by KD Robichaux
“How did you know where to find us?” I ask Marcello, because I can’t figure out how he knew we were in danger for one, and exactly where to go to help us at the very last minute for another.
His lips tug upward at one corner, his hand rubbing up and down Arabella’s back as she looks up at him to get the answer as well. “The envelope of pictures. There’s a small tracking device inside. It was more luck, really. I knew she’d confront you with the photos, and I was hoping you would take them away from her and we’d be able to track your movements more closely—you stealthy bastard.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “Little did I know just how handy that chip would be in catching the fucker we were both after.”
As if it’s the first time it registers in his head that Ferro is present, Marcello’s brows lower, and he looks toward the passenger seat. Arabella pulls out of his embrace, stepping toward Maxwell and holding her hand out, palm up. He eyes her for a moment, and she must glance down at the gun he’s holding, because he follows her gaze to it before placing it in her hand.
Without a word, Bella spins on her heel, marches up to the front passenger side of the SUV, and yanks open the door. I watch, mesmerized, as she lifts her hand holding the gun with perfect form.
“Ara—” I hear Ferro’s barely audible whimper, but he doesn’t even get her full name out before she pulls the trigger, her face a blank, emotionless mask.
She walks casually back to Maxwell, holds the handgun out toward him grip-first, and he takes it, his mouth slightly open in shock. She spins and steps between her dad and him, sending a smile my way as if she didn’t just finish off the motherfucker who wanted her dead.
“I’m famished. What’s for dinner, guys?” she asks, and I let out a bark of laughter as I reach toward her, grasp her forearm, and yank her against me.
“Whatever the fuck you want, piccolina.”
Her dad is the only one who looks unfazed by her actions as he pulls his cell out of his pocket and hits a button. With a few murmured words, he orders his men to track his vehicle and to come as quickly as possible to clean up the mess. When he hangs up, his face is full of pride as he tells her, “That’s my little mafia princess.” And I feel her melt into me.
23
Arabella
The Ruin went to war after everything happened, now that the two families are enemies again. Didn’t matter that Ferro betrayed me as his wife and hired DeLuca to kill me. The war started.
My father demanded we go into hiding. I protested, knowing it would mean my love would have to give up his job as a doctor, at least here, for now. My love—that idea still makes me chuckle. My captor. My keeper. My man. Now, my love. A killer of evil at night and a savior of angels by day.
We left. Hiding out in Bali. Maxwell had a place there, and in the dead of night, the three of us fled. I worried day in and day out about the safety of my father. If anyone was going to be able to mend the broken and restore peace, though, it was him. He called me as often as he could, letting me know he was safe, that the war between two of the oldest families in the Cosa Nostra was starting to die down. We had a long way to go, but the brutality, the killing, it was slowing. My father said there was a lot of bad blood that needed to be cared for.
I couldn’t help but place blame on myself, but DeLuca often told me that it wasn’t my fault. Ferro betrayed the family. Not us. Not my father. Him.
Tonight, as the sun is setting, a calming mixture of yellow, orange, and purple paints the horizon of the ocean. I look in the mirror at my strapless, floor-length flowy dress. The bustier hugs my chest tightly, making a sweetheart neckline, turning into an empire waistline before flowing out from my hips and legs.
This is the dress I will wear at my sunset wedding, to marry DeLuca. A man who mere months ago stole me in the night. One who had plans to kill me but instead revived me. I’ve never known love, obsession, or deep wanting for another human until I met him and became prey in his hands.
I smile, tucking my long black hair behind my ear as it falls in natural curls. My makeup is light, the new smattering of sun-kissed freckles peeping through my foundation. My eyes are vibrant, alive with knowing that I will forever be his by nightfall. I will be branded by my keeper.
There is a knock on the door.
“Yes?”
“Arabella. You look beautiful,” Maxwell announces himself, stepping into the room. I smile at him through the mirror, righting my dress one more time.
“You think? Is it too much, too little?”
“Just right. DeLuca will be very happy. You’re glowing.”
His compliment warms me, calming my doubts just a bit.
“Thank you, Maxwell,” I return with a sweet smile. Maxwell and I have become very good friends. Which Lord knows I need. Being on this island in hiding can be very isolating, especially on the long days that DeLuca is away in his office, helping with things back home and my father.
“You’re nervous. Don’t be.”
“That obvious?” I turn, taking his arm that he has waiting for me. In place of my father, I asked Maxwell to walk me down the aisle to my future husband. I’ve been married before, had a big, flashy wedding, yet this feels like the first time. I’m more excited and nervous and a whole lot of other emotions.
Love. It’s because I’m in love with the man at the end of that aisle. My stomach is running rampant with nerves, my core slick with desire to marry him and then get lost in the sheets. With everything going on, we haven’t been able to make love in days. To most, that seems like nothing, but for us, that is everything. We come alive, we connect most, we breathe each other in and out when we are making love. It’s all that matters. All that ceases to exist.
“It is, but I can tell you it’s going to go great. Nothing to worry about,” he assures me. Squeezing his forearm, we exit the villa doors and step onto the sand.
That’s when my eyes fall on him. The man I love. He wears khaki pants, bare feet like me, and a halfway buttoned-up white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his tan arms covered in a few intricate tattoos. I hear myself whimper, thankful when Maxwell acts as if he didn’t.
DeLuca looks me over, his bottom lip catching between his teeth, his chin lifting, and his body igniting, matching my feelings exactly. We are aligned and in tune. I hope we don’t tear each other apart tonight… or do I? My legs feel heavy, as if I would collapse without Maxwell’s assistance, but DeLuca’s look—his molten desire is bleeding into the sand, traveling to me, and up into my body. I need him. The lily-covered arch and the priest are just a blur at this point. I see no one and nothing but my man.
Once I reach him, he takes me, not just my hand. No—he engulfs me, bringing my front to his, our bodies molding to one another. One arm bands around my back, the other around my neck, his hand gripping it and taking a possessive hold on me. He growls down at me, warning me that he won’t let this ceremony last long. I don’t want it to either.
“Make this fast, priest,” he demands, awakening a thousand goose bumps across my chest, back, and arms. We stare into each other’s eyes the entire time. Speaking without words, promising each other not only a night of love, passion, and possession, but a lifetime of it. His thumb rubs circles with the right amount of pressure on my neck, his other hand kneading at my back. I swear it’s as if we are fucking right now, and we are still both fully dressed.
The “I dos” come fast but no less meaningful or special. More special, in fact. Filled with adoration, promise, and loyalty.
I finally have the life I dreamed of, with the man who stole me.
24
DeLuca
She vowed herself to me. Declared ownership over and to me when she said “I do.” I needed this. It consumed me day in and day out after everything happened with Ferro. That day solidified my need to protect and possess her for not just the rest of our lives, but for fucking eternity. Even in death, I will own her. After life, in heaven or even hell, I will own all of her. She took my damn breath aw
ay and squeezed my heart in her hands when she appeared at the other end of that sandy aisle. I wanted to lay her under me for hours, worship her for gifting me her eternal love, but punish her for being so damn irresistible.
The way back to the room is quiet. We don’t speak or touch. This is on purpose. By the time I lock our door, I want her to be clawing at my skin, burning from the touch of her clothes keeping a slight barrier between us. I want her wild and raw, unhinged, mad. Her breathing is heavy, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Me, I don’t show her anything, keeping myself composed and as if I’m unfazed, when really I’m anything but. There is a beast under these clothes and this skin, waiting to break loose and attack. A primal hunger pumping through the dominant male in me.
The elevator to our suite I rented for just the night dings, and she gasps, jolting, her body hyperfocused on her arousal, so much so she isn’t aware of her surroundings. I gesture for her to step out ahead of me, remaining without physical contact. Thinking she will take a moment to look over the room, I’m mistaken.
“Please. Take me. Touch me. Anything,” she cries, lifting her dress and bringing it up around her waist, exposing her bare pussy to my hungry gaze. I growl, staying put.
“Beg fucking harder, piccolina,” I tell her, placing my hands in my pockets and slightly tilting my head in amusement. I give off a disconnected persona, and this makes her angry yet overly aroused.
“Please. I’m hurting. It hurts.” She actually tears up, small droplets escaping her eyes.
“What hurts?” I challenge her, not falling for her award-deserving acting abilities.
“My body, my core. My heart.” She reaches down with one hand and begins to split her folds, rubbing circles on her engorged clit. I can see it from where I stand.
“Why your heart, principessa?”
“Because you’re not giving in to me. Denying me. You look so unfazed. It breaks me, Maestro,” she purrs out master in Italian, the nickname she gave me recently, growing bored of “Keeper.” And my cock grows to its full length, straining my trousers. Fuck me, she’s so damn perfect.
“You think I’m unfazed? Do you have any idea what I’m really thinking? What I really have planned for us tonight?”
She rubs faster. Normally, I would deny her, but for the brutal lovemaking I plan to give my little one, she needs to be as ready and wet as possible.
“Please tell me, I… oh—oh, I need it,” she moans, her knees quivering.
I step up to her, less than a foot from making contact, when I take my pointer finger, middle finger, and thumb and force her to lift her head and look up at me. She slows the rubbing of her clit, and I bark, “Don’t you stop rubbing your slutty cunt, baby, or I will make you suck me off all night and leave you without getting yours until tomorrow.”
She gulps and returns to her previous speed, crying still, the hot tears calling to me. Bending, I lick them up one by one, and her chest shakes under her desperate sob.
“I love you, my captor. I love you so much. Please,” she begs desperately and so very eagerly.
Pulling back, I look her over again, and I continue, “I’m going to mark you. Leave bruises, bite marks, and my cum all over your skin. I’m going to brand you as mine.” She gulps. “Then I’m going to tie you to our bed for twenty-four hours and fuck each perfect part of you I want.”
“Yes,” she squeals, coming.
“Then, I will untie you, and you will ride my face, my cock, and suck me off until you beg for reprieve.”
“I’ll do it all. Just let me have you, Maestro. Please.”
Finally, I take her. Grabbing the center of her dress’s top, I pull and rip the entire length in half, her perky breasts bobbing as I do. I violently palm them and bite at one nipple, then the other, leaving marks in my wake. Grabbing her now naked form against me, I carry her to the bed, the handcuffs already placed on the iron rod and waiting for her delicate wrists.
I lay her down softly, a contrast to what is about to happen. The first few times will not be gentle. They will be animalistic, just the way we both want and need it. Bringing one arm up above her head, I suck and bite a trail from her armpit to her wrist, leaving marks as I go. Rubbing her thighs together with pressure, she seeks out some release as I take the other arm and do the same thing, getting her into place. Now in her cuffs, she looks me over, watching me as I undress, eating me alive with her eyes. She takes in all my masculinity, knowing this body and its power over her. She knows what my strength can do to her. There is no denying her body was made for me and now hums only for her husband.
Once naked, I climb the bed, wrapping both my hands around her thighs and burying my head against her sweet spot. Her back arches, toes curling and landing on the muscles over my shoulder blades. I lick her, eat her, nip her clit, and tongue her center.
“I love you. I only love you,” she screams, matching my thrusts with the rolling of her hips.
I groan my appreciation, but I don’t let up. I need two, maybe three orgasms in my mouth before I dare take one on my cock.
One.
Two.
Three.
I count them each, claiming them like a prize. The time comes, and I revel in it. Sitting up, I grab her hips and make burning eye contact with her before my abrupt movement. When I flip her, she screams, her arms crossing and the cuffs biting and tightening. I plunge into her without warning, her warm, tight heat searing my cock.
“Fuck!” I lean forward and grip the headboard, placing my front to her back. I wait there, letting myself adjust to her.
“You’re so big. It hurts me still.” That isn’t her boosting my ego; that’s the truth.
“You can handle it, like a good little slut. Right, beautiful?”
“Oh God, yes. How do you do that to me?”
“Do what?” I begin to fuck her, measured, pronounced thrusts.
“Talk to me like that and have me desperately wanting more?”
I grin sinisterly and lean into her ear. “Because you know it’s true. You will never be touched again by anyone. And if you dare to, I will make you watch me cut off their hands. My words, my touch, my love for you has no match, no bounds,” I growl, giving it to her now. Pounding into her without pause, its messy and everything we both needed after days with no touching.
I hold off, collecting more orgasms from her before finally coming. My orgasm burns. From my head, down my spine, and ending in my toes. I growl, so loud the walls should shake. I pull a fistful of her hair, bring her head back, and kiss her through our ecstasy.
“Mine. Forever. You are mine, piccolina.”
Mine, she is. The day I stole her was the day she invaded my life. No matter the danger it would bring, I walked into that hell willingly and will now burn a lifetime for her. Each day and every night, I’ll make sure she lives for me as I live for her.
But that’s easy, because this little one always knew who her keeper was from the moment I pulled the hood from her head the night I took her.
Me.
* * *
The End
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Acknowledgments
Thank you to our awesome team!
Alpha Read by Crystal Burnette & Stacia Gjerde
Edited by Barb Hoover
Proofread by Casey Lalkas
From KD:
Thank you to my sisterwife CC for once again creating a book baby with me, this time while you grew me another nephew!
Thank you to my hubby face for sending me off to Mexico to finish this story in peace while you held down the fort with the kids. And thank you to my neighbor and bestie Tiffany for going with me to make sure I didn’t get trafficked.
Thank you to the staff of Life Time Baybrook Café (Jaime, Farid, Charity, and Kim) for keeping me fed during my countless hours there while I wrote this book.
And last but furthest from least, thank you to the best friend and assi
stant in the whole damn world, Jamie Vest. My numero uno since day one of this crazy ride.
From CC:
To friends. To family. To readers. To dreamers. And even the nonbelievers. You helped me get here. You believed in me and my stories. Thank you.
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THE BLOGGER DIARIES TRILOGY:
Wished for You
Wish He Was You
Wish Come True
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THE CLUB ALIAS SERIES:
Confession Duet (Before the Lie & Truth Revealed)
Seven: A Club Alias Novel
Mission: Accomplished (Knight Novella Boxed Set)
Knight: A Club Alias Novel
Doc: A Club Alias Novel
Astrid: A Club Alias Short Story
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