“Brando,” Ivy groaned, her pretense now shattered. She mumbled something in Arabic, her accent so sexy.
He moved his mouth up her neck, flicking his tongue over her ear again. “Say you want me,” he breathed into it.
She didn’t reply, only her hands giving away her desire. They were now on his ass, gripping onto it as she ground her pussy against his leg. He grabbed her hips and yanked down her pants. She let go of his culo, saying something he didn’t catch, his desire for her all-consuming. He spun her around and shoved her against the cabinet, his cock desperate to get inside of her. She said something again, but it was all white noise. He prodded her pussy with his cock, her panicked yell making him stop. The woman was struggling to turn around, his arm holding her hard up against the cabinet.
He looked up, surprised to see fear on her face, her “No” finally getting through. He shot away from her, cutting his foot on the glass on the floor. But he didn’t care; what he’d almost done shocking him. Her body had screamed yes only a few seconds ago, yet she’d yelled no when he’d tried to take what he wanted.
What he wanted.
Like the priest had done to him.
Feeling sick, he spun around and headed for the door, needing to get away from her, the woman having made him lose control. He fought with his base desires every day—his need to take women growing stronger. They usually complied with him, but if they said no, he always stopped. But Ivy... he’d almost raped her, his hunger for her having blinded him. He’d always been a bastard with women, but it was getting worse, especially every time Ivy walked into the room. He wanted to show her he was strong, not a weak cunt who could be overcome by another man, the sick priest too powerful. But that had been seventeen years ago. He was nothing like that slim boy of his past, a teenager who couldn’t win no matter what.
He opened the door, knowing the Padre had made him sick, the evil fucker turning him into the monster he was today.
“Brando,” Ivy called out. “You can’t go out there, you’re naked.”
Ignoring her, he walked out into the gym, trailing blood on the floor. His cock was still hard, the pain in it worse than his cut foot and shredded back. He needed to come, but he wasn’t going to do it anywhere near Ivy.
His eyes shot across the gym, realizing it wasn’t empty. Alessandro stopped lifting weights, his brother’s surprised gaze going to him. The two Vipers standing next to his brother turned to see what Alessandro was looking at, their eyes going wider than the Sahara. Both of their stunned gazes settled on his hard cock.
“Brando!” Ivy yelled. “Get back in here!”
Ignoring her, Brando walked past his brother and the Vipers, knowing they would be even more shocked when they saw his back. It probably looked like someone had taken a meat cleaver to it, the blood no doubt soaking his bandages. The blue-haired Viper had ended up whipping him much harder than any dominatrix he’d ever used, but then again, he’d asked for it.
He pushed open the gym door and headed down the passage, aware he shouldn’t be walking around naked, but also unwilling to turn back. He couldn’t face what he’d almost done. Not only that, but Ivy’s fear had turned him on. He liked scaring females, breathed in their fear like air; he just didn’t like the aftermath. It wasn’t guilt; it was shame, because no matter how much he made a woman tremble, he was the weak one, physical strength not a factor. Like the priest, he couldn’t control his urges, and that to him was true weakness.
“Brando, take the towel,” Ivy said.
Not willing to take anything from her now, he continued down the passage, stopping as a female servant stepped out of a room, coming to a sudden halt in front of him. The woman’s eyes went to his naked body, the shock on her face almost comical. He would’ve laughed if he wasn’t so wired, anger still pumping through his veins. If anything, he wouldn’t mind fucking the servant in front of Ivy to teach the bitch a lesson for turning him down. But instead, he pushed past the servant, heading for the staircase.
“Take the damn towel, Brando!” Ivy yelled, thrusting it in front of him.
He yanked it out of her hand and threw it at her face. “If you don’t want to see me naked, cover your eyes.” He spun back around, stopping in the archway, his anger and insanity draining instantly. Shocked faces stared back at him from the lounge. Jagger D’Angelo was sitting across from Ivy’s sister and his—
Swearing, Brando covered his cock and ran for the staircase, racing up it, horrified that his mother had seen him naked. He couldn’t give two fucks about the others, but not her.
Merda, what was he thinking? He wasn’t ... that was the problem. Ivy had scrambled his brain, fucking with it as he’d almost fucked her.
He turned the corner of the staircase, seeing Mira and Siena exiting their room, the girls’ eyes widening as they saw him.
Cazzo!
He pushed open his door and entered his room, the gasp coming from the girls no doubt over his bandaged back. He slammed his door shut on Ivy’s face, wishing he could put another bullet in his head, the next one hopefully doing its fucking job.
But instead, he headed into the bathroom and pulled open the cupboard. The door closed in his room, making him clench his jaw. The Viper was impossible! He grabbed his pills and swallowed them down with a handful of water before she could stop him. He turned around as Ivy entered his bathroom.
“Why the hell won’t you leave me alone?!” he shouted. “You clearly don’t want sex, so fuck off.”
Frustration crossed her beautiful face. “I want to help.”
“Why? I almost raped you.”
“You stopped.”
He cocked his head to the side, not understanding her. She rejected him, yet refused to leave him alone. Maybe she collected charity cases. “Why are you making excuses for me? I would’ve done it if you hadn’t fought me.”
“You stopped,” she repeated. “And I want to help you.”
“Why? Because I’m sick of you running hot and cold on me. Merda, you were all for fucking, then did a complete one-eighty on me. Well, I’m not in the mood for cock-teases, so piss off.”
Her eyes widened. “I’m here to help, yet you continue to insult me?”
“If you want to help, strip and bend over.”
“Why does everything have to turn sexual with you?”
He sneered. “Why does everything have to equate to not having sex with me? You want it, yet you always have an excuse that stops you.”
“Stop talking about sex!”
“Not until you relieve me.” He pushed past her and sat down on the bed, parting his legs. He took hold of his cock. “Get on your knees and suck me.”
She gritted her teeth.
“That’s a change, you’re quiet for once.”
“I don’t take kindly to the words coming out of your mouth.”
“Then get the hell out of my room.”
“I will once you stop fighting me.”
“I’m not fighting you, you’re fighting me.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Sexual urges. We both have them for each other, and right now,” he ran his hand up his stiff cock, “you’re working me up. So, either relieve me or tell Cyn to come up to my room. She liked touching my cock last night.” He ran his tongue over his upper lip. “She liked it so much that she swallowed all of my cum.” He smacked his lips together.
Anger flashed across Ivy’s eyes. “She said she didn’t have sex with you.”
“She must be related to Bill Clinton, then.”
“What are you talking about?”
“She obviously doesn’t count blowjobs as sex.”
“You’re lying to anger me.”
“Then check her blue hair. I came all over it.” He laughed. “Monica’s dress and Cyn’s hair are the same color.”
“What are you on about?”
“Something your small mind can’t understand. I really should remind myself you’re not too bright. By the way, was Cyn’s hair
sticking up more? Cum is great as a natural hair gel—perfect for mohawks.”
“You. Are. Horrible!”
“I know. By the way, are you hungry? I have something real tasty for you.” He started wanking his cock. “It’s all natural, the best kind of protein shake you can have.”
She breathed out, looking like she was trying to calm down; then without another word, she knelt down in front of Brando, surprising him. He didn’t expect her to comply, just had been saying anything to get the stubborn wench to leave. He stopped wanking himself and covered his crotch, just in case she was going to hit him where it definitely would hurt.
A concerned expression softened her features, those black eyes no longer showing anger. “I know you’ve been abused. It’s why you act like this, isn’t it?”
He went still, taken aback by her question.
“You’re lashing out like I used to.”
He shook his head, feeling deeply uncomfortable with the subject.
She placed her hands on his knees. “You don’t have to hide it from me, I won’t tell anyone.”
“There’s nothing to tell.” He pushed up, making her move back. He headed for the wardrobe, not willing to answer her question. He pulled out a shirt from it and yanked it over his head, wincing at the pain it caused. He then grabbed a pair of pants and pulled them on without underwear, needing to get away from her as quick as possible, the woman seeing something his family had failed to for half his life.
Footsteps approached him. “Where are you going?” she asked.
“Where you aren’t.” He turned around, the woman right in front of him. He didn’t understand why she wouldn’t leave him alone. “Get out of my way.”
“No, I need you to answer another question first.”
“Why would I? I didn’t answer the first one.”
“Your silence answered it. Now, the question is: What was the man’s full name who abused you? I’ll track him down.”
“Are you high?”
“I’ll get vengeance for you.”
“I don’t need your help, and I wasn’t abused.”
“Now who’s lying?”
“I’m not!”
“I think you are.” She breathed out. “My sister and I talk about the abuse we went through; we’ve also set up counseling sessions for the other Vipers. It helps all of us considerably. Maybe it would help you if you talked, too.”
“I have nothing to say, because nothing happened, so move out of my way or I’ll make you.”
“You’re acting aggressive because you know I’m on the right track, which is making you feel uncomfortable. But after you get over that stage, it does get better.”
“Move!”
She crossed her arms over her chest, giving him a determined look. “No, and if you don’t want to talk, then I will. You’re harsh and uncompromising, and I know why: because I’m the same. You’re also destructive. I used to be like that too, hurting both myself and others, but I fought hard to move past it. Yes, I slip up at times, but at least I’m trying. Do you know why?”
“I’m not interested.”
“Too bad, because I’m going to tell you. The reason is, if I don’t live my life to the fullest because of what was done to me, those bastards would’ve won, and there’s no way in this life or the next I’ll ever give them the satisfaction of that. And you shouldn’t either.” She reached for his head, brushing her hand over where he’d shot himself.
He jerked his head to the side. “Don’t touch me.”
“Before you wanted me to touch you, now, because I’m getting too close to the truth, you want no contact. Stop running from your past, Brando. Face it so you can enjoy your future.” She touched his head again, giving him a soft smile, something he didn’t expect from the woman. It wasn’t sympathy in her eyes; it was understanding, which he’d never received from anyone.
He allowed her hand to stay there, wondering if he could confide in her, then dropped the line of thought, knowing he couldn’t. He couldn’t tell anyone, because people would mock him for what had happened. He was a hitman, someone who lived on people’s fear, and if they knew, they would look at him differently—as a weak joke, who couldn’t stop a man from using him like a woman.
He pushed Ivy aside and grabbed his keys, heading for the door.
“Brando!”
He left the room and descended the staircase quickly, keeping his eyes down, too ashamed to look at the people in the lounge after running naked past them.
He continued through the archway and headed out the front door, just wanting to get away from everyone, everything, and most of all—himself.
He clicked his car remote, knowing where he could do that: the Opium House.
13
Concetta ran down the front steps, yelling at Brando to stop. Her son turned around, his golden eyes going to her. He looked so magnificent—tall and beautiful, so much like his father it was chilling. But she also saw something in his eyes that his father’s never held: Pain. And far too much of it, and not just over what the priest had done to him. She knew she did wrong by lying about who his real father was, but she’d only done it to protect him. People would’ve treated him like a bastard—like Valentino, and she couldn’t allow one of her sons to grow up with that shame. She had to deceive him; she just didn’t plan on Ricardo finding out and telling Brando, her oldest son nothing but a cold-hearted bastard.
“What?” Brando snapped.
“Come back inside, Jagger’s waiting to talk to you.” She hoped that bringing the two brothers together would go towards helping Brando adjust to being of D’Angelo blood.
“I have no interest in talking to him. I don’t like the prat.”
“That’s because you didn’t give him a chance the last time he visited.”
“He hit on Bella.”
“He did no such thing, you misread the situation. Everyone misreads that poor boy.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, he’s a sex slave trainer, an abuser of women, a man who doesn’t know boundaries.”
“For goodness’ sake, Brando, Bella said he didn’t hit on her, and you’re one to talk, considering how you treat women.”
“I don’t torture them to make them into subservient sex slaves.”
“He’s out of that trade now, and he never wanted to do it. He wasn’t given a choice.”
“Think whatever you like, but he’s even more warped than me. And Bella’s wrong. Jagger said she was only a second cousin, insinuating he could make a move on her.”
“He only said that to annoy you, since you upset him for assuming he was coming onto her. You just need to get over it. Jagger is willing to. So, come inside and talk with us.”
“Why bother? Everything that comes out of your mouth is a lie.”
She flinched. “I understand your anger.”
“You don’t understand any of it, not even a whisper of how much resentment I feel towards you, and you can’t expect talking with Jagger will resolve anything. You played me my whole life; I can’t just get over that just because you want me to.”
“I know, bambino—”
“Stop calling me bambino!”
She jolted. “I understand you can’t forgive me, I will live with that, even though it tears at my heart.”
“Do you truly have a heart in there?” He placed a hand on his chest. “Because I no longer have one.”
She breathed out, feeling no anger, just deep sorrow, his pain stabbing her like a knife. But, although he had every right to spit hateful words at her, she also had a right as a mother to try to keep him safe. “Everything I did was to protect you.”
“Don’t give me that, you did it to protect yourself.”
“That’s partly true, but I wanted to protect you more. Your father... No, my husband was never a father to you. He was a nasty bastardo who made my life a living hell with his infidelity. He didn’t care what it did to me, so after I found out he fathered Valentino I went to your real father
, the man I’d never stopped loving. What I did with him, what produced you, was pure love. When I saw you for the first time, I knew you were Davido’s baby, your beautiful face so perfect. I was so happy I got you, then the heartless bastardo I was forced to marry saw the D’Angelo in you and raged at me. He could sleep with whoever he liked, his bastards running all over the place, but he couldn’t allow me to do the same.”
Brando’s eyebrows rose. “He has more children?”
Concetta grimaced. “Don’t think that Valentino’s the only one that came from his adultery. He has numerous children, at least five others I know of. Fortunately, they don’t look like him, only Valentino making tongues wag, even more so since he resembles Ricardo.” She breathed out. “So, when I had you in my arms and he wanted me to give you over to your real father, I screamed and raged, threatening to kill him if he took you away from me. I fought for you with everything I had.” She touched her chest. “Because the only reason I don’t have a heart is because I gave it to you that day.”
He blinked, looking taken aback.
She stepped closer to him, taking his face into her hands. “I love all my children, but I’ve always loved you and Alessandro the most. I know it’s wrong to favor one child over another, but you and Alessandro are the only ones who truly make me happy. But when you placed that gun to your head, you almost killed me. It felt like you were shooting me, because truly, my figlio, I cannot live without you. If you had died that day, I would’ve picked up that gun and placed it to my own head.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it, looking like he was lost for words.
“So, please come back inside. I want to introduce you to Jagger.”
He frowned. “I already know Jagger.”
“Not as a brother. I want you two beautiful boys to get to know each other, and to help one another move past the horrors you’ve suffered due to my mistakes.”
“I killed his parents, not you.”
“I pulled that trigger by ordering the hit. You were just a gun, someone I should never have put in that position. I was so enraged with your father’s wife that I wasn’t thinking straight. If I had been, I wouldn’t have gotten you to do it.”
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