Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Alfonso leans forward, steepling the fingers I want to shatter beneath my polished shoes. “Have you taken her cherry yet?”
Silence descends over the table. His men shift, watching me closely. Marco stiffens at my side, his hand casually resting on his belt, close enough to his gun to make a point.
I don’t smile. I don’t react. I simply tilt my head, regarding him with cold amusement. “A man should never ask about another man’s personal affairs, Alfonso. You know that. Next, you’ll be asking about the length of my cock.”
His grin widens, but there’s tension in it now. He’s testing me, pushing to see where the cracks might be.
I straighten my jacket. “Enjoy the drinks. Play some hands, win some money. Or lose…” I wave my hand like I don’t care either way.
Alfonso watches me for a beat longer, then lifts his glass. “Salute. Always a pleasure, Venturi.”
I turn to Marco as we step away. “Keep an eye on them.”
Marco’s expression is grim. “I don’t like this.”
“Neither do I.”
The Mesinas aren’t here to gamble. They’re here to see where we stand. And that means the friction that’s been simmering just beneath the surface is one step closer to erupting.
10
ANTONIO
THE TASTE OF INNOCENCE
Aemelia’s hair is matted and filthy, her skin pale and greasy, and when I rest the tray of toasted bread and soft cheese in front of her, the scent of her unwashed body reaches my nose. She hasn’t showered since she got here, despite having a private bathroom and all the cosmetics and toiletries she could possibly need. Since we forced her to make the video, she’s retreated inside herself, and her descent from defiance to hopelessness fills me with dread. She pushes the tray away and turns from me.
I sit on the bed as worry becomes an unpleasant vibration in my skull. I can hear my mama's voice in my head. ‘Eat’. It’s her favorite word to say to all of her family, as though she worries we’ll face starvation tomorrow and need our body fat to survive. Food trauma passes from generation to generation, past experiences of food shortages lingering like a specter, but I don’t say it to Aemelia. Not yet.
“You need to shower.”
“Fuck you,” she mutters.
Still with the mouth.
“You want to fester in your own filth?”
She scoffs. “If I stink, maybe your brother will think twice about touching me again.”
This is a problem; this war that’s being fought in her head where she thinks she can find a way to beat all the odds and win. I don’t know how she hasn’t worked out that her life is in danger and her compliance is necessary to survive.
I don’t want to be the one to teach her, but Luca won’t be as restrained if she tests him, and Alexis is already thinking about ruining her. If she needs to learn, I have to be the one to teach her.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about men,” I say. “The smell of you now… it would only turn him on.”
She swivels to look at me, her eyebrows high on her forehead.
“You think I’m lying.” I lean closer and inhale, and the pheromones in her scent replace all the bad vibrations in my head with lust and desire.
“You’re all disgusting.”
“No, gattina. Just human. But it’s not good to stay dirty.”
“I’m not showering.”
Her narrow-eyed determination thickens my cock. Jesus. This girl. Was she sent to Earth to defy us? To teach us some kind of lesson. Whatever the lesson, my skull is too thick to recognize it.
“Either you go of your own free will, or I’ll take you. Do you understand?”
She grits her teeth and turns away again. Frustration surges, and before she has a chance to prepare, I throw off the comforter and scoop her into my arms. She writhes and twists, flailing her arms, but I pin her to me and haul her into the bathroom. Once inside, I lower her feet to the floor but keep her anchored against me, her back to my front, freeing a hand to flip on the shower. She fights, but she’s so small and weak that it doesn’t even register, which only seems to make her angrier.
“Get your fucking hands off me,” she growls as her ass grinds into my dick. Even like this, feral and vicious, she’s glorious enough to make me hard.
I wrap my free hand around her neck and press her head tightly against my chest. “Look in the mirror,” I hiss in her ear. “Look at yourself.”
She does, her eyes wide. Her hair has twisted into wild locks, making her appear as fierce and deadly as Medusa.
“Understand, gattina, that you will not win this fight. Any strategy you come up with in your pretty little head won’t work. We hold all the cards, and you hold none.”