Vittorio had to admire him. He clearly stayed in shape. He could assume the role of anyone he chose, and he played that person to the hilt. He’d sat through a dinner at the fund-raiser with many of the most astute businessmen on the planet, yet he hadn’t been caught out in his disguise. He’d approached four trained bodyguards, clearly believable in his role. One by one he had taken them out. He’d outsmarted the police and now he was clearly going for his usual hole—someone’s home.
Dogs barked throughout the neighborhood, desperately trying to alert their owners to the danger creeping up on them. Someone yelled from their back porch to shut the hell up. One dog’s bark was cut off abruptly. He squealed once and there was an abrupt silence.
Vittorio stepped into a shadow that took him to the edge of the fenced-in yard where the dog had ceased to bark. Haydon was bent over the animal and he suddenly dropped its body to the grass and straightened slowly, looking around. Light from the moon spilled across his face, leaving him a pale gray. In that moment, he looked pure evil. Satisfied that no one was around, he flipped off the cruiser that was now going up and down streets slowly and walked with confidence to the side of the house, clearly examining it for an entry point.
Vittorio could see the house had a very distinctive attic. The structure stood out because, although it was short and stubby, it was stacked higher than its neighbors, looking to be two and half stories. Haydon was patient, looking up at the vents, rather than around him. He was confident now, and he’d found a home, a place he could make his while the cops searched the area for him and never once thought to look in someone’s nice, safe home.
Vittorio allowed Haydon to climb halfway to the vent before he chose the shadow, thrown by the streetlight, that shot up the side of the house. Haydon thought himself safe, even with the shadows from the trees macabrely swaying, the branches appearing black as they reached out like stick arms searching for victims. One of those shadows had elongated fingers and those fingers touched Haydon as he climbed.
Vittorio rode the shadow thrown by the streetlight and at the last moment, before it abruptly ended, leapt for the one cast by the tree. The wind had risen, shrieking as it did so. The branches knocked together and sawed at the roof of the house. Haydon didn’t see death coming for him. It crept up behind him, swaying to the grim tune the branches played out against the house.
Vittorio had never in his life wanted to be a grim reaper, a man seeking the death of another. He had spent a lifetime pushing down his temper to replace it with balance. Now, unexpectedly, rage welled up. The sight of Grace’s bruised and bloody face with tears tracking down it settled like a cancer in his gut. His mother’s broken body, crumpled there on the ground, rose up to really push him over the edge.
He’d been taught not to make anything personal. How could it not be personal? But that wasn’t their way. That wasn’t his way. Haydon Phillips was an anomaly, a man either born or shaped into a killer and he was being served justice. It had to be that way or everything Vittorio was would be compromised.
Vittorio took a breath, pushing down all personal emotions. He couldn’t think about the havoc this man had created, how many people he had tortured and killed. He couldn’t think about how he had terrorized Grace.
Grace. His beloved woman. Vittorio loved her with everything in him. He pulled up that feeling, surrounding himself with her. The scent of her. The sound of her laughter, that unexpected gift that brought him happiness. He breathed away all anger, all emotions, cloaking himself with Grace, and everything in him settled, once more allowing complete control.
Hands came out of the shadows, reaching for Haydon Phillips in the way the branches reached across the side of the house. There was a heartbeat of time. Haydon reached for the next crack, settling his fingertips in it. The shadows moved all around him and with the branch came the shadow of a man—the reaper. Haydon shivered and paused for a moment, wiping the sweat from his forehead on his sleeve.
His head was caught in an unbreakable hold. It felt as if he’d suddenly been squeezed in an unrelenting vise. Instinctively, he threw himself backward, kicking out and away from the house. The vise tightened, the two arms like steel wrapped around his head. There was a terrible wrench, a flash of agony and then it was all gone.
Vittorio let the body fall away from him as he landed on his feet in a crouch. He stood for a moment looking down at the man who had destroyed so many lives. He looked small and pitiful as he lay beside the dead body of the dog. Vittorio didn’t feel pity. He felt weary. He just wanted to get back to Grace. And to his family.
“Justice is served,” he said softly, and stepped into a long shadow.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Vittorio stood for a long time looking down at the woman who had completely changed his life. She slept curled up in the middle of the bed, that heart-wrenching position that made her smaller and less of a target. She’d been a target too many times and he was determined to change that. In her childhood, Owen and Becca Mueller had abused and beaten her. Haydon had completed the job by terrorizing her for years.
Vittorio pulled back the sheet to examine her body. The bruises were fading. Before, they’d stood out stark and vicious on her pale skin. Now they looked like smudges. Time had taken care of the physical evidence. He was determined that he would take care of the emotional toll on her.
The cool air wafting over her bare skin sent a little shiver through her and he wasn’t surprised when her lashes lifted, and she blinked sleepily up at him. He waited, counting his heartbeats. Her smile was slow, but it spread across her face and into her eyes, bringing him sunshine. She seemed to glow.
“You’re home.” She sat up, reaching for the sheet.
He bunched the soft material in his fist, refusing to relinquish it, telling her silently he wanted her to remain uncovered, so he could see her bare body. It took a moment before she let go of the sheet, but she drew her legs up. He let her get away with it for the moment.
“Stefano wanted to wrap up a few things, just to get all the details clear. Art Maverick and Jason Bradshaw dropped by to talk to him today. They haven’t made any progress on finding out the identity of the killer or killers of the bodies found in the dumpsters. They say they’ve hit a dead end everywhere they’ve turned and unless anything new develops, they aren’t any closer to finding why they were killed or who killed them.”
Vittorio gently put his hand on her thigh and pressed to indicate for her to put her knees back down. Looking up at him, she complied. His cock reacted with a hot rush of blood pounding right through his groin. She had such a beautiful face. He ran the pad of his thumb over her lips and then strummed for a moment, fascinated by the fullness and curve.
“Stefano said the detectives think our family knows more than what we’re telling them, but if we did, we’d be after the killers ourselves.” He shrugged out of his jacket and removed his tie, setting both on the back of a chair. He crossed back to the bed. She hadn’t moved, he noted with satisfaction. She was learning his preferences.
“Does your family have any additional information?”
He lifted the soft weight of her breast in his palm, his thumb sliding back and forth across her sensitive nipple. Every shiver that visibly went through her body sent heat rushing through his. He kept his gaze fixed on hers.
“Other than being certain the Saldi family is somehow involved, no, unfortunately, we don’t.” Reluctantly, he had to take his hand back to unbutton his shirt. “We don’t have any proof they are involved, nor do we know why they would start a war. We just have to be vigilant.”
“Didn’t Valentino convince all of you that his family had nothing to do with the killings? Emmanuelle said he sounded very sincere, and she can hear lies.”
“Emmanuelle is in love with him. She’s been in love with him since she was sixteen years old. That bastard seduced her when she was no more than a child. That should tell you something about his character.” His voice was mild as he imparted the infor
mation. He had long ago learned to keep the infamous Ferraro temper at bay with his meditations and working to find that place inside of him that was calm and at peace. Having his woman helped more than anything else.
“What happened? When he looks at her, he looks at her with love.”
Vittorio shrugged the shirt from his shoulders, and carefully placed it over the jacket before turning back to face her. She already was aware of his preferences in how to keep their room and house and she always made certain that everything was organized and orderly. Grace was looking at his chest. At the muscles running up and down his body. She drank him in hungrily. Clearly appreciating his body. She did every time, as if she was shocked and awed by what she saw.
“Some men can’t be faithful. They think that lust is love. According to Emme, she actually heard Val tell a woman that he was ordered to seduce Emmanuelle and get as much information from her as possible, but she meant nothing to him. She was devastated.”
“That’s beyond horrible. It would destroy me if I ever overheard you say something like that.” Her green gaze moved over his face, as if looking for reassurance.
He put his phone and a flat jewelry box on the nightstand beside the lamp. “You know that isn’t ever going to happen.”
“How is your mother?”
“As you know, Eloisa has been home for the last few weeks. Apparently, Henry is still living in the house and taking care of her. Emmanuelle tried to go over, but Eloisa made it clear she didn’t want her daughter or one of us to nurse her back to health. Stefano did insist on talking to her doctor. He says she’s healing nicely, but the concussion was very bad and it will take some time.”
“She probably doesn’t want to appear vulnerable or fragile in any way,” Grace pointed out. “That’s why she doesn’t want help from her children.”
He hadn’t thought of that. His hands dropped to his belt buckle. “I think I was a very smart man to find you, Grace. None of us would have considered anything but that she was being stubborn, although none of us can be considered children. I’ll have to pass that on to Emmanuelle, who always feels rejected by Eloisa.”
“Do you feel that way?” Grace’s gaze was on his hands as he opened the belt and then peeled down the zipper hidden in the specially made trousers.
“I couldn’t care less whether or not Eloisa rejects me.” It was the sad truth. He had long ago accepted that his mother was never going to be the kind of mom who greeted them all with fresh-baked cookies and asked how their day was. He hadn’t needed her the way Emmanuelle seemed to. He had Stefano, and his older brother was all the parent he’d ever need. “I would, however, care very much if you rejected me.”
He slipped out of the trousers and underwear, watching her face, the quick intake of her breath as she stared at his cock, the rise and fall of her breasts as her breathing turned a little ragged with arousal. He loved how responsive she was to him. He didn’t always have to touch her to have her slick with need. He took his time putting his clothes on the chair and coming back to her.
“I have no intentions of ever rejecting you,” Grace said staunchly.
“How are the wedding plans coming? You haven’t mentioned anything you and Katie have been discussing up in the penthouse with Francesca and the others.” He patted the side of the bed. “Lie across the bed, gattina, with your head right here.”
She turned obediently, her back to him, stretching her legs out and lying back until she was looking up at him. “It’s all coming together. I thought we could go over everything at breakfast and you could tell me what you approve of and what you’d like changed.”
Vittorio had made it a point that they talked about everything important over breakfast and once again after dinner. He liked to know where she stood and get a reading on how she was feeling. Was she happy? Did she need or want anything? Had he noticed and taken care of everything for her there at the house? He liked to hear about her day and how things were going with her business.
“Scoot closer to the side of the bed so your head is hanging over the edge.” He flicked the top off the jewelry box and then dropped his hand into the silky mass of red that fell in a waterfall toward the floor. His fingers massaged her scalp, but his gaze was on her soft breasts jutting up toward him.
He leaned down and flicked her nipple, then tugged and rolled. She squirmed, her hips bucking a little bit. “You’re always so responsive to me, Grace. Are you ready to try something new? Different? Something very sexy.” He kept his voice low. Compelling. A tone that spoke of sin and pleasure.
Her gaze jumped from his cock, which was inches from her face, to his eyes. Held there. Very slowly she nodded. He smiled his approval.
“Mia bella ragazza, sei sempre cosi corraggiosa per me,” he murmured. She was brave, and he was proud of her. “I’m going to push you a little out of your comfort zone,” he warned, just as he had other nights when he thought she was ready to trust him that little bit further.
She swallowed, and he watched the movement of her throat with satisfaction. Part of her arousal was from fear of the unknown. He leaned over her and licked at her nipple, while he played and teased at the other one with his thumb and finger, tugging and twisting. His mouth was hot around her breast and he used his teeth and tongue to flick and gently bite until her nipple was taut. He drew the glittering chain from the velvet bed of the jewelry box and held it up for her to see.
It was exquisite. Breathtaking. The tiny links of woven platinum appeared silver and gold. On each end were clips with diamonds dripping down them. Tiny ones encrusted the clips but grew in diameter as they fell down the chains dangling from the clips. The triple strand of woven chain between dipped low and swung freely.
His mouth left her breast and he slid the clip over her nipple. She gasped at the biting pinch. The diamonds fell over the curve of her breasts and the chains slithered over her skin toward her throat. His mouth went to her other breast and his hand slid down her belly to the junction between her legs. He stroked her clit. Flicked. His teeth scraped her nipple and then he fastened the second clamp and straightened, watching her carefully.
“I don’t think that’s tightened enough.”
“I think it is,” she said hastily.
He could tell she wasn’t certain the pinch was as strong as she liked his fingers on her breasts. He wanted to take her just past that point. He leaned down and tightened each clamp a second time, watching her carefully. When her eyes went wide, and her nostrils flared, he eased back and smiled at her. He circled her clit, teased and tugged and then pushed one finger into her slick heat, curling it to stroke her G-spot. Her body flushed for him and more liquid coated his finger.
“Perfect, gattina. You look beautiful. Open your mouth.”
Eyes on his, she obeyed, and he slid his finger inside. “You taste so good, bella. I’m sharing this one time, but don’t expect me to very often and only because you look so damn sexy.”
Withdrawing his finger, he stood up and had her turn until her head and shoulders were off the bed. Her breasts jolted and swayed as she was forced to arch her back. The triple chain and the dripping diamonds tumbled backward and swung. She cried out as the weight pulled at her nipples and breasts. He couldn’t wait to play with that chain, but first, he wanted her mouth around him. She was getting better and better at accommodating the length and girth of his cock.
“Put your feet flat on the mattress, knees up and apart.”
She complied and when he didn’t move or speak, widened her thighs even more. He rewarded her by leaning over her and licking up all the droplets of liquid heat in the tight red curls before standing once again.
In the position she was in, she couldn’t use her hands. He wrapped his fist around the base of his cock and guided the flared crown to her mouth. He kept one hand fisted in her hair as he rubbed the sensitive head over her lips and then waited for her to open her mouth. She licked gently and then complied.
He fed his cock into that hot, mo
ist cauldron. His breath caught in his throat as she swallowed him down, her tongue lashing and stroking. She could do things with her tongue he’d never experienced. He always encouraged her to try whatever she wanted, and she did. She had taken her time learning every inch of his cock. The veins and the frenulum, that little V-shaped spot that could drive him wild when she spent time flicking and teasing with her tongue.
This time, he pressed deeper, while her gaze clung to his. Total trust was there, and she needed it in this position. “That’s it, gattina. Feel how much easier it is to take what you want in this position?”
She had asked him, very casually, over dinner, all sorts of questions about his preferences when she gave him a blow job. Not once had a woman ever asked him. Not one single time. They had given him blow jobs, but it had been more of a get-it-over-with moment than an I-want-to-please-you moment. His pleasure mattered to Grace. They’d had a frank discussion about how it made him feel when she was on her knees and looking up at him. How it made him feel if she swallowed for him. What it was like to know she wanted to learn to take him down her throat even though just talking about it, let alone doing it, was intimidating.
He honestly didn’t care if they ever got there, it was the fact that his pleasure mattered to her so much that made him fall even deeper in love with her. The moment he woke, he thought about her, and she was the last thing he thought of before he went to sleep. He did everything he could to make certain she was happy and healthy. Once she knew his preferences in the home, he had turned the running of it over to her.
Each morning he’d woken with her mouth on him. The thing that thrilled him the most was that she woke him before his alarm could go off to tell him it was time for his meditations. They showered together and then knelt in his meditation room together. She was getting very good at breathing and following the mandates of his practice.
Shadow Warrior (The Shadow Series Book 4) Page 39