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“And, yes, I will keep her,” I confirm, because that is an unquestionable truth.
It took me a while to admit it, but after last night, there's no chance I'll keep postponing this decision. I could never let thebambinago. La Santa is a witness that I tried, at all costs, to maintain rationality on the matter, but I only needed to cum inside Gabriella to understand that this was a long-lost battle.
In my thirty-eight years, I had never cum inside a woman without protection, I had never stuck myself in an unprotected pussy.
I should have accepted, the moment I found myself unable to put on a fucking condom the first time I had sex with Gabriella and every time after that, that anything I did to remedy the inconvenience of my own lack of control would be just postponing the inevitable.
The feeling of marking her from the inside triggered a million needs that had been remaining on the edge despite all the others that, daily, grew in my consciousness when it came to thebambina.
I swallow an acid laugh when not even the image of the only impediment to my not filling Gabriella's pussy with my cum before emerges in my thoughts, and it doesn't seem the least bit problematic to me. Quite the contrary, imagining her swollen belly, carrying my child, only serves to unlock a new level on my scale of determination to possess every last strand of the girl's hair.
Obsession, compulsion, possession, sick desire for domination: the name doesn't matter to me, as long as it means keeping her to myself, I'll accept any. The beast beneath my skin is no longer the only one roaring that Gabriella belongs to him.
The facade of a controlled man that I inhabit also no longer knows how to do anything else and is determined not to relearn them until I have the guarantee that every soul walking this earth understands what that means, starting with Massimo Coppeline.
I don't think the feeling taking over my every breath is what my father felt or feels for my mother. While their relationship has always seemed peaceful to any observing pair of eyes, what I want from Gabriella is anything but calm.
I will gather every part of her that the girl gives me and put together a perfect puzzle, like a devotee who can do nothing but think, eat, and breathe their faith. Then I will destroy my own work, scattering the same carefully arranged pieces across the floor only to start over with more care, more dedication, more adoration.
I will swallow Gabriella's gasps and be the only one to know the sound of her first voice in the morning. I will be the only one to see her tears, because I will be the reason for them and the one who supports them. I will be the owner of her smiles, her frustrations, her discoveries, and each new version of herself that she finds over the years.
I will possess her so completely until feeding on her absolute submission and surrender is no longer enough and I discover new ways to become the air she breathes.
“My sources confirmed your suspicions that Coppeline is looking for a husband for his granddaughter,” Matteo reveals, and I give myself a few seconds to contemplate all the possiblemeanings imprinted on these words. “Considering recent changes, perhaps we just need to approach the situation from a new perspective.”
“You're suggesting a marriage arrangement,” I deduce, amused by Matteo's optimism.
This, however, is not the first time in the last few hours that the idea of marrying Gabriella has presented itself in my mind. I spent the whole night thinking about different ways to mark her as mine. Putting a ring on her finger was one of those selected.
“The family would need to be appeased, after all, Coppeline is no longer even an associate, but it would be a marriage with function.”
“Massimo would never give his granddaughter to me willingly; he believes we were the ones who took her from him in the first place. And after all the provocation of the last few months...”
“He believes that we were responsible for one of his biggest losses, we just need to compensate him.” I scratch my throat, completely in disbelief at theconsigliere's optimism.
“So, I would buy what is mine and pay more than double the price?” I let my body fall back in the chair, making it turn slightly.
“It's a diplomatic solution. The agreements we made involving Eritrean oil are not treaties we will want to go back on.”
“And who said anything about going back?”
“Lobbyism, industrial espionage, terrorism... There is no peaceful and viable alternative to extracting without the oil company under the control of Massimo, Don. We have already studied them all.”
“And perhaps this is the error in our approach from the beginning: pacifism,” I ponder, resting my elbows on the arms of the chair and interlacing my fingers. “Work your diplomacy, Matteo. But if it doesn't work, and I don't think it will, then we'll do it my way. Next time Coppeline gets in touch, tell him it's his lucky day.”
CHAPTER 60
________
Gabriella Matos
The blurred landscape rushing through the windows has my eyes, but not my attention. The man occupying my thoughts refuses to share it.
At some point during the early hours of the morning, I decided that the way Vittorio had possessed me had been a thing of my imagination. There was no chance that I had taken the first pill from the second pack of contraceptives a few hours earlier.
I hadn't remembered the last butt plug the Don gave me, nor had I opened the doors from room to room in the house until I found Vittorio in the library.
I couldn't have truly offered myself to him on a silver platter, and I definitely hadn't felt every piece of my broken soul glue together when Vittorio came inside me for the first time.
