by Haley Ladawn
By the time the fake police cleared out, Elliot had gotten dressed and disregarded my existence once again. I threw on an oversized t-shirt that I had taken from the closet, not caring whose clothes they were. It smelled like fresh laundry detergent, so I knew it was clean and that’s all that mattered. My hair was drying, but the ends were still wet, dripping down onto the t-shirt.
When I walked back into the mahogany room, Elliot was sifting through a nightstand beside the bed that was made up with dark, silky sheets. It looked comfortable to the point where I wanted to run and jump on it.
“What are you looking for?” I arched an eyebrow in his direction. “Your dignity?”
“Watch it, fiorella,” Elliot growled, giving me the quickest wink. “You are the one who just gave me a hand job in the same water you were bathing in. You keep proving to me what a dirty little girl you are.”
“You’re not exactly clean yourself, buddy,” I scoffed, rolling my eyes.
I saw him kill a woman and I was sure it wasn’t his first time taking someone’s life, nor would it be his last. If I was a mess, I didn’t want to know what he was. If I let him touch me, I’d never be clean again and neither would my record.
“I’m very clean actually, which you didn’t even bother to ask before you grabbed my cock.” He finally pulled his hand out of the nightstand, holding up a small, yellow bottle that was filled with circular pills. They seemed to all be different colors, like a rainbow trapped inside of a bottle. “La Santa Trinita!”
“Did you just say something about Santa Claus?” My eyebrows drew together, as he took a handful of pills and downed them.
“You should brush up on your Italian, Rose.” He rolled his head back to stretch out, doing it extra slowly to ensure that I got a good view. Running his hand over his shoulder, he turned slightly, puffing out his chest. I could watch him stretch for hours. “It’s embarrassing not knowing a thing about your own ethnicity, yes?”
“Are you saying that I’m Italian?” I stifled a laugh, thinking the drugs had already taken their toll on him. He was just running his mouth, and I had to be the one to listen.
“You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.” He turned to face me. His eyes darkened to the color of the ocean before a storm; moody and unreadable. “Everyone here is Italian, aside from the call girls, and a few underlings that will always be below us. They’ll never make rank here. They will be below us until they’re below the ground.”
I scowled, shaking my head. There were a million things wrong with that, but I wasn’t going to try and change his morals. He probably didn’t have any to begin with. “There’s some crazy British man downstairs who’s looking for crystal meth, so I just proved you wrong. He doesn’t look Italian.”
“You met Gabriel?” He seemed surprised, as he gave me a half shrug. “He was born in Italy to Italian parents before they moved to England to build a family there, hence why he sounds like the Queen.”
“When you say family, you don’t mean annoying little kids and white picket fences, do you?” I pursed my lips into a thin line, feeling my stomach tie into knots. “You’re talking about recruiting big men with even bigger guns to do illegal shit that could get them killed, or put into prison. Right?”
“Sí.” He walked over to the decorative fireplace that was sending heat through the room. The flames illuminated against his olive skin, casting him into an orange haze. “But we only go to prison if there’s a rat and we have many exterminators, fiorella. As for dying, it’s a part of life. If you’re not dying for a cause, then you’re dying for nothing.”
He paused to take a breath, or maybe to decide if he wanted to continue. I’m sure the things he really wanted to say, he couldn’t. You know the whole code of silence thing amongst criminals.
“So, yes, Lily. We die for money, power, and respect, but isn’t it better than dying for nothing? Dying because it’s your time?” He stopped to make air quotes, which made it hard for me not to smile, despite the subject matter. “I make the rules here. I say when I die and what I die for, no? The world doesn’t get to decide that for me. I won’t have to sit on an uncomfortable deathbed, waiting for the world to say it’s time to bite the forbidden fruit. I’ll eat it when I want to, and not a moment before then.”
“Most people don’t start thinking about death in depth, until they’re thirty-something at least.” I let out an awkward laugh. “I guess some of us get an early start.”
“Like your father, yes? He got an early start.” Elliot’s voice turned cold and distant. “I know he was murdered when you were a child, but that was after your mother kicked him to the curb, correct? Did you even care about him, or were you glad he was dead? Do you have daddy issues, gattina? Is that why you like older men?”
My hands dropped to my side and my posture stiffened. No one had spoken about my father in years.
Taking a shallow breath, I narrowed my eyes. “I see you’ve done your research.”
“Not exactly, fiorella.” He tended to the fire with his back to me. I could see the muscles in his back flex as he moved his biceps around. “Research is for scientists and college kids. I’m neither of those things. I just know the man who stole half a million dollars from my family when I was younger. It kind of put a stupor on the college fund, yes? Maybe that’s why my father opened his own school, or maybe he did it to hide the fact that he was a crime boss. Who knows?”
I wish I could’ve said that I was surprised, but I wasn’t. My father wasn’t a provider, he was a taker. He took things and he never gave them back. He took my mother’s heart and broke it. He took my childhood away, and tossed it into the trash. He took everything he could get his hands on.
“What are you getting at? Are you saying I’m responsible for my father’s supposed debt?” The knots in my stomach continued to tangle. He obviously knew enough about me. I just wondered why it took him so long to admit it. “Is that why I was taken? You want me to pay for what he did?”
“No.” He turned around, picking up the pointy fire iron. The end was as sharp as a butcher knife, and it was scorching hot from being in the fire. It was a weapon, but he didn’t hold it like one. “He paid for what he did when we hired a hit man to blow his brains out.”
I stood there in silence for a long while, allowing myself to think of the man I hadn’t thought about in years. Hundreds of memories flashed through my mind all at once. All of them ended horribly, and it wasn’t just because Elliot grabbed me by the wrist, pulling me back to reality.
One of his hands held the fire iron, while the other held me. His grip was somehow comforting when it should have been threatening. That was the moment I knew I was royally fucked.
“This is the part where you’re supposed to cry like the little girl you are.” He let go of my wrist, moving his hand to my cheek. “You’re supposed to shed a tear, gattina, but you can’t do that, no? Not for the man who hit your mother and then hit you? Not for the man who killed your brother when he tried to protect you?”
“Who told you about my brother?” I pushed his hand away immediately. His touch was no longer comforting, and my eyes were beginning to sting. “Who told you about Lucas?”
My father was a thief, stealing my mother’s heart and my childhood. He stole everything. He even took my brother’s life. He took everything that ever mattered, and he never gave it back.
“Sylvio, of course.” He twisted the fireplace poker in his hand, as if it was a baton. I cringed at my father’s name, feeling sick to my stomach. “Your father tried to play the ‘I have children’ card right before he died. He thought he would be spared if someone felt sorry for him. No one did and his life was put to an end. After his death, we found out Lucas was dead, but you were alive. You’ve been on our radar ever since.”
“And what about my friends?” I took a heavy breath, digesting all of this. It wasn’t going down easy. I felt like I was going to throw up. I hadn’t thought about my past in so long. “How did they end up here?
What did they do?”
“Everet found them a couple years ago by chance.” He replied, throwing the iron on the ground. It rolled on its side for a while, before coming to a stop at the end of a wooden coffee table. I didn’t even think about going after it. The desire to hurt him was fading. “It was just a coincidence that they knew you, or maybe it was fate. I don’t know, and I don’t care. They’re not my problem. You are.”
“I’m not your anything.” I scowled at him, shaking my head swiftly. “I’m not your fuck toy. I’m not your prize. I’m not in your debt. My father ruined my life when he was alive, and I’ll be damned if he ruins it when he’s dead. I’m not paying for his mistakes. You killed him, and it’s over and done with.”
I walked to the door, avoiding his smoldering gaze. I expected him to come after me, but he didn’t. I figured the drugs had left him disoriented. Maybe that’s why he decided to play this fucked up game of truth or dare with me.
“We killed him as punishment, but it seems to have only brought you pleasure,” he said quietly, opening a bottle of scotch. I heard the cap being twisted from behind me. “If you leave, that pleasure will end. You’ll be reunited with your father, and no one will save you. You know how this goes, fiorella.”
He turned on a giant, black flat screen TV, before jumping on the silky bed. It was amusing watching such a tall, muscular man jump up and down on a bed, like a child. It proved that he was still high from the drugs. He finally settled on the bed, pulling the covers halfway over his exposed chest. His defined pectorals were still visible, as he turned his head to look at me. He looked like a different man; happier and less confined.
“Aren’t you going to join me?”
I arched an eyebrow, stepping closer to the inviting bed. It looked so comfortable, and I was too tired to say no. “Don’t you mafia men have business to take care of or something?”
“Not tonight, fiorella.” He opened his strong arms and patted the spot beside him, letting out a soft yawn that sounded a lot like a whimper. It made me wince, wishing I could hear it again to be sure. “I want to watch a movie with you and pretend that we’re normal people. Let’s pretend, yes?”
I crawled onto the bed beside of him, curling up right inside the warm nook of his arm. He could crush me, or cuddle me here. The choice was up to him. I already made my choice, and now I waited.
“Grazie.” He pulled me closer, not too hard and not too soft. His mood had completely changed. “Ho mentito. Ho detto che non rimpiango nulla, ma mi dispiace il modo in cui ti ho trattato.”
“Will I ever understand you?” I crinkled my nose, looking at him sideways. His hard features had softened, melted into a state of dreaminess.
“Maybe one day.” He shifted a little, taking a breath. His words were fading in and out, just like his consciousness. “But I hope you never get the chance to.”
“Elliot?” I glanced up again, but his eyes were on the television. I could see his dark, sooty eyelashes curling upwards, brushing against his cheeks when he looked down at me.
“Mmm?”
“I already know you.”
“Margari.”
“I don’t know what you just said, but I do know you.”
“Shush, fiorella.” He put his finger on my lips, literally shushing me. “The movie is starting.”
The movie that was playing was The Wizard of Oz. I was pleasantly surprised. As a child, I always imagined being Judy Garland. A brown-eyed beauty with Toto at my side as we explored fantastic worlds. Meeting strangers, good and bad.
“Rose?”
“Yes?”
“I know you too.” Elliot whispered into my ear, moving a strand of wet hair out of my face. “And I know you almost fucked my twin brother in his BMW. A car would’ve been a tough place to lose your virginity, yes?”
I stiffened, almost choking on my own saliva.
“Also, you’re wearing white and your shirt is soaked. You’re not wearing a bra either, gattina,” he said as he pulled a silky comforter over my chest. He winked, smirking a little. “There.”
Chapter 23: Give and Take
Dorothy was off to see the wizard and I was off my head, waiting for Elliot to say something to me. For the majority of the movie, he hadn't said a single word besides making vague commentary about the cowardly lion.
He said that he hated cowards and that they deserved to die, along with people who didn't know how to use their brain. I guess that meant that he was the tin man, he didn't have a heart. And maybe I was Dorothy, chasing some man that was a complete fraud.
Every now and then, I'd sneak a peek at Elliot and never once was he looking at me. We were next to each other, but never had we felt further apart. There was a coldness in the room even though the fire place was alive with flames. It was strange.
"Why are you staring at me like that, gattina?" Elliot asked quietly, keeping his gaze on the movie. Damn his peripheral vision. He was in complete control of his surroundings.
"I was just watching you." I turned on my side, looking back at the giant screen. "Waiting for the moment you freak out and turn back into the jerk you usually are.”
"Well, we're supposed to be watching the movie, yes?” He finally cocked his head to the side to look at me. “And I’m only an asshole when people give me reason to be.”
I sensed his eyes move down my body, stopping at my long legs. He was checking me out or sizing me up. I couldn’t tell which one.
I felt something drop in my stomach. Was it my heart? Or just those pesky butterflies again?
"I've been watching you too," he admitted with a devilish smirk that made my insides stir. If he'd really been watching me, I hadn't noticed. His eyes never left the screen, but maybe that's how criminals worked. You never saw them, but they always saw you.
"You haven't been watching me, you've been watching my tits," I said bluntly, trying to sound menacing. "And I thought you said that we're supposed to be watching the movie?"
He shrugged, running his hand through his untamed hair that was styled away from his face. "I can't help it that you're more entertaining."
"Smooth." I nodded, giving him a bitter smile. "Real smooth."
We were about to miss the best part of the entire movie. Dorothy was about find out that the wizard was a total fraud. She was going to learn that things are never as they appear.
"No, not smooth." He made an advancement toward me. In the blink of an eye, he was rolled over and I was beneath him. He held me by the wrists, holding his body only a few inches above mine. He dipped down, until I could feel the ridges of his abs against my stomach. He was so hard and warm, like molten lava. "I can be very rough.”
I felt that familiar tingling shoot up my legs, bringing those hellish goosebumps with it. I wasn’t scare of him. I was aroused.
"I want to touch you." His hand trailed circles along my chest as he bit down on his bottom lip. Was he asking for permission? That was so unlike him.
"This is the good part of the movie." I tilted my head upwards, looking at the screen, trying to distract myself. I wanted to touch him too. God, I was losing my mind, or what little pieces of my mind I had left. “It’s about to get deep.”
"I want to be deep," he growled huskily, resting his head in the crook of my neck. "Deep inside of you."
"Wouldn't sleeping be more fun?" I tried to ignore his warm embrace against my body, but it was easier said than done. He touched me so precisely, like he was finger painting.
"When you're in the same bed as me, sleeping is the last thing you're ever going to do." He moved his body upwards, until he was hovering above my face. The hardness of his body molded to the softness of mine. "Were you going to fück my brother, cara mia?"
"No." I blinked, taking a deep breath. I wasn't sure if it was a lie or not. Honestly, I had no idea what would've happened in that car if Elisa hadn't interrupted us. "I was just—"
"Grinding your ass against his dick?" he interrupted me with a smirk on his lips that turne
d into a scowl. His emotions were unreadable, like a book written in a foreign language. "I know exactly what you were doing."
“Then, why ask?” I furrowed my eyebrows, frowning.
“Because I want you to admit it,: he replied roughly, giving me a slow nod. “Admit that you were going to fuck him. You were going to sleep with him because you thought he was me. You wanted to fuck me, fiorella, not my brother.”
I narrowed my eyes, biting the inside of my cheek. I wasn’t going to give him a response when he didn’t deserve one.
His hand drifted back to my stomach, stopping right at my hips that were now arched a little higher. My breathing stopped as he ran his fingers along my waist, teasingly. My body was responding to him before my brain even made its mind up. I mentally scolded myself for not being able to think straight.
"With all due respect, fuck you." I panted as his skilled fingers dropped lower and lower down my frame.
“That’s exactly what you’re going to do.” His fingertips brushed against the lace panties that hugged my hips tightly.
His muscular frame crashed against me, until there was no distance between our bodies. His fingers still played with the fabric of my panties, pushing them aside slowly.
Before he touched me, he brushed his lips over mine, letting out a low growl that made me both surprised and aroused. At least I wasn't alone in this screwed up situation. Our attraction was mutual.
He tasted like the perfect combination of cinnamon and mint, so spicy, clean and crisp. He pulled back, but I pulled him closer, wanting to taste him again. He gave me a teasing lick on my bottom lip before taking it in between his teeth, massaging it.
"Rose... Lily... my fiorella." He pulled away again, pressing my wrists into the mattress, so I couldn't bring him back to me. "I want to touch you, but I don't want to hurt you. Fiori hanno bisogno di luce per crescere e io sono tenebre."
"What are you talking about?" I creased my eyebrows, feeling utterly confused by his sudden change in mood.