by KD Robichaux
Then.
That’s when I’ll make plans for the future, evaluating which new path in life to take with Arabella by my side.
17
Arabella
“…so what I propose is you come to the Annual Ruin Masquerade Ball, because Ferro must attend, as one of the leaders of the Cosa Nostra. He’s in hiding; not even my resources have been able to locate him, but he has no choice but to make an appearance the night of the ball this coming weekend. At that time, we can make our move,” my father tells DeLuca from the leather chair across from where we sit on a matching sofa in the living room.
The crackling sound coming from the fireplace nearby is the only noise in the room while we take in my dad’s words. It sounds like the perfect plan, but for some reason, I have a bad feeling about it. It’s almost… too easy.
“Why is he in hiding? Has he caught wind that you know he hired me?” DeLuca asks him, tracing circles on the back of my hand with his thumb as he holds it atop his thigh.
My father’s eyes watched the movement for a moment when we first sat down, but he must’ve sensed the closeness DeLuca and I have formed in the week since we saw him last, because he didn’t demand for him to remove his hands from his daughter.
Dad clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “We um…” He glances up at me, regret in his dark eyes. “We were able to find out the real reason he hired you to make it look like my daughter committed suicide.”
DeLuca’s hand tightens around mine as he stiffens next to me. The men in the room don’t say a word, and my heart begins to beat hard in my chest.
“What is it?” I ask, my voice low. When they don’t answer, I nearly shout, “What was the reason?”
My father eyes DeLuca, as if wanting his go-ahead to explain in front of me, and if it weren’t for DeLuca’s immediate nod of approval, I would’ve thrown a fit that these assholes even thought to keep this information from me.
“He knocked up one of the whores at the tanning salon,” my dad says, wincing as he looks over at me.
It takes me a moment to realize why he’s being weird.
“Let me get this straight. He wanted to kill me off because he finally got someone pregnant?” At my dad’s nod, I rant, “He finally got his heir. Since I wasn’t giving him one, and he got this other chick pregnant, he was going to make it look like I killed myself. That way he could be with her and the child wouldn’t be illegitimate.”
“Yes, that makes sense. He was very adamant about it looking like you did it yourself, because he knew if you were murdered, your father would have immediately suspected him once he came out with this other woman and their child. It would’ve been way too much of a coincidence to ignore. He wanted to make it look like you overdosed so Marcello wouldn’t question anything,” DeLuca expands.
My dad growls. “I would’ve though. I would’ve known my baby girl wouldn’t take her own life. She treats her body like a goddamn temple. I would’ve known she didn’t take any drugs. She refuses to take even Tylenol.”
DeLuca and I share a look, and then I turn a mischievous smile toward Dad. “Well, there is one drug I’ve been taking for a few years now, Daddy.”
He lifts a brow in question. “Arabella—”
“Birth control,” I cut him off. His other brow rises to match the first. “He didn’t know. I was sneaking birth control pills so I wouldn’t bring his child into the world. He’s awful, a terrible human being. Anything spawned from that man would be the antichrist. Mark my words. And I did what I had to in order to make sure that didn’t happen.” I let out a sigh. “Unfortunately, it seems this other woman did. Which is odd, seeing as the women at the salon are forcibly sterilized upon Ferro’s orders when he quote-unquote ‘hires’ them,” I add, using finger quotes, since very few of the girls who work there come into the business of their own free will.
Ninety-nine percent of them have been trafficked. Yet another reason I’ve wanted out of this world for so long. Everything is tainted in blood and deceit.
“Baby, why did you never come to me? Why did you never tell me how unhappy—”
“As if you would’ve listened. I had been slated to marry that man since we were children. I was brought up in a household where no love or affection was shown between you and Mother, purely a business transaction that miraculously turned into a friendship, which mine never did. I’ve seen nothing else in my life, so please, tell me honestly what you would’ve done if I came to you and cried about not having a loving relationship with my husband?” My voice grows in volume as I continue, not giving him a chance to answer. “He never physically abused me; there were never visible marks on my body for proof of my unhappiness. You would’ve told me to suck it up, that this is what all marriages are supposed to be like. Even though I know it’s a lie. I’ve read enough books, seen enough movies, to know our way of life is not how it’s supposed to be like.”
His shoulders slump in defeat, and I know he hears the truth in my words. “I would’ve at least threatened him within an inch of his life to put forth the effort to make you happy, to be better to you. While there may not have been love and affection, there could’ve at least been a friendship. Your mother and I at least have that.”
That is true. My parents never showed PDA or any kind of verbal endearments, but they were kind to each other. They shared inside jokes and often spoke about the good ole days and memories they had together. Ferro and I never had anything even close to that. I was just a hole to stick his dick in once a month.
“But I will admit,” he adds, and my eyes meet his once again, “I’ve never seen such life in your eyes, my baby girl. You look… healthier. You’re still too thin, in my opinion—which I’ve told you for years now—but your cheeks… they’re no longer hollow, and there’s color in them like there once was when you were a teenager. Your eyes are alight, when before it’s like a bulb inside them was turned off. And you’re so… relaxed. You’ve always been so tightly wound, but suddenly you seem like you can breathe easier. And I’m not dumb enough to ignore that all of these improvements must have come from this man beside you.”
He clears his throat, standing up from the leather chair and holding his hand out to DeLuca. “I never want to see the light go out in my daughter’s eyes again. When this is all over, you have my approval, if you are who she wants,” he tells him, and DeLuca stands, gripping my father’s hand and giving it one solid shake before my dad turns to me. “And I want you to promise me that if he ever makes you unhappy, you will come to me, so I can be the one to put his lights out.”
I smile, standing to give him a hug. “I promise, Daddy,” I say, sending a wink and a smirk around his bicep to DeLuca as a warning to keep that in mind if he ever tries to get fresh with me. He just grins and shakes his head.
Dad steps back and addresses both of us. “Now, let’s finalize these plans to put this fucker down.”
18
Deluca
I look at, tighten, and straighten the silk bow tie of my suit in the mirror. I’m dressed for this damn masquerade ball I’ve been dreading to go to all day. I dread it because it means leaving my piccolina alone, at least without me, for the better part of the night. But on the opposite end of this trepidation is relief, knowing I will soon murder the man who hired me to kill the beautiful siren laid out, asleep, and naked in the covers I left her in.
Naked. She is completely naked, and only the sheet is draped over her.
Her father’s comments come back to me then. He said she has more color in her cheeks; she looks happier, healthier, and there is life inside her gorgeous orbs. I’m part of that. Giving her a glimpse of the future we both desire to have one day. Kids. Us. I plan to make that dream a reality. Yes, it’s because I want that with her, but more so, I just want her to be linked to me, sealing her fate to me for the rest of fucking time.
“Please tell me you’ll come home to me, make love to me when it’s all over.” Her groggy voice comes slicing th
rough my internal dialogue. I see her on her knees at the edge of the bed, naked and breathtaking for me. Righting my bow tie one last time, I turn and face her. She eyes me up and down, clearly appreciating the masculine picture I make. I won’t complain.
“Principessa, I will do that every fucking night.” I step toward her, and she practically purrs as I cradle her head in my hands and bend to take her lips in a kiss. Our tongues dance and fight, seeking each other’s taste. I growl against her moan, my cock growing painfully hard.
“My love, did I not satiate your appetite after making love for hours today?”
“You did, but that doesn’t mean you stopped me from wanting to keep you satiated.”
I cradle her face and eye her expression. “What is going on in that head of yours?”
She bites her lip and giggles. “Can you hand me my lipstick from my purse?” she asks, the change of subject and the fact that she’s asking for lipstick throwing me off a bit. I look her over once more before going to grab what she wants. I keep my eyes on her over my shoulder as I pull it out, then my dress shoes carry me back across the room.
“Here. Why the lipstick? You plan to dress up and run, to hitchhike?” It’s a joke but also somewhat of a worry. My woman could leave at any moment; she is not afraid to fight for what she wants anymore, and I stand to lose her if she decides I’m too crazy for her.
She takes it, pops off the lid, then slowly rolls the lipstick up. The color is a fiery red; she wore it the night I took her.
“There will be beautiful women there. Ones who will want what’s mine.” She glides it along her lips, and I watch, mesmerized by her. How can she make putting on lipstick so fucking sexy? “They will eye-fuck you, try to lure you. While I wait here in the castle for my beast to come home to me… praying he doesn’t fall prey to their seduction.”
“Never—”
She stops me with a pointer finger held in the air, coating her top lip with her other hand, then rubbing her lips together. “So, if you do, and they dare get a chance to have what’s mine, I want them to know someone else claimed you before they did. Let my lipstick smeared on your cock be a reminder that no one can make you come like I can.”
“What are you—? Oh fuck, principessa,” I groan when she cups my now-hard cock through my dress slacks.
“I want you to come in my mouth. I want my mark on you all night.” She unzips my pants first, then unclasps the button at the top.
“You think there is any other woman who could make me go as mad as you do?” I ask, peering down at my captive. God, she’s fucking stunning, a siren inside such an innocent exterior. And she wants to suck my cock and mark me to let the world know I belong to her as much as she belongs to me?
I’m in trouble.
“No, but it would be best that you remember me while you’re away tonight, Doctor.”
“Do it then, Bella. Mark me as yours.”
With that, she obeys, taking my cock out. The thick tip is dark with arousal, throbbing for her to take it. The moment her red lips close around the wide head, I can’t help the groan that leaves my mouth. Dropping my head back on my shoulders, I take in every sensation as she starts to slide down my length, inch by inch. “You have such a slutty little mouth, and it’s made to please only me, isn’t it, baby?”
She whimpers around my length, the vibrations stirring up the dominant lover in me. Looking down, my jaw goes lax, my head tilts slightly, and my hand grips her hair to keep it out of her face. I want the full view of her sucking my cock as if it were her last meal.
The sight of this woman captivating me and consuming me, sucking my cock, is a work of art. The scene should be painted and hung in galleries. I would almost let that happen if I wasn’t so possessive. Only I get this. Her. Untamed. Dirty. Messy and fucking crazy. Thrusting my hips, I sink into her mouth a little more, wanting her so badly to gag on my thick, nearly violent-looking dick. She looks up into my eyes, giving a knowing look.
She understands I want her to take it like a whore, because for me, she’s mine—mine to treat like that in the bedroom and a princess outside these four walls filled with our moans and dirty, animalistic fucking. Arabella is gold to me, a fragile masterpiece I want to protect and preserve. But when we get naked and our hands on one another, it’s anything but delicate. It’s completely raw and unhinged. Two feral predators clawing for dominance.
“I’m going to come. Swallow it all,” I growl, and she gets to work, pumping my cock faster. I match her movements, my thrusts meeting her sucks. My spine tingles, my balls tighten, and my body lights up in a blaze.
“Fuck!” I roar when she cups my balls and squeezes. I explode, spurts and more spurts shooting down her throat. She struggles to get it all down, gagging and making noises of panic with each swallow. I spasm a few more times in her mouth from the sounds she makes before finally pulling out, and when I do, some of my cum slides down the side of her mouth and chin.
“Uh, uh, uh, Arabella. I said every drop.” With my middle finger, I collect the cum from her flesh. “Swallow it all.” Then without hesitation, I stick my middle finger in her mouth all the way to my knuckle, as far as it will go, forcing her to suck.
“That’s a good girl. Such a greedy woman,” I coo, using my other hand to pet her hair and keep it out of her face. She lights up under my praise. It’s not the first time I’ve noticed how much she loves when I reward her with words like this.
Arabella sucks my finger clean, nestling her head into my other hand as she does. Our eyes lock, and I see it.
She’s fallen in love with me.
She’s letting me in, and she knows that means I’m never letting her go. My grasp on her will soon be my permanent claim. I don’t clean the lipstick off my cock, just like she wished, loving her claim on me just as much as mine on her.
She protests me leaving, trying to seduce me with more promises of intimacy. But if I want to keep her alive and all to myself, I must find the man who wanted her dead and end him. This will be my greatest kill yet.
19
DeLuca
“You were hired to be my date. That’s it. You do your part, and keep silent,” I tell the blonde named Rosalie. Marcello appointed her as my decoy date in hopes that Ferro won’t be too alarmed by my presence. The moment she walked up beside my woman’s father, I saw the intentions in both their eyes. Marcello wanted her to be a shiny distraction to pull me away from his daughter, and she wanted to be rewarded with sex with me.
I was instantly repulsed and all but seething, telling Marcello I should have his eyes for this. How dare he bring her, knowing Arabella might find out his disgusting plan.
Does he know his daughter no longer despises me but rather makes love to me each night, ever since she found out about everything? No, but I do, and I promised my piccolina that no woman would even get close tonight. Yet here I am with a blonde-haired, blue-eyed modelesque woman hanging on my arm, who is not subtle at all about wanting to end the night with a hot fuck.
Not a goddamn chance.
I have luxury at home; Rosalie is a cheap knockoff compared to Arabella.
“I’m going to make my rounds. You two should start at the bar, survey your surroundings. If you spot him, find me. Keep movements and eye contact as discreet as possible,” her father tells me.
Giving him an annoyed yet amused look, I remark, “I kill people in the underworld. No need to tell me how to do my job.” With that, I move with Rosalie toward the bar.
I order a scotch neat, and Rosalie gets some type of martini with a skanky name. I don’t give it any attention like she was hoping, I’m sure. My eyes glide over the ballroom, making note of each person, their title, and who they’re talking with. We believe Ferro has a narc, someone who is playing both sides and feeding the information to that asshole. Finding Ferro isn’t the only mission. We must also find the dirty rat.
“We should dance. It’s a ball, after all.” Her voice is like nails on a chalkboard. You can tell she�
��s trying her best to sound needy and sensual. As if that’s something I like.
Well, I do, but only from a smart-mouthed brunette hidden in my castle. About to shut her down, I stop when I see a group of men in suits and no masks enter just to the side of the stage where an auction will take place later.
Ferro’s men. I recognize them from the meeting we had setting up the hit on Arabella. “Fine, but no theatrics. Do not bring attention to us while we’re out there. Got it?” I warn her, putting my elbow out for her to take. This move would seem caring and intimate if it were Arabella, but with Rosalie, it’s just a show.
With a huff, she agrees. “Fine. But you could act a little more excited. You and I are the best-looking couple in this room.”
This makes me growl. “We are not a couple, and if I have to remind you again of your place and responsibility tonight, you won’t like it.” I don’t have to elaborate on my threat. She knows exactly what I mean. She gulps and moves on my count.
Good. She understands now. I get us in a shadowed part of the dance floor, out of the spotlight shining directly in the center. We move along to the music, but my eyes stay focused on the group of men. When one of the higher ups in our world approaches, they clear a path and give me a straight-shot view of the man they are guarding.
Ferro.
That adrenaline pumping through my blood begins to rise.
The need to kill him, to take him and make him pay for what I almost did to my sweet Arabella, is prevalent. It’s consuming. Almost overwhelming. Remembering where I last spotted Marcello, I look his way, and that’s when I find him staring at me. He gives me a knowing nod, and that’s my cue. He laughs loudly as I slip away from Rosalie. She protests with the click of her tongue and an annoyed sound that I pay no mind to. This loud, boisterous laugh catches the eye of Ferro, keeping him focused on Arabella’s father.