by KL Donn
She’s been shit on her entire life. The fact she hasn’t run away from here while everyone was asleep isn’t just surprising but a fucking miracle. When I first saw Posy, never did I think she’d come with as much baggage as she has. I had no idea she was living in hell, and even though I still don’t know the extent of agony she’s gone through, I can see it. Not just from the bruising on her body, but because, now, she’s tense, waiting for me to lash out from impatience.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” I say the words softly so as not to startle her.
The way her eyes dart up to mine makes me inwardly wince because I was right. She was expecting me to lash out at her. She’s waiting for me to cause her the same pain she’s lived with for years.
“I’m not him.” Holding my temper in check is difficult. “I just want to protect you. To love you.” The way her eyes widen at the word love shatters my cold heart. She has no fucking clue what it means to be loved.
“I’ll teach you.” Standing taller, she takes a step towards me.
I hold my breath as she maintains my stare and reaches a hand out to me. The tips of her fingers touch my flesh, and I shiver as my eyes close. Pleasure courses through me like I’ve never felt before. Gingerly, Posy flattens her palm against my ribs, and I know the exact moment she finds it because she freezes and starts to pull away.
“When I was twelve, I was shot. Three times.” My eyes open to meet her gaze, and I can see tears swimming. I guide her hand to the other two scars, and a single tear falls for each. “Protecting my mother.” I answer the question I know she must be wondering.
“I should have died that day. No twelve-year-old body should have been able to withstand that kind of trauma, but I did. And never did I understand why.” Brushing a finger through her hair, I pull her closer and lean down to her height. “Until you, Posy. I’m here for you.”
Posy
The way he speaks, the things he says to me, I can’t begin to understand why. I’m nobody. Nothing important. Never have been.
And I never thought I would be.
Until Natale.
I have so many things I want to say to him, but I don’t know how to form the words anymore. I don’t know if I can even express them, but I want to.
Desperately.
I need to tell Natale that he gives me hope.
He makes me want to believe in a future for myself.
Natale has me wishing for things I never thought I’d ever have.
A life, family. A future.
But I’ve been quick to trust and believe before, and I don’t know that I could withstand a betrayal from him. He’s shown me nothing but kindness since we met, and if it’s all an act, I’m sure I don’t want to know.
It’s better to remain reserved until I discover his true motives. Even if it kills me a little more inside with each passing second.
Chapter 7
Natale
Posy wasn’t ready for me to sleep with her. Much as it killed me, I left her alone, but I stayed outside her door for the rest of the night. Watching, waiting. I listened. If she was going to need anything, I intended to be there for her.
“Why don’t you go get her instead of stalking, ready to pounce like a lion?” My head swivels at Mamma’s question.
“I don’t want to scare her.”
“You’re going to if you keep standing there like that.” Her laugh as she walks away to the sunroom off the kitchen is a sound I’ve been grateful for these last seven years. Nearly dying never bothered me, not in any way that it should have. Taking the life of the man who ordered my mother’s execution was easy. I didn’t even blink an eye.
Walking on eggshells with Posy because I’m not privy to the extent of her trauma and the triggers that might send her fleeing from me is ten times harder than anything I’ve faced in my life. I want to allow her the time she needs, but I need her to understand I’m not going anywhere. I also need to encourage her desire to speak.
Though no fault of her own, her lack of communication is the hardest because I can’t ask her what she’s feeling. What she’s thinking. None of the usual things. Posy has spent so many years hiding from the people who should have protected her that reading her is difficult. I’m ready and willing to put in the time to learn everything about her, but I can only hope that she’s willing to let me in as well.
Finally hearing the soft padding of her feet, I stand and forcibly relax my pace as I head towards her. Stopping when she sees me, Posy stares for a moment before gifting me with a slight smile. Barely discernable but there. Her eyes meet mine for the first time without me having to lift her chin, and she isn’t tense, ready to run.
“Good morning,” I greet her, striding closer.
Hesitantly, Posy’s hand rests against my chest as we both come to a stop, and I can see in her gaze that she’s working up to something. Stretching up to her toes, she boldly places a kiss on my jaw, near my ear, and murmurs the three sweetest words I’ve ever heard.
“Good morning, Natale.” I wilt and tense all at once because her voice is like that of angels. Rusty from lack of use, but soft like a feather. Exactly how I imagined she would sound.
Unable to control my body, my arm wraps around her back, dragging her nearer as I pin her to the wall. My other arm rests above her head, trapping her in my embrace as I stare down at her.
“More,” I rasp out. She frowns up at me, not looking scared of me but curious about my actions. “I want to hear more of your voice, hear the emotion when you tell me how much you hate my overbearing attitude. I want to hear the happiness when you smell a flower, and it brings a smile to your face. I need to hear the breathy moans after I kiss you. I need to hear you.”
Dropping my head into her neck, I breathe in her scent as her hands hold onto my sides, clenching her tiny fists as she waits for my next move.
“I want to hear the pleasure on your lips when you cry out my name as I rock inside of you with rough strokes of lust.” Not giving her a chance to respond, I devour her mouth. Inhaling the surprised breath from my words and swallowing as much of her as I can.
Pinning her body with mine, I lift her in my arms and claim her lips again. Sucking the bottom pillowy flesh, forgetful of the cuts, the bruises, I pull away when she whimpers, only to be dragged back with a bite of her own.
Dueling tongues and clashing teeth, I’m more than ready to take Posy right here. Right now. My cock is harder than it’s ever been and knows that our soul is in my arms. But we’re stopped because as I grip Posy around the waist, pushing my hands up her torso, she recoils, and everything comes crashing down around us.
Her bruised ribs, the assault. Years of abuse.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper as I lean my head against hers, gently allowing her feet to slip to the floor. “You make me lose my head.” I twitch as she grimaces again. Pushing the hair back from her face, I stare at her beauty, despite the bruises, and nearly get carried away for a second time.
“I want you to have a million choices. To realize you are always going to be in control and have the power to say no whenever you choose.” Her patience in allowing me to speak my mind astounds me because I don’t possess that trait. “But I can’t yet. Not fully.”
Her mouth opens like she’s going to speak, but then nothing comes out and, instead, she draws a single letter on my chest.
Y.
It’s ridiculous that even makes sense to me, but we’re connected in a way I hadn’t even realized.
“Tesoro, I want you with a fierceness that even I don’t understand. I’ve waited years for you without knowing it. And now that I have you under my roof, in my arms, I want nothing more than to lay the world at your feet.” Her eyes soften and warm in the dim light of the hallway. “But I also want to share a bed with you, have a conversation without fear that I’m going to upset you because I don’t know the particulars of your past.”
Her gaze drops but not before I see the tears pool in her eyes and the way she bit
es her lip. I wait, though, because talking to me, opening up to me, has to be a choice freely made by her.
Posy
For nearly an hour before leaving my room, I practiced speaking, forcing words out of my mouth that I haven’t vocalized in years. I heard my voice for the first time in I don’t even know how long. It cracked, it hurt, but it was freeing.
I had no idea how liberating being able to say good morning would be. But I did, and Natale wants more.
I’m not sure I’m ready, but I’m definitely ready to try.
All night, I thought about him and the way he makes me feel. The way he forces me to look outside of myself and at the world. He has the power to forge me into a functioning person again.
Or break me.
And it’s the second part that terrifies me.
But with every second that passes in his company, I never feel like he has an ulterior motive. I know he’s hiding aspects of his life; we all are on some level, and if the things he says are true, then I’ll learn everything I need to know about him soon enough.
It’s that thought that gives me the power to gaze up into his turbulent eyes and tell him, “I want to try.” With each word, I cringe. But not Natale, he lights up like I’ve given him the winning lottery numbers.
My voice is still fresh, so it’s gruff. He wouldn’t be able to hear me in a loud environment, but right here, with just the two of us, he hears every crack, every whisper.
“I could listen to you talk all damn day.” His cocky grin holds my attention as he leans down to kiss me again.
It’s like a match lighting a flame. We ignite as soon as we touch. Pain radiates through me, though, as my medication has worn off.
“Let’s get you food and something for the pain.” He draws back, and I nod. “My parents are in the sunroom off the kitchen; they’ve been on the phone all morning with lawyers and social services.” My steps falter at the proclamation, and he spins, obviously feeling it.
“To keep you here. You aren’t going anywhere, Posy.” The certainty in his tone shouldn’t give me as much confidence as it does, but I believe him.
Sitting at the same island I sat with his father in the middle of the night, I watch Natale move around the kitchen with familiarity. I’m still groggy from the lingering medication and the ordeal at the hospital yesterday, so when he suggests eggs, I can feel my stomach start to revolt and shake my head no.
“Toast and tea?” he offers instead, and I agree.
“Oh, good morning, Posy.” Mrs. Morello’s voice is distinct. Soft but commanding, with a slight accent. “Did Nat tell you the good news?” I twist my head back and forth sharply. He never said anything was a done deal. “We have a court hearing first thing Monday morning to grant us temporary custody of you. Because you’re seventeen, they can’t simply let you into the wild. And your mother,” she holds her breath before sitting next to me.
I cringe when she reaches for my hand. I know it’s an offer of comfort, but it’s a muscle reaction I can’t control. She bats the sadness away from her eyes quickly.
“She doesn’t want me.” I whisper the words Mrs. Morello paused to say. The sympathetic looks I can feel feasting on me are broken up by the sound of the kettle whistling and the toaster popping.
“It’s much more complicated than that.” I know that. Logically. But my heart doesn’t. “She loves you, but she’s a very sick woman, Posy.” I can only smile and nod. Like I’ve been doing my entire life.
Smile and nod, Posy. It’s what my father always says. Never deny.
I feel sick.
“Excuse me,” I mutter, rushing from the room to find a bathroom. Barely slamming the door shut, I’m on the floor, dry-heaving into the toilet. Nothing expels because it’s been days since I’ve eaten, and the pills have all dissolved by now.
Natale
Rushing after Posy, I hear her heaving as I open the door and slip into the room after her. On her knees, she silently cries over the toilet bowl. Pale, weak, and feeling unloved, she doesn’t move when I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her against my body.
“Tesoro.” I don’t know her feelings. I can’t imagine what it feels like to be abused and discarded by everyone who should love and treasure her. But I do know what it’s like to love her.
“Why don’t they want me?” Her voice is still so quiet and timid that it takes me a minute to register what she’s said, and when I do, I have to breathe deeply to control the rage I feel before answering.
“I wish I knew. I wish I could make them all understand what a treasure you are.” She looks up at me, and she is not the seventeen-year-old girl I only noticed for the first time recently. She’s the six-year-old child, broken and crying for attention, who only wants her parents to love her. She’s everything I’ve never experienced and is begging for mercy.
Picking her up in my arms, I open the bathroom door to find my parents standing against the wall, worried about this girl I’ve brought into their lives. Papà holds Mamma in his arms as she grips his tie so tight it’s wrinkled. When they see us emerge, they come forward.
Mamma reaches out for Posy, brushing her hand across her forehead, pushing the damp hair back. Papà grips her hand, lending his strength. A strength I know he only extends to family.
Silently nodding, I take Posy upstairs to our room. Most parents would forbid it. They’d never allow their son or daughter to occupy a bed with the opposite sex, but we are not most families. I grew up fast and far beyond my years. Not only because I nearly died, but because I’ve been groomed my whole life to take over the Morello Kingdom.
The Italian Mafia.
I will be Capo one day.
And in order to lead an army, I must command a sense of growth and maturity. Soon, I’ll be returning home; we all will. Back to Sicily and taking the reins of the empire we were forced to leave behind. I have every intention of doing that with Posy by my side.
But first, I have to tell her.
Make her understand that just because our stature and wealth come from criminal enterprise, it does not mean we can’t have everything she ever dreamed of.
Sitting her on the sink, limp and defeated, I help her brush her teeth before stripping both our clothes off and following her into a hot shower. Washing her hair and body, Posy watches me with a curious intensity.
“Ask,” I say.
Her startled gaze meets mine.
“Whatever you’re thinking about, ask me.”
While licking her lips, her fingers graze across my scars. “Your father said you missed a year of school.”
It’s my turn to be startled. He doesn’t normally talk about that with anyone.
“I told you I was shot protecting Mamma.” She nods, empathy filling her eyes as her fingers trace the puckered scars. “Healing took months. And after…” I pause. Torn between wanting complete honesty between us and worried I’ll scare her off.
“And after?” she repeats.
“There are things you don’t know about me, tesoro, about my family. Things I honestly don’t know that you’re ready to learn. Not yet.”
“I understand,” she replies, and fuck does it piss me off. She shouldn’t understand someone keeping secrets from her. She should be demanding the truth from me.
Spinning, I slam my fist against the cool marble wall and hiss out, “I killed a man. When I was twelve. I killed the man who organized the hit on my mother. I killed the man who had three bullets tear through my body like I was nothing.”
Tense, I feel her shaking hand touch the middle of my back where one of the bullets exited my body.
“Papà slit the throat of the man who shot me, but the stronzo who set everything up? He was mine. For six months, as I healed, I plotted his demise, and when it came time for him to pay the price, I didn’t hesitate.” Turning back around, Posy’s hand glides along my flesh.
“I was twelve, and I didn’t flinch at exacting revenge. I was twelve, and I committed first-degree murder.” I�
�ve never said the words out loud before. “Why aren’t you running from me?” The insecure question pops out without my permission.
Posy shrugs before pressing her body against mine and laying her head on my heart. The water pounds against her back, steam filling the room, and this sweet soul hugs me.
I don’t deserve her.
Chapter 8
Posy
“You understand how unconventional this is, right? You’re not even American citizens, and she has a mother,” the judge says to the Morello’s as they stand in front of her.
“We do, Your Honor, but Posy needs a safe home. Somewhere she can flourish and receive the things her past has not provided. We went through the emergency inspection and background checks over the weekend. Doctors have given their recommendations, and we can supply her with everything she needs,” Carlo says with confidence.
“Miss Ivanov?” The authoritative woman calls my name, and I freeze. I wasn’t told I would have to speak during the hearing. Standing on unsteady feet, I tentatively walk to the podium a court officer indicates. “Is this what you want?” I nod vigorously. “I need to hear you say the words, young lady.”
Panic overwhelms, and I look around franticly for a pen and paper. Just because I can speak with Natale and his family, doesn’t mean I’m comfortable in front of anyone else. Not yet.
“Miss Ivanov?” the judge prompts again.
“Your Honor, if I may?” Maria strides over to me. Gripping my hand, I calm a tiny bit. “Posy was denied a savior for years. She was denied a voice. She was denied basic human rights.”
“Your point, Mrs. Morello?”
“Because she was ignored so thoroughly by authorities, Posy struggles to talk. In fact, until screaming my son’s name out of pure terror in that hospital room, she hadn’t spoken in years. She still doesn’t. Posy is learning to find her voice and speaking in front of this crowd is simply more than her fragile confidence can handle.” I lean my head on her shoulder in thanks.