by Rina Kent
Well, they left the most volatile of them all.
Me.
Despite the food, no one is sitting or eating. They’re all waiting for a sign like the one Nonno used to give.
I stand up, clutching my glass of wine. Speeches and all this shit was never my thing, but times change.
With one last look at them, I speak in Italian, my tone calm, but firm. Like Nonno, like Padre. “My name is Alessio Vitallio, and I’m the last Vitallio alive.”
Tomb silence falls on the hall.
“A long time ago, we were shot at in our house in the States and I became a contract killer for the enemy.”
A few murmurs break amongst the men, but I continue, “It’s the most disgraceful thing in my entire fucking life. Everyone present here has lost at least a family member to the unfair war the Costas have started. Loss is painful, but it doesn’t have to remain that way. Loss can be turned into hate, anger, it can become a driving force for revenge. Because that’s what I will do. I’ll avenge every last person who was ambushed, killed in his home and in front of his fucking children and wife. I’ll bring you justice, but justice doesn’t come without war.” My gaze roams over them. “I understand if you’ve lost enough already, if you want to stay in your homes and not get involved in this, but for those who want to join me, I promise you three things. One, the Costas’ graves will be a lot more than ours. Two, the Vitallios’ lands will flourish again with your help and your hard work. Three, and most importantly, I’m going to wipe the Costa name off the face of the earth.”
I pause, making as much eye contact with as many of them as possible. “Those with me, please take a seat. You’re welcome to my table any day.”
A few seconds tick by and I expect them to start leaving but one of the elderly ones smiles. “You sound just like your father. God bless his soul.”
As soon as he takes a seat, everyone else follows suit, filling the table like in Nonno’s times when I used to spy from the entrance before Nonno brought me in and sat me on his lap.
Chatter breaks amongst the men and they start telling me about the season, the grapery, the olives, and everything they take pride in.
What I take pride in, too.
The Costas will be history in no time. Enzo and I are already forming our plan, and it’ll come to fruition soon.
Georgina is a Costa, too.
I scowl at that thought. She won’t be a Costa in my head — she’s just Petal.
“That’s De Marco,” Enzo leans in to whisper, discreetly motioning at the old man who first sat down and who obviously holds some power around here. After all, he’s the one who talked the most.
“He’s one of the few powerful families that remain. He lost two sons to the Costas,” Enzo continues.
I give a slight nod, my respect growing for the man. If he lost his sons and he still wants the war, then he’s a loyal general.
“You want him as an ally.” Enzo takes a sip of his wine, appearing nonchalant with that wicked gleam deep in his eyes.
“Noted.”
“Not noted,” he mocks. “Take this a step further.”
“Take it further how?” I gather my cup and inhale the potent wine scent before taking a sip. I always preferred whiskey, but there’s something nostalgic about the taste of our wine. Familial, made with sweat and integrity.
“Ask for his daughter’s hand in marriage,” Enzo says it so simply as if it’s a given.
“Why the fuck would I do that?”
“Because it’ll give you a root here and people will have more trust in you.” He lifts his glass in De Marco’s direction and he returns the toast. “She’s Italian beauty.”
“Then why don’t you marry her?” I ask.
“I’m not a Vitallio.”
“I’m not interested in marriage.” Never even thought about it and never will, especially not marriage in a place like Sicily — they’re too traditional and conservative here. Marriage is like this sacred shit that no one and nothing should taint.
“You’re just interested in the Costa whore, yes?” Enzo asks with malice.
It takes everything in me not to bring out my knife and carve him the fuck up. Instead, I grit from between my teeth. “Talk about her again and I’m cutting you.”
“Look, I’m not saying you can’t have her, although it would be better if you got rid of her.” I glare at him and he rolls his eyes. “BUT you can keep her as a side mistress or what-the-fuck-ever. Just marry a Sicilian and think about the grand scheme of things.”
I smile at one of the men instead of stabbing Enzo with a fork.
He’s right, if I want to keep the tradition and go back to my roots, marriage makes sense. That’s what Nonno and Padre did, traditional, with family in mind.
But the thought of another woman other than my little Petal warming my bed leaves a bitter taste in my mouth like fucking acid.
After the dinner and emptying bottles of wine, I have private words with a few of the men about the changes to the business, the land, and even the security measures.
I’m exhausted by the end of the night. After they left, Enzo kept reminding me to think about the marriage, so I kicked him out.
The main house is quiet without the usual songs my little Petal blasts around just to dance and keep moving. Salli nods in my direction, asking me if I need anything.
“No, thank you, Salli. Good night.”
She gives me a quizzical glance, and I swear she’s about to say something but she pulls back at the last second, nods and leaves.
I know what she’s thinking about, she must’ve witnessed Petal’s attempts to escape, or the extracurricular activities that come after that. While Salli is loyal to the family, she won’t stay still if she thinks Petal would hurt me.
And for that same fucking reason, the girl upstairs needs to stop trying to leave. She’s wasting her time and mine and will probably end up making more enemies than friends around here.
It doesn’t matter how much I protect her, if the locals dislike her, they’ll never take her side.
Enzo already hates her, and will keep plotting to get rid of her. Not that I’ll let him, but still.
I remove my jacket as I step into the room. It’s dark and smells of her.
Strawberry and some lilac shit.
I inhale deeply as I kick my shoes away and lie behind her. She’s on her side, fast asleep, and with the sheet to her waist, revealing her bare shoulders, the curve of her throat and the black hair that falls down her back like a camouflage.
I place a kiss on the hollow of her throat and she moans softly, pushing back against me.
“Stop fighting me, Pet.” I wrap a hand around her neck and the other around her waist as my leg cages hers. “You’re already mine.”
The sooner she realizes there’s no way out, the better.
The longer she fights, the harder I’ll break her, and deep inside me, I don’t want to break her, not in that sense anyway.
I don’t want to break her fight and spirit and even her naive fucking innocence.
I don’t want to think of her as Georgina Costa, the daughter of the man who slaughtered my family.
She’s Petal. Just my little Petal.
All I want is to hold her like this, to have her sleep in my arms and feel...peace.
8
Georgina
My plan to escape is moving slowly but surely.
I’ve managed to convince Jasper that I’m bored and therefore, he lets me out with Salli when she goes out to get groceries from the delivery trucks. We’re not allowed to leave the farm, and there are countless guards, but it’s still my chance to observe everyone around.
Since that meeting Jasper had a week or so ago; the house is buzzing with men and workers who Salli mentioned work at the winery or at the olive fields.
I learned that the Vitallio mansion is far away from the nearest town, so when I escape, I need to arrange for a car to get there.
Since I don’t spea
k the language, I’ll find a problem in communicating with the locals. Besides, even if I learn Italian, Salli says the Sicilian dialect is completely different from the other regions in Italy so I need to keep that in mind if I learn from textbooks.
Francesco, Salli’s grandson, has been teaching me small words like how to say hello and goodbye and the name of some foods and the cats. I’m starting to learn some verbs, but the gender part of the grammar throws me off which makes Francesco laugh at me.
Jasper said he can teach me if I want, but I would rather die than take his help. Besides, he said he will only teach me if I take it in the ass and stay still as he fucks my mouth. While the offer is a little tempting — okay, a lot, I don’t want him to pick up on my plan.
He’s too intuitive and I really want to have the first step in this.
I can’t win against him no matter what I try. He always comes up with something unpredictable that shuffles all my cards, but not now.
This time, I’ll be the one who wins. My captor won’t have the last word in this. He doesn’t get to steal my life, my freedom, and even stop me from seeing the only family member I have left.
I hate Jasper. That’s the only feeling I’m allowed to feel around him, not whatever chaotic emotions go through me whenever he touches me or takes me slow and unhurried as if he’s relearning my body.
Today, instead of having dinner in the dining room or in the bedroom, Salli tells me Jasper is waiting for me outside.
I pull my hair in a ponytail and wear a sweater over my dress because it gets chilly here in the evenings. Jasper got me an entire wardrobe of clothes that he can easily rip off me. He says I don’t need underwear when he’s around and he’s proven it every time he’s in my surroundings.
As much as I want to go back to Chicago, I can’t deny how clear and clean the air here is. It’s like I’ve been cleansing my lungs and detoxing since the day I arrived.
The moment I step out of the patio, I stop, my lips parting. There’s a table in the middle filled with all sorts of Italian food that’s started to grow on me. Or maybe it’s because Salli cooks the most delicious meals I’ve had in my life.
Jasper stands there, pouring wine into glasses. He’s only in his dark blue shirt with the cuffs rolled to his elbows, showing his strong, veiny forearms.
“Jas?” I walk into the patio. “What is this?”
“There you are.” He leans over and places a kiss to my temple.
I freeze, my heart skipping a beat. No. This is wrong.
He can’t keep doing this.
He can’t confuse me with gentle sex and then set up some romantic dinner as if we’re dating or something.
I push away from him, my defenses building all at once. It’s enough that I haven’t been able to properly focus on my escape plan because he keeps distracting me, I don’t need a romantic dinner and temple kisses to add to the mix.
“Why are you doing this, Jasper?”
“Doing what? Feeding you?”
“No! This, the dinner, the wine, all of it. I don’t want it.”
His jaw ticks, but he raises a brow. “You don’t want to eat?”
“I don’t want you to act as if nothing is wrong, as if you didn’t take me against my will. You’re my captor, not my damn lover.”
He’s silent for a second and if it weren’t for the slight narrowing of his eyes, I would think he didn’t hear me.
The time crawls by and I resist the urge to fidget. There’s something about the way he watches me that turns me into a self-conscious fool.
It’s like he can reach inside me and freeze me with those icy blue eyes.
He goes back to pouring wine. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. Go sit on your chair, Pet.”
“I will not sit in my chair. I won’t be obedient and compliant like a lamb led to slaughter.” My temper flares and I reach for the nearest object which happens to be a knife — fitting — and point it at him.
Jasper sets the bottle of wine on the table and faces me. He doesn’t seem affected that I’m holding a knife and that if I take one step, I’ll be aiming it at his throat.
“What are you going to do about it, Pet?”
“A-about what?”
“You said you won’t be a lamb, so what will you do? Are you going to turn into a wolf and stab me with that?” He takes a step, suppressing the distance between us.
The knife is now at the hollow of his neck, but he doesn’t attempt to push away. If anything, he keeps getting closer until I have to stare up at him. My hand shakes and my eyes widen.
“Go ahead,” he taunts. “You want to stop being a lamb, no?”
The knife nearly falls from my grip due to the tremors in my hand. I’m about to drop it when Jasper clutches my wrist and twists it making the weapon fall to the ground.
He swings me around and slams me against the wall. I gasp as the shock ripples not only through my back but also between my legs.
His rough side always got me in a twist and I brought it upon myself this time.
“You think you can hurt me, Pet? Escape me?” he snarls against my face as he lifts me up. My legs wrap around him of their own volition as he opens his pants enough to get his hard cock out.
He reaches underneath my dress and groans when he finds I’m going commando. “Look at you bare and soaked for me. You want to be fucked like a dirty little whore, don’t you, my slut?”
I grab onto his shirt, my nails digging into his back as my only form of encouragement.
He thrusts balls deep inside me and spanks my ass at the same time. The stinging sensation shooting straight to my core. I shriek and bite his shoulder over his shirt to mute the sound.
“You’re mine, Pet. Fucking mine, accept it already.” He slides out almost entirely before he pounds into me again and again.
A sob tears in the air and that’s when I realize the sound is coming from me. He’s breaking my walls and reforming them.
He’s not only fucking my body, but also my soul. He’s making me his whether I like to or not.
“Come for me,” he whispers near my mouth as he tugs at my throat by the collar.
I do.
I let out a long moan mixed with a sob as I fall apart around him in all senses of the word.
And I know, I just know that if I don’t leave soon, I’ll be completely caught under his spell until there’s no way out.
A part of me, a stupid part, wants that.
Jasper powers into me harder and faster until his cum spills inside me and trickles down my thighs.
I’m too spent to think or do anything, so I let my head rest against his shoulder as I catch my breaths.
“Now,” he spanks me one last time, making me whimper with residual pleasure. “You’re going to sit your ass on that chair and eat.”
“And if I say no?” I murmur.
“I’ll fuck that attitude out of you.” He licks the shell of my ear. “And this time, I won’t stop, my pet.”
9
Jasper
All best-laid plans start with a scheme.
There’s something Nonno used to tell me about the greatest evil of all, turning brothers against each other.
Nonno was a rightful man. He worked the land and the people and protected those who needed protection. Nonno didn’t like evil, but Nonno didn’t have his entire family slaughtered in front of him.
Sorry, Nonno, I’ll pay for this if we ever meet again.
Returning to the States when Lucio has all eyes on me isn’t easy, even with Enzo’s private jet. There’s always the risk there’s some informant, a traitor who works for Enzo but backstabs him by providing information to Lucio.
Enzo says he scans all those working for him, but I don’t trust anyone. Old habits are hard to break.
For that reason, I only take Angelo with me; he’s one of those who work with me on the farm, older than me and one of De Marco’s most trusted men.
Angelo has a silver beard and hair and is one
of those quiet ones. He only speaks when spoken to, and he likes to fuck widows. Hey, no judgment here. Everyone has their own kinks.
I leave him outside as camouflage as I break into Paolo Costa’s house. His security is shit compared to Lucio’s, but it still isn’t easy.
I knock down two guards on my way to his study and lose precious time to drag their limp bodies into closets out of the staff’s way.
Paolo’s house is big but impersonal as if he didn’t take the time to add life into it. From the time I was on Lucio’s side, I know Paolo either spends his time in his study or in the garden. And yes, Lucio was that specific about spying on his brother’s movements.
I head to his office first and open the huge wooden door.
“No more coffee. Grazie, Marta.”
“No coffee for you, Paolo.” The door clicks as I lean back against it and point my gun in his direction.
Paolo stands by his window, staring outside. At my words, he slowly turns around to face me.
Paolo Costa is older than Lucio, and it shows. His face is frail and so is his body. Unlike his brother, he doesn’t hide the white strands in his black hair, something he passed down to his daughter.
If I expected surprise or a fight, he gives none. Instead, he watches me with his dark eyes as if having someone barge into his office and hold a weapon at him is an everyday occurrence.
“I heard Lucio is no longer using you, so I gather you figured it all out, yes?” he asks with boredom.
Of course, he knew all that. It takes everything not to shoot him in the forehead. But I don’t do that, because that’s against what I planned.
“Do you also know that Lucio is after your heir?” I ask.
He gives a curt nod, fully facing me now.
“How about the fact that he killed your heir’s mother?”
Paolo seems to have stopped breathing for a second. “Your proof?”
“Do I need any? This is Lucio we’re talking about. He’s been eyeing the throne since Emilio was alive, and if you think he didn’t plan this for years, you don’t know your brother.”