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Mueller gasps and begins talking frantically.
“I swear, I swear Marco I had the money, I did! It’s just that one of the Saracino boys already had a shipment that I needed so I paid them for it right away. I just needed some time to sell a little more before I could pay you, but I swear. I had it! I was going to—”
“Enough!” I shout, my voice echoing off the walls, his mouth shutting instantly.
Fucking Saracino's. I should’ve guessed.
It seems that no matter how much business I create in this goddamn city, they’re always right there, ready to take it for themselves.
“You tainted our business for a Saracino?” I growl, my gun raising to his crotch again as he starts to blabber like a child.
“It really is a shame, Mueller. I thought we worked well together,” I say, clicking my tongue as annoyance floods me.
I really wasn’t in the mood to get my suit dirty today. It’s a brand-new piece from Armani and it’s going to take a while to get the blood out. What the fuck is wrong with people today? Why must they test my patience for all that it’s worth?
I pull the trigger, shooting him in the dick as blood splatters and his yelps fill the boardroom.
“Diego,” I say, his eyes meeting mine instantly.
“I need you to call that dealer from Rhode Island at once and have a contract on my desk within the hour. It seems both the Saracino’s, and I have lost a big merchant this week,” I grunt, looking at Mueller before I aim my gun at his throat and fire one last shot, his bloody gurgles disgusting me as soon as I hear them.
I turn, grab a tissue from my desk and wipe my gun before I walk out of the room, turning my head to order one last command at my men.
“Clean up the mess. I want his body at the bottom of the Hudson before dawn.
I leave the office and march through the halls of my mansion, my blood burning like the fires of hell.
I’m so fucking done with this family taking everything of mine. I’m tired of them walking around this city as if they own it, as if they can stake claim even though my family has been here for generations. I want them to hurt, to bleed and mourn and suffer as I have for the last ten years. As I continue to suffer to this fucking day, because of them. And although I want to run over to their territory and shoot each one of them individually and watch them bleed out on the cement, I have something readily available. I have a Saracino of my own to break.
I march up to Lori’s bedroom, kicking the door open and snarling when her surprised gasp fills the room. As soon as I slam the door shut, I discard my jacket, roll up my sleeves and march to the bed that she lies on, her hazel eyes wide with both confusion and fear.
Good. It seems the little princess is finally afraid of the beast that lurks in her new castle.
“Marco, what is—” she gasps, eyes searching mine before I silence her with a rough hand over her mouth.
“Not a fucking word. You don’t deserve to speak,” I hiss down at her, those hazel eyes of hers oozing fear as my cock hardens like granite.
I grab onto her thigh with my other hand, prying her legs apart and yanking her closer to me as I kneel on the bed. She wails beneath my hand, but the sound is muffled.
“Don’t cry, Lorena. It only makes me harder,” I tease, tears springing to her eyes.
She stills instantly, eyes glued to mine as my hand leaves her thigh to travel up her shirt, dipping beneath it in search of her perfect nipples. This woman may be the spawn of Satan himself, but I’d be a fool to say that she wasn’t beautiful. That every inch of her body wasn’t complete fucking perfection.
My fingers find her nipple and pinches it tightly before I grab onto her breast, her shocked gasp hitting the palm of my hand and causing my cock to practically burst from my zipper.
“You’re my toy now, Lori. My little toy that I get to play with whenever I’m bored. Or angry. Or quite frankly, just in the mood to fuck with,” I grunt, her eyes narrowing on me in anger.
Anger I would almost believe if her body didn’t give her away.
Her small, shapely hips rise from the bed, her eyes rolling behind her head as my thumb circles her nipple and my fingers bite into the flesh of her tit, elicitinga raspy moan offher throat.
Jesus Christ, even when I hate her, I want her. And how fucked up is that?
I remove my hand from her breast, and a sound of protest escapes her lips. When I slide my fingers to her pussy and find her drenched, I’m not surprised. In fact, I’m angry. I'm angry because her desire elates me, and that... that is by far the worst thing that has happened to me today.
I pull my fingers away from her wetness and remove my hand from her mouth, forcing the fingers that were playing at her pussy into it.
“Suck,” I demand. “Taste yourself,” I say harshly, her hot little tongue swirling my fingers on command, my cock screaming with need.
