Chapter Nine
NICOLA
After whatever that was that happened between me and Benicio. I don’t see him again. I assume that he left me and busied himself around the house with his remodel.
I’m so curious to see what he’s going to do, how he’s going to transform my father’s over-the-top gaudy home to something more his style.
Benicio likes an industrial look, at least that’s how his place was two years ago. I wonder if that’s still his style, if he’ll incorporate that in with this over the top traditional old-world style house. I also wonder if I’ll be around to watch it all unfold. And then I wonder why I give a fuck?
Part of me wants to be here, to be with him. The other part wants to run as fast and as far as I possibly can. At least with my father, I could anticipate his next move, know what was expected of me and know the consequences if I didn’t meet those expectations. With Benicio, I have zero clue what tomorrow will bring.
My phone alerts me to a new text message and I hold my breath as I reach for it and slide my thumb across. It’s a message from Q.
Though I don’t know why I would expect something from anyone else, he’s the only contact in this phone, the only person who has ever texted me, the only person who would know if I was missing, if I were dead.
Q: CAR WILL TAKE YOU TO THE CLUB.
My breath hitches.
He doesn’t want me at his house again. Doubt creeps inside of me. There’s a reason he doesn’t want me there. Maybe he doesn’t want me at all. Maybe he’s just going to pawn me off on someone else at the club.
Shame instantly fills me.
I’m not good enough for his attentions. I’m not good enough for anyone. I’ll only ever be used for one thing and one thing only.
It’s what I’ve been used for since I was a child and all of this fighting the past two years, all of this attempt to be strong, to change, to be worthy of more—it’s all for nothing.
Because I am that pathetic, that needy, I change for the club.
The black bandage dress shows off too much leg and way too much cleavage, but it’s going to be the tamest outfit in the entire place. Reaching for my small eye mask, I tuck it into my purse and slip my black high heels from last night on.
Pulling my hair into a high ponytail, I wrap the band around and add a small red ribbon. Reaching for my small black elastic choker, I wrap it around my neck to complete the look.
In these places you have to look your part and I’m going for a sweeter look, considering I won’t be indulging in the sex that usually consumes the clubgoers.
Slipping out of my bedroom, I pause at the top of the staircase and listen for any noises. I hear something in the kitchen and check the time.
Eleven-fifty.
It’s the cook.
She usually cooks and cleans late, meal prepping everything so that she doesn’t have to be around during the day. I assume that she did it as a way to avoid my father. I’m not even sure if she knows that he’s dead yet.
Tip-toeing downstairs, I decide to slip out of the door in the billiard room to avoid the cook. I could talk to her again, become friendly again now that my father is gone, but what’s the point? I won’t be here long. When Benicio figures out what he’s going to do with me, I’ll be gone.
Stepping outside, I’m careful to stay in the shadows as I make my way to the back of the property. I pause when I approach the shed from last night.
Licking my dry lips, I tilt my head back and look up at the lone building. Last night it was full of men. Last night dozens of those men died. I try to muster up some remorse for the loss of their lives, but I don’t and that kind of frightens me.
Sure, seeing them die was gruesome, and it caused me to feel off kilter, but it had nothing to do with them dying and everything to do with seeing it happen in front of me and the way that it didn’t make me feel.
I should have freaked out. I should have whimpered or cried. What I shouldn’t have done was watch, emotionless, as Benicio ended those men’s lives.
What I really shouldn’t have felt was turned on by the power he possesses.
By the way that he can take life, save lives, and take control of every single person around him, forcing them to sink to their knees and pledge their fealty.
He has the opportunity to turn into a power-hungry dictator, but the man that I knew two years ago would never turn into a man like that.
I don’t think that he’s changed so much that he’ll be like my father and brother. I said all of those things because power like that can change men and it reminded me of my father very much.
I find myself far too curious about the future, about his part in the famiglia, for my own good. What I should be focusing on is a way to save myself and getting the fuck out.
Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I continue toward the back gate. Reaching for the handle, I put in the code, tug it open and slip outside. The black sedan is waiting for me, the driver at the back door.
He tugs it open with a dip of his chin as I step past him and slip inside. Lifting my gaze, I’m disappointed that Q isn’t sitting across from me like he was just a few nights ago.
I don’t know why I want him here so badly, why I want him sitting across from me, fully masked, knowing too much about my life, but I do. He’s comfortable, he calms me. He’s special.
My phone rings in my hand and I jump, practically out of my skin, at the sound. I’m not used to phone calls, at all. Sliding my thumb across the screen, I answer it with a soft hello.
“I apologize, Nicola. I won’t be able to make it tonight. You’ll have the use of my driver to take you to and home from the club. He will stay right outside of the club so that you can leave any time that you wish.”
“Why?” I breathe.
My heart starts racing, pounding against my chest at the thought of being in the club without him. The only time that I’ve been without him was that first night and I almost ran out of that place and never looked back.
He doesn’t respond. Instead, the call ends and I press my lips together, inhaling a trembling breath as the car pulls up to the club’s curb, I lift my gaze to look at the nondescript building.
“We’re here, signorina,” the driver announces.
I watch as he shifts the car into park and then opens the driver door. My entire body is shaking, I’m a complete ball of nerves, but I need to find my control, my calm.
Where Benicio may find his in demanding men stand down, demanding that they follow him, and the famiglia.
I, on the other hand, find it in being helpless, or at least seemingly helpless. In reality, especially with Q, I am also in charge, I am always in control. One simple word and whatever scene he has me set up in, it’s over.
BENICIO
The bitch on her knees in front of me works my cock with vigor. She’s trying hard to get me off, but it’s going to take her a while. She’s not Nicola. She’s not who I want. Lifting my hand, I tangle my fingers in her hair and yank her down on my dick until I hear her gag.
Smirking, I continue to use her mouth to jack me off. Lifting my hips, I chuckle each time she makes a gagging noise. I know that I shouldn’t.
It’s probably not the nicest thing in the world to do, but since she’s a paid whore, I have a feeling it’s not the worst thing she’s done for a few bucks.
Closing my eyes, I’m close to coming when my phone alerts me that the motion detector has been activated. Gripping her hair tighter, I bury my dick down her throat and come. Reaching for my phone, I slide my thumb across the short video clip that my system has sent me.
The whore cleans herself up but doesn’t touch my saliva soaked cock. Frowning, I look at the video clip and growl. I watch as Nicola hurries outside, a second clip shows her moving down toward the back of the estate.
A third shows her opening the back gate. I grunt at her outfit. She looks like a whore, like the whore on her knees in front of me. Her dress is too short, too low cut, and her
heels too high.
I watch as she opens the back gate, then slips into the back of a black sedan. A man turns his back to me as he closes the door and that’s the last video clip.
“Get the fuck out,” I roar to the bitch on her knees as she wipes the corners of her mouth.
She scrambles to her feet and runs out of the bedroom. I don’t blame her, I’m goddamn pissed and right now I could do bodily harm to someone. I’m not sure I would give a fuck who it was. It’s safer if she runs from me.
I snort as I search for Nicola’s phone information. She doesn’t know that I set up tracking on her phone and synced it to mine. She left it lying around and unlike most women her age, she didn’t go back and look for it immediately.
Apparently, while I did that I should have gone through her messages and contacts. She lied to me. Stupidly, I blindly believed what she had to say, that she was trapped inside of this house, that she didn’t know anybody outside. That she stayed locked up on her floor and never ventured out.
I feel like a fucking idiot, yet again. She always makes me feel like a fucking fool. I trusted her far too easily. That shit ends now. No more will I blindly believe what she says to me.
Shaking my head, I lift my hand and run my fingers through my hair. She thought that she was under house arrest before. She doesn’t realize the can of shit she’s just opened up. When my phone finally locates her, I can’t help but let out a roar.
I know the address. Hell, I remember checking it out for Mauro Ricci when he bought the place a couple of years ago. What I don’t know is why in the fuck Nicola’s phone is there.
Grabbing my keys, I forego having a driver take me there, or having Ermanno meet me there. This shit is something that I’m doing on my own. I’m going to grab Nicola by her fucking hair and drag her back home. Then, because apparently, she’s into that shit, I’m going to spank her fucking bare ass until she screams for mercy.
It doesn’t take me long to drive to the brick building in the middle of the quiet neighborhood. I see a driver sitting inside of a blacked-out sedan and I recognize him immediately. That’s the man who drove Nicola here.
Instead of walking straight inside, I make my way over to his window and tap on it. He slowly lowers it and glances up at me. He knows who I am, and judging by his calm demeanor, he doesn’t give a fuck who I am either.
“Who’s your boss?” I ask, assuming that his boss is the man inside with my Nicola. Fuck. I shouldn’t think of her as mine, but she is, right now especially. She is my possession.
The man tilts his head to the side and smirks. “Doesn’t matter. He isn’t here. I am doing nothing but transporting a package for him.”
“Well you can tell him that the package is no longer his concern. Go home.”
He smirks, shrugging a shoulder. “I only follow orders from him, but good try.”
“Then call him and I’ll talk to him,” I growl.
He lets out a small breath. “He knows who you are, Mr. Martinelli. He will be in contact when the time is right. If Miss Ricci wishes to leave with you, then she may. She’s under no obligation to get inside of my car, but I will wait right here until she is safe, wherever she decides to go.”
I have never wanted to kill a messenger so badly in my entire life. I want to take out my knife and slice it across his neck. I want to take out my gun, press it against his forehead and pull the trigger, multiple times. I want to fucking hurt him, torture him and make him pay.
“She’s in there, unprotected. My boss couldn’t make it tonight,” he drawls.
My back straightens. “You let her go in there unprotected? Inside of a fucking sex club?” I bark.
He shrugs a shoulder. “I’m just the man who delivers the package.”
“Fuck,” I hiss.
Turning my back to him, I quickly walk across the street until I reach the door. Lifting my hand, I rap my knuckle against the door. The peephole slides open and a pair of black eyes look across at me.
“Code?”
“I’m Benicio Martinelli, head of the Ricci famiglia. Open the goddamn door,” I growl.
The man takes a step back, the peephole door closes and then a few moments later the door slowly opens.
Taking a step inside, I’m met by a woman who looks almost identical to Mia over at Gavino and Arlo’s casino. She crosses her arms beneath her ample chest, pushing her tits up as her red painted lips press into a thin line.
“How may I help you, Mister Martinelli?” she asks, her voice harsh.
Shoving my hand in my pocket, I tilt my head to the side. “I am here for Nicola. She’s my property and she’s gotten loose.”
Her lips break out into a smirk and she lets out a small chuckle at my words. “Your property, huh?” she asks.
I nod once, refusing to answer her question with words. “Seems you’ve forgotten to tell her that. She’s been picked up by one of our most voracious clients. They’re in a private room and do not wish to be disturbed.”
Shaking my head once, I tip my chin down and focus my eyes on hers. “You do realize that I could close this entire place down. It’s completely under my control.”
She shifts her gaze to the side, then presses her lips together once more before she speaks again. “You are not my boss and my customers pay a hefty price for their anonymity and privacy. I don’t think that I’ll breach that, especially not on a busy night and not with one of my most wealthy clients.”
Leaning in closely, I growl. “You are mistaken, I am your boss, I’m also your boss’ boss. I want in that room and I want inside now. Unless you want me to be a goddamn bastard and tear this place apart, close down the entire fucking building and cause a scene beyond anything you could ever imagine, I suggest you take me into that goddamn room.”
She gulps, taking a step back. “Yes, Boss,” she grinds out.
“Thank you… what’s your name?”
“Madame Amato,” she grunts.
“Grazie Madame Amato,” I say with a dip of my chin. I’ve committed her name to memory and come tomorrow she will cease to exist.
Chapter Ten
NICOLA
Sir Wilson first off demanded that I call him sir, then he demanded that I strip down to my bra and panties. I’m not used to it, being so vulnerable, so naked with someone.
Q never wanted me to take my clothes off. He never even mentioned it and I never once thought about it. Being with Q was never sexual, not once.
Tied to a St. Andrew’s Cross, I’m wearing only my strapless bra and G-string. My dress is folded on a chair, my shoes tucked beneath it.
“Are you a little slut, pet?” he asks.
This man has foregone his mask and given me his last name, another thing that is so unlike Q that it makes me feel uncomfortable.
Also, Q never made me degrade myself, nor did he degrade me with words or otherwise. He was all about giving me the freedom and peace that I craved. I’ve made a huge mistake and I don’t know how to get out of it.
I think about my safeword, peaches. I could say that, but I’m not sure that this man would follow the rules. I should give him a chance, give this a chance. Just because he isn’t Q doesn’t mean that he won’t give me what I need.
“Yes, sir,” I lie.
He clears his throat, then I hear the cane slice through the air before I feel it. I scream as the pain slices through me. I’ve never. Not ever before been hit with anything. Q tied me up mostly, practiced his skills and stretched my body in delicious ways.
I whimper as another blow lands across my ass cheek. “Peaches,” I whisper.
He only hits me again. Delivering a blow that feels even harder than the last. Pinching my eyes closed, tears fall down my cheeks.
I try to say my safe word again, but he only hits me harder. He is hitting me too, this isn’t sexual or fun, this is painful and full of nothing but rage and anger.
“Stop, now,” a voice roars.
Lifting my head, I lock eyes with him. He’s a s
ight to see. He’s disheveled, angry, and so beautiful that it makes the inside of my body ache. The outside hurts too, but nothing like the ache on the inside.
The man behind me gasps. “You aren’t supposed to be here. This is private,” he shouts.
I hear his fancy shoes march around me, but I can’t glance over to him, even as he walks past me. My eyes are only for Benicio Martinelli who is looking at me completely horrified, angry, and downright pissed the fuck off.
Benicio reaches into his jacket and pulls out his gun. “Drop that cane,” he grunts.
Wilson does exactly as demanded. I almost laugh at how easily he dropped the cane. Inhaling a trembling breath, I press my lips together, watching Benicio, wondering what he must think of me right now. I want to explain a million things to him, but my words have all been stolen from my lungs.
“Did you want this, Nicola? Him to beat you with that, did you want that pain?” he asks.
Benicio knows me, knows that I’m not into pain this way. A little hair pulling, a spanking, a tugged nipple, and maybe a few bites and hickeys, sure. But nothing like this, absolutely nothing like this.
“No, I said my safeword,” I whimper.
Benicio takes a step inside of the room, his gun still trained on Wilson. I watch as he slowly picks the cane up off of the floor.
“You like to beat up defenseless women?” Benicio asks, his voice so much calmer than his demeanor.
I almost ask him to untie me from this cross, but I’m far too mesmerized by his anger, by his deliberate movements as he picks the cane up and holds it in his palm as if he’s testing its weight.
“It’s a sex club, they like it. I never heard her safeword,” Wilson whines, holding his hand up in defense.
“You didn’t hear her. She said it, probably cried it since she’s got tears running down her cheeks.”
Without another word, Benicio lifts the cane over his head, then slams it down across Wilson’s cheek. I hear bone crack, but I can’t seem to care too much. I watch as Benny beats Wilson black, blue, purple, and bloody.
Becoming his Possession: A Zanetti Famiglia Novel Page 8