MATEO

by K. L. Savage

  Knowing I’m not going to get out of here anytime soon, I push off the door and head into the bathroom. The hardwood floors are heated, and warmth seeps into the bottom of my feet when I enter. The humidity sticks in the air from the tub being filled with hot water. The bubbles are high and the steam floats, clouding the windows around me.

  I can see Vegas. “Wow.” I’m gobsmacked.

  Which means I’m astonished.

  I am.

  What kind of man has so much money, he can buy a view like this?

  I’m not a good man.

  There’s my answer.

  Not wanting to think anymore, I strip off my clothes and snag a ripe strawberry from the tray of food he left me for brunch. I’m locked in. What else do I have to do?

  Maybe giving in this one time won’t be so bad…

  But it’s never just one time, is it?

  I could easily pay someone to go to her dorm and get her books, but I want to see where she lives. I want to see the campus she cares so much about. I want to know more about her than the simple background check I did on her. It’s a good thing I did, or I wouldn’t know anything about what makes her who she is. She isn’t exactly an open book. She’s private, closed off, and is very adamant on wanting to leave me.

  That is laughable.

  Before I can swing by her college, I need to go to Zio’s and see how my prisoners are doing. She’ll be okay for a few hours, locked in my bedroom, getting angry and antsy.

  “Let’s just see how angry my Stellina is,” I say to myself just as I pull into Zio’s driveway forty-five minutes later. I sped. The Jaguar is made for speed, and I love hearing the engine purr.

  I press my thumb against the screen on my phone, then press an app I had installed so I can check in on what is going on in the penthouse. I have cameras in every corner. I click on camera three, the one in the bedroom, but the bed is empty and the TV is off, so I exit out and click camera four. “What do we have here, Bellissima?” I say to the screen, keeping the microphone on my end on mute so she can’t hear me.

  She’s in the bath, drinking the mimosa I left for her while singing at the top of her lungs. Horribly.

  She is beautiful, but she can’t hold a tone to save her life. I love that I get to witness it though, a little moment she thinks is private. In the middle of her cracking voice as she shouts, she stops randomly and looks around. Nora sits up, the bubbles in the tub clinging to her chest and hiding her perky breasts from me. My cock stirs. Blood flows south and my balls become heavy with need as I watch her push from one side of the tub to the other. She lays her elbows on the edge of the tub and the globes of her ass peek out from the water.

  I growl, tugging on my cock in hopes it will go away if I squeeze hard enough, but it doesn’t. I’d give anything to be in that tub with her, rubbing my hands up her legs, then the back of her thighs, then squeezing that round ass. I’d part her cheeks to see her forbidden hole. The tight star would tempt me, and I’d bend down to lick her there.

  “Fuck, what is it about her?” I rub a hand over my face and unbutton the collar around my neck so I can breathe. It’s hot in here. I’ve been with so many men and women, but none have boiled my blood like Nora.

  She pours herself another mimosa and snags a piece of bacon from the plate. She’s never allowed to eat without being naked. My god. Everything she does turns me on.

  “To pursue someone without their knowing. That’s what stalking is, Mr. Moretti. I don’t know how you are doing it right now, since you aren’t even here, but you’re here somehow.” She savagely rips the piece of bacon in half with her teeth and chews. “You’re a very annoying man.”

  “You have no idea, Stellina.”

  She takes a swig of her mimosa and her eyes lift to the ceiling and study each corner. When her eyes land on the camera, a grim expression presses her lips in a firm line. “Really? Are you kidding me? Again with the cameras? Is this a weird fetish? Do you like watching women on cameras? And where are my friends that you said could stay with me while you were out and about?” She kicks her feet in the water, making a loud splash and ripples in the tub. The move disrupts the bubbles, and they cover the peach cheeks I’ve been focusing on.

  I grumble in disappointment. Her ass is a glorious sight to see.

  “And I’ll have you know, I’ve never had a man see me like this before. You know, naked. It bothers me. I wish you’d stop watching.”

  I don’t think it bothers her. I think she wishes it bothered her more. She just wanted to bitch about something, because she’s chewing her lip.

  My lip.

  Her words finally smash against me like a wrecking ball tearing through a skyscraper. A man has never seen her like this? What does that mean? In the bath? Naked?

  If so, does that mean she’s a virgin?

  My cock spurts a bead of precome into my briefs, causing an uncomfortable wet spot. I’m surprised. She’s twenty-one. Most women her age have had sex, sometimes with multiple partners. Just the idea of her lying in bed with someone else has my skin crawling and the urge to shoot them in the head tugging my trigger finger. I’m thinking about her on top of a faceless male, riding his cock and moaning, grabbing her tits as she rides herself to orgasm.

  And that just pisses me off more. Ironic, since I’ve been in plenty of threesomes and foursomes, have watched couples fuck, have watched my girlfriend get fucked by someone else. I’ve done it all and seen it all, so the fact that I’m actually bothered by this… is ironic.

  I want her moans and pleasure as mine. Only mine. I want my cock to be the first to slide into that tight cunt, and if I’m not, I’ll find every man that’s felt the inside of her velvet cake, tie weights to their feet and throw them into the lake to watch them drown.

  When I see something I want, I own it.

  And it’s only a matter of time before she realizes who she belongs to.

  I press the button to unmute myself. “What did I tell you about chewing that bottom lip, Nora?”

  She yelps and throws her arm back, tossing the drink over her head. The mimosa hits the window and drips down the pane.

  “I’m going to have to clean that,” I say again, loving how she jumps when she hears my voice.

  “You can hear me!”

  “You’re tone deaf, Stellina.”

  She gasps, throwing her hands over her mouth, horrified that I heard her sing. I chuckle. “You’re still beautiful.”

  “This is creepy.” She stands suddenly and points a finger at me, forgetting that she’s naked. “You cannot do this. This is an invasion of privacy.”

  I skim the back of my fingers along my hard shaft, hypnotized by the water and bubbles dripping down her petite body. Her tits are small, a bit smaller than my palm, which I fucking love. Anything over a handful is a waste. Her nipples are a bright pink, hard and pointed, begging for my teeth or a nipple clamp.

  Damn it, the woman is going to kill me before I have a chance to get inside her.

  I zoom in to get a better look at the V between her legs and moan when I see trimmed hair. I fucking hate when women shave down there. When I fuck, I want to feel like I’m fucking a real woman, not a little girl.

  “Crap! Oh my God!” she squeals, crashing down into the water. It spills over the edge and onto the floor. She gathers as many bubbles as she can to cover her chest and curls in on herself, wrapping her arms around her legs as she scoots to a far corner in the bath. She doesn’t say anything. She lays her cheek against her knee and looks away from the camera.

  “Stellina, there is no need to be shy about your body. You are beautiful.”

  “Maybe I don’t want you seeing it,” she replies, a sorrowful tone dropping her voice.

  “I don’t think that’s true. I think you’re afraid. Your body, you, you’re safe with me. And I’ll say this: you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

  She snorts, not believing it. “How am I safe with you when you’re spying on me?”
<
br />   “I won’t ever hurt you.”

  “You’re making it sound like I’m not ever able to leave,” she says.

  She isn’t. But I’m not going to tell her that.

  “You don’t understand how new this is to me. I don’t understand any of it or why you are doing this.”

  Because when I saw you, inspiration finally hit me for the first time in years. Because when I saw your blue eyes, you woke something up inside me. Because when I saw you, not only did I want you, but you made me want to learn how to love again.

  I can’t say that, though. I am Mateo Moretti, a rising mafia boss pressing the reset button on his life. “Stand up,” I order, needing to change the subject. I want to look at what’s mine.

  “No,” she argues, feigning insult.

  Fine. I’ll let it go.

  This time.

  “I need to go, Stellina. I want you to know this, you know how your lips are made for adoration?”

  Her eyes finally slide to the camera, wide and innocent, like a newborn baby deer experiencing life for the first time. I can see the wet drops on her lashes causing them to stick together and her breasts are pushed up from the pressure of her legs against her chest. I take a snapshot for my own personal want. She looks so pure right now.

  “Your body is made to be claimed and brought to the highest amounts of pleasure. Make no mistake, I will be the one to do that. I will be the one that affects you.” I exit out of the camera app and press my head against the seat, slowing my breathing as my blood roars in my ears and my heart pumps wild, uncontrollable, uncontainable, possessive, dangerous desire.

  I jerk the handle of the door and get out of the car. I slam the door shut, fucking raging with lust and rage, which isn’t a good thing to have at the moment. I lean my head back against my shoulders and let the sun warm my face, gathering my control for what I’m about to do. Taking a deep breath, I unbutton my blazer and walk in hurried steps along the path to the front door.

  It’s Vegas, there’s no grass. My expensive loafers just kick up sand and dust in the air. I flip the lid of the fingerprint scanner and lay three fingers against it. It beeps in approval and the door swings open to reveal Zio’s Italian designed home. The living room is open to the kitchen and there is a view of the mountains outside the French doors across the room, leading to a wide terrace across the entire house.

  I close the door behind me and the lock slides through to the other side. I shrug off my blazer and hang it on the coat rack, then roll up my sleeves to my elbows, preparing to do what I need to do to make myself feel better today.

  Passing the fern on the left, I head down the hall to the basement door. The floors are imported stone pine from Rome. They are gorgeous trees, top heavy with a long trunk, and look more like an umbrella than a regular tree. My Zio isn’t a monster, he didn’t chop them down, but only wanted trees that have fallen to the earth’s floor so he could be ecological.

  Admirable and patient. It took months to get these floors how he wanted.

  The closer I get to the basement door, the angrier I become. Two men are down there. Both of them threatened women who mean something to me. My daughter is my world—and Nora, I have a feeling she’s going to be the reason my world spins.

  I turn the knob and head into the darkness, stopping on the top step to make sure I close the door so the screams cannot travel through the house to be heard. I can’t risk that.

  The steps groan as I make my way down. The damp air is cooler down here. I don’t bother with turning on the light. I don’t want them to know I’m coming for a little impromptu visit. I never come during the day to release my wrath, but after what happened, I have to come face to face with the man who wanted to rape my Stellina.

  Isn’t that the entire point of the drug? To lower a woman’s self-control so a man can have their way with them?

  The red soles of my shoes hit the floor, clicking against the cement like high heels would. I dip my head to miss the cobwebs and wonder why Zio hasn’t cleaned this place. When I get to the dungeon door, I take a moment to appreciate the authenticity of it. It’s from the 1700s, with metal hinges on the edge and deep grooves in the grain since it’s old driftwood. I grab the iron key from the hook and side it into the lock, twist, and open.

  The hinges screech like a ghost pleading to be heard. I dip my head, so I don’t hit it against the old blocks that make the ceiling. I grip the door handle, the rust scratching the inside of my palm, and tug it forward. The door hits the wall so hard, bits of pebbles from the bricks fall from up above, skittering along the foul scented floor. It’s like something died down here.

  Oh.

  Maybe Maximo finally stopped breathing. If so, I hope he knows I won’t grace him with a funeral. He can rot down here until he is nothing but bone.

  And then I’ll throw his skeleton in the desert for the coyotes to gnaw on.

  “Mateo, finally!”

  Damn. He’s still alive.

  “Maximo,” I bite his name with disappointment.

  “Food, did you bring food? I’m starving.”

  “No.”

  “Brother—”

  I slam my fist against the bars and roar, “Do not call me that. I am not your brother. You are not family. Not after what you did. I’m not here for you. So shut up and sit back.” I reach through the cage and grip his shirt, yank him forward, then shove him to the ground.

  “Fratello—”

  “Ti metto un remo in culo e ti sventolo per l’aria!”

  That shuts him up. Finally.

  I reach over and snag the shotgun that doesn’t work but makes a hell of a prop. I bang it across the bars as I walk, the metal against metal clanging loudly in a promise of catastrophe.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  When I get to the cell, I smile at my prisoner. Zio Giovanni did me right. The man who drugged Nora is currently tied to a chair, smelling like his own piss.

  “Hi there,” I greet, sliding another key in the lock to open his cell.

  He sobs. “Where am I? Why am I here?” There’s a sheen under his nose and on the top of his cheeks. What a pussy. He’s crying and has snot running down his lips.

  I press the barrel of the gun under his chin and cock it. “You were in my hotel last night. You drugged my woman’s drink. What were your plans? I want you to tell me.”

  “What? No. No, it was a mistake, Please,” he cries.

  “Mateo! Shoot him, he was going to—”

  I point the gun at Maximo next. “And you were going to sell my daughter for your own benefit. Vaffanculo.”

  Maximo disappears into the darkness and I turn my attention back to the man tied to the chair. “Tell me,” I sneer, bending down and curling my lip in his face.

  His brown eyes well with tears, and he licks the snot from his top lip. Disgusting.

  “Tell me, or I swear you won’t live to see tomorrow.” I move the gun down to his stomach and decide to take it to another level.

  I really need my men here. They should be arriving any time now. When they get here, they can constantly give my guest rounds of torture, so I don’t have to get my hands dirty. Even though sometimes, getting my hands dirty feels real fucking good.

  The double barrel digs into his crotch, and then I bring my free hand back and backhand him across the face. My ring leaves an imprint on his cheek, breaking his skin, sending a thin trickle of blood dripping down his jaw. My family insignia is stamped into his flesh. When he heals, everyone will know he was marked by Moretti Mafia.

  If he lives.

  “You have one more chance. I want to know everything. Every detail. What was your plan? Were you going to rip her dress off? Beat her? Force her legs apart to shove your cock inside her? Tell me.” I circle him and gather a wad of spit in my mouth and launch it at him. It smacks him on the side of his neck, and he flinches.

  Getting tired of the gun, I toss it to the side and decide to go old school. I grab his hand and yank his index finger back
until a disgusting crack sounds, leaving his finger in an awkward bent position.

  He cries out, the pain too much for him to bear. He dry heaves, spit dripping down his chin. “Oh God, stop. Please,” he sputters, tilting his head back, the saliva stringing between his lips. “I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you.” His stomach expands as he breathes.

  A waste of fucking oxygen.

  “Were you going to leave her wherever you decided to take her?” I grip his middle finger and threaten to break that one too. “Fucking. Tell. Me!” I roar at the top of my lungs. I can feel the heat in my face and my cheeks shaking from the force.

  “Yes! Yes,” he wails into the room. “I was going to. Everything you said.”

  Oh, I want to fucking snap his neck. “I want to hear. Tell me what you were thinking when you saw her.” I wrap a hand around his throat and squeeze, the musky scent of piss filling the air as it drips steadily onto the floor down his leg. He better not get piss on my shoes. These are three-thousand-dollar Italian leather loafers.

  His Adam’s apple bobs. “I saw her from across the room. I was playing the Lucky Number 7 slots. Her red dress…”

  “What about it?” Gravel scratches against my vocal cords as I speak.

  “She looked so fucking good. I had to touch her. I wanted to. I wanted to feel her, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to, but I wanted her too fucking much.”

  Pathetic. A man with no self-control when it comes to containing his desires. No matter how much I wanted to touch her and ravage her body, I know I have the ability to respect her.

  “Go on.” I must be a glutton for punishment, but I need to know his vile thoughts and his plan. I know it’s fucked up. What he was going to do to her will determine what I will do to him.

  He lets a grin slip as he speaks, and the fear diminishes as he remembers seeing her. “I knew she’d never go for me, so I slipped her the drug. When she felt it, I was going to swoop in and rescue her, but I was going to take her to my room. I was going to rip her dress at the hip so I could get between those legs.”