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The Five Families of the Cosa Nostra were all brutal in nature, not one more violent or more targeted than the other. However, with the alliance forming with the Romano and Lazarro regimes, their increase in power would spell disaster for the remaining syndicates. That couldn’t happen, the shift in power too significant to keep control of the aligned territories.
I’d learned much about the politics of the syndicates over the years, observing methods used and reading about the past empires who’d won and lost battles over the years. What my adopted father didn’t seem to understand given his advanced age was that by Lazarro slipping into New York unnoticed, he’d establish another base of power, preparing to overthrow the existing Italian hold, including his cousin. That alone would make his empire one of the most powerful in the world.
Not any longer.
What the rat had said still haunted me. Somewhere in the back of my mind I’d known my birth father wasn’t merely the estate foreman. He often left us alone at night, returning in the wee hours of the morning. I’d tried to follow him once, only to find myself lost in the woods surrounding the property. But I knew he was capable of significant violence, especially when I’d seen him returning one night, his clothes bloody. I’d made the mistake of asking him where he’d been, my quest to learn the truth resulting in the single time my father had knocked me across the room.
And he’d told me in no uncertain terms never to ask questions. To the day of his death, I’d never attempted to do so again.
I slipped into Lucia’s apartment unnoticed. As with most New Yorkers, they purposely paid little attention to anyone around them. It was one of the few cities in the world where the blood soaking my skin wasn’t noticed, or if it was, no one dared to comment or call for help. They simply went about their everyday lives, pretending they were in a protected bubble.
They had no idea the kind of terror they could face at any given time.
From the Animal.
After closing the door behind me, I stood in the small entranceway, peering from one side of the apartment to the other. The two times I’d been inside before had been under the guise of darkness. Now I had a chance to explore Lucia’s world in the daylight.
The furnishings reminded me of her, artistic yet with clean lines, her use of color as bold as I remembered. She’d been a blossoming flower, a girl ready to take charge of the world. She’d enlightened me with stories about what she would do in her life, traveling to beautiful locations. She’d researched them, spouting off glorious stories so vivid in detail that whatever location she was describing was exactly where I’d wanted to be.
In return, I’d played for her, allowing my fingers to glide across the strings of the guitar she’d purchased for me. She’d saved the money she’d been given for trinkets and ice cream, preferring to buy me a gift instead of enjoying the perks of being a princess. I’d been touched, more so than I’d ever told her. How could I? I was just the stable boy, mucking horseshit and cleaning stalls, barely able to attend the limited schooling I’d been allowed.
I was filth where she’d been innocence.
My gaze drifted to the candle. It was still in position. It was still glowing.
And the ache from before returned.
As I walked through her apartment, an ache developed in my heart. I should have killed her without hesitation. The moment I’d laid eyes on her, I’d lost the battle, but when I’d laid my hand on the inside of her thigh, my fingers languishing over her silky skin, so warm and inviting, I’d lost the war.
The ache was intense, but caution would need to be used, while my instinct was to claim her as mine without hesitation.
I eased my duffle bag onto the kitchen table, sweeping my eyes across the expansive space. She was organized, everything in a particular place. As I opened the refrigerator, it was exactly as I’d expected. Fruits and vegetables, bottles of water and juice. There was no caviar and lobster, no bottles of French champagne. She’d turned her nose up on the life she’d been born into.
Just as she’d promised me she would all those years ago. She’d forged a life of her own, pretending as if the world she’d left behind didn’t exist. As with everything that occurred within the Cosa Nostra, there was no escape.
I felt my lips tug into a cruel smile. She still had no idea the man who’d brought her so much pleasure would destroy everything she’d worked so diligently to achieve. I tried to recapture the hate I’d felt for so many years, thriving only on the thoughts of what I’d do once I found her. So much had changed in only a few days. Sighing, I returned to the living room, glancing at her bookshelves. There were no pictures of her family, no direct connection to the name that sparked fear in so many in Italy.
In America, she was a powerful businesswoman and nothing else. Although I wasn’t foolish enough to believe her father hadn’t insisted that she be trained to protect herself. The fact she had no bodyguard with her, no one to protect her meant Roberto Lazarro believed her to be safe.
The man was a pompous fool and would soon learn that no one was safe from someone like me.
Now she believed she would be forced into a marriage with a man she didn’t know. No. That wasn’t going to happen.
As I dragged equipment from the bag, my thoughts turned carnal. One taste of her had fucked with my mind. The need for her was already ruling my body. Every image that flashed in front of my eyes made it more painful to consider going through with my orders.
Even now, my cock was painfully aroused, my balls tightening.
I placed the small cameras in several locations throughout the expansive apartment, continuously searching for weapons. I’d been right in my assumptions. She’d hidden several throughout the apartment. Good girl.
The equipment was non-intrusive but allowed me a wide-angled view of her activities. I wanted to be able to always see her, to feed on the frenzied need to consume her. And I wanted to know if the arrangement was forced or one of her choosing. I would know soon enough, the listening devices capturing every conversation.
I only prayed my little lioness, myleonessawasn’t betrothed out of desire instead of requirement. That would put an end to my tepid decision. I wanted to believe her as being innocent, but I’d learned through suffering that no one was immune to corruption. Not even a beautiful woman with a body most men would die for.
Her bedroom was last and as I opened the door, the hard edges of her exterior were immediately replaced with the softness that I’d experienced the night before. Her room was decorated in shades of purple, majestic for a princess of any culture. Her bed wasn’t completely made, as if our engagement the night before had left her tossing and turning, unable to face the realities of her life so soon after our unbridled passion.
Pillows were strewn in several locations, her scent lingering in the plush fabric. I almost felt guilty for being inside her private space, invading the location where she could be herself completely. I’d watched her at work, studying her habits for three days before determining it was time to meet once again. She was regimented, working long hours but once she was home, she’d cocooned inside. That had made me more curious about her.
As I moved further into the room, I noticed the nightgown tossed on the end of the bed. Unable to help myself, I fisted the silky material, bringing it to my nose. The scent was musky yet floral, just like the night before. After placing it on the comforter, I hissed and set out to finish what I’d started.
