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Shit.
For the first time in a while, I am at a loss for words.
She’s caught me in my own bullshit and while I would rather not discuss my incessant lust with my mother, it seems that now I have no other choice.
“Why?” she asks, her voice a touch softer now as she eyes me up and down.
I shrug, like a fucking child.
“Answer me, Marco. Why?” She enunciates, a rough sigh leaving my chest.
“I don’t know why, Mother—”
“I do. I know why,” she interrupts me, her agitation still prevalent.
“Then enlighten me. Please.” I scoff, rubbing my hand across my face because I really am not in the mood to deal with any more of this woman shit.
“You like her. I’ve known it since you brought her here,” she shrugs, as if it was blatantly obvious, which it is absolutely fucking not because I don’t.
The only thing I feel for this girl is anger—hatred. It’s my cock that she has in a twist, not me.
“You’re out of line for that, mother. You’re delusional,” I laugh in her face, not even believing that we’re having this conversation right now.
“I’m not the one that left a hickey on a girl's neck, the girl that was kidnapped and has had death threats thrown over her after you’ve done God knows what to her body.Youdid that. So, let’s talk about who the delusional one is here,” she says, her face stern as she stares me down.
“Look, I’m not here to get involved in your business, but I will say this. This is still my house, the finances are still in my name and under my control, so I’ll be damned if I have you taking advantage of a girl under my roof. I’ll call your uncles so fucking quick, Marco. Do not test me,” she threatens and, for a moment, it feels like lead is expanding in my stomach.
My mother is a quiet and passive woman, however she comes from a family a lot stronger than my own. A family born and raised in Sicily, that has carried on their own business for generations that have long surpassed my father's side. She has never threatened me, not like this. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this angry at me before. Quite frankly, I don’t know how to handle this. While I am angry with the girl upstairs, I am also frustrated with myself. I’m frustrated that I allowed my dick to get the best of me, that I know what her lips feel like on mine, what her skin tastes like. I’m frustrated that I crave the feel of her mouth around my cock, that I want to see those wild, hazel eyes blinking up at me while she takes me to the back of her throat—
“Do you have anything to say?” My mother spits, interrupting my thoughts that have once again become consumed by Lori.
“What is it that you would like me to do, mother?” I try not to growl the words out at her, but right now, I want to drive my fist through a fucking wall.
“Let me paint the picture for you, son. You’re going to move Lori to the guest room that I have made up. You’re going to leave her untied so that her fucking arms don’t fall off. Then, you’re going to put one of your many guards to work and have them stand outside of her door. The windows are already boarded and she will still be watched, so there will be no opportunity for her to escape. And listen up, because here’s the important part,” she points her small finger at me.
“You’re going to stop giving the girl death threats. You and I both know that you are not going to kill her. I know you, and as much as you want her to suffer, you can’t kill her. Because you’ve already let her in, whether you care to admit it or not. You’re going to think clearly with this little vengeance operation you have going. If you want to make her family sweat, fine, I can’t stop you, but the abuse with Lori ends right here, right now,” she scolds me, all but silencing me as I stare at her in disbelief.
I work my jaw and fix my Rolex, avoiding eye contact now. I want her out of the room. I want to be alone and ignore this bullshit at least for an hour. I swear I’m getting gray hairs by the minute.
“Anything else, mother?” I ask, straightening my suit as I stare at her.
She says nothing. She just scoffs at me and turns on her heel, marching out of my office and leaving me in a frustrating silence.
What in the hell just happened? My mother has never treated me like that before. In fact, I think that may have been the first time that she’s laid a hand on me, and I’m almost forty years old. I can feel my frustration brewing, swirling inside me like a growing tornado.
I march to my liquor cart and pour a fresh glass of bourbon, slamming it before I grab my phone and dial my assistant, Diego. He answers on the first ring.
“Yeah, boss?”
“I need the updated footage of the Saracino men as well as the recorded phone calls you tracked this past week. Get this to me in five,” I bark into the phone as I pour myself another glass.
“On it,” he starts to say, but I’ve already disconnected the call.
Three seconds later, my email is pinging with a new message. My men work faster than the devil, but that’s because they were trained to. They know if they ever disobey me, I’ll have their heads on a silver platter for dinner.
I walk to my desk and open up my email, reveling all of this week’s footage that my team has collected on Lori’s family. They’ve been ravaging this city in search for her and it brings a wide, sinister smile to my face.
Good,I think.Let them suffer.
