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Except when I touched her the last thing I wanted was to break her. Her skin was so soft, her body perfect in all the right places against mine, her fucking arousal so obvious there’s only one conclusion here: this girl is untouched.
Why did that thought turn me on? I don’t do virgins. I don’t have the time or the patience. Ever since the day the Don took me to lose my virginity at a whorehouse, I understood that women are just a commodity. At thirteen I learned that you take what you need, pay, and don’t ask for more. Scalera men get served. Scalera men get everything and anything we want in bed, but Scalera men don’t love. We can’t afford to.
Stephano and Dominic are standing guns in hand, ready to take action if needed. Luca has picked up my phone and is walking it over. Benedict is shaking his head at me where he’s still sitting, unfazed. I indicate they can relax. Natasha Armstrong has more bite than bark.
Luca hands me my phone with a smirk. “It survived. Fun times ahead, brother. Sure you don’t want us to help you out with this little one?”
“Merch, Luca, she’s merch,” I say as I check my phone. “Get that into your fucking head.”
“Your kitten has claws, Matteo,” Dominic says as he tucks his gun into the back of his jeans. “Good luck. You know where to get hold of me.”
Stephano comes up to me as he pulls on his jacket. “Good show, brother. When do you need the doc?”
“Tomorrow. Need to confirm her potential value before we do anything else.”
“Doc will be here first thing; I’ll make sure of it.”
I nod as I watch them gather their things. Fuck. They are leaving and I’m going to have to deal with this woman alone.
Benedict finally stands and stretches with a yawn, showing off a slim and toned six-pack under a white T-shirt. He reaches for his gun under a pizza box and slips it into the holster on his calf. As he walks past me, he says, “You’re fucked, Matteo. And not in a fun way.”
Yep, trust Benedict to see right through everything that went on there with Natasha. I watch them file to the front door, with soft smirks and witty remarks about the whip I cut myself bouncing between them. I block out the noise and turn to where Natasha is still leaning against the door. When my front door clicks closed seconds later, we’re still staring at each other.
When I saw her step out of that pool, I knew that she was fucking beautiful. Sexy as sin. Too shy, feigning confidence, making her breathtaking. But between then and now things have shifted. She’s hugging herself, and where her neck used to be an unblemished column of pure seduction, a purple bruise has spread and stained her skin. The mark I made. The one and only.
“W-what did you mean by auction?”
“You’ll see.”
She’s shivering.
“Come,” I say. When she doesn’t move, I take two steps and wrap my hand around her wrist. “Come with me.” I tug her along and she doesn’t exactly protest but has to take two steps for each one of mine as I march her upstairs and into my bedroom.
“No,” she whispers. “Please?—”
“I’m not going to touch you, kitten,” I say, the nickname coming all by itself, sprouting from Dominic’s claws comment. I let go of her. “You have nothing to fear from me. Unless we have a repeat episode.” As for what I’ll allow other men to do to you?—
Before that thought can go anywhere, I push open my floor-to-ceiling mirrored closet door, but I forgot. I stare straight at the photo of my mom I still treasure after all these years. In black and white, it’s timeless. I ignore her open gaze, her sweet, secretive smile, and jump to the photo of Alex and me when we were nineteen and twenty respectively. We have our arms flung around each other’s shoulders, laughing. That refocuses my resolve and I go on my haunches to rummage through a pile of old T-shirts.
“Here.” I hand her a T-shirt I no longer wear and should get Rosalia to toss out. “Cover up.”
She takes it from me, but she’s not fast enough or maybe just clumsy and drops it on the edge of the bed. She’s probably shaken now that reality has sunk in. Could be the aftermath of the drugs we gave her.
“Come on, kitten, nobody’s going to hurt you here.” I shake the shirt out and guide her arms through it, trying to ignore how fragile her female body really is, how easy it would be for me to just have her. Once I have the shirt over her head, I pull out the thick strands of her hair. It’s soft and luscious and smells of chlorine.
“W-what… what did my dad do?” she asks, arms hanging limp by her sides. “I-I’ve never heard of you or know of anything?—”
“You’ll figure it out.” I have to get away from her. I’m not going to tell her how Peter Fucking Armstrong’s cowardly backstabbing cost us Alex’s life. I pull my phone from my pocket and dial Burley. He answers in one ring. “Can you babysit?”
“Already?” Burley grunts, but there’s teasing in his tone. “Be there in a minute, boss.”
“Call Stan over, I’m going out.” I kill the call, toss the phone on my bed and start unbuttoning my shirt. “Look and learn, kitten.”
With each button I reveal more of the tattoo that incorporates my two bullet wounds in a bigger picture of dragons twisted in a mid-air fight. At first glance. You need to look much closer and know the backstory to understand the finer nuances of the art on my skin and see what’s really happening.
Her gaze travels over my chest, my pecs, the closed eye of the one dragon underneath my nipple where they’ve incorporated the bullet wound, up to the other eye of the second dragon which disguises the other bullet. And then her gaze drops lower, to where my trousers hug the V of my abs and my happy trail disappears. She fists her hands now, her cheeks peachy with a fresh blush. She eyes my dick print and yeah, sweetheart, you’re not up for that.
Footsteps sound and Burley calls out to me. “Boss?”
