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My plan hit me as soon as I saw her trusting, beautiful eyes staring at me with desire. For a second, I thought it was Diana herself and it took me back to the time she controlled my heart. She looked at me like that—a lot and when we were together, it was inevitable we would end up in my bed.
She was my father’s girlfriend and my lover. She told me she was scared of him. That he made her do things she was uncomfortable with.
She played the innocent victim well and my need to protect her was strong. So many times, she told me she only felt safe with me. That if things were different, we would be together.
Her soft whispers of love settled inside my heart, causing my mind to bend against my own family loyalty. I would have done anything for Diana Corlietti, even murder my own father to set us both free but when I discovered my brother fucking her against her closet wall, that love turned to the most bitter hatred and any dreams I had evolved into twisted nightmares of how painful I could make her ending.
Betrayal is the cruelest form of torture, and I have lived with it far too long. First, my mother was murdered before my eyes and then my heart was brutally torn from me by the woman I loved and my bastard brother. Now I have regained control of a situation I never wanted in the first place and when Flora unknowingly walked into my home, my plan hit me just as hard as my feelings toward her.
It would be so easy to bend my lips to hers and taste perfection. To run my hands across her soft skin and lose myself in lustful desire. To thrust my cock in so hard she would scream my name and to drive her to the point of ecstasy before I spill my own seed deep inside, leaving her in no doubt at all about who owns her now. Because I do own her, she just doesn’t know it yet and so, reluctantly I pull away and say gruffly, “It’s been a long day and you need to sleep. I’ll make sure our unwelcome visitors have left and we will talk in the morning.”
Before she can say a word, I spin on my heels and head from the room, locking her inside so my captured beauty can’t get away. As I pocket the key, I laugh to myself, imagining the pleasure imprisoning this woman will bring to my life. Yes, as plans go, this one is astonishing in its brilliance, but as for my other plans concerning Flora, tomorrow can’t come soon enough for me.
* * *
Without even stoppingto shower the blood from my body, I pace the corridors of my mansion like a warrior ready to do battle, streaked in the blood of his latest victim.
Luckily for me, Pasquale has cleared my home of all the unwelcome visitors and as I stop by the guard house, I relish the widening of my men’s eyes as they see The Enforcer has been hard at work again—this time making one of their own suffer. I wear his blood like a promise. Step out of line and your life ends at my hand. They glance up as if fearful of catching my eye and I growl, “Where’s Pasquale?”
Vinnie, one of my braver soldiers, speaks up. “He’s in the den.” Nodding, I spin on my heel and head off to Pasquale’s own office that sits beside mine.
My consigliere enjoys a greater freedom than most of my men because, with no exception, he is my most loyal. The man I trust with my life and as I head through his door without the courtesy of a knock, he glances up and the grin on his face settles my heart.
“At least your evening ended well.”
He nods toward my chest, and I grin, sinking down on the chair opposite him and reaching for a cigarette.
“Not as well as I hoped, but satisfying none the less.”
I take a long drag and then regard him through hooded eyes.
“What can you tell me?”
“The detectives came up with nothing.” He shrugs and reaches for his own cigarette, lighting the tip and taking a long, satisfying drag.
“His men searched but came up empty handed and none of your guests had anything to add other than you were here with Miss Corlietti the entire time.”
“Good.” I puff out smoke rings and nod toward the crystal decanter of whiskey, causing him to reach for two glasses and set about pouring us a celebratory drink.
“The senator.” I growl as my fingers clasp around the cool crystal.
“As the detective said, his heart was liberated, and his driver’s throat cut.”
“Anything from neighboring CCTV?”
“Take a look.”
Pasquale spins his screen to face me, and I watch as the camera catches the senator’s limo as it turns the corner.
I observe with keen interest as the image shows a black unidentified SUV screeching to a stop in front of it and then four black hooded figures spill from the car. An ambush of the deadliest kind that is shielded from the camera courtesy of the SUV.
It takes mere minutes before the figures head back to the car and I growl, “Zoom in.”
Pasquale does as I ask, and I see a slim figure shrouded in black with a balaclava covering their identity, holding the senator’s heart like a trophy.
“Why the heart, I wonder?” I speak almost to myself and Pasquale shrugs. “A trophy perhaps, or a gift for his widow. Perhaps a reminder to someone who pissed them off, and the senator is a warning. Who knows, it could be many things.”
“Can you ID them?”
