Big Bad Wolf: A Bad Boy Next Door Second Chance Romance

by Frankie Love

  Bianca Da Costa wakes up from her horrible dream, only to realize she’s stuck in an even bigger nightmare. I grin to myself in the shadows, watching her rip her dress on the shackles. Then I laugh like a fucking rabid dog.

  She turns towards the source of the laughter. I can almost hear her heart pounding as her eyes try to decipher my shape in the shadows.

  “Hey, beautiful,” I growl, stepping out of the corner.

  She cowers at my feet. So fucking vulnerable.

  I’m already rock hard.

  “W-who are you?” Her voice is hoarse from just waking up. She scrambles on her feet, trying to get away from me. When I step closer, I step on the chain connecting her to the ground to stop her from moving.

  “I’m your worst fucking nightmare,” I tell her.

  3

  Bianca

  I’m staring into the cold face of a killer. There’s no question about it, this man has delivered pain, and now it’s my turn.

  “Please, don’t hurt me,” I beg him despite wanting to stay strong. I’m slowly recuperating from the loss of conscience and the details come trickling back. I’ve been kidnapped in the cold light of day, stolen right from my father’s property.

  His foot grinds on the chain and I’m too afraid to look up at him, worried of what will happen when I see his face again. “Why shouldn’t I?” he mocks me.

  I don’t have an answer to that, so I just whimper and start saying a prayer my mama taught me in Italian.

  “Your god won’t help you now,” the man interrupts me in smooth Italian. “You’re at my fucking mercy.”

  I’m trembling as I finally look up again. He’s just as handsome as he was when he took me from daddy’s property. A mess of dark hair, and cold brown eyes that are so dark I can’t quite make out the pupils. He’s built like a rock, and any hope of getting past him escapes me as my eyes drink him in hungrily. Besides, I’m still chained to the ground…

  “Like what you see?” he asks me, and I try to drop my gaze. He won’t let me, and he grabs my chin, making me look into his eyes instead. “Get a good fucking look, princess.”

  “You’re hurting me,” I mewl. “Please…”

  “Do I look like I care?” His voice is cold, but I do notice his grip on my chin loosens. He crouches down next to me until we’re eye-to-eye. “I don’t do well with begging, princess. Unless you’re asking for more.”

  I don’t want to know more of what.

  “Am I going to die?” I ask. I feel almost detached, like this isn’t happening to me. The man doesn’t answer me, his monstrously handsome face devoid of all emotion.

  He gets up, and I feel the loss of his touch on my skin. It feels even colder and emptier in this cell now.

  “Don’t leave,” I say, even though I don’t mean for the words to slip out. I can feel myself blushing, but I keep my eyes firmly trained on the man as he turns around with surprise.

  “Why?” he wants to know.

  “I don’t want to be alone.” My voice is trembling. “Kill me now, just get it over with.”

  I’ve been my daddy’s daughter long enough. As head of the family, I know he has many enemies. I don’t need to know who took me, and I suspect I won’t live long enough to find out. I wonder whether this man will kill me, or if he’ll send in someone else to do his dirty work. Since I’ve already seen his face, I don’t harbor any hope of getting out of here alive.

  The man doesn’t respond. He just stares at me, standing up above me. He’s so huge it makes me feel like he’s the hunter, and I’m the prey. I should be scared for my life, but I’ve already accepted I’m going to die. Maybe I’ve always known it would happen like this somewhere deep down.

  “Take off your dress,” he tells me all of a sudden.

  “W-what?” I’m stuttering again, blinking fast. “Why?”

  “I don’t need to give you a fucking reason,” he growls.

  Now I’m terrified. He’s going to hurt me, for real this time. Feeling brave, I shake my head no in response to his order.

  He’s next to me in a fraction of a second, roughly grabbing me by the cheeks. “I give orders, you follow them,” he tells me. “Now take. Off. Your. Fucking. Dress.”

  I’m so scared of him I follow his order blindly, but the shackles are restraining my wrists and I can’t pull the dress off. I whimper, and the man furiously lets go of my face. I prepare for the impact of a blow. Instead, he reaches for my dress, and has it ripped down the middle the next moment.

  I’m left exposed in my matching pink lace lingerie set, and I can feel his eyes devouring my body. He doesn’t comment on anything, though. He just turns his back on me and walks out of the room.

  Trembling, I tug on the chains and look for a way to escape. I want to get away before the man returns, but I’m quickly realizing it’s just not possible.

  He’s back a moment later with a small red box. I’m trembling as he sits down next to me.

  “You’re hurt.” His voice is cold. I narrow my eyes at him, and then realize something is aching on my back. I try to look over my shoulder, but the restraints won’t allow for much movement.

  “Stay the fuck still,” the man growls at me. “You have a bad scratch on your back.”

  He moves behind me and I tense when his cold fingers touch my scolding hot skin. Something strongly scented is in the air, and for a moment I’m scared he’s going to drug me again. Instead, he applies something stinging to my skin and starts bandaging it up. I can feel the gash on my back now, and I can feel the blood oozing out.

  “Must’ve happened down here,” he says, more to himself than to me. I can hear the sound of glass on the ground. “Fuck,” he mutters to himself. He cleans the glass off the ground and I try not to think about what it was doing there in the first place. Soon enough, he’s back behind me and working on my scratch.

  I can’t see him as he patches me up. Soon, the pain is nothing more than a sting on my back.

  The man moves back in front of me, his hands stained with my blood. The sight makes me sick.

  “Why did you do that?” I ask. “Why did you fix me if you’re going to kill me?”

  He looks like he doesn’t know the answer himself. He wipes his hands on a rag he pulled from his pocket, and I sit there, simmering with anger.

  “Just do it!” I scream at him. “Cut me, shoot me, hang me… Kill me.”

  He looks over his shoulder without interest. He thinks I’m just some drama queen, but I’m serious.

  At least, I think I am.

  “I want to die,” I tell him. I think of what awaits me here, trapped in this horrible room. I also think of the alternative – doing what daddy wants and marrying a man I don’t love. “I want to die,” I repeat, my voice breaking over the words.

  He steps closer, a small smile playing on his lips. “You don’t want to live?”

  I shake my head no, and before I have a chance to change my mind, he’s grabbed me by my throat and slammed me against the wall. I gasp and all the air leaves my body. The chains are pulling on my arms and legs, and the man is right up in my face. He is even more hauntingly beautiful up close.

  “You really want to die?” he asks softly, a sharp contrast to the rough way he’s pressing me into the wall. “You want me to slit your throat, watch your blood stain your skin and that pretty lingerie you’re wearing?”

  I can’t answer, even if I wanted to. His grip is too strong. I’m trembling as I shake my head. How fast he can break me. It makes me fear what’s in store for me next.

  “You’re pathetic,” he tells me with a sneer. “Don’t make comments like that unless you actually mean them. Ungrateful bitch.”

  He’s about to let go of me and let me hit the floor hard when I whimper. His eyes show a flicker of sympathy, and I’m shocked when he sets me down on the ground gently. My heart is pounding and I crawl into the corner, as far away as I can get from him.

  He doesn’t look at me again. Instead, he leans on the
wall on his palms and stares at the floor.

  I’m surprisingly calm given the situation. I guess I’ve been preparing for this my whole life. Losing control, losing my free will. The only change is the man who is in charge.

  “Don’t you want to know why you’re here?” he asks me quietly.

  “You’re with the Abbate family,” I say bluntly.

  He turns around, his motions abrupt. I almost expect him to hit me, but he comes up to me instead, getting on his knees until we’re dangerously close. My heart is pounding and I can feel sweat pricking my back. I feel so vulnerable and exposed… He did tear off my dress.

  “How do you know?” he asks, a genuine curiosity in his voice.

  I shrug. “The Abbate family hates my father. I assume Angelo is finally getting revenge for whatever ill he believes my father caused him.”

  The man’s fist slams into the wall behind me, mere inches away from my face. “You think the reason is so trivial?” he asks me, then laughs. The sound is bitter.

  “I don’t know the reason,” I admit. “But I’m sure my daddy wouldn’t hurt Angelo Abbate on purpose.”

  “You’re wrong, little girl,” he says. “So very fucking wrong.”

  I raise my head stubbornly, feeling as foolish as I am brave. I don’t say a word though, biting my tongue instead. The man stalks away, shooting me warning glances.

  “Aren’t you afraid of me?” he finally asks.

  I ponder his question. In truth, I am not afraid. I wanted to get away from daddy’s plans for me. I prayed for a solution every night before I went to bed. I know this is God’s penance for questioning daddy’s way.

  “I don’t know,” I tell him softly. “I know I should be. You’re a monster.”

  “And you’re the goddamned beauty,” he snarls at me. “Except this isn’t a fucking fairytale, and by the end of the night, you might be dead.”

  I don’t react the way I assume he wishes I would. Instead, I stare at my bound hands.

  “Do you know what happened between them?” I ask. I’m genuinely curious. The Abbate family have been our rivals for as long as I can remember, but I can’t really pinpoint what started the feud. Maybe this man can shed some light on it.

  He doesn’t say a word, his lips pressed into a thin line. Finally, he shakes his head no. I guess he doesn’t know everything, either.

  I have an idea then. “How much is Abbate paying you?” I ask the man, a feral tone I don’t recognize in my voice. This isn’t just about survival anymore. It’s about freedom – my freedom.

  “None of your goddamn business,” the man snarls. “Why do you care?”

  “I could pay you more,” I say. “I have money.”

  “I don’t want your daddy’s money.”

  I shake in the chains impatiently. “Not my daddy’s. Mine. I have a trust fund my mother left me.”

  He gives me a curious look. “You want to pay me yourself… to get you back to your dad? What the hell is the point in that?”

  I hesitate for a moment, wondering whether I should tell him the truth. Of course I shouldn’t, he’s a hitman! But I can’t help the words slipping from my lips now.

  “I don’t want to go back to daddy,” I admit, probably for the first time. “Just get me out of here. Get me away… I won’t talk. I won’t come back, I swear. Just give me freedom.”

  A thousand possibilities bloom before my eyes. I could get away, and start anew. No daddy to keep tracks of me, and no Lorenzo to make sure I behave. No enemies and no past. A way to wipe away the crimes of the past and pretend I’m the girl with a future.

  “You’re delusional if you think I’m going to do that.” The stranger smashes my dreams to pieces. “My father would fucking have my head on a plate.”

  I raise my eyes and search his face desperately. “Your father?”

  He turns around swiftly and I realize he slipped. He didn’t mean to say that… But it’s out in the open now. “Your father is Angelo Abbate?” I ask out loud, taking a sharp intake of breath.

  “Shut the fuck up,” he growls in response.

  “Are you…” My breath catches in my throat, and for a second, I’m scared he’ll push me up against the wall again. But he remains standing still, with his back turned towards me and his shoulders nervous.

  “You’re Matteo Salini,” I finally realize. I can’t fucking believe it. The Blood Hound.

  Matteo Salini is Angelo Abbate’s bastard. One of the unlucky ones, whom Angelo never accepted as his own, hence the last name. Instead of treating him like his own, like daddy did with me, Angelo recruited Matteo to be his hitman. I know, because I’ve heard stories about what he’s done to him.

  Matteo was pumped full of drugs and trained to kill like a dog. Smell blood, draw blood, kill, kill, kill. He’s the best hitman there is, the best weapon the Abbate family has.

  I’m also certain Matteo Salini, the handsome monster in front of me, killed my brother Lorenzo.

  “Did you kill Lorenzo?” I whisper in Italian.

  Finally, Matteo looks over his shoulder and his gaze tells me everything I need to know. Desperate, with a sadness deep within but always, always underlined with cruelty. He’s a goddamned savage. He took my brother from me. He sentenced me two the fate daddy picked for me, or to this hellhole of a prison. Two options, two different kinds of death.

  “Assassino,” I scream at him. “You killed Lorenzo, you fucking monster.”

  He looks broken. Like a sad little boy. But I don’t give a fuck who made him do it. I don’t care if he was on drugs. I will have my revenge for the death of my brother.

  “Bianca…” he starts.

  “You dare say my name?” I say.

  “You’re the prisoner here,” he snarls in response, coming right up to me. His expressions change faster than the weather. He must be really fucked up.

  He’s right in my face, and I feel like I’m being faced with a vicious snarling dog. “You’d better fucking behave.”

  I muster up all my courage and spit in his face.

  He stares at me for a long moment, then chuckles like I’m amusing him. My spit runs down his cheek, onto his lip. He licks it. I look away, unable to look at him. Disgusting cazzo.

  He grips my cheeks again and makes me look at him.

  “I killed him,” he tells me, confirming my doubts. “I followed my father’s orders. You’re a daddy’s girl, Bianca.” He purposefully emphasizes my name, probably to mess with me because I told him not to use it. Prick. “You should be able to understand what it’s like to follow your capo’s orders.”

  I blush and try to look away, but he won’t let me. His grip on my cheeks tightens.

  “I am sorry you lost your brother,” he says. “He was a pawn. We all are.”

  I stay quiet. I don’t think him worthy of a response.

  Matteo’s finger is caressing my cheek. I don’t even know whether he knows he’s doing it. It’s the lightest touch, soft, feather-like strokes. I lean against his hand despite not wanting to.

  “What’s this?” His voice is softer, and alarm bells start to go off in my head. “Has beauty succumbed to the beast already?”

  I close my eyes, holding back tears. His finger moves to my lips and he parts them softly. So gentle for such a monster.

  Suddenly, his fingers leave my face and I whimper, feeling the loss. I open my eyes and Matteo is looking at me curiously.

  “You like this…” he realizes out loud, and I blush furiously. It’s true. I’ve never been touched like that… Daddy sometimes hugged me, but mama wasn’t one for physical affection, and neither was Lorenzo. Of course, being locked away in private schools, I didn’t get to experiment with anyone else.

  Eighteen years old and I’m still a freaking virgin. Looks like I’ll die one, too. Unless…

  He sits down in front of me. My legs are trembling and I pull my knees up to my chest, trying to protect my body from his inquisitive touch.

  Matteo comes closer, sc
ooting up to me until my body is pressed against the wall. His palms land on the wall on either side of my head, his face inches away from mine. His features are striking, bold and chiseled. I want to touch him, see if his skin feels as stone cold as it looks.

  “Tell me what you want,” he orders me.

  Warmth. Home. Freedom.

  I don’t say any of it.

  “Did I fucking stutter?” he snarls at me the next second, and I flinch.

  “To be touched,” I cry out. “I want to feel someone touching me… I need to feel I’m still alive.”

  “Where?” he asks softly, his lips so damn close to mine. “Where do you want to be touched? Show me.”

  I rattle in my chains, but I can’t move. He has me pinned down. I lick my lips instead.

  Then his mouth crashes against mine as if he’s heard my silent prayers to make my first kiss special. Damn fucking right it’s special… I’m kissing the man who murdered my brother.

  I should be repulsed. I should be recoiling from his touch with disgust.

  But something happens when we touch, something I’m not expecting.

  Electricity whizzes through me. A jolt shocks me into submission, and instead of fighting Matteo, I succumb to his touch. I mold to his caresses. My lips open up for him, and my walls go down, and I let him in.

  He doesn’t want me to enjoy this. He’s a selfish bastard, taking my first kiss and stealing my innocence with measured flicks of his tongue. Matteo kisses me roughly, demanding my mouth adhere to his wishes. And I feel myself going with it, shaking, gasping, and finally, breaking for him…

  “Don’t,” I beg against his lips. “Stop…”

  “You don’t want this?” he asks, taunting me. His lips trace my jawline. “So fucking innocent. Have you even been kissed before?”

  I shake my head no and he takes a sharp intake of breath. “Not fucked, either?”

  I don’t respond. Every muscle in my body is clenched, my knees pulled up to my chest. He pulls away, and I’m about to lose all my dignity and beg him to come back. It’s like I’m so desperate for a human connection, I’ll beg to have his lips on me again.