“Our number one enemy is Vitale.”
I tried not to react to the name, especially when enemy was thrown in front of it. “I’ve heard that name before.”
He nodded. “They are well known. I’m sure you heard it on the news. Their leader, Laureano Vitale, is old school.”
My spine straightened, and I froze. Laureano? My heart hammered as I realized that Domenico really didn’t know who I was. At all. “I thought the leader’s name was something like Thomas.”
“Tommaso,” he corrected. “He died a few years ago and his brother Laureano took over.”
I stared at him as tears welled in my eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Domenico asked as he moved to sit beside me. His finger tipped my chin up.
“Do you like what you do? Finding girls and selling them?” I asked, pulling the conversation away from me.
Domenico’s expression darkened. “No. Like I said, it’s very lucrative, but it isn’t something I particularly like doing. It’s my job, and I do it. I carry out the tasks assigned to me by Ferrante and I keep everyone in line.”
“Out of fear?”
“Fear is a great motivator. Was fear what you saw while in your cage?” he asked.
I tilted my head. “A little, but it was mostly respect.”
“I am the fourth-highest-ranking member of the organization.”
I froze at that. “The fourth?” By his dress, I would never have thought he was so close to the top of the family hierarchy.
He nodded. “Even capos have ranking.”
But he wasn’t a Ferrante. “Wouldn’t Ferrante’s sons, like Roman, be higher than you?”
He shook his head. “They have status, but not ranking.”
“What’s the difference?” I asked.
“Being a Ferrante demands a level of respect from everyone who is in the organization. They are untouchable, but they still have to earn ranking.”
That explained a lot, like why Roman had to take orders from Domenico, despite his family standing.
“Like Tommaso and Laureano, right? If Laureano took over, he had to rank, right? Tommaso was the older brother, and Laureano was second in charge. If Tommaso had sons, they would have been next, right? Instead, he had a daughter who was killed at a young age.”
Domenico stared at me, lips parting, eyes widening as I spoke. Everything I’d led him to believe, my lack of knowledge of the world, was crashing down around him. I’d let slip my knowledge of multiple languages brought about by my private schooling. Quite possibly the same private school he went to.
“How do you know all that?” he asked, a wary edge to his tone.
I swallowed hard and fidgeted with the sheet. “Because someone lied to you. Or, rather, omitted some information.”
He reached out and grabbed my arm. “What information?”
Domenico knew I was full of secrets, that there was something different about me. He knew I wasn’t just some girl from the streets. I knew he’d picked up that much.
I blew out a breath. “My name.”
He froze as he stared at me, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I knew he could tell my next words would change everything. Every suspicion that I was important was about to be confirmed.
“Ella Delgado is the name I gave myself when I ran away from the life, but the family never lets you go.”
He dragged his hand across his mouth. “Who are you?”
“Arabella Santoro, daughter of Maurizio Santoro.” Ferrante’s consigliere.
His eyes widened and his hand went lax. “Fuck.”
I bit down on my lower lip. “It makes sense now, huh? Why he wouldn’t want me ruined.”
“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” he asked with a hiss.
I shrugged. “What would that accomplish?”
“Better accommodations than a fucking cold, dirty cell,” he boomed out, clearly angry.
I shook my head. “Then you’re not getting it. Everything my father does is moves and countermoves. He wanted me to break. To come to heel. To use his name in exchange for better treatment.”
Fire burned in his eyes, and his jaw clenched tightly. “And you should have.”
“No, I shouldn’t have,” I argued. “Doing that would mean relenting, willingly going home. I didn’t tell you because you were told to get me, to hold me, to keep me safe.”
“You didn’t know that.” He jumped up and began pacing.
I shook my head. “No, and that scared me. I would have used it, if the time had come.”
He turned toward me, teeth bared. “The time came when I held your thighs open!” he growled.
“You were still protecting me.”
“You didn’t know that.” His voice grew louder each time he spoke as anger rolled off him.
“And you know why I didn’t, why I couldn’t. I wasn’t in my right mind.” All my body had wanted was his body, and my mind had been a fog of confusion and lust.
He shook his head as he tried to calm himself. “There were only days left on the rose.”
“At that point, he would swoop in to the rescue, and I would be under his control again.”
It started to click. “And you would lose all freedom.”
I nodded. “But then you tattooed your name on my skin, and it gave me hope again that my situation was temporary. That I was yours.”
“You are mine. This changes nothing.” He paced again, the explosive energy eventually draining away, and he sat down on the bed, facing me. “Why did you leave?”
Because I was buried alive, clawing my way out, desperate to breathe fresh air. Desperate to live.
“After my mother died, that house became suffocating and he became overbearing. I was dying there. I wanted to live, and that’s what I’ve done for the last three years.”
His hand moved up my chest to my neck, his fingers gripping before pulling me forward. “I am even more suffocating. I will consume every bit of you.” His jaw tightened and his lip curled up into a snarl. “Your body and soul are mine. All of you is mine, and I’m not giving you up.”
“Who said you had to?” I asked as I bowed into him.
“You might not like how possessive my love is.”
My heart skipped and I drew in a ragged breath. “Do you love me?”
He bit down on my jaw before grabbing my hips with his other arm, yanking me to him, my thighs spreading to accommodate his.
“I’ve marked you in nearly every way, and I will mark you in all ways.” His thumb brushed against my lower abdomen while his lips swept across my own. “Nobody will take you from me.”
Tears filled my eyes as my chest clenched.
All I ever wanted was the freedom to be my own person, but that was changing. I wanted to be with him and never leave him. He made me feel alive in a way I never could on my own. I was still me, but I could see how strong we could be together.
Us against the world.
The weight of Domenico’s arm around my waist along with his chest pressed against my back gave me the best night sleep I’d had in a long time. The bed was shitty and hard, but the safety I felt lulled me into a deep sleep.
I stared at the drab walls with the dirty, peeling wallpaper and waited, snug in his embrace, for him to wake up.