Bad Behavior: A Dark Mafia Romance Page 8

  The pain in my jaw started to throb, beating against my cheek. Rubbing the tender area, I tried to massage the ache away. What I didn't feel last night was definitely showing itself right then.

  His chuckle cut through my bones. Arching his head back, he popped the grape into his mouth and made a soft moan. “The juice is dripping down the back of my throat, are you dripping yet? You're blushing like your pussy is on fire right now.”

  “Fuck you, Dante! I don't want you, I'll never want you! You're no different than the monster you work for.” I wished my words could turn into razor blades and slice him as he sat there grinning like a fucking school boy. “Ah,” I moaned under my breath as I captured the swollen area of my face again.

  How could he even think that I was turned on?

  But I was. Damn him!

  How could I control my body and make it realize that this was not an arousing situation?

  I was breaking from the inside out. My body controlled itself, I had no say over what it did, no matter how much I screamed on the inside.

  Sitting there with a smug grin on his face, he finally broke the silence encasing the room. “You should never say never, Sweetheart. The best thing to walk into your world could be the last thing you wanted.” Holding up his hand, he held a small plastic bag of ice. “Thought you might need this too. I saw how bad your mouth looked this morning, here . . .” Stretching out his arm, he nudged the ice at me. “Take it.”

  My lips pouted on reflex, teeth grinding down into each other, making my jaw hurt even more. He didn't know me, he didn't know what I wanted.

  But right now that didn't matter. He had me locked up, hidden away and blanketed from the world. Where do we go from here?

  Play the game, Ivy.

  Stay one step ahead.

  Stay alive.

  Snagging the bag, I gently placed it against my cheek. Walking my fingers over a small pile of clementine slices, I picked one up and let it sit in my grip. “What's going to happen to me?” I asked, popping the fruit into my mouth.

  The sensation that single piece of fruit sent through my taste buds was electric. The juice dripped over my tongue, and it tasted so much sweeter than any other piece of fruit I had ever had.

  I guess facing death could have its benefits. Everything seemed better no matter what it was. The sun seemed brighter today, the air cleaner, and knowing I'd made it through the night was giving me the chance to truly appreciate things I took for granted.

  For the past few months I cursed the sunrise because I didn't want to see it. I would gag at the scent of food, and my lips would pucker with any liquid that made it into my mouth.

  Because life before had been worth nothing.

  But now I wanted what had been stolen from me.

  Glancing at the ceiling, Dante rubbed his hands down his thighs. “Well, if everything goes as planned, we'll make the trade when I get the call, and you'll be helping my family.”

  “How can I help your family? I'm not worth the money you think you'll get.”

  Dabbing his finger in the air, a smile peeked across his face. “You're worth it, trust me you're worth it. And Remo will pay it. Besides, it's money he owes my father anyway. The bastard took more than he was giving back, now it's time for him to pay up.”

  Glancing back down at the plate, I twirled my finger around the food. “That bastard likes to take more than his share, I already know that. But I can't go back to him.”

  “Look, Ivy, I can make sure my guys don't do a fucking thing to you. But when the deal is done, I can only do what my father orders. That's how this shit works.”

  Rolling my eyes, I kept my face on the plate. “You have no idea what I've been through. If you want to take out Remo, go ahead, you have my blessing. I won't go back there, this can be my way out.”

  “What the fuck did that guy do to you?” Dante's brows crinkled as his head tilted towards his shoulder.

  A frown curved over my lips, eyes snapping shut. “It doesn't matter, I won't go back.” Leaning my head into my hands, I scratched at my forehead. “If I go back to him he'll just take the last thing in the world I have that's mine.”

  Scooting closer, Dante's thumb massaged gentle circles into my lower back. “What did he do, Ivy?”

  Shaking my head no, I said, “You said it yourself, I need to go back. What do you care? It won't change anything. If you don't kill me, your father will. And if not, then Remo will.”

  Before he could say anything else, his phone went off in his pocket. Tugging it out, he looked at the screen and stood so fast the bed bounced with his absence. Dante walked right to the door and disappeared behind it into the hall.

  As he closed the door behind him, he started speaking to whoever was on the other end. “What?” Pausing for the response, his words became deadened behind the wood. “What does he want? Are you fucking with me?”

  Slumping my shoulders forward, I bit the corner of my cheek. I didn't like being treated like just an object. It wasn't fair.

  Standing, I walked towards the window, chain dragging behind me. The sound it made was like the soft jingle of an ice cream truck bell. The links chimed against each other, cementing in my head how trapped I still was.

  Pushing back the curtain, I leaned against the wall and stared out into an endless sea of trees. He was right, there wasn't a thing for miles. I couldn't see this image in the dark, but now I could see the forest was just as good as fucking walls.

  Clearing his throat, Dante stood in the doorway. “I need to go out for a bit. I'll be back later.”

  “Wait, what? Where are you going?”

  “Out.”

  “Don't leave me here like this.” Shaking my foot, the chain danced like a ribbon in the air.

  “You'll be fine. It's long enough to reach the bathroom, and you can finish what's on that plate if you get hungry. If you get thirsty, drink from the sink.” The door quickly slammed shut, and the lock clicked into place.

  My chest began to heave, the air thinning and getting harder to force down.

  Where is he going?

  How long am I going to be here before he gives me back?

  I can't go back . . . I won't go back.

  Gripping my chest, I tried to calm myself down. But it was happening, and this time I couldn't stop it.

  A heaviness settled in my lungs as I struggled to breathe. Collapsing to the floor, my hands tugged at the dress.

  The numbers started to fill my head, and I tried . . . Fuck did I try.

  But it wasn't working.

  Clawing at my neck, I could hear the wheeze as I tried to take in air. My throat was closing, my ribs were on fire, and everything around me was growing hazy.

  Let this be it.

  Let this be how I go.

  Natural.

  Ten

  Dante

  Holding the phone against my ear, I stared into the thick glass with narrowed eyes. “Talk.”

  “Not like this and you know it.”

  “Then why am I here?” Squeezing the receiver, I wanted to jump through the glass and punch my brother in the fucking face.

  And if no one came rushing in to stop me, I would wrap my arm around his fucking neck and feel the life get sucked from his body. Sesto was a fucking piece of shit.

  He did the one thing he wasn't supposed to do, the one thing that would get him killed.

  Sesto talked.

  “I need protection, Dante.” His hard, damaged hand raised and lowered submissively onto the table. I could tell the joint hadn't been nice to him. His skin was tensed against his forehead, the remnants of a black eye barely visible except for the yellow and green tint the skin held around his socket. A year wasn't that long, but he'd aged like he had been in here for a lifetime.

  Every inch of him looked nervous, visibly shaken—as he should be. His fingers were twitching one by one, each single digit pulsed against the colorless steel, tapping soundless notes.

  I wasn't planning on ever coming to
see him, the fact he even asked for me to come was insane. At least he knew better than to call me himself. After everything he did, all the information he gave up. I didn't even know why I was actually even here.

  I guess I wanted to tell him to go to hell in person, I had the balls to do that for him. But inside I was hoping he would come clean, tell me everything himself. It wouldn't change the way I felt about him, but at least he could die a man, and not a coward who was too weak to be honest with me.

  He owed me that much.

  He owed our father that much.

  If he had any respect for us, he'd tell us the truth. I shouldn't have had to hear it on the news, or read in the paper the shit he told the cops.

  Fucking rat bastard.

  We were brothers, but right now that was the only thing we had in common. And it meant nothing to me. He broke that bond the second he turned on us.

  “Fuck you. How's that?”

  “Dante, we're brothers, you should know me. You know I had nothing to do with what went down.”

  Letting out a sarcastic laugh, I shook my head. “Good luck in there. Hope no one else gets you before we do. You know what's coming your way, hopefully I'll be the one you're looking at when it happens.”

  Slamming his fist on the hard metal table, Sesto growled through the phone. “Fuck you, brother, fuck you.”

  “Don't call me that. We're not brothers, not anymore.” Glaring at him through slit lids, I ground my jaw so hard I thought I felt teeth start to crack. How dare he use that word with me? Brother . . . Fuck him. “So this is why you wanted me here? To ask me for help?” Leaning back in the chair, I looked around the room. No one else seemed to be watching, but I knew they were always listening. “You'll never get another thing from me or the family. You burned that bridge when you grassed, man.”

  Sesto looked agitated as shit, his voice growing with rage. “I didn't—” Shooting a look over his shoulders, he leaned in and lowered his voice. “I didn't fucking talk, you have to know that.”

  He was really starting to piss me off. Some of the shit the cops knew was only known by a handful of people in our family. We never told all our guys our every move or where we had our hands. Some of that shit was only for the family to know.

  But they knew.

  The cops came and took a lot of shit, impounded more than half of one of our biggest hauls. Then they raided a few warehouses that weren't on the radar, and took down a few of our father's top guys. A dozen men got busted, but my brother was the only one who seemed to get off easy.

  So who ratted?

  Yeah, he made it easy to figure out.

  “I don't have time for this.”

  “Well you need to make time. I need protection, I'll need you when I get out, I didn't do this shit.”

  “Do you have any idea what we lost? Do you have any idea what you've done to the family? And now dad had to take things into his own hands to get back what was ours. Do you even realize how fucked up this all is?” Sesto stared at me, his eyes light and worried. “You have no idea, do you?” Shaking my head, I clung to the phone, ready to throw it at the glass. “If you didn't, then who did? Because what went down went far beyond our jockies, it went way over their heads.”

  Sesto hung his head, tilting the phone away from his mouth as his hand cupped his jaw. “I don't know, I swear I don't. I need to talk to dad.”

  “Sesto, the shit that happened is too much to ignore. Only a handful of us knew about it, and you're one of them. Explain why you got off light, tell me why your time is so much less than the rest, huh?” Cocking my jaw, Sesto held a blank gaze. “Yeah, that's what I thought.” Slamming the phone down hard, I shoved out of the chair and didn't even look back at him as I left.

  That was the last time I was ever going to see my brother. He could sit there behind those bars for the rest of his life, I didn't fucking care. You don't rat, you don't sell out your family to save yourself.

  That's how we worked, that's what was expected.

  But my brother broke that trust, he broke our family.

  And there was nothing he could do to fix what he had done.

  I didn't have a brother anymore.

  He took that from me, he took it from us both.

  Sitting in the driveway, I stared up at the window holding Ivy, sealing her inside. I'd been gone for a few hours, but I knew that was enough time for her to try and figure a way out. The chain I attached to her ankle was tight, I was certain she couldn't get it off unless she cut her foot off.

  Hopefully that wasn't the route she took.

  Running quickly through my head a tallied list of what she had access to in the room, there was nothing that could do that kind of damage.

  But she was smart enough to try and find something for protection or to inflict pain on me, smart enough to take the opportunity to use it to her advantage. And from what I'd seen her do already, it was time she would use wisely.

  I hope she didn't do anything stupid.

  Neither of us needed that.

  I had to be cautious. I didn't want to get slugged with something when I stepped into the house.

  And I didn't want the anger from my meeting boiling over and coming down on her.

  It wasn't her fault, none of this was her fault.

  But I was still so fucking amped up about my brother, I couldn't think straight. My head was pounding, my muscles were snapping, ready to explode in a violent rage.

  I didn't need this shit, I didn't need his shit, and none of this was what I wanted.

  The only thing I knew was I wanted her.

  Her pussy was hot, tight, and wetter than any other pussy I'd ever touched. Her juice had dripped over my hand, leaving its scent on my fingers.

  She was still there, lingering on my skin, leaving me frustrated and blue balled. Yes, I jerked off after she fell asleep, but it wasn't enough.

  I wanted to keep her chained up, fuck her till she couldn't feel her legs. There was something about her that drew me in.

  I didn't want to let her go. Was I selfish for wanting her all to myself?

  Maybe. But it was so hard not to want what I shouldn't have.

  The first time I saw her back at the restaurant with Remo I couldn't take my eyes off her. She sat so delicately at the table, her hands folded up tightly in her lap. Every move she made was soft and angelic.

  I watched her dab the napkin at the corner of her lips as her mouth made a perfect O shape, and all I could imagine was stuffing my cock deep inside.

  She didn't speak when they had dinner that night. Instead I watched her fiddle with her plate, knocking around pieces of broccoli and carrots. The only food I saw her put in her mouth was a couple pieces of bread and a few spoonfuls of soup.

  Remo would speak and Ivy would just nod, or flash a forced smile. When I think back on it now, there were subtleties to her movements that I didn't pay attention to. Her body was rigid and she looked anxious. Her hands shook tenderly when Remo would touch her from across the table.

  Why didn't I see it then? Why didn't I notice how fucking uncomfortable she looked?

  The more I thought about that moment, the more I saw. Remo became upset at one point, slamming his fist on the table, and Ivy jerked in her seat.

  At the time, I didn't recognize what it was, but now I did.

  It was fear.

  I had ignored that, or was blind to it, at least, because of how fucking gorgeous she is, and how much I wanted her. That night was when I realized she should be mine, not his. And that was where my focus was.

  Jealousy had traversed my bones and turned me wicked. Hating Remo even more than I already did.

  Her shoulders were bare, the dress she had on scooped down in the front, her breasts pillowing up over the edge. And as she sat there so unaware of my roaming eyes, all I wanted was her.

  That was the reason I didn't want to be a part of this job from the beginning. I wasn't sure if I'd be able to control myself. I was afraid I'd lose it and just st
eal her away. And if she needed to die, I didn't want to be the one to do it.

  Now everything seemed more complicated. I had to make this deal work to keep her alive. My father wants her dead and, from what she says, so does Remo. If not now, he will later.

  What the fuck does he have her for?

  Why does she desperately want to stay away from him?

  I figured out myself from what little she said that they didn't have a regular relationship. He had her, but she wasn't his, yet they were still together.

  What does that make her?

  Standing at the bottom of the stairs, I held the railing and listened. It sounded quiet, her feet weren't patting around the floor, she wasn't screaming or yelling in frustration.

  But I needed to be careful. I knew what she did after dumb and dumber walked in, she had it in her to do some damage.

  Walking up the steps, I tried to do it as quietly as possible. As I stood at the door, I brought my hand up to knock, then stopped myself. She wasn't a guest here, she was my hostage.

  I have to keep my head straight! She's a fucking hostage, a captive, a tool for us to use. That's it!

  She can't be mine.

  And I shouldn't care what she is or isn't to that piece of shit.

  Unlocking the door, I threw it open and stood just outside the entrance. But nothing came, no crazy swing from some object she gathered, no gorilla sized scream followed by flailing arms. The room was dark and silent.

  Peeking my head in, I glanced around and noticed a lump on the bed. Making my way to the bed, I felt the bump and it deflated under my hand.

  Where the hell is she?

  Nervously I looked around until I spotted her laying on the floor.

  Ivy was splayed out on the wood, her body limp, breathing ragged. Running to her side, I knelt down and shook her. “Ivy—Ivy!” Scooping her up in my arms, I laid her down on the bed.

  Brushing her hair back with my fingers, I felt her face. She was breathing hard, sweat had beaded up on her forehead, but it was cold to the touch. I wasn't sure what the hell was happening to her, but I had to do something.