We'd tried to do it a few times before, but he just couldn't fit inside—a terrible combination of me being too small and him having an abnormally large dick. When he'd notice that he was hurting me too much, he would promptly stop, concerned. The most he'd gotten in had been the head, and while it had hurt, it had also felt heavenly. I would have taken all the pain if he would just shove it in and be done with it. But no, he'd reacted like he was the one hurting.
For someone who claims he doesn't have feelings he'd sure shown more consideration than a lot of people would have.
I sigh just thinking about it.
"Soon," he whispers, suddenly rising up to dress.
I watch him with interest, thinking it wouldn't be bad at all to have this every day.
"Soon..." I repeat, a little disappointed.
It's later when I emerge from my room that Marcello calls me to his study, a grave expression on his face.
For a moment, I fear he knows about Vlad, and I'm ready to deny everything to my dying breath. After all, I don't want any blood spilled, as I have no doubt would happen if he knew what we were really up to.
I don't really understand how their relationship works. Both claim to be friends, but Marcello would rather keep Vlad at arms' length, certainly far away from the family. And seeing how a so-called friend treats him, I can't help but feel sorry for Vlad. Why is it that no one tries to understand his side too?
"Sisi," Marcello rises up, "I have something I need to talk to you about, and I need your discretion."
"Yes, of course," I reply, frowning a little at his request.
"You know the situation with Lina and Sacre Coeur," he goes on to tell me that he suspects another mob family, Guerra, might have had something to do with the death of the nun.
"As retaliation for Father Guerra you mean," I add and he nods.
"Father Guerra was the nephew of Benedicto, the current capo. It stands to reason they would want some type of revenge. However, in my interactions with Benedicto, I have not been able to gauge any hidden grudges. On the contrary, he's been very enthusiastic about working together and..." he trails off, looking a little uncomfortable.
"And?"
Marcello grimaces. "He's been particularly vocal about introducing you to his son."
"His son?" I ask numbly, not sure I understand where this is going.
"His son, Rafaelo, is around your age and..." He seems mightily uncomfortable.
"Out with it Marcello. What is it with his son?"
He takes a deep breath. "He's hoping there might be a match between the two of you."
My eyes widen in disbelief and I'm ready to make up an excuse, anything to not have to deal with that. But Marcello quickly amends his words.
"Of course, I told him it could only be your choice, but he wants a meeting at least. To see if you suit."
"I see," I reply, a little unenthusiastically.
"I know it's a lot to ask, but can you at least pretend to spend some time with him? I'm still not sure about Guerra's intentions and it would be a good way to observe them."
"But I don't have to marry him, right?" I need to make sure that's not on the table.
"No. Unless you want to that is," he gives me a tight smile. "I should warn you that his son has some... problems." He continues to tell me about his stutter and his shy personality.
Seeing that he's not in a hurry to marry me off, I agree to his plan, promising to entertain Rafaelo when the time comes.
Well, to my everlasting surprise, the time comes way sooner than I would have anticipated, with Benedicto, his wife and Rafaelo coming for a surprise visit.
We're all gathered in the drawing room, before Benedicto and Marcello retire to the study to talk business.
Lina and I are left with his wife, Cosima, and Rafaelo. Cosima looks to be about forty, her features clear, her style elegant and put together. She also seems to be quite the talker as she starts parroting about this and that, her voice already grating on my nerves.
Rafaelo, on the other hand, is quietly sitting by his mother's side, shoulders slumped, head bent forward as if he doesn't even dare meet our eyes. In fact, he barely manages to say his greetings without passing out in a swoon.
Do men even swoon?
Rafaelo is certainly prone to it, as he sways on his feet, a deep blush on his features.
"Assisi, what a lovely name you have." Cosima tries to involve me in their conversation, her eyes looking me up and down, no doubt judging me.
"Thank you." I reply drily, but still try to keep a poker face.
"Now, tell me, what are your thoughts on marriage?" Cosima jumps right in, and I have to struggle not to laugh in her face at her lack of tact.
"M—M—mother," Raf interject, trying his best to form some words. "s... stop."
"Nonsense, Raf!" She shuts her son down, returning her gaze to me.
"I haven't thought about it since I was supposed to take my vows before I left Sacre Coeur." I give her a neutral enough answer, trying not to show how much I'm starting to dislike her.
"There's enough time for that, dear," she casually says. "Why don't you two go over there and get to know each other better." She's not even trying to mask her intentions as she dismisses us.
I mutter a curse under my breath, but keep a smile on my face as I move couches with Rafaelo.
For the longest time, he just sits next to me, his gaze on the ground. Certainly, he doesn't even seem to acknowledge my presence. He's slumping down, almost as if there's something interesting on the floor that has his rapt attention.
I take a moment to study him and I note that he wouldn't be unattractive if not for his awful body language. It almost seems forced with how tense his shoulders seem as he tries to maintain his posture.
"This is boring, isn't it?" I try to break the ice, the silence even more unnerving.
He slowly turns his head towards me, his eyes still downcast as he looks anywhere but at me.
"I don't bite," I feel the need to add, "or judge," I shrug, leaning back in my seat. "We're going to be here for a while, so we might as well get to know each other."
Something about his presence is awfully pitiful, and it's not his stutter. No, there's an aura of perpetual sadness lingering around him.
"W-w-why?" he asks, his face tilted towards me.
"Why talk? I don't know. It's what humans do?" I try to crack a joke, and for a split second I fear I may have offended him, since he doesn't talk very well.
But then the hint of a smile appears on his face.
"Th-they d-do, d-d-don't th-they?" He asks, his stutter slightly more pronounced.
I frown a little, something niggling at my mind as I start studying him more.
"So talk away. Tell me about yourself." I prompt him, wanting to test a hypothesis.
God, I sound like Vlad now.
Too much time in his presence and already my brain is syncing with his. I'm becoming paranoid about everything and everyone.
On that thought, though, I need to ensure Vlad doesn't get wind of Guerra or their intentions towards me. I don't think I'd want their blood on my hands, all things considered. It would just bring about a mob Armageddon, as Vlad likes to call it.
Damn it, I need to stop thinking about him for a second. Or think like him...
Turning my attention to Raf, I watch the play of emotions on his face as he's trying to find his words.
"I l-like rocks," he eventually says. "I s-tudy rocks a-t university," he continues, lifting his eyes to meet mine for the first time.
Damn, but I wasn't prepared for that.
His eyes are the lightest shade of blue I've ever seen, his blonde hair only bringing out their unusual hue.
"Cool," I reply, my knowledge of rocks pretty limited. "Why do you like rocks?"
"They d-don't talk."
I stare at him for a second before bursting out into laughter. Realizing it might be misconstrued as me making fun of him, I immediately stop. But one look at his face and he see
ms more relaxed than before.
"You're funny." I add, stifling a smile.
He's slow, but his mouth tugs up in one too.
"I've n-never been c-called funny b-before," he says, and again, I note a strange pattern with his speech.
"Probably because you don't talk much?" I raise an eyebrow at him. Instead of being offended, he just shrugs, but there's amusement on his face.
"You're n-not what I-I imagined." He tells me, leaning back on to the couch and making himself more comfortable. His posture opens up a little, his back no longer so humped back.
"And what did you imagine?" I ask, curious about it, but also needing to hear him talk more.
"I d-d-on't know... A n-nun?" he asks, cracking a joke for the first time.
"Fair enough." I reply, and we continue to make some small talk. He still speaks in short sentences, almost as if he is afraid of saying too much at once.
I note Cosima watching us intently from the other end of the room, no wonder assessing the situation and her son's prospects.
But the more I engage Rafaelo in conversation, the more I notice things. It's in the way everything is manufactured, from his posture to his voice, and then there's his speech.
"You don't really have speech issues, do you?" I lean forward, whispering in his ear.
"Wh-what d-d-o y-you m-mean?" he asks, and I feel my lips stretch into a smile at the silent confirmation.
"You stutter only the second word in a sentence when you're relaxed, as if it's a taught pattern, but you stutter the entire sentence when you want to prove a point." I shrug, this observation being one of many I've drawn over our rather short acquaintance. More than anything, I see the way his body reacts to outside stimuli, as if he's making a conscious effort to close himself in and coordinate his movements.
"I-I d-don't k-know wh-what y-you m-mean...." he tries to defend himself, but I note his rigid posture. If I'd been wrong, he would have been upset, maybe drawing himself back and away from me. Instead, he's holding himself tight, tension coiled in his muscles. It's more like an animal ready to pounce than one on the verge of running away.
When you spend years running away from people who mean you harm, you start learning some patterns. The body never lies, even when the mouth does.
"Raf, dear! It's time to go!" Cosima's voice rings in the room, and there's a hint of relief on Rafaelo's face.
He rises from the couch, resuming his slouched posture as he makes to stagger to his mother's side.
"Don't worry," I stop him, my hand on his shoulder. "Your secret is safe with me," I wink at him.
I don't know why he'd present himself in such a negative light, but that's his business.
Everyone has secrets.
We get back to Lina and Cosima. They are still engaged in conversation as Raf takes his spot by his mother's side.
Hand in his pocket, he draws it quickly, something small falling to the ground. We both lean down to pick it up, and I realize it's a tiny brown rock.
He pushes it towards me, his gaze clear as it meets mine for the first time.
"Thank you," he whispers, no trace of the previous stutter.
I pick up the rock, playing with it in my hands as I watch them leave.
Interesting.
Humming a soft melody to myself, I pull the thread through, satisfied at the design starting to take shape. Lina and I have been hanging a lot more lately, and she started teaching me how to embroider.
Since I'd seen that Vlad always carries a handkerchief with him, I'd decided to make him a personalized one—with my name of course. That way he can always carry me with him around, and other women can see he is taken too.
I smile to myself as I add a tiny red heart next to my name.
"I see someone's been busy," Lina remarks as she takes a seat next to me, her eyes on my work.
For a second I'm tempted to hide it, but when she continues to talk, I breathe out, relieved, realizing she thinks it's for someone else.
"I can't believe you and Raf are so close," she says suggestively.
"Yes, we've become friends." I reply.
It's technically true. After the initial visit, he'd dropped by a few more times, and he'd slowly confided in me the reason for his behavior.
"When people deem you as weak, they don't see you as competition," he'd said, implying that he was trying to go as undetected as possible.
But as he'd told me about his brother and his thirst for power, it had become clear why he'd try to go under the radar.
In the time I'd gotten to know Raf, I'd realized he's a very gentle soul who'd like nothing more than be left in peace. He certainly has no aspirations for power or money, regardless of how much his father might want him to take the reins of the Guerra family in the future.
"You're the first one who's managed to notice," he'd told me at some point, amazed that I'd seen past his mask.
Little did he know that I have a knack for seeing behind masks.
"And you didn't have to confirm my suspicions, so why did you?" I'd fired back. Certainly, he could have continued to deny my accusations. Instead, he'd ended up confiding in me.
"You're not like them," he'd shrugged off, although he hadn't explained who them refers to.
And so a pleasant friendship had developed. So pleasant that he'd even asked me to marry him, to my great chagrin. For a moment I'd worried that maybe I'd given him the wrong signals, but he'd quickly assured me that he only sees me as a friend, and because he is so comfortable with me, it wouldn't be a bad idea if we married, since his father keeps pushing him towards it.
I'd gently declined, explaining my own circumstances and that I already have someone. He'd been very happy for me when I'd told him more about Vlad, and he'd even suggested using him as a cover if needed.
Safe to say, a partnership had bloomed from the unlikeliest of places.
"He'll definitely enjoy that," she points to the heart with a knowing smile, and I instinctively blush.
Oh, yes. Vlad will enjoy it. After the effort I put in this thing, he better never take it out of his pocket.
"I'm so happy for you Sisi," she continues, releasing a dreamy sigh. "After the incident with your birthday I was worried for a moment."
"What do you mean?" I frown.
"I'm sure Marcello's already told you about Vlad. He's not... someone you should interact with."
"Why?" I ask a little vehemently.
Why is everyone so against him? What did he ever do to them?
From what I've seen, he's always helped everyone when needed, and yet, not even Marcello, who's known him the longest, can offer him the tiniest of consideration.
"He's not a good man, Sisi. I know you're new to this world, but there's bad... and then there's very bad." She purses her lips, looking at me with concern in her eyes.
"How is he so bad?" I'm getting heated, the need to defend him gnawing at me. I know all she's saying is coming from a good place, but I'm getting tired of everyone crucifying him without even trying to understand him.
"He kills people, Sisi," she starts, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes, "he's a cold-blooded killer."
Debatable, I'd say he's rather hot.
"He simply has no moral compass," she shakes her head, as if she's not married to the same ilk.
"What about my brother?" I shoot back and she frowns.
"There's a world of difference between Vlad and your brother," she adds, almost horrified I'd imply such a thing.
"See, I think you're wrong, Lina. It's just a matter of perspective," I shrug.
"Sisi..."
"Your villain might just be my hero, Lina. Is there really such a thing as black and white? Or moral and amoral?"
"Sisi... I hope you're not sympathizing with him!" She sounds scandalized, and I realize I'm treading on thin ice.
"Of course not," I reply, "I'm just trying to say that you can't really know a person until you've walked a mile in their shoes." I shrug.
She
's quiet for a moment as she regards me pensively.
"You've become quite the philosopher," she finally smiles.
My lips stretch up as I return the smile.
One has to when one's lover is the villain in everyone's story.
But mine.
Chapter Eighteen
"This should work until we get you a new prosthetic tongue." I hand Seth his new device. "It's text to speech. You can even choose your voice," I explain, "but please don't choose a woman's voice. I don't think I could reconcile that with," I wave at his massive body.
He grunts, quickly typing a reply.
"Not my kink." A robotic male voice replies.
"Good," I nod, "not that I would have judged. I'm very open-minded." I give him a big smile.
He doesn't return it as he takes a seat in front of me, furiously typing on the device.
"Are the kids safe?"
"Yes. They've been successfully returned to their parents. I've offered to relocate them in case those people look for them again. Sometimes I amaze myself," I sigh deeply. I'm losing my mojo if now I'm helping people instead of harming them.
And where's the fun in that?
Seth nods at me, back to typing.
"Regarding your promise," he starts, and I motion for him to continue. "I want to end Arsen Aliyev."
"The Azerbaijani mogul?" I raise an eyebrow, surprised he'd be the target of his revenge. "Why?"
There's a flash of pain in his eyes.
"He made me who I am," he pauses, closing his eyes briefly, "and he stole what I loved the most," he says cryptically, but I can read between the lines.
"Fine by me. I've only met him a couple of times, but I don't think we've exchanged more than a few words," I shrug. I'd promised him revenge, and I shall deliver. "All my resources are at your disposal, and everything you need."
He narrows his eyes at me.
"Why?" he asks, his features drawn in suspicion. "Aliyev is a powerful man. Why would you risk it?"
Opening the drawer of my study I pick up a pack of gum, popping it in my mouth.
"Because there's very few people I have not upset so far. What's one more? Besides, I have a more important job for you."
"What job?"
Morally Ambiguous: A Dark Mafia Romance (Morally Questionable Book 4) Page 30
