“Nelo recognized me from the night before,” I tell Damiano as we follow the dimly lit service hallway to his office. “He said he’ll kill me for what I did tonight.”
“He’s not going to lay a finger on you,” Damiano says in a rough voice. “I’ll make sure of it.”
I pull at my bottom lip with my teeth. Nelo doesn’t play by the rules. I can sense that much. Somehow, I doubt he’s going to listen to Damiano’s warnings.
“What is he mixed up in?” I ask.
Anger carves his jaw into a sharp line. “Him and his crew are a bunch of shit heads. If they even think about touching a hair on your head again, they won’t live long enough to regret it.”
It’s hyperbole, but he says it with such vicious confidence that I almost believe him. Still, Damiano is only a businessman, and Nelo? Nelo is dangerous, and this is the second time I’ve caused issues between him and Damiano.
There had to have been another way to help Astrid that didn’t involve doing what I did. My instincts immediately turned to violence. Is this how I’m going to solve all of my problems from now on? I can’t even convince myself that I won’t. I wasn’t thinking when I drove that ice pick through Nelo’s hand. I just did what felt right.
The panic starts building at the base of my spine. Violence felt right to me. Seriously, what is wrong with me? I can’t get close to anyone when I’m in this state. I really do need therapy. Years of it. And until then, there is no way out. Nelo may have deserved it, but what if I attack someone who doesn’t next time? I need to leave and isolate myself. I won’t put more people in danger because I’m out of my goddamn mind.
“Wait here,” Damiano says when we stop outside of his office. He points to a chair propped against the wall a few feet away and helps me sit down. “I don’t want you in the room with them. We’ll talk as soon as I’m done. All right?”
“Sure,” I say, meeting his gaze. He’s concerned about me, the same way he was when I cried on his boat. He thinks I’m someone who needs protecting, instead of the thing people need protection from.
The sound of footsteps floats from the other end of the hall, and Damiano gives my shoulder a quick squeeze. He opens the door for Nelo and his entourage, blocking me from their sight. I see a flash of Ras before they all disappear inside the room.
As soon as I’m alone, I fold over, and hide my face in my palms. My gut churns. It feels like something rotten has cracked open inside my stomach and filled me with poison.
They’re talking in aggressive tones inside the office, but I can’t make out a single word through the thick walls.
I can’t stay here. I’ll explode if I do.
Running to the closest emergency exit, I barrel through the door. The parking lot blurs around me as I sprint past the rows of cars. I don’t stop moving until I make it to the beach. My heels sink into the sand. The sky is still dark, but the moon is bright, and it illuminates the waves crashing along the shore. The water is always more restless during the night, flashing with foam that looks like white teeth.
I’m so close to the shore, I can feel the ocean’s spittle land on my bare knees. Who would miss me if I walked right into the water and never came back out? My sisters don’t need me. My parents probably want me dead. At this point, if they find me alive, I’ll be in disgrace for the rest of my life. Papà will probably give Lazaro his blessing to kill me for my betrayal. Was I ever a daughter, or just a tool for them to use? Are any mafia daughters ever more than a thing to barter with?
The water is up to my knees now, and the ocean welcomes me. It pulls on my ankles, wrapping its foamy hands around my flesh and coaxing me deeper.
Tears stream down my face. I need to let it all go and start over, but after tonight, I don’t know if I can. Living in fear is the most exhausting thing I’ve ever had to do. And now it’s not just others that I fear. It’s me.
The poison Lazaro filled me with hasn’t gone away. It has corrupted my mind and erased my character. I don’t know who I am.
I gasp when the water reaches the hem of my shorts. It’s cold. Cleansing. Maybe it can cleanse my soul. That thought keeps me moving farther and farther. A big wave crashes into me, and I’m suddenly swept off my feet. I fall backwards, and my head dips under the surface.
Wash it off me. My past, my sins, my memories. I want to be reborn.
My feet connect with the seabed. The water’s not that deep, I can push off and pop back up if I need to, but I challenge myself to hold my breath. The waves toss my body back and forth, and I relax into them, letting nature do its work.
When I’m completely out of breath, I push my head above the surface of the water and glance up at the sky. There are no stars visible tonight, the moon is too bright. I wish I could see them high above me, to serve as a reminder of how small I am in this big world.
Another wave breaks against me. Some salty water gets washed up my nose, and I start coughing. Another wall of water hits me before I get a chance to take a proper breath.
When the biggest wave yet slams over my head, I think I hear my name, but the sound of the rushing water drowns it out. Then I’m submerged, and this time, when I point my toes, I don’t meet any resistance. It doesn’t feel like I’m sinking. It feels as if I’m suspended in space and time.
Panic starts creeping in. I swim, but it’s too dark, and I don’t know which way is up. The water doesn’t feel pleasantly cool anymore. It’s freezing and heavy and as thick as tar. A pain appears inside my chest and darkness seeps through my thoughts. I can’t hold on to any of them.
When I’m finally convinced I’m about to die, two snakes wrap around my waist. They bite into my stomach, digging their dull teeth into my flesh.
“Ale. Ale!”
Not teeth. Fingers. Hands. Two arms.
They squeeze me over and over, until I retch out the salty ocean water. My back slams against packed sand. I’m pushed to my side. I’m coughing harder than I ever have in my entire life.
When I finally blink open my eyes, Damiano is heaving over me, looking irate. He’s soaked to the bone, water dripping down his hair and onto my face.
“Holy shit,” I choke out.
“Who goes swimming at night when the sea is rough like this? You could have drowned, you idiot,” he hisses. He looks angry enough to kill me. Darkness clouds his eyes.
“I’m sorry. I just wanted to…cool down.”
He’s staring at me like he wants to take me apart piece by piece just so he can see exactly where nature went wrong. “There’s AC at the club. You would have cooled down if you’d stayed put like I told you to.”
I close my eyes and shake my head. “No.”
“What do you mean no?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
He grips my shoulders and gives me a hard shake. “You don’t get to say that to me after I just dragged you out. You nearly died.”
He’s not wrong. I might have died if he hadn’t come to my rescue.
Would that really have been so bad?
That would have been one way to keep my violent urges from ever causing havoc again.
Am I really considering suicide? No, I can’t give up. Not after everything I did to get away.
A sob works its way up my throat. It sounds awful.
Damiano’s grip on my shoulders loosens. “Talk to me.”
“I hurt him,” I say as tears overflow my eyes and slip down my temples.
“Nelo?” He barks a laughs. “Who gives a fuck about him? He’s gone to the medic. They’ll give him a Band-Aid and tell him to fuck off.”
I move to sit up, and Damiano moves his hand to my lower back to help me.
“You don’t get it.” The truth wants to spill out. I want to tell him every detail of everything that I’ve done so that he can see for himself that I’m not worth even a second of his concern.
But when I look at his face, I realize that I’m a liar. I like his concern. I don’t want to reject it. I want to burrow deeper inside of it.
“I was violent,” I mutter, folding away everything else I was about to tell him. “And I didn’t even feel bad about it in the moment. What kind of a person does that make me?”
Damiano exhales an exasperated breath. “You acted on instinct. You wanted to protect Astrid. That makes you a good friend.”
“My instinct was to stab him with an ice pick.”
“Many would have done worse.”
“I doubt it.”
“I don’t.” He tips my chin up. “Look, I know what you’re feeling.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. What you did feels violent, but it wasn’t. By its nature, violence is peak selfishness. What you did wasn’t that. You acted with the goal of defending a friend.”
“How do you know all that?”
“Violence is a part of my job.”
“You mean people getting into fights and stuff at your clubs?”
He looks away and scratches the side of his mouth. “Yeah.”
“I thought Ras and his team dealt with all that.”
“Most of it. But sometimes, it needs to be dealt with by me. Like tonight. To deal with violence effectively, you need to understand it. A habitually violent person generally isn’t very smart. They can’t figure out how to deal with a situation. They fail to control their emotions and lash out. When you know what to look for, nearly every act of violence can be preempted. Sometimes all it takes is a few carefully chosen words. Other times, you can only stop it with your own show of force. That’s what you did tonight.”
“I escalated things instead of stopping them.”
“You got Astrid away from him, didn’t you? You created a distraction. You made Nelo change his target.”
“To me.”
“Forget what he said to you,” Damiano says. “He’s never going to hurt you.”
I allow his words to settle over my skin and seep into my blood like a dose of a drug. It’s so tempting to believe him. “You won’t let him.”
“No. I already told you, didn’t I?” He reaches for my cheek and drags the tips of his fingers down to my lips. “I’m going to make you mine, Ale. And I always protect what’s mine.”
A wave crashes, lapping at our toes. I part my mouth and dart out my tongue. He tastes like salt and safety and desire.
I want to be drenched in it. Just for one night, I’ll allow myself to believe he’ll keep me safe.
He sees my intent before I can voice it, and he pushes his fingers into my wet hair, bringing my lips to his. God, it feels so good to kiss him.
But he cuts the kiss short and glares at me again. “Cazzo, I still can’t believe you almost drowned.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “It was stupid.”
“Yeah, it was.”
I run my hands up his muscular chest and tangle my fingers into his dress shirt. “Make me feel alive again.”
His eyes flash with heat, and then he’s all over me, pressing my back into the sand and settling his powerful body over mine. He lets me feel the weight of him, like he knows how badly I need to be anchored to something right now. My fingers dip under his shirt and I draw long lines down his back with my nails. This earns me a pleased grunt and a tug on my bottom lip.
He pushes off me and eyes my drenched clothes. “Take your shirt off, unless you want me to rip it off you.”
A rush of heat settles inside my core. Probably best to keep our clothes intact since we still have to get back to the club.
He helps me peel the wet fabric over my head and then reaches around me to unclasp my bra. As soon as my breasts are bare, his hands turn greedy, his mouth hungry for my taste. He takes one nipple into his mouth and pulls on it with his teeth, before doing the same to the other. Electricity prickles all over my skin, and heat coils at the pit of my belly until I’m so desperate for more that I push him away and quickly pull off my underwear and shorts.
Damiano peers down at my naked form. “Fuck,” he rasps. “This body was made for me.”
Something flutters inside my chest. Why does it sound so right when he says things like that?
He lifts his eyes to meet mine, as if challenging me to protest. When I don’t, he gives me a reward.
His mouth between my legs.
I claw at the sand as he licks and sucks on my clit. How is he so good at this?
“Shit,” I pant. My vision’s blurs as the pressure between my legs builds and builds. He takes me by my thighs and hauls me onto his shoulders, as if I weight nothing. And then he looks up at me, his mouth still glued on my cunt.
Everything bursts and I cry out. No matter how I squirm, he won’t let go of me. When I start to come down, he fucks me with his tongue and the hazy pleasure of it all is unreal.
“Damiano,” I moan.
At last, he lowers me back to the ground and dips his fingers inside of me, curling them possessively. “I’ve never tasted a better pussy,” he says hoarsely.
I drag the back of my hand over my forehead. Jesus.
When he crawls on top of me, I slide my hand into his pants to find his hard cock. He squeezes his eyes shut when I begin to stroke him, then moans when I tighten my grip, but before I can experiment further, he barks, “Enough.”
He jerks my hand out of his pants, pins it above my head, and kisses my throat. “I’m going to come inside of you,” he says against my skin.
A shiver coasts down my spine when I realize it’s his way of asking for permission. I got my last birth control shot on the eve of my wedding, which means I’m still good for a month or so.
“Okay,” I breathe.
He makes a satisfied rumble in the back of his throat, lifts off me, and starts to take off his clothes.
When he’s fully nude, he kneels between my legs, his powerful body backlit by the moon. It’s a visual so striking, it should be captured by a painter, but the beach is completely empty except for us. I drag my fingertips over the defined muscles in his chest and abs and try to capture every detail in my memory.
He grips my chin and drapes his body over mine. The anticipation of what’s about to come makes my toes curl. His cock is pressed against my thigh, and I shift my hips and line him up with my entrance. This is the second time a man will be inside of me, and I already know it will be nothing like the first.
He pushes in with one smooth stroke and lets out a harsh breath. My eyes flutter closed at the sensation of being so utterly full. I dig my nails into his ass, and he begins to move, slowly at first, then faster and faster until it’s frantic and desperate. I can feel another orgasm building at the edges.
Suddenly, he pulls out, flips me over, and moves me until I’m on all fours, my ass up in the air. He grabs me by the hips, pushes into me again, and quickly finds a relentless rhythm. My arms shake as I struggle to hold myself up.
“This pussy was made for me too,” he growls from behind as he keeps thrusting into me. “And this pretty little ass.” His thumb brushes against the other hole. “Mine.”
I squirm, my breaths coming out in pants now as I get closer and closer to my peak. I’m wild with lust and leftover adrenaline and look over my shoulder to meet his gaze. “It’s all yours.”
His expression melts with satisfaction, and the sight of it finishes me off. I spasm around him, curling my fingers into the sand and falling down on my forearms. He moves his hands to my hips, pumps two more times, and explodes inside of me.
We fall to our sides, and he wraps his strong arms around me. The sky is lighter now. The sun will rise soon and erase the night.
After some time, he lifts me and takes me back into the water, rinsing the sand off my back and arms, and washing between my legs. I let him. I allow this illusion of being cared for by him to last a few moments longer.
“You will never put yourself in danger again,” he murmurs into my ear. “No one hurts what’s mine, not even you.”
We walk back to the club with sand all over our clothes. It feels weird to walk with his warm palm pressed against my back out in public, but there’s no one paying us any mind. At this hour, anyone we encounter on our walk is blissed out on drugs.
“I left my car keys in my office,” he says. “We’ll get them, and I’ll drive you home.”
The sun peeks over the horizon. Am I ready to get involved with someone like Damiano? He’s no mafioso, but I already know his offer of protection comes with expectations. He wants me to be his.
I like it when he tells me how much he desires me and how he’s going to use my body, because I know he’ll make sure I’ll enjoy it too. But what if he wants more than that? What if he wants to control me in the way Lazaro and Papà did?
No, normal men don’t think like that. They don’t try to bend people to their will until they’re on the verge of snapping. Damiano might think I’m his, but when he says those words, I know he says them as a promise, not a threat. He wants to take care of me. Is it really so bad to allow him to do exactly that?
What we have won’t last forever, but for now, maybe I can enjoy being his.
We stop by his office door, but he blocks me from going in. His brows furrow. “Someone’s inside. I left the door locked.”
It’s open, just a crack.
He puts me behind him. “Stay here. I’m going to check it first.”
Is Nelo and his gang waiting for him inside? Fear sparks inside my gut.
He disappears through the door, and I hear muffled voices for a minute or so before he comes back out.
“Who is it?” I ask.
In his gaze, I detect a hint of warmth. “It’s my sister. She was worried when she woke up and realized I hadn’t come home. She went looking for me. Do you want to meet her?”
“Um.” I’m entirely too aware of the fact that we just had sex on the beach and that his cum is still dripping out of me. Heat blankets my cheeks. I must look like a mess.
But I’m curious. The grown-up version of the little girl from that family photo is on the other side of the door. Damiano said they’re close, so it feels like a big deal he’s willing to introduce me to her.
“Okay,” I say.
“Come on.” He takes me by the hand and opens the door. “Martina, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” he says as he steps inside the room with me on his heels. “This is Ale.” He moves aside to reveal someone perched on the edge of his desk.
My greeting comes to a sharp stop inside my throat. My lips part. Everything around me turns blank as my vision narrows on the girl.
The girl.
The one I saw curled up on the floor of my basement through the screen of an iPad.
Her eyes widen in recognition.
Reality feels like a house of cards that’s one breath away from crashing down.
She sucks in that breath.
And then, she screams.
