Salvatore: a Dark Mafia Romance (12 page)

“They all heard!”

“That was the point. Humiliation. You’re lucky he didn’t demand the doors stay open!” During her struggle, her dress had shifted, exposing one breast.

“Let me go! Don’t look at me!”

She renewed her struggle, pissing me off when she tried to line her knee up with my crotch. I transferred her wrists into one hand and held them over her head.

“I can look at you whenever I want.” Gripping the V neck of the dress, I tore it down, the fabric giving way, the sound of it ripping somehow satisfying.

The harder Lucia fought against me, the harder my cock grew.

“I hate you!” she cried again.

I crushed my lips over hers, and for a moment, she stilled, maybe surprised.

I broke the kiss. “No, you don’t.” I kissed her again. I undid my pants, slid between her legs, and pinched her nipple with my free hand. “You make me crazy.” My words came out angry. I pushed one of her legs open wider and then pulled back to look at her. She watched me, her hands clenched into fists. I lined my cock up at the entrance of her sex. “You drive me fucking insane.”

I thrust in hard.

She grunted, her eyes locked on mine in defiance.

“Fuck you.”

I thrust again, then again. “Fuck me.” I wouldn’t last long, but her wet cunt told me she wanted this too. “Your cunt is greedy.”

“Harder,” she gasped, hoarse from screaming.

“Fuck.” I did what she said, fucking her harder, watching her, not feeling like I had had nearly enough of her.

Easing my hand off her wrists, I brought both hands to her face. We were both panting. I pushed the hair that stuck to her forehead away and held her, lost in those eyes that now burned a fiery amber. Her mouth opened, and I kissed it, so close now.

“What are you doing to me?”

“What?” she asked, puzzled.

I must have said it aloud. Lucia’s hands gripped my shoulders, her face getting that expression it did just before she came. I loved seeing her like this, watching her in those moments just before her release, her face as she let go. It was the single most arousing thing, that.

“I hate you,” she whispered, her nails digging into my shoulders, my neck. She squeezed her eyes shut, coming. “I do.”

“Lucia.”

Her pussy throbbed around me, and as she came, so did I, stilling deep inside her, filling her, feeling like—for the first time since that goddamned contract—I’d claimed her. Like she was mine. She was well and truly mine.

I
looked at the window
. Sunlight filtered through the crack between the curtains. I blinked, confused for a moment, but the soreness between my legs and on my ass quickly reminded me of where I was.

The clock beside the bed read 7:04 a.m.

I dragged the silk sheet up over my naked body, sat up, flinched, and lay back down. Beside me, the empty pillow lay sideways. I touched it, leaned over and buried my nose in it, then reared back and shook my head.

What the
hell
was I doing?

He’d whipped me, humiliated me, then fucked me.

I’d come.

I’d begged him to fuck me harder.

I hated myself.

No, I hated him. I needed to remember that.

Why was it so hard to remember that?

I got out of bed and went into the bathroom. He must have showered recently. Steam still fogged up the corners of the mirror, and the scent of his aftershave hung in the air.

I found I liked it, felt somehow comforted by it.

The devil you know. That’s all that was. I knew Salvatore. I knew his limits.

Fuck. I was fooling myself.

I used the bathroom, not surprised to find blood between my legs even though I wasn’t having my period. He’d fucked me raw, like he said he would.

And you’d come.

I turned my back to the mirror, the dark, crisscrossed welts reminding me to hate him. To see him for what he was: a Benedetti. My enemy.

I touched the raised marks, pressed against them, forced myself to remember that he was my fucking enemy. I could not let myself trust him, let myself depend on him. He would hurt me. Wasn’t this evidence of that?

This strange emotion—no, it was not emotion. Only confusion. I felt confused, but who wouldn’t be if they were me? Isolated from family and under the
care
—more like under the thumb—of Salvatore Benedetti, I needed him for everything. Every fucking thing. And that was why I had any feeling for him whatsoever. Maybe it was a form of Stockholm Syndrome. I mean, this may not be a traditional kidnapping, but it wasn’t like I was here by choice. Not my choice, anyway.

I turned on the shower and stepped under the hot stream. I wanted to scrub his touch from me. Wanted to scrub the memory of my reaction to him from my mind.

He’d fucking whipped me, and I’d begged him to fuck me.

I scrubbed my hair with shampoo and my body with soap, gritting my teeth when the hot water hit my ass. When I was finished, I climbed out and dried off. I wanted to be out of here. I’d only been told I had to stay the night. Not any longer. But what if his father made me stay? What if Salvatore had already gone? And left me behind.

Panicked, I hurried into the bedroom, found my cell phone in my purse, and dialed Isabella’s number.

“Hello?”

“Izzy?” I was sure I’d woken her. “I’m calling too early. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay. How are you?”

“I don’t know. I’m in Franco Benedetti’s house in the Adirondacks.”

“What?”

Well, that woke her up. “I had to come. It was his birthday. We were required. I just…”

“Are you okay, Luce?”

I only heard concern in her voice now. I felt my eyes heat up, but I blinked hard. I didn’t need tears. I hated weakness. Hated it! “I—”

The door opened then, and Salvatore walked inside carrying two mugs of coffee. I sighed in relief.

“Lucia, what’s happened?” Isabella asked, likely having heard the sigh.

Salvatore looked at me quizzically and closed the door. He wore a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, his usual uniform, and he’d slicked back his dark hair. He mouthed the word,
Okay?

I turned away.

“Never mind, I’m fine,” I said to Izzy. “I thought he’d left me here,” I whispered, hoping Salvatore wouldn’t hear.

I heard a male voice asking what was going on in the background.

“Who is that?” I asked.

Isabella sighed. “No one. I’m getting up to come get you now.”

“No, it’s okay,” I said, turning to find Salvatore sipping his coffee, watching me. “He’s not going to leave me here,” I said, the comment more a question to Salvatore.

He shook his head.

“I’ll call you once we’re home. Uh, I mean, back at his house.” Fuck. What the hell was wrong with me? “I have to go.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. Sorry to have called so early, sis.”

“You’re fine. You can call me anytime, day or night, understand?”

I nodded. “Thanks. Love you.” I hadn’t said that in more than five years.

There was a pause. “Love you.”

I disconnected the call and slid the phone into my purse. “I thought you’d left me here.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you. Come here.”

I went to him.

“You okay?”

I shrugged a shoulder, dropping my gaze to shield my eyes. Why did his asking make me feel so fucking needy? Why did him taking me into his arms make me want to sob? Because that’s what it did. That’s what having his arms around me right now, like he would keep me safe forever, even after last night, that’s what they did. They made me want to weep.

The last time he’d held me like this, I’d pulled away. This time, I didn’t. I let myself melt into him. Neither of us spoke. I squeezed my eyes shut against his chest, feeling confused and hurt and vulnerable and so fucking grateful he was here. None of it made sense.

“Can we go?” I asked when I could speak without crying.

He pulled back and looked at me, his thumb wiping away some of the moisture around my eyes. “Not yet. I need to go down to breakfast, but I’ll make an excuse for you. Get packed. We’ll leave as soon as possible.”

I nodded and went to sit on the bed but stood again as soon as my ass made contact.

“Lucia?”

I looked at him.

“Does it hurt?” His face told me he knew it was a stupid question.

“What do you think?”

He studied me, his forehead furrowing. He at least had the decency to look away for a moment.

“If it means anything, I didn’t want to punish you on my father’s order.”

“But you did.”

“I’m trying to tell you I’m sorry.”

“Sometimes sorry isn’t enough, Salvatore.”

He stood there a moment, his eyes on mine. “Get packed. We’ll leave as soon as we can.”

He walked out the door and left me standing there in my towel.

His absence filled the space as soon as the door closed, and I hugged my arms around my belly, feeling more alone now than ever. But I forced myself to move. To get dressed. And as much as I hated it, to go down the stairs and face Franco Benedetti head-on.

I couldn’t hide, I wouldn’t. If I did, it showed that he’d won. That he’d shamed me, and I was hiding from him, afraid of him. Well, the latter was true, but I’d be damned if I’d let that fear get the better of me.

I dressed, packed my things, and pulled my wet hair into a bun before dabbing concealer under my eyes. I picked up my purse and walking out into the hallway. I paused, finding a staircase at either end. I looked over the banister, but all was quiet down below. I chose the stairs to my right and headed down, heard a door open and Salvatore’s voice coming from it. I followed his voice, steeling my spine as my heart raced and my belly flipped.

I would not let Franco Benedetti win. I would not.

I reached the door and would have turned the knob but Franco’s raised voice made me pull my hand away.

“You know what I expected of you!”

“I would not parade her through that room full of pariahs! She was humiliated enough! This is done. She’s mine. I choose!”

Something pounded. I imagined a fist and a table. Was it Salvatore’s? Was he defending me?

Then came Franco’s laughter. Quiet at first, menacing, slowly growing louder, almost manic. Someone clapped his hands.

“My son, he finally grows some balls.”

I fisted my hands, inhaling tightly.

“Fine, Salvatore. She’s
your whore
. But remember, I gave her to you. I can as easily take her back. Take care of Luke DeMarco before there are any more supporters. One week, or Dominic will do it. I’m finished with him.”

What? What did he mean, take care of Luke?

But then I heard footsteps, heavy and moving fast, and I charged toward the stairs. I bolted up then and ducked down behind the banister. Franco Benedetti stalked out of the room, his face tight with anger, his hands fisted at his sides.

I scurried back to the bedroom and closed the door, thinking, trying to make sense of it all. Should I call my sister and warn her about what I’d heard? Warn Luke? Or should I try to find out more first? See if Salvatore would tell me anything?

When a quick knock came, I jumped up, thinking it was Salvatore and that we could go. The door opened, but it was Dominic who stepped inside. He looked me over, his gaze odd, almost curious, but he remained at the entrance of the door.

“Hey,” he said casually. A smile curved his lips upward, his voice sounded almost sweet. Too sweet. “I wanted to see if you were okay. My brother can be a brute and, to be honest, it sounded like he wasn’t holding back last night.”

I flushed. Was he talking about the whipping or the sex or both?

“I…I’m fine.” I faltered.

He nodded and stepped inside. I didn’t like him, didn’t like the way his eyes shifted around the room and over me.

“I’m glad.” Again, his voice soft, his smile gentle. “If you ever need anything”—he grabbed a card out of his pocket—“this is my private number.”

“I don’t—”

“Just take it and hope you never have to use it. Like I said, my brother can be very physical. Brutal even. I’ve seen what he’s done before, Lucia. I’ve cleaned it up.”

What?

When I made no move, he closed the space between us, took my hand, turned it over, and pressed the card into my palm.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?”

I jumped at Salvatore’s sudden appearance, but Dominic only gave him a smirk and picked something out from under his fingernail.

“Just checking in on Lucia. Since she wasn’t feeling well and all. She looks good to me, though, considering.”

“Get the fuck out of here, Dominic.”

Dominic shrugged a shoulder and glanced back at me after taking a step toward the door.

“If you ever need anything, Lucia…”

“She won’t be needing anything from you.”

Salvatore stalked toward me, the look in his eyes chilling me as he squeezed my wrist and took the card from my hand. He didn’t look at it. Didn’t need to, I guessed.

Dominic walked out the door. Salvatore kicked it shut behind him, his hand still gripping my wrist.

“You’re hurting me, Salvatore.”

Anger, frustration, I don’t know what it was, but whatever he was feeling, it rolled off him and slammed into me.

“It seems that’s all I can do.” He dropped my wrist. “We’re leaving.” He grabbed the suitcases and walked into the hallway.

I followed him out of the bedroom, wanting to be away from this house most of all, yet fearing Salvatore. Uncertain now if would save me or destroy me.

We didn’t run into anyone as we left. Salvatore’s car waited just outside the front doors. The man who must have brought it around handed him the keys. Salvatore loaded the bags into the trunk and opened my door, not waiting for me to get in before he moved around to his side. He was clearly as anxious as I to leave.

We didn’t speak for the first twenty minutes of the ride back. Salvatore’s tension literally rolled off him.

“Dominic will fuck with you. You’re not to have anything to do with him, understand?” He didn’t look at me but kept his eyes on the road.

“Is that an order?”

That made him turn his head toward me. “Yes.”

“Or what, you’ll whip me again? Doors open this time?”

His grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles going white. “Don’t push me, not now.”

“What the hell happened back there?” His face tightened even more. “I heard, Salvatore. I heard you stand up for me. I heard your father lose his shit.”

“Then you didn’t learn your lesson about snooping.”

“I wasn’t snooping. I was coming down to have breakfast, show my face. Show him he hadn’t won.”

Salvatore snorted and shook his head, the smile that appeared on his face sad. “You don’t get it, Lucia. He always wins.”

“I told you before, everyone loses sometime.”

“Not Franco Benedetti.”

There was such a weight to him, to his words, that it made me sad. Just sad. But I needed to ask one more question. I needed to know one more thing.

“He said something about taking care of Luke.”

Salvatore gave me a sideways glance. He didn’t answer my question, but he sure knew how to distract me.

“I’m going to let you out of your contract. Once all is said and done, and I’m boss, you’ll be free, Lucia.”