“Your father really didn’t tell you anything, did he?”

  She shakes her head. “Like literally nothing.”

  Asshole. “I’m the group heavy. Enforcer.”

  “You’re the one that breaks bones?”

  “Yeah.”

  And beats the shit out of traitors, inflicts punishment on those that double-cross us, and kills anyone that rats us out. Among other things.

  “Sounds…violent.” Her voice is a bit raspy. Scared? “Do you like violence, Orlando?”

  I don’t answer as I lather up a washcloth and hand it to her. I’m hard as fuck watching her run it over her curves, her breasts, between her legs. I’m half jealous of her own hand that touches her. She watches me with a hooded gaze. Aroused, is she?

  I don’t know how to answer that question. I fucking hate violence, but I’m so used to it I barely think about it anymore. Violence is duty and survival, the only way. “Enough questions. You turned on, Elise?”

  Her nipples are peaked, even in the warmth of the shower. She turns away from me, giving me the answer I want.

  If I want to own this woman, I’ll have to do it in more ways than one. And I do want this woman. Fully.

  “Sit on the edge of that seat.” I point to the tiled shower seat at the end of the massive shower. The steam clouds my vision for a minute, but she’s walking away, obeying me. My cock throbs.

  She’s so small, she fits easily there. Her eyes hold mine, as she worries her lip. She’s too small for me to fuck here, and I’m too big. She’ll blow me, though. In time. And I’ll make sure she fucking loves it.

  “Brace yourself on either side.” The way she obeys makes me harder than ever. The hot, steaming water pounds my back when I kneel in front of her.

  “Orlando…” I can hear the fear in her voice.

  “Quiet,” I whisper. “Relax.”

  I bend and lick the inside of her thigh, so clean and fresh and slightly pink from the heat of the shower. We don’t have much time. I have so much work to catch up on, but I can tell she’s already aroused. I grip her thighs and open them wider, then bend and kiss the soft, short curls at her pussy. Her hands fly to my hair, gripping, but a quick slap to the thigh has her obeying me with her hands on either side of her once again.

  “You want to come?” I ask, the heat of my breath on her pussy.

  She nods eagerly, panting.

  “Then do what I tell you or I’ll take you to the edge of climax and leave you there. All. Day. Long.”

  “You wouldn’t,” she breathes, her voice choked.

  “Try me.”

  I part her pussy and drag my tongue between her slick folds. Her soft, eager whimper and moan are worth every goddamn day I spent behind bars. My fucking reward.

  I tease my finger at her entrance, but when she tenses, I know she’s still sore. I part her legs, brace myself on her thighs, and suckle her clit as the water pounds on my back and my cock throbs.

  “Oh God,” she whispers, her body shaking with every stroke of my tongue. “What are you doing?”

  “I told you,” I whisper against her thighs, breathing hot air on her eager pussy. “Owning you.”

  I tease the tip of my tongue on her clit, then suckle before I lap again. Her head rests back against the tile, and water drips from her thighs. I shift and stroke my cock as I lick and suckle and consume every moan. “You taste so fucking good,” I groan, stroking my cock while I lick her.

  Her hips jerk and she says something incoherent. I grin against her naked, pink thighs, drag my tongue lower, and taste her entrance. Fuck, I can’t wait to take her again. I drag my tongue from her entrance to her clit, then circle and suckle.

  When I can tell she’s on the edge, shaking with the first spasms, I take my mouth off her. She cries out, “No, no, please.”

  “Ask permission.”

  “For—for what?” she stutters, whimpering.

  “Ask me permission to come. If you come before I tell you, I’ll punish you. Do you understand me? Right here, right now.”

  She gives a hoarse cry, lifting her hips as if that will bring my mouth back to where she wants it. I stroke my cock harder, faster, on the edge of coming myself.

  “Now, Elise. Fucking now, or I come all over you before I whip you and leave you throbbing.”

  “Monster, you’re a goddamn monster,” she whimpers. “May I?”

  Two of the most beautiful words in the English language. I nod my head.

  “Come for me,” I say before I bring my mouth back to her pussy. I come hard as I lap at her clit, groaning at the sweet taste of her as she comes on my tongue.

  Jesus.

  I kiss her pussy and finish stroking myself off. I come hard, welcoming the fucking release I needed.

  I feel as if a weight’s been lifted from me, and I have no idea what the fuck that’s all about. I stand and arrange her in front of me so we can finish showering and head out. She’s boneless when she slumps against me.

  “So that’s what that’s like.” I love that she knows nothing, that she’s a perfect blank canvas for me to work on. Love it.

  “Have you ever been with anyone at all?” I hate the question, hate the image it conjures up in my imagination. But I need to know. I put body wash on a pale pink loofah with a gold loop. Hers. I lather her back and hold her to my chest.

  She shakes her head. “I kissed someone once… in college.”

  Rage burns in my chest so hard and savage it takes me by surprise. She notices the way I tense and looks up at me, her eyes still half-lidded from her climax. “Does that bother you?”

  I speak through my fury, my voice tight.

  “Bother me? What’s his fucking name?”

  She was promised as a child, was never free to share intimacy with another, and should have known better than to have kissed a man. She’ll pay for that, and so will he, the fucking thief.

  “Whoa, wait.” Her palm hits the air as if to calm me down. Doesn’t work. “I’m a virgin, but it doesn’t mean I’ve never been touched by anyone.”

  “I want a list, Elise.”

  “What?” She blinks. “A list of…of what?”

  “Men who touched you.” I’ll kill them, every last motherfucker.

  “Orlando.” She places her hands on my shoulders and holds my gaze. “You can’t…you can’t hurt like the two people I kissed under the bleachers in high school. Are you crazy?”

  I sure as hell am crazy, and she ought to know that. “Any fucking moron who touched you should’ve known better. You were a Regazza. Off-limits.”

  “I was fourteen!”

  “Doesn’t fucking matter.”

  She shakes her head. Little droplets of water dot her bare breasts. “Uh uh. No. I’m not going to give you names. You can p-punish me or…whatever the hell it is you have in mind,” she stutters, and she looks away for some reason as she says this. “But I’m not going to let you fuck up someone that didn’t know any better.”

  “You’re a fucking Regazza. He knew better.”

  Her eyes flare. “Did I tell you it was a guy?”

  Wait, now. Wait.

  My cock’s hard again, that quick. “You mean it…wasn’t a guy?”

  She shrugs. “I maybe was a little curious is all. And anyway, I thought guys were into that…girl on girl and everything.”

  “Are you shittin’ me?”

  She shakes her head and laughs, a genuine laugh that makes my heart swell for reasons I don’t understand. She gets up on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek.

  “I was a virgin when I came to you,” she says, holding my gaze. “You were the first man who ever made me come. You were the first human that made me come. I was undefiled.” She rolls her eyes. “If that’s what you want to call it. Is that good enough for you?”

  “For now.” I spin her around to rinse her off and rinse myself off, too. And I am momentarily mollified.

  She’s got stacks of clothes here waiting for her, since she’s packed so little and hasn’t had a chance to get her belongings yet. I don’t want her to get much. She’ll start anew as a Rossi.

  I dress quickly. I’ve got so much work to do.

  “So what am I supposed to do while you work?”

  “Today, you’ll work with me.”

  “Oh, God.” She’s slipping on a pair of shoes.

  “What?”

  “Orlando!” Her eyes are wide in surprise. I glance at the clock. I have to be at the restaurant in an hour. “I don’t…I don’t hurt people.”

  I blink, trying to understand, and when I do, I snort with laughter. “So you think the only job I have is beating people up? God, I’d fucking hang myself.”

  She winces but hides it as she looks in the mirror to wring out her hair. For a mafia princess, she’s a little more sensitive than I’d expect.

  “Okay, then, so what else do you do?” I’m mesmerized by the way her small fingers work through her hair, how she combs her fingers through it as she applies some foamy white product. It smells of lemon.

  I shake my head to clear my brain. “My family owns ten restaurants in the North End. I oversee them.”

  “Oh, wow. Are you a chef?”

  I continue dressing while I answer her questions. As my wife, she needs to know everything. “I can cook, yeah. Love to cook. Love to eat more. We have head chefs in every restaurant, though.”

  “Okay, so you don’t just do mafia stuff, you do like actual work, too.”

  That makes me laugh again. It’s like she’s been totally sheltered. It’s a little odd.

  “Ah, that is mafia stuff. This isn’t a movie. How much did your father shelter you?”

  “Oh you have no idea,” she says quickly. Too quickly. “I know nothing about the mafia.”

  It’s an odd answer, but she doesn’t meet my eyes as she’s busy getting makeup out of a little silver bag.

  “Nothing? You were raised by the Regazzas and you know nothing?”

  She sighs and shakes her head. I’m mesmerized when she drags a little brush across her lips. They shine pink, then quickly brighten.

  “Is that magic?”

  She puckers her lips. “Magic?”

  “Yeah, that stuff you put on your lips. It just… shifted color. How did it do that?”

  Her eyes crinkle at me in the mirror. “It’s a pH-color changing one. Changes color to match your body type.” Her shoulders shake with laughter. “You know, I wouldn’t call you cute, but when your brow’s all puckered like that, you kind of are.”

  I grunt at her as my phone rings. “Fuckin’ endorphins and shit.” She only laughs harder. I glance at the screen. Romeo.

  “Yeah?”

  “You working on babies, brother?”

  I turn my back to her. For some reason, talking about sex with Elise to anyone else feels like a betrayal. It’s his job, though, to make sure I’m doing what I’m supposed to. “Yeah, on it. Did what we had to. What’s going on?”

  He sighs, and all humor fades from his tone. “Need you in sooner than later.”

  “Why?”

  I adjust my tie and catch her gaze on instinct.

  “Found a fucking traitor. Bringing him in now.”

  I flex my fingers and make a fist. Stifle a sigh.

  Welcome home.

  CHAPTER 8

  “I have unclasp'd to thee the book even of my secret soul.” ~ Twelfth Night, Shakespeare

  “Elise”

  I have so many mixed emotions, I’m not even sure how to begin sorting them. I’m trying to compile a mental list of everything I’ve figured out about him and the questions I still have.

  That list of questions is a hell of a lot longer than the list of answers.

  I hate him, or at least I thought I did. All bossy and commanding and dominating, he steamrolled me like he’s the king of the castle. He definitely thinks he is. And my attempts to take him down a peg or two…well, let’s just say that was an epic fail.

  He has decided he will show me who’s boss, and he’s pretty convincing. I have a feeling his need to control isn’t just a kinky bedroom thing.

  At least the punishment he promised me for trying to escape was fairly tame and ended in a climax, so…I dodged a bullet maybe?

  He’s got an insatiable appetite for sex, or at least it seems it. He didn’t waste any time on our wedding night, jerked himself off in the shower, and already looks at me as if he wants to push me up against the wall and fuck me again.

  But just now…someone called him, and whatever they said on the phone affected him. He’s back to the brooding, angry monster of a man with tattooed knuckles and a mean palm. I can still feel the branding slap of his hand on my ass, and the promise of more to come if I didn’t do what he said.

  So I decide it’s time to observe. Time to really understand him. If I’m going to escape, I’ll really need to know what makes him tick.

  It’s all a bit surreal as we head to the North End. It’s a cool spring day, with a bit of a breeze, but the sun still beats down optimistically. Warmer days are coming, for a little while anyway.

  “Later, after I finish work, we’ll head to The Castle. We’ll spend the next few nights there.” He’s in the driver’s seat of the car he used last night to pick me up.

  “Don’t you have a driver?” I know Elise’s family does.

  “Yeah, several, but sometimes I like to drive to work myself.”

  Huh. Interesting. Why?

  I watch as his lips tip up, but it’s barely noticeable. “Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

  “Ah. Control, then.”

  “Yeah. When shit goes down, I want the only blame to be on me.”

  Interesting.

  “So what do I need to know about The Castle?”

  “Marialena will be there, and Vittoria, Romeo’s wife.” Oh, God. So I’m not the first victim to be married to a made man. I hope I like them. Some of Elise’s family…

  I have a feeling I should know some of this, and I don’t want to make it clear that I’m not Elise, so I decide it’s better if I don’t say anything.

  “Rosa’s in Italy for now. Unfortunately, she won’t be back until the end of the month. I know you guys were friendly with each other. Maybe she’ll FaceTime.”

  Shit.

  There is no way on God’s green earth I’m gonna FaceTime with someone who’s supposed to know me. How much time did the Regazzas spend with the Rossis? From a distance I could pass for her, but face-to-face, I’m screwed.

  “Hey, am I getting my phone back?”

  “When I’m done with it, yeah.”

  Panic sweeps through my chest. “What do you mean, when you’re done with it?”

  Is he…checking it? Researching? What if he finds the texts I sent Elise? My mind races, trying to piece it all together. She isn’t in my phone as Elise but Bestie. Thank God.

  Our texts to each other though…we only talked about the Rossis, and that would be an obvious conversation to have the day before I’m supposed to be married to one of them. That’s pretty normal stuff, too, I guess.

  Oh God. Still. I need to look at my phone. I need to see if there’s anything at all incriminating on it…

  “Why’d you go all quiet?”

  I look out the window and will my voice to remain steady. “Maybe I don’t like the idea of you snooping on my phone.”

  He purses his lips as he takes a turn onto a main road. “Maybe I don’t like your attitude.”

  Whatever. “Are you always looking for a way to dominate me?”

  “No. I don’t need to look for ways.”

  I manage to keep that mutter under wraps.

  “As a Regazza woman, you ought to be used to being tapped. Why do you act like it’s an invasion of your privacy? You’ve had no privacy since you were little.”

  He’s genuinely confused, and I have to remind myself that I’m Elise Regazza, daughter to the Don. It’s true, I know it. Elise hasn’t had any privacy her whole life. Piero practically watches her pee.

  “I just thought it might be different when I was actually, you know, married. I’m expected to have children with you, and I’m still being treated like a child.” I look out the window as if affronted. But I’m not offended. I’m terrified. I squeeze my hands together, to hide the trembling.

  I really should accept a bit more, at least ostensibly. Would Elise push back like this? No…she’d probably know better than to do that. I bite my lip. I have to find that one little, tiny, submissive bone in my body, wherever the hell it is.

  The tension in the car is palpable, like muddied water and thick marsh. I feel as if I’m swimming for my life but only getting sucked down deeper into the murky pool.

  We may have shared some tender moments together, but I can't let myself be fooled. If he ever finds out I'm not who he thinks I am, he'll kill me. Any of them would. It's the highest form of betrayal.

  I’m not under any delusion that I’m safe with him. Not now, not ever.

  He shakes his head, intent on driving through the congested streets of Boston before he takes a left down a private entrance to a parking lot right near the North End.

  “You thought it’d be different than when you were a child,” he repeats, as if mulling this over. Shaking his head, he sighs. “You seem to have forgotten last night…and this morning. Ain’t nothing fucking childish about that.”

  My body tingles at the memory of him taking me, his thick cock marking me as his, his mouth between my legs, as I reached for his hair…

  “Well…not that. I just mean the privacy. I don’t get any now?”

  “Absolutely not. I don’t know what your father’s restrictions were, but if he did his duty as the head of his family, he kept you safe, he kept you protected, and he kept you under his watchful eye.”

  I think back to waking up on Christmas Day with my father passed out on the couch, a used syringe on the floor. Christmas lights twinkled from the windows in the apartments across from us, and someone played music far in the distance. I put a blanket over him and poured myself a bowl of cereal.

  I don’t respond.

  “Over time, we’ll get to know each other. I’ll find out more about you and you’ll find out more about me. But for now, what’s most important is that you know what I expect. You took those vows and signed away any promise of privacy. You’ll be with me or a team of bodyguards at all times. Your Internet use and phone use will be monitored, completely, by me and my men. I’ll give you anything you need.”

 

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