Chapter 2 002

Salvatore

He will survive, for better or worse. I use the toe of my boot to kick Lance over. With his fingers tangled in his damp, matted hair, he lets forth a pitiful whine. Head injuries always bleed profusely. As the blood finds a meandering way down his face, he looks up from under his hair. In his stunned eyes, he asks a quivering question, wondering whether I've handed him the worse. if I'm finished with him.

The girl remains on the ground. Her dress was already short, and it rode up the creamy length of her thigh as her lipstick smudged on those soft lips like a model.

She fights to keep her tits from showing through the hem of her torn dress. I want her all to myself, fuck. When we replace the carpet, it will be your body that we roll up in it. "Lance," I murmur, the name gentle and menacing on my lips, "one more drop of blood on this carpet." The child still has enough common sense to stumble to his feet. He slurs, "Yes, sir."

Despite stumbling like those inebriated people on the dance floor, he manages to leave.

As I look at the debris, glass crunches beneath my feet. The girl straightens her clothing and gathers herself. That's how she appears, a little frazzled.

Her eyes get wild as a result. She examines me with the same ferocity that I do, and we assess one another. Contessa Lovera has been the focus of the club's surveillance cameras for thirty minutes. Not the tills or the entrances and exits. A dozen hazy screens, just her. Occasionally, the universe provides you with solutions to your issues. "Lance has the terrible habit of touching things that are not his." "Oh," she adds, using a gentle and charming tone. She keeps worrying between her lovely white teeth, and I want to taste it on those lips. "Well, I'm not anyone's property. Perhaps he believed I had free dibs.

I almost feel sorry for her gullibility. Regarding that, she couldn't be more mistaken. Excited to get away, she adds a bit too quickly, "I won't tell anyone what happened." "Not that much actually occurred." She takes a step toward it, not realizing that she is still in danger. "Will he be okay?" It's a really tough question. "After that, do you really care if he lives or dies?" She doesn't think of a response. Is she truly concerned about the welfare of a fatherless jerk who has her pinned to a wall like a disposable, cheap whore? It makes sense why her father isn't giving her the keys to the kingdom. I gradually shut off the freedom she believes I'm granting her. Her gaze shifts from me to the doorway. The dawn of realization begins. She retreats as far as she can till she is up against the corner, and as the distance gets closer, the level of her voice gets higher. "What are you doing?" She queries. "I told you; I won't tell anyone-" My quiet finally drives her nuts. "What are you looking for? Just so you can get your turn, you saved me? She queries. "Thank you, I've had enough trauma for one evening." I don't respond. Her expression changes as the truth becomes louder and more substantial around us. At last, she understands that I am fully aware of her identity. Gio Lovera, the leader of the Lovera family and their long-standing criminal enterprise, had only one child, Contessa Lovera. She has hand-delivered herself to her family's foes and is my biggest rival's biggest weakness. Her expression shifts from one of confusion to one of icy, determined comprehension. Perhaps I wouldn't have recognized her on a security screen if she weren't so stunning, if her soft, lovely face didn't display her lineage like a war banner. But this woman's identity is undeniable. We are two wolves spotting one another in a herd of tamed dogs. I recognized her at first sight. She is the ideal, beautiful bundle that contains the answers to all of my issues. Lance has poor luck and good taste. She lifts her neck to meet my eyes and looks. Though she doesn't dare breathe, she also doesn't cower. I see more than just terror in the black sparkle in her eyes. I want to taste the heat of that emotion on her slightly opened lips and find out what it is. My thoughts become gloomy and feverish just looking at this female, and my veins begin to heat up. I always get what I desire. That's my nature by necessity-and now I desire only one thing. I desire her. I want her ruined, pinned down, and spread wide. I want to watch how those lovely eyes roll back as she comes, feel how her thighs shudder when she's pushed to the verge. I want her to ride on my cock and get broken in my arms. "I am not Lance." I grab her by the chin and touch her tender jaw with my thumb. I'm surprised when she studies me under those beautiful eyelashes without flinching. I lean up close to her ear, savoring the intimacy of her body and her aroma. "I'm worse." She says, "Salvatore Mori," icily. Even though I don't smile very often, I can feel the scar her father put on me when I do. From my cheekbone to the corner of my lip, there is a faint remembrance of the past. Now, as the realization hits her face and is mirrored in those large, expressive eyes, I can feel it. Too gentle, too earnest, too much in the eyes. "By the way, how is dear old dad?" "Peachy. "Probably preparing to kill you," she replies humbly. "Well, everyone needs a hobby. . ." Her fear is gradually dissipating in the heat between us. "You sound more and more like a Lovera. Do you not like this? Her cheeks flush and a telling blush creeps up her neck. "No," she tells a fib. My fingertips evade the moisture of her pussy as my hand curls between her thighs. The truth is always revealed by a woman's cunt. My fingers slide across her warm, slippery folds, which aren't covered by underwear. She rocks against my fingertips and gasps. Her lips open in surprise as the muscle in her throat contracts. She looks directly into my face, vacillating between curiosity and embarrassment. "Yes," I tell her.

Her eyes darken and her cheeks flush. She gasps, "You don't want this fight," her voice becoming more abrasive as I rub my fingers across her. "Please. Please, it might be as if none of this occurred. Oh! I hardly touch her, and she lurches against me, trembling. My chest rumbles with disagreement. She looks for ways to play me by searching my face. She most likely wants a way to obtain compassion or a way out of this situation that she won't be able to discover. Not with me. "If your father told you anything about me, you should know that I always get what I want." I'm not sure what he said. "What do you want, too?" As though she can bargain, she asks. I pull my hand away, causing her breath to catch. The moment is shaky. "The one thing I lack." A bride. That makes her unable to speak. At last, she lets out a puzzled chuckle. I don't hold her accountable. The girl is still unaware of my methods. She is unaware that I'm an all-or-nothing man and that my decisions are final once I make them. According to her, "A man like you-just write a fucking check and get shipped one." I could, in theory. "I'm afraid they don't carry what I'm looking for." With her ripped clothes, tits out, and expanding with each breath, she finally surrenders. Just to see her gasp, I cup one in my hand. "Avoid-" "You enter my domain and follow my guidelines, princess. I own everything here. That now includes you. "My pals-" "Will be able to leave here without getting hurt at all." Contessa, that's the greatest bargain I can give you. "It's just Tessa," she spits and slaps my hand away. "I always thought that name would make you feel ashamed as an adult. Don't you think Contessa is a good fit for the heir to a dying dynasty? No one still views your family as royalty. Therefore, the father must go ahead and give his daughter a royal fucking title. The final frantic gasp of a fading empire attempting to recall its heyday. "Look, none of that is known to me! I have no interest in my father's business. We don't communicate. I'm not as powerful as you believe. Your time is being wasted, so just- Once more, I press her up against the wall. She lets out a quiet gasp that is accompanied by a frail cry. Is it the reason you're so desperate for someone to take control of you? What irritates you now that Daddy has failed in his responsibilities? Trembling and flushed with arousal and terror, she doesn't respond. She feels my presence alone. I no longer find much satisfaction in being powerful. People start to respect and fear you once you reach the top. the standard. She seems unable to control her desire, though, based on the way she looks at me. That appearance is superior to a drug. She murmurs, "You don't know anything about me." "You want me to fuck you, I know that." She acknowledges it. Between us, the tension had become electric and weighty. We are on the precipice of a storm that will soon begin to roil and devastate our worlds. I extend my hand. One final opportunity. "Please, princess. All your life, I have been the monster beneath your bed. It's time for us to get to know one another.