Page 4 of Captured Innocence
“Yes,” I managed.
He pressed one hand against the wall, lowering his head. Without thinking, I lifted mine. Then he gripped my chin with two fingers, pressing his voluptuous lips against mine. As the kiss became a sweet, scintillating moment, my heart fluttered, my mind spinning out of control. The taste of him was incredible, bourbon tinged with a hint of peppermint, the flavor irresistible.
As he swept his tongue inside, he was insistent yet tender, as if fearful I would be terrified. I arched my back, pressing my hand against his chest. Then I allowed myself to knead his muscles, yielding to his possessive mouth.
When he broke the moment of intimacy a few seconds later, I gasped for air while he growled.
Then he issued a promise that I knew would haunt me for a long time.
“Un giorno sarai mio. Il mio a piacere. Mio da proteggere. E mio da possedere.”
One day you will be mine. Mine to taste. Mine to protect. And mine to own.
My lower lip quivered and after he pressed his lips against my cheek, he backed away into the shadows. But not before repeating a single word in English.
“Mine.”
As the vision faded, I realized my nipples ached, my panties damp from the lingering desire. I’d only agreed to come home for yet another birthday celebration for one reason.
Him.
The man I’d hungered to taste, the one who’d made a promise, a secret I’d kept locked away in a box.
The good girl, the one who never made waves or stood up for herself, the one who’d been treated like a child her entire life would venture out on her own.
I wasn’t just playing with fire. I was igniting explosives, but what was wrong with getting burned? Something magical had happened the moment the clock had struck midnight the evening before, my birthday a monumental event in the back of my mind. I was eager to indulge in my greatest fantasy.
And it had Mattia DeLuca’s name written all over it.
CHAPTER 2
Mattia
Money and power meant everything in a world where the truth was usually veiled in boasting and lies. I could afford to do both when necessary. However, that was because I had more power than most, the DeLuca family wealth in the billions. In addition, we ruled a significant portion of Italy, almost everyone in our territory bowing down to us, considering us celebrities. Wherever we went, we were treated like royalty, our meals comped at restaurants, cases of wine appearing at our doorsteps.
We were even provided with vacation vouchers from anywhere in the world we wanted to go. The truth was we were spoiled with generosity often from people who had little to nothing. In turn, we funded charities and orphanages, provided funding for businesses, and even had a scholarship fund that allowed needy students to go to college without paying a dime.
Would that get us out of hell free of charge? Absolutely not.
We were also brutal, unforgiving men, especially regarding liars and thieves. And the man I was prepared to teach a valuable lesson to would soon learn that turning his back on the DeLuca family had been a costly mistake.
Wham!
Blood spewed from the man’s mouth along with a tooth.
“Sit the fuck down,” I told him. The asshole had dared take a swing, his fist connecting with my jaw. I rubbed it while I backed away, cursing in Italian under my breath. The idiot was dumber than I’d realized.
I’d been born into a violent world, death hovering around me like a warm blanket. I was immune to the effects, using violence as an extension of who I’d become. I was merciless, well trained in the art of torture and death. There was no room for second guessing, no concern over an enemy’s welfare. Just do it. The famous motto often made me grin since it suited my lifestyle perfectly.
However, tonight I was antsy and wasn’t certain why.
Usually, I relished the loss of blood, enjoying both the thought of death and carnage. Tonight, I was bored, angry that my quiet night had been interrupted. Maybe I deserved a break from working twenty-four/seven for the last two years.
Vincenzo, my right-hand man shoved the snitch down onto the steel-backed chair, patting him on the shoulder. “Good boy,” he mused, when the guy remained where he was, giving me a hard look given his anger. Marco had put up a good fight, my Capo’s face showcasing a nice shiner.
I backed away, shaking my head and adjusting the brass knuckles. This wasn’t how I’d wanted my day to end. But business occurred when necessary, including providing lessons and warnings. With shipments being hijacked, I couldn’t afford to allow anyone to get away with insubordination.
The thumping noise of the bass drums pulsed inside my office, which would ordinarily irritate the hell out of me at this point but tonight the tribal beat was helping to drown out the strangled noise and pleas.