Looking disgusted, he stepped back. “You’re a pervert who only thinks about sex.”
“Wrong. I think about love, and right now, I wouldn’t mind filling you with some. I never got to come inside of you the other day, since my brother so rudely interrupted me.”
“You’re taunting me so I hit you first.”
“As you taunted me. So, unless you drop your pants, leave me in peace. I don’t feel like playing your childish games.”
“No, I was here first, so you leave.” He walked over to the couch and sat down.
“You really are a child.” I headed past him, bypassing my bedroom.
“Where are you going?” Matteo asked.
I placed my hand on Alessandro’s door handle. “I might get a taste of what you desire.”
“Alessandro’s not your type.”
“He’s attractive.”
“And covered in tattoos.”
“Then I’ll look at his face—or his muscular culo as I fill it with love.”
Matteo pushed off the couch, stopping a few meters away from me. “You’re not allowed to touch him; he’s to go back to the Santini unharmed.”
“Why do you care what I do with him?”
“Because I like him, and I don’t want you ruining my fantasy. He’s born to fuck, not to be fucked.”
“What difference does it make, he’s not your type; he’s far too handsome.”
“His body and cock are my type, so leave him alone.”
“Okay. I’ll just look at him, then.” I turned the handle, but something was stopping me from entering. I pushed at the door, making a chair fall away from it. Stepping inside, I looked over at the bed, finding Alessandro tied to it. Despite my noisy entrance, he continued to sleep. The Santini spawn was naked, save for a sheet covering his lower half. He was an impressive sight, only his evil tattoos ruining the picture. My eyes rose to his face. He wasn’t beautiful like his brother Brando, but he was still extremely attractive, his face having a majestic quality to it—impressive and very manly.
Matteo followed me in. I shifted away from him, not wanting the demon at my back. My eyes moved to my niece, who was slumped in a chair by Alessandro’s side, fast asleep.
Matteo walked over to the bed and lifted up the sheet, peering underneath it. “Man, he’s got one impressive cock. I’d give my left nut to suck on it.” With a wide grin, he looked over at me. “How about you give him your cock? It’s about time you parted ways with it.”
“Your humor is vile, and you’re being hypocritical.”
“About what?”
“You criticize me constantly about being a rapist, yet you’re the one abusing Alessandro.”
“I’m not touching him.”
“You’re looking at his body as I looked at yours the other day.”
He dropped the sheet. “I knew you were perving at me!”
“Of course I was. You have a beautiful body, pity about your evil personality.” I moved around to Andriena’s side and lifted up the sheet, looking down at Alessandro’s cock. “He does have an impressive cazzo, and that ring in it makes it look even more enticing.” I reached out to touch it. Something hit my leg, making me pull back. I looked down at my thigh, shocked to see a knife sticking out of it. I’d been stabbed? But it had felt like a punch.
My eyes shot to my niece as she removed the knife from my leg, her normally soft face now vicious. Matteo started laughing, telling her to stab me again.
I took a step back, finally feeling the pain, although I was too stunned to take it all in. My niece stood up and raised the knife, looking like a snake ready to strike. I backed up fast, my leg giving out on me. Crumbling to the floor, I yelled out for my brother, panicked as my niece drew closer. I yelled out again, shouting for help.
Thierry shot into the room, followed by Christo. My brother shouted at Andriena to drop the knife as Thierry launched himself over me, the boy protecting me from my niece. For a second I didn’t feel the pain, shocked that he would risk his life for me.
“Drop the knife!” Christo shouted again, pointing his gun at her.
“No one touches my Alessandro!” Andriena yelled back.
“Do it now! Or I’ll shoot you.”
A thud sounded, the knife hitting the floor. Thierry was yanked away from me. Christo’s face appeared over mine, his eyes filled with worry. He lifted up my garb, then placed the material against it again, putting pressure on my wound. He started snapping off orders to Thierry, instructing him to get a soldier called Paolo. I knew the knife wound was serious, but I didn’t care, because now I knew without a doubt that Thierry loved me. He’d risked his life for me, showing me through his actions what Satan couldn’t deny. Satan remained silent, making me smile.
I closed my eyes, knowing if I survived this no one was going to take Thierry away from me.
Not God
Or Satan
Matteo
Or Gabriel
Because the boy was mine
And I would kill to keep him.
4
RITA
Careful not to wake Frano, I eased out of bed, wishing it wasn’t so dark, so I could see him one last time. No, it wouldn’t be the last time, because I was going to return to him—no matter what. Christo wasn’t going to destroy my life again. Instead, I was going to destroy his, and in the most painful way possible.
I dressed quickly and grabbed my stashed weapons, wary of waking Frano. A minute later, I was heading down the passageway, leaving behind my sleeping prince, Frano not even stirring. I stopped partway down the staircase, noticing a dark figure below. It was the scarred soldier, who always stood guard there.
I resumed my descent down the staircase, stopping a few feet from him, his question locking me in place.
“What are you doing?” he asked. His voice was raspy—and full of menace. But he didn’t scare me. He could be ten feet tall and I would still take him down, especially if he tried to stop me from saving my brother.
“Answer me,” he said. “What are you doing?”
“Going to the gym,” I replied.
“At...” he pressed his watch, illuminating it, “...one a.m. in the morning?”
“Not to work out, to sleep. Frano snores,” I lied. “There’s a spare bed in the gym.”
“I didn’t hear any snoring.”
“That’s because you’re downstairs.”
“It doesn’t matter, return to his room.”
“No, I’ve been given permission to roam the house freely, so you can’t stop me.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, and you know it.”
“You’re a rude woman.”
“No, I’m not, I was stating a fact.”
“Blunt then, like all you Americans.”
“I’m Italian.”
He sniffed. “Then I’m African.”
“I am Italian. I’m a Salvi,” I said, not knowing why I had to prove my nationality.
“Then why don’t you have an Italian accent?”
“I was basically brainwashed by the FBI.”
“Or the Black Russian. He can eliminate an accent. If I was a betting man, I’d say you were trained by him.”
“Well, you’re wrong; I’ve never met the man.”
“I’m sure you wouldn’t tell me if you had.”
“Why are you questioning me? Everyone in this household knows I’m FBI.”
“You move and look like a Black Viper, and you fight like one too. My bet is you’re a double agent.”
I screwed up my face. “What a load of shit.”
“Only from your mouth. So enjoy your freedom, Viper, because tomorrow I’ll be letting my boss know what you are.”
“Whatever, I don’t care.” I stalked towards the passage, the man’s words pure imagination. I knew of the Vipers. The women had worked for the Black Russian as assassins and spies, until they had a falling out with him. I might have fitted their profile with my fighting skills and looks, but th
at was as far as it went. Plus, I’d never met the Black Russian, and right now, I didn’t want to. As far as I was concerned, the FBI could get another idiot to go after the man, because I was no longer interested in completing my task, or even being an agent. All I cared about was killing Christo, saving my brother and Thierry, as well as capturing the sick priest and Matteo. Once that was completed, I wanted to climb back into bed with Frano and fuck his brains out for the rest of our lives.
I entered the gym, heading straight for the wardrobe. I searched its interior for the hidden trapdoor, finding a metal button a minute later, which I pressed. The floor opened downward, revealing a space large enough for a grown man to climb through. I eased myself through it, descending a ladder to a dark cellar. I pulled out the penlight I’d stolen from Frano and clicked it on, realizing the slave cells were on the other side of the wall.
I started searching the room for another way out. There were several single beds, a couple of cabinets, even a fridge ... and another wardrobe. I opened it, this time running my hand over the back wall, since it faced the yard. My fingers brushed a metal circle similar to the one in the other wardrobe. I pressed it, causing the wall to open outwards. I stepped through the opening, entering a passage comprised of bushes, the night sky now the ceiling. I raced through it, stopping at its edge to check for Landi soldiers. An empty vineyard stretched out before me, the sweet smell of grapes filling my nose. Up above, the half moon threw a faint glow over the dark landscape, while a soft breeze brushed my face.
Not seeing any soldiers, I took off, running through the vineyard, vaguely remembering doing it once before. The memory grew stronger with every step, making me stop in my tracks. I glanced back at the house, the two story villa grand. My eyes locked on the backyard. An image of a young Jagger popped into my head. He’d been playing with a soccer ball while waiting for me to arrive for his seventeenth birthday. He’d been so skinny back then, not the slim, muscular man he was now. Still, that same pervasive sadness had surrounded him, something I’d chosen to ignore. I knew I’d let him down, like everyone else in his life. No one had truly cared enough to have noticed the signs of his abuse, because it had all been there: his sullen outlook on life, the way his beautiful eyes misted over constantly, his need to be away from home, his fear of large men ... and more. And now I was finally going to do something about it—I owed him that much.
A shadow rounded the building, probably a Landi soldier. I ducked down and started running again, not stopping until I was on the other side of the vineyard, too far away for him to see me. Following Camila’s instructions, I headed east, hoping to reach my destination in under an hour. I was good with directions and could find my way out of anywhere, the skill having been hammered into me during my FBI training.
The thought of the FBI—in particular my boss, made me grimace. I was still angry with Dan for not being upfront about Honey ... and everything else. He’d been like a father to me, someone I thought I could trust wholeheartedly. It was ironic that I now trusted a mob boss more than him. I wondered how much of a role he played in suppressing my memories. Did he okay the drugs they’d used on me? Or did the order come from a higher authority? And why the hell would they want to suppress my memories in the first place? None of it made sense, especially since I’d only come from a low level mafia family, one with no real power. Why was I so important that they had to fuck with my head? And even if I did know the ins and outs of the mafia world, which I hadn’t back then, they’d wiped my memory. Again, it didn’t make sense. None of it did. Or maybe they’d molded me into a vengeful killing machine, then unleashed me upon Frano, hoping I’d destroy him. The thought enraged me, because I almost had. The memory of smashing Frano’s head against the cell floor made me shiver with fear. I could’ve killed him. I grimaced, mentally adding more names to my revenge list. After I threw out the Donatelli trash, I was setting my sights on the FBI.
I emerged onto another field, seeing the forest surrounding the lake. I jogged around it, the cold air pleasant, the run not too taxing. I loved to run, and had missed it while being locked up in the D’Angelo house. The memory of the past few weeks came to mind, and of everything I’d been through. Even though it had been horrifying at times, I would’ve lived through it all again if it meant I could keep Frano.
I continued following Camila’s instructions, wishing I could turn around and go back to Frano. I hated leaving him alone with that trumped-up bitch. He was quite capable of putting Camila in her place, but just the thought of that sleazy woman touching and flirting with him made me want to go postal—notably on her. But then again, Camila seemed to be more interested in Jagger now, which was a strange change of course for the power hungry witch. It made me wonder why she’d suddenly given up on Frano. Maybe it was because she knew he wasn’t into her, or maybe she was genuinely attracted to Jagger. It wasn’t exactly surprising, considering how beautiful Jagger was. Still, I would always choose Frano.
Always.
After another twenty minutes of running, I finally reached the town Camila had described. I stopped in front of a tall stone church, the structure looking vaguely familiar. I smiled, realizing why. I’d had my first communion there. The smile dropped from my face. The thought that I had forgotten this, along with everyone I’d cared for, made me feel as though I’d betrayed them—and myself. I’d been living a lie for the past seven years, one fabricated by whatever power that was manipulating me, whether it was the FBI or some other organization. I just wished all my memories would return, so I could get on with the life I was meant to live.
I glanced at the clock tower, realizing I’d run the distance quicker than what Camila had estimated. Good, I’d use that to my advantage. I kicked into gear again, heading past the church. I veered left down a dark street lined with tall trees. Their branches were laden with fruit, the sweet smell permeating the cool night air.
A dog barked in the distance, breaking the eerie silence. At a set of lights, I turned right, slowing down as I spotted Marco’s Mall. It was a five-storied monstrosity, its large neon sign brighter than the moon above. I slowed down even more as I cut through a street, coming to a complete halt at the end of the mall. I poked my head around the corner, finding an empty parking lot, the Donatelli not having arrived yet.
I pulled out the Scotch tape from my pocket and taped one of the blades to the inside of my pants. I threw the rest away, only needed one to slit Christo’s throat. I then removed the knife Camila had given me, knowing it would do me no good. Instead, I would hand it over to the Donatelli, telling the men what Camila had said, hoping it would roll back on the bitch. Camila might have surprised me with her help, but I wasn’t delusional: She still wanted me dead, and the feeling was definitely mutual.
The sound of a car made my eyes shoot to the far side of the parking lot. A vehicle emerged out of the darkness, heading my way. Willing myself to move forward, I stepped away from the safety of the building and slowly walked towards the oncoming vehicle with my hands held high. The car came to a halt several meters away, the doors opening a second later. As soon as the men stepped out of the car all hell broke loose, the sound of gunfire going off. I flung myself to the ground and covered my head, wondering whether the Landi soldiers had followed me. At the back of my mind, I knew that didn’t feel right. This whole situation had the bad smell of a setup. The gun firing maniacs had probably been waiting for us, ready to ambush me and the Donatelli.
After a minute, the firing finally stopped. I looked up, seeing dark figures running across the parking lot towards the Donatelli vehicle. A man crawled out of the vehicle, looking like the only surviving mobster. He fell to the ground, clutching his right arm as the dark figures surrounded him. Keeping quiet, I watched, wondering whether they’d seen me or not, because no one was looking my way. An American voice barked at the mobster to get up. A second later recognition hit me, the dark figures identity now revealed.
They were FBI.
Remaining on the
ground, I called out, “Julio,” not wanting to attract friendly fire.
The dark figures turned my way.
“Rita?” Julio answered.
I rose slowly to my feet. “Yes.”
He strode towards me, the man tall and muscular. I had done my FBI training with him, the both of us the cream of the crop. He was part African American, along with Mexican and Puerto Rican. He was one handsome motherfucker—and he knew it, too. He wielded his good looks like a superpower, making women fall at his feet. I just wasn’t one of those women. He was more like a brother to me. I just hoped he hadn’t betrayed my trust like Dan had.
Julio held his arms out wide as though he was greeting a long lost relative. I went into his arms, feeling conflicted about seeing him. Although I liked him, I was worried he’d ruin my plans, considering they were probably in direct conflict with his orders. Though, if anyone would break the rules for me, it would be Julio, since he wasn’t exactly clean. In fact, he was downright dirty, but only in the sense it got the results required.
I unwrapped myself from him.
He grabbed my face, staring at me in wonder. “I didn’t think I would ever see your smart-ass face again, beeyatch.”
I smiled. “Ever the charmer.”
“That’s what happens when you go off the grid.” He let go of my face and grabbed me again, giving me another hug. “Girl, you scared the shit outta me.”
I gave him another squeeze. “That’s my job.”
He let go of me, then punched me in the arm, making me yelp.
“What was that for?!” I said, rubbing my arm.
He grinned. “I told you if you didn’t make it back for my birthday, I’d give you a dead arm.”
“Guess I deserved that, old man.”
“Ha! Thirty isn’t old, and you’ll be the same age soon.”
I shook my head. “Nope, I just found out I’m fucking twenty-four.”
He frowned. “What?”
I smiled, relieved at his surprise. “Guess you’re not involved in my mindfuck.”
“What are you talking about?” he said, looking confused.
My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Episode 12 Confrontation Page 4