by J. L. Beck
Once my hair and body are dry, I wrap the towel around my body and slip through the door. The room is empty as I tiptoe over to the bed. A glimpse of red catches my eye, and I take in the red dress that lays on the bed. I touch the edge of it. The material is soft, similar to the other dress I had been given.
Who is this man? He dresses me, fucks me like he owns me, and is dark and full of secrets. I have a decision to make. I can wear the dress or defy him and wear something else. It is beautiful, though, and I know just by looking it will look good on me. However, won’t doing what he wants be like giving myself over to him?
Then again, I have no idea where it is that we are going, and if I don’t wear the dress, he will just make me put it on anyway. Growling, I curse him and pull out a pair of black panties and a red strapless bra.
I slip the dress on, relishing in the softness that wraps around me. I feel as if I am wrapped in the softest blanket in the world. The dress is very similar to the other dress, except this one is tighter. My body is curved into it like a glove. My breasts are accentuated very well, and my waistline looks tiny.
“You look exceptional…” His dark voice says behind me. I hadn’t heard him slip into the room, probably because I can’t stop staring at how I look in the mirror.
“Compliments of you, of course…” I say smugly, unable to wipe the look off my face. I know if I start going soft, it will be a lost cause. I have to get out of this alive.
A smile peeks at his lips. “Who else knows your body like I do?” he questions. My mind drifts back to all the times we’ve shared in his bed. It had been intimate and passionate. It’s something I will be thinking about for a long time to come.
“You don’t have to buy me shit… I don’t need any more debt to be paid…” I trail off, my fingers fidgeting with the edge of the dress. A pair of kickass looking heels are next to my feet, but I am not sure I want to wear them. I can hardly walk in shoes, heels will kill me.
“Consider it a gift then.” His voice is cool, his face void of all emotions. He is dressed in black slacks with a red tie and a white shirt underneath. He dresses to please, just looking at him makes me want to run straight to the bed and forget about doing anything. He oozes so much sex and confidence, it consumes everything in his way.
“I don’t need gifts either,” I say as nicely as possible while gritting my teeth. I kind of hate that he has all this power. He controls people, and not only other people, but now me, too.
He smiles softly, which is surprising because nothing on him is soft… “Put your shoes on. We need to get going.” Those are his last words to me before slipping his hands into his pockets and leaving the room—those hands, the very things that cause pain and pleasure in so many ways.
He is a force to be reckoned with. I just don’t know if it will be me to bring him down or if he will be doing it himself.
18
Enzo
“Go get her,” I speak firmly to Eli. His eyes bore into mine for a moment longer than I would like before he goes upstairs to my room. Amara has found a way under my skin, and each day that she is here, I feel myself losing my grip on things. I’m not soft, I can’t be. In this world, there is only strength or weakness. Being weak is certain death, and strength is power, something necessary when you have men breathing down your throat and people shooting at you.
Speaking of which, I’m going to kill Luccio tonight if he doesn’t give me the answers I need. Someone sent one of his men to my home for something. Something which is unknown to me, but I am going to find out. When we had last spoken, he seemed so intent on helping me find my mother’s killer, now it seems as if he is the enemy, just wanting to weasel his way further into my life, hoping I’ll expose any and all secrets.
My fists clench with anger, isn’t that what everyone wants? Amara, too? To weasel her way into my life? To discover what it is that makes me tick? To break me down? I hear the faint sound of heels on the floor, and my eyes glance to the stairs. The second my eyes land on Amara, I swear I want to give all the anger and madness away.
Her dress fits her just as I envisioned it would, hugging all her beautiful curves and accenting her body for what it is. Her eyes hold a secret, and I can see the fear in them. Her body is bound up tight with something, and the way she pulls away from Eli has me wondering if he’s tried something on her behind my back. I shake that thought away. She is probably still mad at him for tackling her to the ground.
She takes the steps slowly, her heels clacking along the way. I had set this dinner up in an effort for us to get to know more about one another. I had known all there is to know about her father, and Amara, herself. She is a college student, she is undecided in academics, and her favorite color is green. She is deathly afraid of bees, and her favorite ice cream is double fudge. My men found all this out via the internet, among other tools that weren’t known to the public.
Her father is a farmer who lost his wife–Amara’s mother. I know that much about Amara. We both shared death, but that’s about it. Except she is living, and I am not.
I extend my hand out to her, she places her warm palm in mine, and I lead us out to the waiting car. She looks beautiful, although I’m sure she already knows.
“Where are we going?” she asks urgently. She seems uneasy.
“Why does it matter where we are going?” I ask, pulling the flask I keep in my jacket out. I need a drink. She is sitting right fucking next to me, and every glance at her, has me imagining the way she rode me this morning. The way her hips moved, how her thighs gripped me and her insides quivered as I…
“It matters because I’m a human, and I deserve to know where you’re taking me.” Her voice is defensive, and her nose scrunches up in anger. I smile, tipping back the flask as the bourbon warms my insides.
I screw the cap back on, my attention turning to her. I know the answer to the question I asked her earlier. She accepted her fate because she wanted to protect her father. I suppose I would do the same if I had any known family members alive.
“Dinner. A nice little restaurant in the city. I made reservations and figured you might want to get out of the house for a bit.” All I have said is true. She has been stuck in the house for weeks, and if I were her, I would’ve been going stir crazy. At least, I had a chance to see my cousin, Alessandra.
“Awfully sweet of you…” She is mocking me. I know it, as does she.
“See, I’m not always a monster.” Giving me a dirty look, she shifts her body away from mine so she can look out the window. It doesn’t matter to me that she knows where we are or how to leave the house. Where she resides isn’t meant to be a prison. If she runs, I will catch her, which she knows.
The ride goes smoothly, and I pull my phone out, sending Luccio a text to let him know I will be stopping by later. I will find out why he sent someone to me. I will also inform him that he is now dead if he hasn’t already gathered that much. He can get his men to collect his body from my property.
“Are you going to kill me after all this?” Amara asks sheepishly as her eyes stay trained on the window.
“I don’t know. Probably not, unless you give me a reason to…” It is an open-ended answer. This is her last chance to tell me if she will do something crazy.
She rolls her beautiful, brown eyes at me, and my dick grows hard. Her defiance makes me want her that much more. Get your head in the game. That’s not what I need to be focusing on. I need to be worried about whatever the fuck is going on around me.
“I just don’t want to die yet. I have so many plans… My mom died rather young, and I want to fulfill everything before my time comes.” Her words cause a hole in my chest to form. She’s opening up to me about her mother and her death. God, does it make me feel even more like a fucking asshole for treating her like shit, for putting her through all this. It has to be done, though, softness is weakness.
“You never talk about your parents, so I don’t know if they are alive. It hurts to lose someone you lov
e like that. It feels like a piece of the person you were died with them. I miss my mom every day,” she says innocently, not knowing my story.
I clench my teeth together as sweat forms on my hands. This is the part that gets me, the part where someone wants to know about my family, or what happened to them. No one asks because they already know, yet looking deeply into her eyes, I can tell she deserves at least a smidge of the truth.
“I know more than you think, piccolo…” My words are soft as she looks at me with concern. This is the hard part of what I do. Not allowing myself to get close to anyone. It’s always easier if you shut yourself out from the world. If I make the rules, I control the outcome. With Amara, I’m starting to wonder if I can control the outcome of all of this.
“Why do you call me that?” Her voice is hushed, and there’s a sense of warmth that fills my bones. She’s too innocent for her own fucking good.
I reach out, placing my hand on her thigh. Her skin is warm against my hand, and I stare deep into her eyes. “You’re a little one. Or at least you remind me of one.” She won’t understand what I’m saying, but she’s fragile, tiny in her own way. She doesn’t even realize the power she contains. I was gone the moment my eyes landed on that picture of her in her parents’ rundown farmhouse.
The vehicle comes to a stop, and Jared, my driver, is out and opening the door before she can utter another word. I use the silence to gather my thoughts. So much bad fucking shit is going to happen if I can’t figure out who has set me up.
We slip from the SUV and into the Italian restaurant where I’d made our reservation. I’ve been going to Sangerios since I was a child. I’ve known almost everyone that works here since before I was born. The legacy started with my parents and was carried on by me. We have our own private entrance and table.
“This place is beautiful…” I hear her mumble under her breath. We head to a table outside under the small light they have hanging above us like a canopy. The moon is shining brightly as the waitress comes and pours some wine, then takes our orders.
“Two fillet minions with the mushroom sauce and truffle fries,” I order for the both of us. The waitress takes our menus, and I give her a soft smile.
“She’s going to die from the need to have an orgasm,” Amara says, rolling her eyes at me. She obviously doesn’t like my friendliness toward the waitress. She doesn’t matter to me, though, she isn’t the one who will be riding my dick night after night.
“That sucks then, doesn’t it?” I say, sipping from my wine glass, hiding a cringe. I’m not a wine kind of man. Bourbon is my choice of drink. It helps drown out the darkness that always wants to break free. I stare at Amara, my eyes lingering on her cleavage. How good will my dick look sliding between her perky tits?
“Have you changed your mind on me contacting my dad?” Amara suddenly asks, breaking the spell her tits had on me.
“Nope. Haven’t changed my mind, nor am I planning on it.”
“Why? Just a phone call or even a text? It’s been almost two weeks,” she whines, and I can hear the longing in her voice.
“Don’t ruin the night with your questions.” I take another sip of the bitter wine.
“You know I never run out of questions, and since we’re at it… If you know what it’s like to lose someone, why do you kill all these people?” Amara asks, gripping her wine glass so hard I wonder if it will break. I hadn’t told her anything about losing someone, although I had hinted.
“It’s a job, Amara. It’s what I do. This is what my family did before me. It’s not as if I have a choice.” I say, irritated with her accusation. Does she think that she knows me because we fucked a couple times?
“Everyone has a choice, Lorenzo. If you know what it’s like to lose someone you love, turning around and killing all these people makes you a hypocrite.” My patience snaps, and a fire builds in my veins as I reach across the table to grip her by the throat. My hold is gentle, but I squeeze just to remind her that I am in control. A soft gasp escapes her pink painted lips, and her eyes grow large with fear. My insides yearn to slide my dick deep into her while she cries and begs for forgiveness.
“There is no good and evil in this world, piccolo. It’s just me, and that’s something you’re going to need to learn really fast. My patience for your misunderstanding is running really thin.” My grip tightens ever so slightly as I think about sliding my tongue across the sensitive part of her neck.
“There is no misunderstanding. Only questions that you are not willing to answer,” she grits out between breaths. Her eyes are filled with lust, and I have half a mind to push this shit off the table and throw her down, push her panties to the side and slam into her over and over again.
Instead, I smile at her sinfully. I release her as if her skin burns me and go back to my glass of wine.
“There is a special place in hell for people like you,” she spits at me. Her words mean nothing to me. At least they shouldn’t.
“We’re already in hell…” Of course, the fucking waitress decides right then is the perfect time to bring our food. She sits my steak and fries in front of me, and as she places Amara’s down, she gives her a dirty look. I may be an asshole who kills people left and right, but no one treats Amara like shit but me.
“Don’t look or talk to my guests like that again, or it’ll be your job,” I say sternly to her. Her eyes grow wide with fear, tears threatening to fall from her thick eyelashes. Her head nods slightly, then she turns and scampers away.
“You don’t have to stick up for me. I can do that myself. I mean, you’re the one who was just holding me by the throat, after all,” she growls, pushing the food away that had been placed in front of her. I feel myself growing feral with every word that slips from her mouth. She’s mouthy, she’s sinfully sweet, and she’s extremely dangerous to my sanity.
I frown at her but continue on with my meal. I won’t waste my food simply because she doesn’t like hers. She’s not in control.
I think about telling her more about my mother and father, about what happened to my mother, but I don’t. I know it might make her understand me more, but I feel like if she understands me more, she won’t fear me. Once the fear is gone, I have nothing to use against her.
Time passes as I finish my meal, and she sits there with her food untouched—what a waste. The server comes and removes our plates without a word said. I leave the money on the table and stand, pulling Amara to her feet. She doesn’t resist, and it wouldn’t matter if she did. I would drag her out of here screaming if I had to.
I hold out my arm, and she slides hers into mine. Together we walk outside, looking like a happy couple out on a date. If people knew the truth...
“Get in the car,” I order, opening the door to the SUV. She looks at me as if she’s actually going to attempt running. “If you’re planning to run, know I’ll shoot you in the back of your leg. You won’t even be able to take another step, and then I’ll cuff you to my bed for the next month.” My hand reaches for my gun hidden behind my back.
Would I actually shoot her? I’m not sure, and the fact that I hesitate even the slightest bit scares me. She doesn’t try anything. Instead, she groans as she gets into the car. I’m walking over to my door when Jared, my driver, stops me.
“Luccio’s?” he asks. His accent is very strong. He’s got slicked-back black hair, his face is dark, and a bleak look crosses it.
“Yeah. Go in the back way.” I walk to the side of the car, open the door, and slide into my seat.
“I don’t want to fucking go anywhere else with you,” she yells. She’s angry, and that’s fine. It doesn’t change things, though.
“Thanks for telling me, but I don’t give a shit what you want. We’ve been over this. The moment you agreed to accept your father’s debt is the moment that anything you had to say stopped mattering. Now, all that matters is how tight that pussy can clench my cock…” Leaning into her body, so our faces are almost touching, I finish saying, “Nothing tha
t you want matters.”
Her eyes narrow, the brown seeping right out of them. She looks as if she’s about ready to kill me, and I don’t blame her. Jared starts driving, and I watch her carefully, wondering what her next move is going to be. Someone like her can’t handle this type of thing. I know when she breaks, it’s going to be mad chaos.
In less than twenty minutes, we arrive at Luccio’s property. His house is just as large as mine. I wait for him to let us through the gate. Anger surges through me, and I let the old me sit in the back of my mind. This is business. The car starts moving again, and we’re through the gate. Looking out the window, I watch as we pass the rose garden and the waterfall.
The car comes to a stop in front of the house, and I grip the door handle firmly, turning to Amara. Her eyes are full of mystery, and I can’t really tell what it is she’s thinking about. “Keep those beautiful lips shut, or…”
“Or you’ll shoot me? Tie a brick to my ankle and throw me in the ocean?” she mocks, eyebrow raised.
Smiling, I say, “No. I’ll fuck you to death.” I slip from the car and head to her side and open the door to allow her out. She takes my hand when I offer it to her. Her feet hit the ground, and she takes a brief look around.
“Lorenzo…” I hear my name being said as I direct Amara to where it is I want her.
“Luccio,” I greet him in return. He smiles, his eyes eating up Amara’s body. Something inside me rouses, I’ve never been the type to be jealous, but the way he is looking at what belongs to me is rubbing me the wrong way. I feel possessive of her. I feel like she’s mine.
“What is the occasion?” he asks, amused, not showing any worry. He should be. He should be scared shitless right now. I’m the monster that hides under your bed, waiting for the moment your breath evens out, and your eyes close to attack. Little does he know, he unleashed this monster all on his own.