18

Giovanni

Dawn is a bloody sight as the sun rises over the horizon, bathing the sky in crimson. I yawn and sip my third espresso in the last hour alone, the day is just beginning, but I’m ready for it to end. Working late into the night in Montana, cutting deals and ensuring business is running smoothly, I boarded my private jet and headed home as soon as I was done. I never sleep on a plane, the constant hum of the engine keeping me awake. I need silence and zero light to get good sleep.

My phone lights up and I glance at it. Who in the fuck is calling me this hour of the morning? I groan as I eye the screen and hit answer.

“This better be fucking good,” I snap into the phone.

“My papa is dead,” her broken voice cuts me like shards of glass.

“Where are you?”

“At his club,” she sobs and the line goes dead.

A surge of panic seizes me and the need to get to the club ASAP has me running to my garage. I climb into my McLaren and floor it out of the driveway. My main focus is getting to the video footage before anyone else. I have a sinking feeling I know exactly who is behind this.

I pull up out the back of the club and spot Amara’s pink Porsche sitting in the parking lot. This is good news, it means she hasn’t called anyone else to come to assist. I scramble out of my car and head inside, the club is still dark, the lights dimmed. I follow the soft sobs from down the hallway and stop dead in my tracks as I enter through the open door to Bianchi’s office.

“Fuck me.” I scratch the stubble on my jaw and close my eyes for a moment.

Jesus fucking Christ. Principessa has some fucked up skills, I’ll admit that. I’m quite intrigued to know what that pretty little head of hers harbors. The thought excites me and visions of knives and blood tease my mind, but I push them away and focus on the matter at hand. There’s always a time and place to introduce my little princess to the darker side of life, and fantasizing about it now is not going to help me.

“Fix it,” Amara sobs and runs into my arms.

I reluctantly wrap my arms around her and hold her against me as she cries into my expensive shirt.

“Shh, I need you to go home and pretend like you never saw this.” I pull her away from me and grip her shoulders.

Her eyes widen in shock at first but reality comes crashing into her when she realizes what I‘m saying.

“Do you think you can do that? We don’t need the world knowing what your Papa had to endure. We’ll keep this between us. Give him his dignity in death.” I squeeze her shoulders a little, hoping she agrees.

It’s a total fucking lie, I don’t give two shits how he died, I only care that no one finds out who did this.

She nods and sucks up her snot. She tries to turn around to look at his decapitated head, but I don’t allow her to and push her out the door.

“Giovanni.” She turns as she makes her way down the hall. “Make them pay.” Another howl of cries flood out of her and the noise makes me want to bash her head in.

I close the door and eye Bianchi’s head sitting on its side on the desk, congealed blood soaking the papers under it. His eyes are open and staring right at me. It’s distracting. He was one ugly motherfucker when he was alive, and he’s taken that to a whole other level in death. Half his forehead is missing and the area at his neck looks as though it was hacked at with a blunt chainsaw. The death smell hasn’t quite kicked in and I’m fucking thankful for that.

I circle around and assess the body, only one gash to his arm and a whole lot of fucking blood to be cleaned up. I spot his whiskey bottle and pour myself a drink before I exit the room in search of his surveillance monitors. I head down to the bar and find a bottle of Mortlach.

“You owe me, Bianchi, and yes I’m going to enjoy every last drop of your three thousand dollar bottle.” I salute the camera pointing at me.

I leave the tumbler on the bar and open the bottle, taking a long drink as I make my way to the storage rooms. I slide one door open and bingo, the security screen is recording. I rewind the recording to the night before and skip forward until I see the whole place is empty, except for my little Principessa.

“Motherfuck.”


I knew it was Valentina the moment Amara said her Papa was dead. But to see it with my own two eyes has me stunned into amazement.

I take another long drink, letting the warm malt settle in my stomach, adding to the heat I’m starting to feel in my dick. I fast forward until I watch her stalk to his office door and flick through the cameras until I find the camera from inside his office. Rewinding the footage, I see her entering, her murderous glare evident from the moment she steps through the office threshold.

I can feel my dick starting to wake up at the thought of what she’s capable of, and if that makes me a sick fuck, then by all means, I’ll claim it. My eyes are glued to the screen and I wish to all the gods above that it had sound. To hear their conversation, and know what made her snap, would be the icing on the cake. I watch her launch over the desk and tackle him to the floor, part of the view hidden behind the desk.

I groan in satisfaction as she lays a kick into him and it hits me dead center in the dick. My fucking dick has come to the party and is a throbbing pain in my pants. I unzip and pull it free, stroking it as I watch her lay into him again.

The sight of the knife in her hand has me pumping my cock harder and faster, imagining her soft body trembling beneath me as I drive my release into her. I watch in agonizing pleasure as she stabs the knife into the fuckers back.

I moan and jerk my dick in my fist, wishing it was her tight pussy milking it. My dick throbs in my hands as I feel the pressure building, it snakes up and down my spine, and I keep my eyes glued to the screen. I see her point the gun at his head and blow his brains out. This has me lose control and thick streams of release shoot out of me landing on the hardwood floor. My breath hitches as I pump out the last of it, and sigh with release.

“Shit,” I breathe, coming down from my high. The instant need to go again has me frustrated as I’m not even halfway done yet. She’s going to be the fucking death of me.

My eye catches movement on the screen, and who would have fucking guessed it, but none other than her fuck buddy has come to save her day. The thought makes me want to punish her, hold her captive and release my pent up desires on her. I shove my dick back in my pants, do up my fly, and delete all evidence of the last twenty-four hours.

I exit the building, leaving the beheaded Bianchi to be dealt with by my men. I make a few phone calls and set my sights on Miss, Principessa. If she thinks she can swoop in and murder my father’s consigliere without consequence. She has another thing coming.

_ _ _

Sitting in a meeting with my father and our Capo’s all day, discussing the details of Bianchi’s death, and how we go forward from here. I committed the most disrespectful crime as both a son and the underboss. I lied to my father’s face and told him the security tapes were already wiped by the time I got there.

I drive my Escalade to Verona as it’s bulletproof. I don’t know how crazy these Russo fuckers are, and I value my body too much, to not be decorated with bullet holes. I wait outside her dorm room like a fucking creep, the students passing me, eyeing me with equal parts of caution and curiosity. The fact she went to classes today, acting as though she didn’t just murder in cold blood, the third most important man in the New Jersey outfit, is puzzling.

A line of students exit the elevator and I watch each of them as they walk past, until I spot her walking toward me, alone. Thank fuck, I’m not in the mood to punish her fuck buddy tonight. She pauses in front of me, her eyes glimmering with knowing, her shiny dark hair in a high ponytail. My fucking dick twitches at visions of her on her knees and me gripping her ponytail tightly in my fist.

“What are you doing here?” She asks feigning innocence, trying to push past me.

Grabbing her elbow in my hand, I twist her into me, her body pressed against mine. “You know fucking very well why I’m here.” The low drawl in my voice fanning across her stunning features.

“If anything happens to me, you’ll pay.” She jerks her arm.

“I didn’t say I was going to kill you. I only plan on punishing you in ways your little mind can’t even imagine.” My cock thickens at the mere thought of disciplining her.

She glares up at me, her eyes growing dark at my words. She craves punishment as much as I crave to give it to her.

“I can’t leave my puppies alone again.” She pulls her arm free.

I cock an eyebrow at her, wondering what the fuck I’m supposed to do with that statement. “Your dogs are in there?”

“They are, so move, because I need to take them for their walk.” She places both her arms on my chest and slams me into the wall.

I hear a low growl seep under the door, the sound meant as a warning. I step aside and let her unlock her door and watch in admiration as her two Dobermans circle her and stand in the space between us, baring their teeth at me.

“If you move, they will tear your throat out.” She leans down and scratches one behind the ears.

“They won’t stop me. So, you either come with me without a fight, or I shoot your mutts right here and take you myself,” I threaten, my gaze focusing on her and ignoring her protectors.

She narrows her eyes at me. “Threaten my dogs again and I’ll slice your throat open and paint your walls with your blood.” Her anger simmers, the rise and fall of her chest showing she’s about to explode.

“Listen here, Principessa. Find a fucking babysitter and stop arguing with me,” I bite back.

I watch her eyes drop to her dogs, who haven’t moved an inch, and back up to meet mine.

She pulls out her phone and fires off a text. “I’ll give them their dinner and I’ll be right back.” She flips me the finger and whistles for her mutts to follow her.

Like they were trained, they both follow her inside her dorm room, and she slams the door in my face.

“I’ll give you two fucking minutes,” I say into the closed door and hope to hell she does as she’s told. It’s one thing killing humans but I draw the line at killing innocent animals.

She emerges and closes the door after her, double-checking the locks are secure. “Let's go.” She strides past me to the elevator, her bag slung over her shoulder, and her hair pulled out of her ponytail.