Society tells us from a young age that the gentle Prince is the man we should all want.
But, it’s the Villain that make us feel alive, worship our bodies and fuck us like the dirty girl we are.
Never conform to what society tells you…spread those thick legs like a good girl.
“Boss, why are you even attending this joke of an event? Just another old fucking Don who thinks showing his daughter off like cattle will make him seem important,” Angelo says as he unbuttons his black suit jacket before sitting down in the chair across my desk.
Swirling around the amber liquid in my glass, dressed in my everyday attire. Black dress pants, crisp black dress shirt along with a black jacket to match. Everything I wear is black. It’s the best way to hide any evidence of my favorite color. Crimson red. The color of blood.
I bring the tumbler to my lips, letting the smokiness of the whiskey coat my tongue as it burns going down my throat. I drink it in one gulp.
Setting my glass down on my deep cherry wood desk that was my fathers, I walked to the picture of my father and remember how I used to think how powerful he looked sitting behind this desk and how I wanted to be powerful just like him. “We both know that Ciro Costa is a fucking snake, and this is just another party for him to show off to the other families. He wants to marry off his eldest daughter so the fucker can weasel his way into another family to gain more money and power.”
Rolling my neck side to side, I try to release the tension that screams for a release, but it does nothing of the sort. Tonight, I will find some willing woman to get on her knees for me to slam my cock into her warm mouth to relieve what is coursing through my body. I’ve never had an issue finding a willingwoman to spread her legs for me, but I never bring them to my home. I only ever fuck them in the office of my club where I am in control.
Sighing, Angelo shakes his head, he picks up the decanter and refills my empty glass. “I still stand by what I said. Something still feels off about this event.”
Standing up from my chair, I button my jacket, making sure that my gun is tucked in the back of my waist band. “I agree. I have a suspicion that Ciro and the Di Marco’s are secretly working together. Those two old bastards have always been at each other’s throats and hated each other for years. I’m curious to see what that fucking snake Di Marco has planned.” My gaze hardens when I look at Angelo. “Eduardo Di Marco is a walking dead man if he thinks he can try to weasel his way into my shipping dock and try to steal our shipment like the fucking greedy son of bitch that he is.” Grabbing my phone and putting it in my dress pants pocket. “Thankfully, my men are loyal to me, to the Ricci family when he tried to flash money to get them to work for him. I have never been good at sharing nor lairs.”
“I still say we move shipping locations to be safe. They have been sniffing around for some time and with him cozying up to the Costa’s. We need to be one step ahead of them.” Angelo says before he motions to open my office door.
Letting his words swirl around in my head while I walk down the hall to the main part of the house. I find Dante the head of my security team waiting for me to head to the event.
“Dante there is no need for assistance tonight as Costa is not a threat of any kind that I’m worried about. Angelo and I will go together.”
Dante nods his head in acceptance. “Good night, sir.”
He gestures to the other members to follow him as they leave down the hallway leading to the surveillance room.
“Well, since they are not coming with us, I’m driving. You like to jerk the wheel a lot and I don’t feel like getting car sick,” Angelo deadpans.
If anyone else ever spoke to me the way that Angelo does, they would have a bullet through their skull before they could even count to one. Rolling my eyes and letting out a sigh, we both make our way out to the garage through my kitchen. Pressing the code to the lock box where all the keys are stored, he reaches for the key fob to my Range Rover, the windows are tinted black all around minus the windshield, and both doors and windows bullet proof. He unlocks the doors, making the headlights flash before we both open the doors to get inside.
This is all I have ever known. I eat, sleep, breathe and bleed for the Ricci Family. My father started training me at the young age of twelve years old. How to hold a gun. How to shoot a gun without backfiring. How to never get caught. How to have cops, lawyers, doctors and more on the payroll. How to turn our family business into a thriving enterprise. How to kill a man without getting a drop of blood on me, but I prefer getting it on me. Maybe tonight I’ll get lucky enough to have both pussy and blood.
There are two men standing at each end of the big iron entrance. I’m surprised that Ciro doesn’t have more men standing guard. He always likes to seem more important than he truly is.
“Name?” one of them asks with a thick Italian accent.
“The Don of the Ricci family, Enzo,” Angelo answers.
The low man on the payroll looks over the list on his tablet with one hand over his gun in the front of his pants. And I know that Angelo has one in almost every compartment of this vehicle. The man is never not prepared.
He looks up from his device and motions for us to enter.
“Fucking cunt,” Angelo mumbles in Sicilian as we make our track up the driveway.
I can almost feel the anger radiating off of him neither one of us wants to be here.
Rounding the corner, the mansion comes into view and my lip curls in disgust. The Costa’s compound is tacky and screams he wants everyone to know how much money he has. Everything is white from the exterior to the columns wrapping around the front with arches over each one. The center of the driveway has a big water fountain with greenery, but the conceited asshole took it one step further.
“He has a fucking statue of himself?” Angelo asks with disgust in his voice as we approach the line of other vehicles.
Adjusting my sleeves under my suit jacket, I say, “Ciro loves himself more than anyone else and lacks any self-awareness. It shows weakness to his enemies.”
Angelo nods in agreement. The car comes to a stop and Angelo exits first, buttoning his suit jacket and adjusting the gun tucked in the back of his pants. Once it is safe for me to exit, he gestures with his head and I open the door to get out. Stepping out I do the same as Angelo before I start making my way up the massive front steps with him walking behind me. The hideous gold door opens, the music and voices travel to where we are both standing between the door and inside. Our shoes make a clicking noise against the marble floors. Gold trim, with black and white accents throughout the house.
Someone in a penguin suit appears out of nowhere with a tray of champagne flutes.
