Adrian's Vengeance: A Dark Mafia Romance

by Isabella Starling

  Eleanora helps me get all my things and we carry them back to my quarters. I didn't even realize how much time had passed since I started painting and my stomach rumbles in expectation of dinner.

  Before I can get ready to eat, Eleanora gives me another letter.

  My lips form a thin line as I find the blind spot in the room where I can read it without being interrupted. Eyes scanning my brother's words, I find my heart picking up its pace and hammering even harder beneath my rib cage.

  My brother wants to save me. He wants me to leave this place, to come live with him and Vitto. He wants to go along with Father's plan of marrying me off to Vitto. And as much as I want to stay loyal to my family, I can't ever see that happening—not now that I've felt all these things for Adrian. I just don't think I could switch. Feelings don't work that way.

  I write a reply and burn my brother's letter in the fireplace until nothing but charred ash remains.

  No one can find out about my connection with the outside world.

  Especially not my new friend, Nicoletta.

  27

  Adrian

  There's something going on with Nicoletta, my bride-to-be.

  I can't quite put my finger on it, but I'm starting to suspect something. Even though I haven't questioned her about it, I've noticed the slight changes in her behavior that mirror my own. Like the way she smiles when no one is looking. Like the fact that she seems off in dreamland most of the time, thinking about fantasies that don't involve me.

  Still, I haven't questioned my fiancé about any of this. It's easier to pretend I haven't noticed and keep her from suspecting that I'll reveal her secrets.

  I get word from the guards that Nicoletta and Marzia are together in the gardens, so I find myself standing in the hallway, silently watching them interact through the window.

  Marzia seems standoffish and cold while Nicoletta seems eager to strike up a friendship.

  "It's fucking weird, isn't it?"

  I raise my eyes, smirking at my brother Ryder who's now standing next to me. "What, you mean this little captive friendship that's developing?"

  "Exactly," Ryder mutters. "You think it's smart for them to be doing this? They could come up with a plan to escape or fuck us over if we let them spend too much time together."

  "We can take two little girls," I scoff. "We're mafia men, Ryder. No woman has ever brought down anyone like us."

  "If you say so." Even though my brother doesn't seem as convinced, he doesn't argue further.

  That's why I like him so much. I clap him on the back, saying, "I'm glad Gustavo finally let you leave the Carlucci Villa. Not so concerned about collateral now, is he?"

  "Guess not," Ryder says. "He seems pretty confident that you'll marry Nicoletta."

  His words make my head hurt but I do my best to hide it.

  Ryder keeps watching me, as if he's looking for cracks in my exterior.

  I refuse to show him any. My brothers are the last people I'd let witness my breakdown. A man needs to be strong in front of his family. Fucking always.

  "You are going to marry her, aren't you?" he asks.

  I turn to face him then, taking my eyes off the captives in the garden. "What the fuck do you mean?"

  "I mean I'm not motherfucking blind, Adrian," my brother hisses. "Everyone knows you're fucking Marzia Da Costa. It's a small wonder Nicoletta hasn't realized it herself, though I'd say she's not very far from making that discovery."

  "It's not my fault," I find myself hissing through gritted teeth. "That Father wants me to marry someone I feel nothing for."

  "You always knew it would be this way, though," Ryder argues.

  I shake my head vehemently. "No, I thought he wanted me with Marzia. But that's all gone to hell now. We own everything the Da Costas had. So there's no reason for me to marry her. Nicoletta will be a better fit because the Carlucci family is so influential."

  "So you're giving up on Marzia?"

  I glare at my brother, not knowing how to answer him. Of-fucking-course I'm not ready to give up on Marzia, but what the hell am I supposed to do? Father's doing his level best to keep me away from the one woman I want and even my brother doesn't seem too sympathetic when it comes to my love life.

  "Answer me."

  Ryder's insistence surprises me. He's the quiet type that rarely argues, so seeing him this worked up is a shock. "What's it to you anyway? You don't like Marzia, do you?"

  "Of course not, don't be fucking ridiculous." He looks scandalized.

  I can't help but laugh at his crestfallen face.

  "What?" he asks.

  "Nothing, nothing," I muse. "It's just that it's painfully-fucking-obvious you're into someone. So why are you trying to fix my life if you have your own shit to worry about?"

  "It's easier?" he quips with an amused expression.

  "Yeah, other people's problems are easier to deal with than our own." I smirk at him. "Still, if there's one piece of advice I can give you... it's to go after the woman you want. If you don't, you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

  "So you aren't giving up on her."

  He doesn't need to say Marzia's name for me to know he's talking about her. I groan, running my hand through my hair as I say, "As much as I want to, I can't. This goes beyond infatuation and attraction. It goes back to us being kids. To Vitto Donatti, the prick who tried to take her away from me."

  "So this is all about Vitto."

  Perhaps it would be easier if it were. But deep down, I know there's more to my revenge story than just stealing Vitto Donatti's fiancée. I want Marzia because I feel for her, not because I want to rob her of the life she was supposed to have. If that were the case, I would've let Father kill her a long time ago.

  "Either way, it doesn't matter," I find myself muttering. "We both know Father won't stand for me marrying Marzia. I don't get to pick, he's already made the choice for me."

  "Signore Bernardi?" a guard calls out. "Your father needs you in his office."

  "I'll see you soon," I grunt at Ryder who nods at me before walking off.

  As I head to Father's office, I find myself wondering what exactly my brother is hiding. I know for a fact there's something he's not telling me, because I've recognized the way he hides his secrets. It mirrors the way I hide mine.

  Walking into Father's office, I find Nicoletta sitting in front of his desk.

  When I walk in, she smiles.

  "Enjoyed the walk?" I ask.

  She nods, not surprised that I know what she's been up to today.

  "Adrian," Father speaks up jovially. He seems to be in a better mood than I've seen him in for weeks. "Nicoletta here tells me you've barely done anything for the wedding. You don't expect her to do all the work herself, do you?"

  "Of course not," I reply. "I didn't know the preparations had already begun."

  "The wedding is two months off," Nicoletta reminds me. "Of course, we've already started! And somehow we're already behind, too."

  "Well, anything I can do to help," I say, sneaking a glance at Father's amused expression. "Do you need another maid? A guard?"

  "No, Adrian, I think what I need is a friend," she says. "Something like a maid of honor."

  "Sure," I smile tersely. "We can send for one of your friends, or perhaps a business partner's daughter could be-"

  "Actually, I already have someone," Nicoletta says with a bright smile. "And I think she'd be perfect! Marzia, your ward, can serve as my maid of honor."

  She doesn't falter when the color drains from my face.

  Father chuckles as if this is all somewhat amusing to him.

  "I don't know if that's a good idea."

  "Why not?" Nicoletta asks. "She's right here, and she's just as bored as I am. It will be perfect."

  "Perfetto!" Father nods. "I like this plan."

  Nicoletta beams before excusing herself. When she leaves the room, she touches my shoulder, giving me a long, meaningful look.

  The moment Father
and I are alone, my fist comes down on his desk. "Merda, are you fucking serious?" I hiss. "You couldn't pick someone ‒ anyone ‒ other than Marzia? You just had to go along with her plan?"

  "I think it will be a learning opportunity for you." Father nods. "Treat it as such."

  I curse out loud, as I head out of his office. I walk down to my quarters where a pinch-faced older woman is waiting for me.

  "Signore Bernardi, I'm Silva, the wedding planner..."

  "I don't have time for this."

  "Please, Signore! We have to start the wedding preparations, your bride, she's—"

  "I said I don't fucking have time," I hiss, advancing on her until she backs up against the walls, her breaths shallow. "What part of that did you not understand?"

  "I'm sorry, Signore," she chirps. "I thought you could help out pick your fiancée's undergarments..."

  "What?" I bark, taking a step back.

  "Well, Signorina Nicoletta, she umm... wanted to make sure you'd like them."

  "Of course…" I sigh. "Fine, get it over with. Show me the choices."

  "If you'll come with me, Signore."

  I follow her into the salon in my quarters where my jaw drops so hard it nearly hits the fucking floor.

  Before me, the two women in my life are standing, each in her own set of irresistible, innocent white lingerie. My heart pounds and my cock throbs at the sight of Marzia. Her dark waves have been pinned up, her skin glistening with shimmering oil. She looks fucking stunning. I can't even bring myself to look at Nicoletta, even though I know she's expecting me to.

  "That one," I bark at the wedding planner, pointing at Marzia. "Definitely that one."

  Before any of them can stop me, I've marched right into my bedroom, slammed the door, and locked it behind me. I lean against the wood breathing a sigh of relief. Fuck—that almost killed me. Seeing Marzia so exposed...I didn't even want to look at Nicoletta. The only one I have eyes for is the one I can never have.

  My cock strains painfully against my pants and I groan, rubbing the bulge in the front of my trousers. Goddamn, I want to touch myself. I want to stroke my cock until thick ropes of cum shoot over my fisted hand, with her name a dying whisper on my lips. Marzia... Marzia Da Costa. I always knew we'd end up together.

  I don't think, I just unzip my pants and take my cock out, weighing it in my hands. I can still hear them outside, chatting and giggling. But all I can think about is my bambina in that fucking outfit, right there, at the reach of my fingertips... Ivory, lacy bra with a matching thong, a suspender belt, and a fucking garter, too.

  Groaning her name, I start jerking my cock. I don't give a shit who walks in right now. But knowing she's right outside is filling me with unspeakable rage and jealousy. I zip back up and slam the door open.

  There she is, giggling with Nicoletta while the wedding planner puts away some fabrics.

  "Marzia!" I bark loudly.

  The girls turn to face me, Nicoletta's smile fading while Marzia's grows.

  "Get the fuck in here," I demand.

  "Excuse me?" Nicoletta gasps.

  "Not talking to you." I scowl. "Marzia, get in my room, right the fuck now."

  She looks like she can't make up her mind. Whether she should be loyal to her new friend or fall for me again. Then she smiles apologetically at Nicoletta and rushes into my room.

  Before she can enter, I grab her by the neck, forcing her to kneel in front of me.

  The wedding planner is rushing Nicoletta along, and my fiancée watches this unfold with shocked, hurt eyes. "You'll pay for this, Adrian," Nicoletta snarls as the other woman drags her to the hallway. "Just wait until papa hears about it!"

  I smirk and close the double doors of my bedroom while Marzia crawls to the bed.

  If Father insists on making me marry the little blonde, so be it.

  But I'm going to make sure to make every fucking step to that altar is a nightmare for everyone involved.

  Nicoletta, who will be humiliated by my blatant lack of desire for her.

  Father, whose business connections will suffer.

  Gustavo, who will rage war on us when he sees how I'm treating his darling daughter.

  Even Marzia, my innocent victim, who will take the brunt of my rage.

  Everyone will fucking suffer but me.

  I'm the fucking king and I'm not letting anyone take my plaything away from me. Not until I'm done with her.

  Not until she's broken...

  28

  Marzia

  In Adrian's bedroom, I become a willing victim.

  When I walked in here, I knew what he wanted to do to me, and I went right along with it. So, it's really my own fucking fault that I've found myself in this position.

  Adrian has a toy chest in his bedroom, which can only mean one thing. I hate every woman that's been here before me with a burning, jealous passion, but those feelings are soon forgotten. The desperation is too much to think of much else.

  "I've already fucked all your holes," he growled at me as he closed the door of his bedroom. "Now I'm going to show you all the other things I can make you do..."

  He put a gag in my mouth first, one that forces my lips open and makes me drip all over my exposed chest. My hands are tied behind my back and my ankles to the legs of the chair. And between them, a vibrating wand massages every bit of me that's screaming for attention, so slowly, so lazily, it doesn't even scratch the itch that's making me moan out loud as Adrian paces the room.

  I can't say anything, not with the gag in my mouth, but he still makes me do it.

  "What are you?" he asks.

  "Your toy," I try to say, but it comes out muffled and gargled.

  "Didn't quite catch that, bambina. What are you?"

  "Your toy," I repeat desperately as the first tear rolls down my cheek. Fuck this man. He's wrecked me completely. My eyes and pussy are both weeping at the hint of pleasure he keeps dangling over them like a carrot. "Please, Adrian!"

  He adjusts the setting on the wand, making it vibrate just a little bit harder. My eyes keep rolling to the back of my head, my release so close, yet so very far away. I'm desperate to taste it. To stick my tongue out and lick it. But I can't reach it. Not like this, on such a low setting, with Adrian's maddening smirk growing darker as the seconds tick on.

  "Look at you, you're a fucking mess, bambina," he mutters. "Spit dribbling all over your chest... Do you realize how dirty you look? What a mess you've made... How hard you make my goddamn cock."

  "More," I get out through the gag while saliva drips from my mouth. I let out a helpless moan, grinding on the head of the massage wand that's doing nothing to relieve me of the pressure making my pussy ache. "Please, more, Adrian!"

  "You want more? You'll have to keep begging for it." He undoes the gag behind my head and gently takes it off while tearless sobs rack my body.

  What this man does to me shouldn't be legal. But he's never taken anything I didn't want to give. It's even worse ‒ he makes me beg for all the dirty things he does ‒ say thank you after we're done.

  "Your mouth would feel so good wrapped around my cock," Adrian says, winding his fingers in my hair. "I want to watch you swallow load after load the way you were meant to..."

  I look up at him. I'm too broken to speak now, too far gone to say another plea he won't listen to. Instead my lips simply part, soundlessly saying please.

  "Oh, you want to come?" he asks, taunting me as he grabs the wand and pushes it against my clit. I yelp as it vibrates, bringing me closer and closer to the edge of an orgasm. "Stay right there, Marzia. Right at the edge, I want to watch you like this."

  "No!" I start screaming, twisting, but he rips away the wand and in seconds, I'm crying from the loss of my favorite toy. "Adrian, no... Put it back..."

  "No," he says sternly. "You've fucked up now, bambina. Now I'm going to really fucking hurt you."

  "Yes." I don't even recognize my voice as my own. "Do it. Hurt me. Make me work for it."


  He unties me from the chair, grabs me by the hair and drags me across the floor to the full-length mirror in his bedroom.

  I can't even bring myself to look at my reflection. I know the plaything staring back at me isn't Marzia. It's some sex-crazed, needy little whore that would do anything for Adrian—and that makes me so deeply ashamed I can't bear to admit it.

  "You're so fucking desperate, you're dripping all over my nice floor." Adrian points to the hardwood floor where we stand.

  I flush when I see the small pool that's gathered between my legs.

  "Look at the mess you're making, bambina. You're going to clean that up later. But first, you're going to hump my fucking boots."

  I look up at him for confirmation. Adrian looks serious, and the need to please him forces me to straddle his foot. I close my eyes firmly, pretending this isn't happening as I humiliate myself for his pleasure.

  "That's fucking right," Adrian grunts. "Polish them with your sweet little cunt. I want them to shine and sparkle by the time you're fucking done. Grind, little whore."

  I moan and grind, grind and moan. I can feel myself leaking all over his shoes and the embarrassment makes me cry out as he pushes his boot-covered toes against me.

  There are fireworks going off before my eyes. I need this, need him. And yet he hasn't given me permission yet. It's almost as if I can't go through with it... not without him telling me to come. "Please," I whisper again. "Give me an orgasm..."

  "Fuck yourself," he orders.

  I fall back, legs spread open.

  He stares at my exposed pussy, then laughs wickedly.

  I groan, rubbing it into my spread pussy lips as his watchful gaze keeps an eye out for the smallest chance that I might come.

  And when I get close, almost too close, Adrian's fingers wrap around my throat and he pulls me up, throwing me on the bed.

  I gasp after having the air knocked out of me, but I don't get a chance to recover. He's already on the bed next to me, mouth hungrily licking, biting and kissing every inch of my exposed skin.

  "I need to come," I whimper.