bed.
Her father is the head of the Mineola family. They’re incredibly wealthy and have wanted to invest in D’Agostinos for many years. Every time they made an offer, Pa declined. He’s strong that way. Knowing when to accept an offer and when to reject because of the shit that might follow. Me, not so much. I’ve never been able to decline this woman my bed, or… wherever desire might take us. She just hasn’t ventured to my parts in close to a year.
She chuckles and presses a perfectly manicured finger into my chest. “Me too. It was nice. So, there was news abroad of your ascension to leadership. And your engagement.”
That would have gone out yesterday. News travels fast in our circles. I can just imagine the talk about it. Me, the ruthless D’Agostino prince and the sweet Balesteri princess. Two families people know to be former enemies. Two families only certain special people know to belong to the Bro
therhood. What a stir we must have created.
“Yes, I’m getting married,” I answer to that alone because she would have heard about me being boss months ago. That’s old news and nothing that would send her here.
She gazes out to the beach and lifts her head, signaling for me to look.
“Won’t you take me for a walk on the beach? It’s such a lovely day. Just want to get one last fill before the lady of the house takes her reign.” She gives me a saucy smile. One I don’t return.
I’ll walk with her on the beach, though, because we should talk, and I know that eyes are watching us. I’m certain Priscilla is watching from somewhere, and I don’t want more judgment today.
I wave my hand, and we head down the path.
The beach was what I loved about this property. I’ve always loved living near water. It was a given that I’d be the brother to choose the beach house. My other brothers live more in-land. Tristan, however, loves the woods. He likes being away from people, likes his space.
As soon as we take the last step down the path, we’re on the beach. It’s a private beach that came with the property. I have two miles of it before it connects with the rest of Redondo Beach.
Gabriella’s hair lifts in the wind. It looks like strands of sunlight. She turns to face me when we get further out.
“Are you going to invite me to the wedding?” she muses.
“We haven’t decided yet who we’ll be inviting.” That’s the nicest anybody will get from me. She knows the answer is no.
“Maybe I’ll get a different invite. I can’t imagine you with an inexperienced girl,” she says and circles me like a cat marking its territory. “I heard she’s pretty,” she states.
“She is,” I answer.
I plan to be very straightforward with her. In times like these, no one can tell friend from foe.
Just because we used to screw around doesn’t mean she’s here to get back in my bed. Or maybe she is. This was how it started in the past. We’d meet and we’d fuck, then we’d leave. Until next time.
“It figures. I always wondered what the Balesteri Princess looked like. Riccardo kept her away from the world. No one ever knew who she was.”
Ruthless Prince : A Dark Mafia Arranged Marriage Romance (Dark Syndicate Book 1) Page 7
