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“Stop calling him uncle,” Simon says quietly. It’s an old argument, and I don’t take the bait. “Santoro’s smart, but he’s not invincible. I know you feel like he is, but you were just a kid and it was a long time ago, and?—”
I stand before he can keep talking. “It’s not about that.”
“Isn’t it? Davide, you don’t have to pretend with me. I know you’re still hurting. It’s been twenty fucking years and you haven’t gotten over what happened, and nobody blames you one bit for that.”
I take deep breaths. The walls feel tight and I flex my burned hand. I can feel the flames licking my skin again. I can smell my own flesh burning like an overcooked hamburger, the ugly singed-hair reek of a human body getting cooked.
“Uncle Luciano isn’t going to stop until we’re dead.” I hold up my burned hand, fingers flexing. “I’m the only one that understands.”
“Davide—”
I grunt at him and walk to the door. They all think I’m some precious little child trapped in the most horrifying, traumatic event of my life, but they’re wrong. They don’t see Santoro the way I do. I’m the only one that got a glimpse of what he really is. I saw the unfeeling and uncaring black depths of his soul, and that glimpse was more horrifying than anything else, worse than the cage and worse than the fire. Santoro wants only one thing, and that’s to destroy anyone that rivals his claim to power, which means he will never stop until everyone I care about is dead.
I’ve been telling them for years. I’ve been begging them to do something. Santoro’s been quietly gaining strength, and Father did nothing. Nobody understood that Santoro would be our rival until it was much too late. Father thought they’d crushed him, but Santoro will never stop so long as he’s alive.
Simon doesn’t come after me when I leave the warehouse. I’m not sure where I’m going until I end up back at the house. It’s a little past ten at night and I find Stefania sitting up in bed reading a paperback. She’s wearing cheater glasses and her hair’s piled up in a messy bun, and she looks so fucking perfect it kills me, because I know Santoro would gladly gut her in front of me if given the chance.
“You’re home,” she says and sets the book aside. She takes off the glasses.
“I didn’t know you wore those.” I nod as she puts them back on her nightstand. “You look good when they’re on.”
“Yeah? You like the nerdy look, huh? They make me look smart, but honestly, I’m kind of nearsighted. I get headaches when I read without them for too long.”
I walk toward her. “Put them back on.”
Her eyes widen a fraction. “Davide. I’ve barely seen you.”
“Put the glasses back on, dolcezza.” I’m not in the mood for talk. I’m not in the mood for anything but her. Of all the places I could’ve gone in this city, I came back here, because Stefania’s the only person who can make me feel okay right now. “Please, baby. Put on the glasses.”
She must hear the strain in my voice because she picks them up and slips them on. “You like this? Do you think I’m pretty with these on?”
“Yes,” I say, barely stifling a groan. I rip away the covers, revealing her bare legs. She’s in a black silk pajama top and a pair of small matching shorts. “Unbutton the top. Do it slowly.”
She bites her lip and I can tell she’s wondering if she should keep going, but I keep staring, my pulse hammering in my throat, my cock already twitching with need. I want to bury myself between her legs. I want to fuck her mouth and make her drool all over my tip. I want her sloppy, wet, and moaning. I want her, and I never should’ve let work keep me from her for this long.
Slowly, she undoes a button. Then another. Then another. And it fucking kills me, but she’s wearing nothing underneath, and I catch a glimpse of beautiful skin, until the front is completely open.
I reach down and grab her bun. I pull it back, making her gasp.
“Put your right hand between your legs.”
“Davide—”
“Do it, baby, and if you talk again, I’m going to rip off your panties and shove them in your mouth again.”
She’s breathing fast now. The pajama top slips across her breast, showing off one stiff nipple. “Promise?”
I growl in response and grab her shorts, tearing them off. She yelps in surprise as I viciously pull down her underwear, roll her onto her belly, and give her ass two hard slaps, one per cheek. She groans, wriggling her hips and burying her face in the pillow, and I do it again until she’s pink.
Then I pull her hair, force her mouth open, and shove her panties inside.
“Now, baby, I want your hand between your legs,” I command. “Stay on your belly. Touch your wet little pussy and let me watch, and if you spit out those panties, I’ll duct tape your mouth closed. Do it now.”
She groans and obeys. Fuck, it’s so fucking sexy, and I take a step back to enjoy the view as I undress. She wriggles her hips, stroking herself, her ass up in the air a little bit to give herself enough room.
“Fingers inside,” I say, taking off my pants. I’m so fucking hard as I stroke myself nice and slow. “Two fingers. Sink them in slow.”
She whimpers and tries to say something, but the panties are firmly in place. She does as instructed and starts to slowly fuck herself with her fingers.
