Ruined Secrets: Part 1 – Chapter 7

If I expected Luca’s cold treatment to cease after what happened last night, I would be gravely mistaken. When I make it downstairs for breakfast, he’s already there with Rosa and Damian. Rosa throws the last few pieces of food in her mouth and rushes off to her room to pack her things for the day she’s spending with her mother. Luca gets up shortly after her, saying he has work to do, and vanishes, leaving Damian and me at the table.

“What’s going on between you two?” Damian asks the moment Luca is out of view.

“Nothing.” I take a sip of my juice. “Why do you ask?”

He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms, and smiles. One thing I’ve noticed about Damian is that nothing escapes his attention. He might come across as nonchalant, always smiling and joking around, but his eyes betray him. There is pure intellect and calculation hidden there. He’s playing his role of a carefree younger brother quite well. If I wasn’t so skilled at pretending myself, I might have missed it.

“You’re in love with my brother,” he says.

Yes, he’s definitely more observant than I thought.

“So what?” I ask and continue eating. There’s no point in denying it.

Damian laughs and shakes his head. “Since when?”

“Years.” I shrug. “What gave me away?”

“The way you look at him when you think no one is watching. Does he know?”

“Nope. And you won’t tell him.”

“I wasn’t meaning to. Your relationship is not my problem. But why not tell him?”

I debate if I should explain or not. He already knows I’m in love with Luca. Maybe he’ll have some insight regarding his brother’s idiotic behavior.

“Because he treats me like I have the plague,” I say. “He can’t get over our age difference. He sees me as a child.”

Damian starts stirring his coffee with a spoon even though I saw him doing so not a minute earlier.

“Yes, I see how that could be an issue for him,” he finally says and looks up at me. “Luca and I are half brothers. His mother killed herself when Luca was a baby.”

I blink. I didn’t know that, and I was certain that Damian and Luca had the same parents. How come I’ve never heard about this? “Okay. How does that reflect on my situation?”

“Luca’s mother was eighteen when she married our father. It was an arranged marriage.” Damian says. “Father was forty.”

I close my eyes. Shit.

“From what I know, Luca’s mother wasn’t mentally stable,” he continues. “Couldn’t deal with the obligations that came with the position of being a capo’s wife, or being married to someone so much older than her. Our father was a hard man. She was young and sheltered. Eventually, she crumbled under the pressure.”

“So, what did your brother expect when he agreed to marry me? That we’d be living like roommates until he deems me old enough to upgrade my status to a wife and have sex with me?”

Damian cringes. “Probably.”

“Oh, he’s in for a surprise, then.”

“Don’t push him too much. You’ve already managed to mess with his head quite well. Luca is hell to deal with when he’s agitated.”

“I don’t think I messed up anything. He still doesn’t give a fuck about me.”

Damian takes a slow sip of his coffee but doesn’t remove his eyes from mine. “Do you know what my brother did when he found Simona in bed with her bodyguard?”

I gulp my juice. “She cheated on him?” Who in their right mind would cheat on Luca?

“Luca shot the bodyguard in the head, and threw Simona out, naked, in the middle of the night. When the maid told me what was happening, I came out of my room to see if he was okay.” He shakes his head. “Luca told the staff to clean up, greeted the girl I had over, then climbed up to the third floor, and went to bed. The next morning, he said he hadn’t slept that well in ages.”

“So?”

“So, imagine my surprise when I saw him storming out of the house last night, furious. I asked what was going on, and he said, and I quote, ‘She went to a fucking club,’ then got into his car and was gone in seconds.” Damian bursts out laughing and gets up from the table. “I never thought I’d live to see a day when my brother chased after a woman.”

I follow Damian with my eyes, wondering if he could be right. Luca jealous? Because of me?

“I’m not buying anything before trying out the product, Bogdan,” I say into the phone and flip through the papers on my desk. I’ve spent the whole morning in my downtown office, going over the cash flow of our real estate business.

“It has a twenty-inch barrel and a rifle-length gas system. A candy, believe me,” he says.

“How much?”

“They’re a steal at seven hundred dollars apiece,” he says, “but I’ll take six fifty for each if you get more than five hundred.”

“I’ll take four hundred for six hundred dollars per piece.”

“No way, Luca. I’m selling last year’s model for that price.”

“All right. I’ll check with Dushku, then. Maybe he can work with that price.”

“You’re not going to the Albanians!” he barks. “We agreed on exclusivity two years ago.”

“We also agreed that you will be delivering the goods I ordered,” I say.

“It was a one-time fuckup, and you were very clear in showing your displeasure.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” I turn the page and skim the numbers on the next one. “I’ll take four hundred pieces at six hundred dollars a pop. Or I go to Dushku.”

“Fuck you, Luca,” he says, then mumbles something in Romanian. “Okay. Anything else?”

“A sample for me to try out first. If I like it, we are a go. Send me ten more crates of grenades, as well. And Bogdan, if I receive the wrong goods again, you’re done. Are we clear on that?”

There’s more mumbling in Romanian and then, “Very. I’ll call you next week to confirm the shipment details.” Bogdan bites out and cuts the call.

There’s a knock on my office door, and Donato comes inside. “Luca. What’s going on?”

“We have a problem, Donato. Have a seat.” I nod toward the chair on the other side of the desk and put the stack of papers in front of him. “This is the cash flow statement from the real estate business.”

He takes the printout and starts looking over the numbers. “This seems fine.”

“On its own it’s good, but not when it can’t keep up with the revenues from gun sales.” I take the sheet of paper with the expected profits I calculated from the weapons deals and place it over the one he’s looking at. “We need the real estate figures to double so Damian can launder all the money. Sit down with Adam and find me some properties that require significant investments. Damian says he can clear at least five million a month through renovations expenses.”

“Okay.” He nods then looks at me sideways.

“What is it?”

He fidgets in his chair like he usually does when he’s delivering bad news. Even though both of us hold the same spot in the hierarchy, no one really considers him a serious player. The only reason he’s still holding the capo’s role is because he and the don are childhood friends. Donato is too old and too passive to do any actual work, so I’m doing most of it and he’s just overseeing execution.

“Barbini reached out to me yesterday,” he says.

“And what did Lorenzo want?”

“He was asking about your plans for when you take over.”

That didn’t take him long. I expected Lorenzo to make a move, but I assumed he would wait until Giuseppe stepped down. “Plans for what exactly?” I ask.

“Family business.”

“I’ll let the Family know when the time comes. For now, we operate as the don wants.”

“Oh. Okay. I’ll tell him that.” He nods and hurries out of the office.

I pick up my phone and start scrolling through the missed calls from this morning, stopping when I reach Isabella’s name. She’s called me twice, the first time around ten and again two hours ago. I let it ring through both times. Leaning back in the chair, I tilt my head and stare at the ceiling, wondering what I’m going to do with her.

I have no idea what came over me last night, but no way am I doing it again. And I am not having sex with her until she is twenty-one. It may sound ridiculous, but I can’t stomach the idea of fucking a nineteen-year-old. She might not look like one in the dark while sprawled out on the bed, with her hand between her legs. But then I see her in the morning light, looking even younger with her eyes still puffy from a lack of sleep, and I feel like a piece of shit. This madness stops now. What she does in her room, is her business. Whatever insanity that possessed me to tell her to come to me when she needs her “problem” handled is gone now. I’m not opening that door between our rooms again. If she wants to fuck, she’ll have to wait, or find someone else. I don’t give a damn.

The phone on my desk rings.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Rossi,” my secretary says from the other side. “Your wife is here.”

What the fuck is she doing here? “Send her in,” I say through gritted teeth and march to the door. A brief glance outside and I find all my employees have stopped what they were doing to gawk at Isabella. They probably heard Magda announce her.

“Back to work!” I snap at them as I watch Isabella approach, her heels clicking on the marble floor. She’s wearing a white sleeveless dress that hugs her chest and flares down from the waist, reaching her knees. Her hair is tied at the top of her head in a long straight ponytail, and oversized sunglasses hide her eyes.

She stops in front of me, removes the shades, and tilts her head up. “Good afternoon, husband.”

“Get inside.” I step aside, letting her pass, and shut the door. “Where’s your bodyguard?”

“You haven’t assigned me one yet. I tried calling you, but you didn’t return my calls.” She sits down on the sofa in the corner of my office and tilts her chin up. “We had a deal. You take my calls. I take your bodyguard.”

“Did Renato drive you here?” He is a dead man.

“No. He said he can’t take me anywhere without a bodyguard.”

“So how the fuck did you get here?”

“Taxi.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

She leans back and smiles. “I’m here because of our agreement.”

“What agreement?”

“The one from last night,” she says, and I stare as she lifts her ass, pulls the skirt of her dress up and removes a beige thong. “I have a problem. And I need you to solve it.”

She launches the thong across the room where it falls on my desk.

“I’ve changed my mind.” I round my desk and sit down. Grabbing the lacy undergarment, I sling it back at her. “You’re allowed to use your hand. Go home. One of the security guys will drop you off.”

She blinks at me, takes the thong, and places it into her purse. “Well, after last night, I decided that my own hand won’t do.”

I watch as she walks to the door, scrolling through her phone along the way, then puts the phone to her ear. “See you at dinner,” she calls over her shoulder.

“Who are you calling?”

“A problem solver,” she says and opens the door. “Hey, Angelo. Do you have plans for this afternoon? Perfect, let’s meet—” The door closes, shutting out the rest of her conversation.

I glare at the door and start counting to ten to calm myself. One. Let her go. Two. Not your problem. Three. I spring out of my chair, nearly ripping the door off its hinges as I rush out and straight across the open floor space beyond, ignoring the employees who, once again, have ceased whatever they’re doing. When I reach Isabella, I wrap my arms around her middle and lift her up. Turning around, I carry her back toward my office. With her back plastered to my chest and her feet dangling several inches above the ground, her ass is pressed right to my cock, which is getting harder by the second.

“Angelo, looks like something came up, I won’t make it today.” She’s still talking on the phone like nothing strange at all is happening. “Yes, I’ll call. Promise.”

She most certainly won’t be calling him ever again. I’ll make sure of that. As I enter the office, I shut the door with my foot and let her slide down my body until her heels reach the floor. She starts turning to face me, but I tighten my arms around her, drawing her body to mine.

“Throw away the phone,” I whisper in her ear and slide my palms down and over her hips.

I hear her sharp inhale of breath before she lets the phone fall out of her hand.

“The bag and the glasses,” I say as I continue moving my hands lower.

Her bag hits the floor, and the sunglasses follow. When my hands reach the hem of her dress, I start moving them back up, pulling the material along her thighs. “Let’s see if my hand can do a better job than yours, hmm?”

“I doubt it,” she utters and moans as my finger enters her.

I place my right hand at her clit and start massaging in slow, round circles. Meanwhile, I move my left hand towards her center and insert one finger into her wet pussy. The way her gorgeous ass is pressing against me, I’m ready to blow my load. I barely manage to stifle a groan as I fight to regain control.

Shifting my left hand even lower, I remove my finger and hear her hiss in frustration. I push it back inside, then carefully add another. Jesus, she’s tight. Slowly, I curl my fingers and quicken my movements on her clit. Isabella starts to pant and drops her hands, placing them over mine to increase the pressure. I feel her walls spasm around me, so I massage her clit faster, enjoying her mewls as she comes all over my hand a few seconds later.

I bend my head until my lips almost touch her bare shoulder and inhale her scent. She smells like vanilla.

“Can you walk, tesoro?” I whisper.

“Yes.”

“Okay. Let’s go to the bathroom.” I start to pull my finger out, but she keeps her hand over mine, not letting me withdraw.

“Not yet,” she says in a raspy voice, pressing harder on my hand, and it almost makes me snap and fuck her on the spot.

“All right.”

I wrap my free arm around her middle and lifting her up, carry her toward the bathroom on the left, keeping my finger buried inside her. Her breathing is shallow and hitches a little with every step. We reach the bathroom and come to a stop in front of a small sink. I lift my head, our gazes meeting in the mirror, and I can’t decide what I like more—the flustered expression on her face, her huge eyes burning with fire as she regards me, or the sight of my hand over her pussy as my body looms over her.

I reach for the towel and, putting it between her legs, slowly pull out my finger, watching her as she inhales and closes her eyes. After I clean her up, I throw the towel into the sink and grip the edge of the counter on either side of her, lowering my head until my chin rests on her shoulder.

“So, did I resolve your problem?” I ask, holding my eyes fixed on hers in the mirror.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Good. If I catch you calling the little Scardoni boy again, I’m going to break his legs. And his hands. Is that clear?”

The corner of her lips lift upward, but she doesn’t reply. Oh, she really likes to defy me.

I move my hand between her legs again and press lightly on her still-sensitive pussy, making her gasp. “Is that clear, Isabella?”

“Yes.” She exhales.

“Perfect.” I remove my hand and straighten up. “I’ll call security. Two of the guys will drive you back home.”

I leave the bathroom, sit at my desk, and grab the phone to call security. Isabella walks out two minutes later, her dress straightened and hair no longer in disarray. She bends over to collect her things from the floor, giving me a view of her naked ass, then puts her sunglasses on and heads to the door.

“I like the feel of your hands and mouth on me,” she says over her shoulder. “But you know that’s not enough. Don’t you, Luca?”

She doesn’t wait for my reply, just leaves me to stare at the door she vanished through and to wonder how a nineteen-year-old girl managed to so royally fuck up my head.

* * *

The ringing of my phone wakes me up. I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling, trying to ignore the ache in my fully erect cock—the result of the dream that haunts me every night. Me, weighing Isabella down with my body, my cock buried inside of her. I thought she’d skip the evening show after what happened in the office this afternoon. She didn’t. I tried restraining myself when I heard soft moans coming from her room. And failed miserably. Barely two minutes after the first moan, I stormed inside Isabella’s bedroom and feasted on her sweet pussy until she came all over my face.

The ringing stops, then starts again. I grab the phone to see Donato’s name on the screen. The numbers in the corner show it’s three in the morning.

“What happened?” I ask the moment I take the call.

“I’m at the warehouse. We caught one of the security guards stealing ammunition.”

“So?”

“What do you want me to do with him?”

I squeeze my temples between my thumb and middle finger and shake my head. “Kill him, Donato.”

“Kill? Are you certain?”

Jesus. How the fuck he ended up being a capo, I’ll never understand. I start to tell him to have one of the guys kill the thief then change my mind.

“I’ll be there in an hour,” I say and cut the call.

I need something to shake loose the frustration.

In the shower, as the water pours down on me, I grip my aching cock and imagine pounding into Isabella from behind, with her ass right there in front of me. It doesn’t take any time at all to find my release. Despite jerking off, I’m still wound up as I dress and head outside.

When I reach the warehouse where we store the guns, I head right toward the man sitting in the far corner. Donato is standing next to him, along with another of my guards, both holding guns pointed at him. I’m amazed by the fact that Donato knows how to hold the gun at all.

“Is that the thief?” I ask.

“Yes.” Donato nods. “Gianni caught him while—”

I don’t wait for him to finish, just draw my gun from the holster, point it at the thief’s chest, and fire four times. Donato gasps and stumbles backward, staring at the blood soaking the front of the man’s shirt. I turn around and head back to my car, still pissed and sexually frustrated as fuck. Damn that woman. Damn her to hell.