At least, that’s what it’s supposed to do.
In this instance, it might’ve helped them.
But I’m normally counting on sloppy criminals, not spy-like motherfuckers.
“Comb the tape,” I sigh. “I’m going to interrogate the men who went with him on the Capullo job. Maybe they know something.”
“We talking a conversation or a darkroom situation?”
The darkroom is where we take the real evil bastards, the rapists, and the child molesters when we need them to give up their equally-evil cohorts.
I’m not sure I’m ready to take my own men there.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” I say. “But if it does, we’ll do what we have to do. A man is dead, a good man who served the Family well. They shouldn’t have anything to hide.”
I walk down the corridor, not relishing the task ahead of me. First I’ll need to personally inform Piero’s mother about his death and make arrangements for her financial support over the coming months and years and decades—as long as she needs it.
And then I’ll need to gather up the men and interrogate them one by one, which will probably take me late into the night, depending on how they answer.
Which all gets in the way of what I was planning on doing today.
I was going to take Aida and drag her into the bedroom, and then push her onto the bed and strip her naked and fuck her, fuck her hard and without mercy.
I was going to pummel her virgin pussy until it was raw and knew what was expected of it.
After a short break – minutes at the most – I’d take her again, maybe even giving her a treat of slowing down that time, letting her feel every inch as I plunge inside of her.
But a man in my position doesn’t get to give in to his desires, not when so much shit has hit the fan.
I sigh and clench my fists, wishing I could find the bastard who did this and crush his throat.
And not just because he freed Elmo and killed one of my men.
But because he interrupted my chance to claim my virgin princess.
When I think about the way she admitted to having all those secret desires over breakfast, my manhood swells and pumps full of hotness, despite the circumstances, despite the war.
Even now, when I should be entirely focused on my business, she plays on my mind.
I need to take her.
Maybe then the never ending fantasizing will stop.
Yeah right, a voice comments grimly within. Keep telling yourself that. You’ll never stop being attracted to her, you’ll never stop thinking about her. You could fuck her ten times in one night and still get rock hard at the sight of that big bouncy ass begging for more.
I clench my fists hard, digging my fingers into my palms, feeling the skin on my knuckles pull taut.
Business first, and then …
And then I’m going to do whatever the fuck I want with her.
Chapter Nine
Aida
I roll over and let out a huffing breath, glancing at the bedside clock, subtly backlit with a soft glowing light. It’s three in the morning, and still, I can’t sleep, which is weird considering last night – after the kidnapping – the silk sheets were able to pull me into blessed oblivion.
I spent the day with Jackal, walking Arturo’s large grounds, going right to the end and around his private pond, and watching as Jackal bound around, grinning happily with his tongue hanging out.
After that, I came back to the ensuite and made use of the sauna and the large hot tub, sitting in there and trying to let the bubbles and the warmth soothe my anxious thoughts.
Dad is a mafia boss.
Arturo is a mafia boss.
They’re at war.
But why, and when did it start, and why did they stop being friends, and, and …
These are the questions, spinning endlessly around my mind, that make me sit up in bed and let my head fall back with yet another sigh.
Seriously, I’m starting to really get bored with the sound of my sighing.
I let out a few song notes instead, just some wordless long sounds, the sort I used to make as a little girl before I really even knew I wanted to be a singer as my life’s passion.
There was something soothing about it back then, losing myself in the task of trying to make the notes sound just right, even though I had no idea how good or bad I was.
I sang – and now I sing – just for the sake of it, a wonderful distraction.
It’s an amazing thing, being able to open my mouth and lose myself in another world like that. It requires no equipment, it costs nothing. It’s a simple, pure pleasure.
Pleasure.
That makes me think about Arturo and this morning—well, yesterday morning now.
So much has happened since then between us, this stranger and I, and yet I know that if I told him about these crazy ideas swirling around my consciousness he’d laugh in my face. Or, if he didn’t laugh, he’d became Stern Arturo and snap at me not to be a stupid immature girl.
But then he did say he doesn’t want to use protection when he finally takes me.
Surely he knows what could happen in that scenario.
I let my mind return to the moment, to the feeling of his hand on my ass cheeks, spanking me playfully. And yet for all its playfulness, I can still feel the phantom of his hand on my tingling skin.
I can still feel the stinging pleasure of it.
I grind my ass cheeks against the silk sheets, back and forth, the silk caressing my bare skin. I took off the sweatpants to sleep since the heating is so effective in here.
I shift back and forth until the pressure becomes intolerable, and then I slide my hand down my body, toward my center, knowing it’s risky when any second the door could burst open and somebody could come running in here.
If it’s one of the guards, I’ll be thankful that the sheets are pulled up over me, obscuring their vision.
And if it’s Arturo?
That thought sends me into overdrive as I lightly graze my clit, imagining Arturo charging in here, his face twisted like an animal who’s barely able to restrain himself.
He isn’t able to restrain himself if his unleashing in the ensuite yesterday is any indication.
My pussy thrums and buzzes as I press down.
Then there’s a loud crash from the other side of the room. It’s like somebody’s blown open part of the door with a bomb.
I sit up, snapping my gaze to the other side of the room, expecting to see a gun or smoke from an explosion or a fire or something else cataclysmic, a portion of hell exploded into earth.
But it’s none of that.
Its Arturo, standing in front of the door he just bashed open with his fist, hitting it so hard that there’s a dent in the door.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he snarls.
He stands wreathed in light from the hallway, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He’s wearing his suit, but the material is crumpled, and his steel hair is swept messily to the side. He looks tired, and yet somehow focused and honed-in at the same time.
His dark eyes glint as he stares across the room toward me.
“I asked you a question, Aida,” he snaps.
“What do you m-m-mean?” I whimper, his stern tone doing strange things to my body, fear warring with lust.
My pussy gets tighter and gives a throbbing swell from deep within, as though some part of me is telling me that this is exactly the sort of man I need in my life, the sort of man who’s never going to take any shit, who always knows how to be in control, fierce and seething and hell-hot.