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Our families didn’t know my cousin was still alive until she took over as Capo Morello’s personal family guard. She is now the head of the dangerous Bocharov Russian mob. She is my uncle Valentino’s child. I was three when she and her mother were supposedly killed by her uncle in retaliation for her mother and my uncle being together. She was trained to kill and was set to kill the Morellos, but she instead protected them. When she and I found each other years earlier, she helped me with some of my training as she was working for MI6 at the time. We hid from the families that we were in contact. It was for my protection as much as hers, she had said.
Ana has helped me with trying to find Luna, but so far, we haven’t found anything. I’m hoping to hear from the hospital where it turns out Narcissa was a patient this whole time. Between Ana, Maso, Santi, and me, we should be able to find something this time around.
I move through the dark streets of Venice toward my place. When I open the doors, I immediately make my way up to the loft. The hardwood floors shine in the muted light. I move past the office toward my bedroom. I need to get this energy out of my system to calm my frayed nerves. This has never happened to me. Even as a teenager, I didn’t suffer from lack of control over my body. But one look at my doll and I was lost. My custom-made jacket hits the chair. I rip my shirt open, sending buttons flying around me. My belt is next, then I drop my slacks as I slip out of the loafers on my feet. I step into the large multi-head shower and the water automatically kicks on. I groan as I wrap my hand around my throbbing cock.
The warmth of the water sluicing off my skin should ease me, but my nerves ramp up as I picture my doll on her knees right in front of me. Her eyes hooded with desire look up at me. I squeeze my cock as I envision shoving it between those full lips of hers, pushing back far enough to cut off her air, choking her. Her eyes water with tears, but all I see is desire. I groan and slide my hand faster along my throbbing skin. She moans and I fire off faster than I’ve ever done before, my control lost in the moment. But my cock doesn’t go slack; it’s still as hard as it was at the beginning. The fantasy replays in my mind, and this time it takes longer before my cum splashes against the glass. Fuck, I’m still hard. I ignore it and finish my shower.
I will have her here soon. She will be mine, and no one will take her from me without losing their life. When I finally fall into bed, I think of her around my vineyard. I want to see that beautiful hair of hers in the sun.
ChapterTwo
McKenna
Ispent the night taking care of Kara. I’m scared to leave her, but I already have plans. I leave her a note as she still hasn’t regained consciousness. I ask her to be more careful. Without the proof of who possibly drugged her, I can’t say anything. I recognized the signs. I’ve been there before. I remember the headache the next day, so I leave her some meds and a large bottle of water.
Speaking of water, I look into my bag slung over my shoulder and see the green glass bottle from last night. I hadn’t realized I had it in my hand still when I got to the yacht.
I carry my large backpack on my back as I disembark the yacht and make my way to the cheap hotel I’ll be staying in while I explore the islands. I want to go to the mainland tomorrow and check out some of the sights there too. Before I step through the doors into the lobby, I stop and look around, feeling like someone is watching me. I don’t see anyone. It’s not the same feeling I felt last night when my tall, dark stranger was watching me. When I crossed the Ponte di Rialto Bridge, I thought I caught a glimpse of a tall man. But I couldn’t be sure. I wish I could see the man from the club again. But on second thought, I don’t know if I want to.
I check into my small room that only has a bed and a tiny bathroom. It reminds me of my room on the yacht that I shared with Kara. This is just for me though, so it feels bigger. I leave my backpack and sling my other bag across my body. The bottle bangs against my hip, and I like the feeling of having him close by me. I take my wavy hair and pin it up on top of my head, then I turn to look in the small bathroom mirror. The birthmark on the back of my neck shows. When I worked for the family, I had to cover it with makeup if I wore my hair up. Now, I don’t bother; it’s a part of me. I lock the flimsy handle and pull my sunglasses down as I make my way back out of the hotel.
“Signora, would you like directions anywhere?” the desk clerk asks me.
I turn around at the door and notice he is checking me out closely. I’m still not accustomed to men looking at me that way. I always rememberhimhurting me. I grit my teeth and move toward the desk, pushing the memories from before back.
“I have a plan.” I pull out the map in my bag. “Thank you, anyway.” I smile at him and turn back around. He makes a noise and I turn back, but he ignores me and turns his back to me. I shrug and head for the doorway. When I step out onto the cobblestone path, I head toward the Mercato di Rialto area, where I want to try some of the local foods. As I move through the market, I feel eyes on me again. It’s just my nerves. After last night, the memories that have haunted my nightmares are causing me to be on edge.
I enjoy a small meal, then I move on to the Campo San Polo historic square and take it all in.
“Flowers,signora?” a vendor asks, and I look at the beautiful bouquet he’s holding toward me.
I reach into my pocket and pull out a couple of notes. I shouldn’t splurge, but the scent of the flowers calms my nerves and something about them settles me. Something about this area does that to me. I smile at the vendor and turn to take in the square, the brightly colored buildings lining the streets. Never in my life have I felt this calmness.
This peace.
Last night with tall, dark, and handsome, I felt things, but not like this. This must be what people mean when they say “home.” I only know I’m from Italy, not where or who I was before the family purchased me. Maybe this was my home. Maybe I’m from here. It’s a nice thought, but it can’t be true. Can it?
As I turn around smiling at the sky, my eyes fall on Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome. I stop and stare at him. He moves across the square toward me. His large body is in tan slacks and a long-sleeved white button-down shirt. The sleeves are rolled up his large arms, revealing his tattoos. His olive skin is dark against the white. His gaze doesn’t stray from mine. I don’t back up or shy away from him when he stops right in front of me. He’s so big, I’m tiny compared to him. I should fear him, but I don’t. He’s at least a foot taller than me. His dark brown hair sweeps back from his face in waves. He lifts his sunglasses and warm chocolate brown eyes stare back at me. Dark scruff surrounds his chin, as if he didn’t shave today.
“Dante Lupo,” he says.
His voice is deep and calls to my body, causing my nipples to come erect behind my black cut up T-shirt with a sunflower and butterflies on it. I’m wearing a thin bra and I know he can see them. While my breasts might be small, my nipples aren’t. His eyes darken more as he takes them in. I want to cross my arms over my body, but instead I reach up with a shaky hand and push up my sunglasses. He watches every movement I make, as if I’m the only person here, yet people move around us in the square. My hand hits my hair clip and my hair tumbles down in a lilac wave around my shoulders and back.
“Bambola, tell me your name, please.” His voice is gruffer now. What I imagine it would sound like after taking a shot of whiskey. I don’t know Italian, so I don’t know what he called me.
“McKenna.” I don’t give him my last name. The less people learn about me in the beginning is the best.
“McKenna,” he says my name, and I bite my bottom lip, fighting the groan that wants to slip out. He reaches out, and instead of stepping back or blocking him, I crave his touch. His fingers slide against my cheek, and I close my eyes, letting my guard down.
What is it about this man? How does he do this to me? His large, warm palm cups my cheek and slips into my thick hair. He tightens his hand, and the burn of him pulling my hair has my eyes flying open, but not in fear. I want him to pull harder. This is what’s messed up about me. Even though I had something special taken from me when I was drugged, I’ve craved pain since then. Am I barmy?
“Bambola, I want more time with you. Say you’ll spend the day with me.” His dark demand washes over me, and I nod, causing a bite of pain to spread across my scalp.
“I’m sightseeing today on the islands.” My voice sounds breathy and not normal.
“Come.” He releases my hair but takes my hand, pulling me with him.
“Wait, my clip.” I pull back and bend down to pick up the clip that snapped from my hair. He watches me as I turn to look up at him. Again, his eyes cloud over, and I don’t know what he sees. I stand up and slip the clip into my bag. I can’t afford to buy more right now. My budget is so tight.
