Riccardo
I feel a quiet rustle and a movement next to me, and my brain jolts me out of the nap. Where is the danger? Is anyone here? I open my eyes and move up to the headboard, tense and alert. It’s my bedroom. There should be no intruders here.
Oh, wait.
It takes my mind another second to calm down enough to remember last night. Right. I glance at Elena curled on the other side of the bed and rub my temple. So this happened.
It’s been so long since I let someone sleep in my bed that my body still refuses to relax. Damn it. I should’ve sent her back to her own bedroom -but I couldn’t find it in me to wake her up. Elena passed out as soon as I finished with her, and her completely relaxed and warm body was too tempting to let go of. She was so vulnerable at that moment; there was no danger in leaving her by my side.
I guess my own mind was still glowing in the post-orgasmic euphoria because, if I’d in my right mind I’d never have done it. My bedroom is the most secret place of all. How could I let a Russian girl sleep there after less than twelve hours of marriage?
I close my eyes for a moment and curse under my breath. I shouldn’t let Elena affect me like that-but damn, last night was too good to think straight. Everything about that graduation night remained in my memories for the same reason.
There’s something between us that just works, you know? I can feel it in her body whenever I touch her and hear her moans-but I feel it in mine, too. The heat of her gaze last night awoke something in me, and it filled me with the urge to have her. Wasn’t it the same madness that had taken over on graduation party? The sensation of her soft skin and trembling muscles under my palms, the pure desire in her stuttering moans, the way Elena moved with me and for me-
I shake my head and open my eyes. What did I just say? I shouldn’t let myself be so damn distracted by her. I glance at Elena mindlessly, and it’s hard to imagine that she can do me any harm-but in a life like ours, you shouldn’t trust anyone. She is still the niece of an enemy.
My gaze drifts over her bare shoulder, the line of her neck, and the expanse of blond hair on my black sheets. I didn’t have a chance to admire her beauty after college, but now it stands before me so clearly. Elena is beautiful, and no man in their right mind would think otherwise. Well, no man my age. When I was in college, I was blind to it like everyone else-or rather, I was blind to my own attraction.
God, it’s been eight years, huh? I chuckle quietly and look away, staring at the faint light of the morning between the curtains. Eight years we spent without each other-and yet, we made a whole circle and came back to the same point. Why did I waste so much time? Why did she leave?
What if I’d had enough common sense in me to ask her-
I shut my eyes and force myself to stop. Too many thoughts. There are too many unwanted and unneeded thoughts in my head, and the woman beside me is the main reason. I have way more important things to focus on, so if my mind refuses to work properly, I have to be the one to get out of here.
I could wake Elena up and send her out of my bedroom, but…my gaze finds her again, and I notice that she slightly scrunches her nose in her sleep when she frowns. Damn it. I turn away and move to the edge of the bed. It’s time for me to get up anyway.
I move around the room without much care, but it seems that Elena is too deep in her slumber to care about the noise around her. Well, I guess the last few days have been rough for her-but haven’t they been for all of us? I glance at her sleepy form on the bed. She only fidgets once when I open the door to the wardrobe and the soft light from inside falls on her face, but even then, Elena only rolls on her other side and lets out a deep sigh.
I didn’t expect to exhaust her so much last night, but my own body is still sore and full of lingering pleasure. After I run a comb through my hair one last time, I walk to the door of my bedroom but linger there for a second with a sudden thought. Will I be able to get the lustful beast out of Elena again? I glance at her and smirk to myself before finally leaving her behind.
The morning greets me with a cloudy sky and a weight of humidity; there’s a promise of rain in the air outside of the house. I step out onto the terrace only for long enough to get a sip of my morning coffee and let my mind focus on the present. It’s hotter than inside, almost to the point of unpleasant, but there’s a certain sense of peace in the woods and hills surrounding me that I can’t find even in the silent hallways of the house.
“Signor,” I hear no more than two minutes later, and I tighten the hold on my cup for a second. See? There’s no place to enjoy loneliness here. “Signor, I apologize for bothering you, but I wanted to let you know that Maxim has arrived. We will guide the boy to his room until Signora is ready to meet him.”
“Alright. Thanks, Alberto.”
The butler leaves as soon as I let him, but I linger behind with my thoughts weirdly swirling around his words. So Maxim is here. It is, actually, good that Alberto warned me; I can’t predict my reaction if I saw a strange boy running around the house. Not that anyone would let him do that here, but children can be unpredictable, and something tells me that Elena is not a strict mother.
How could she have been careless enough to give birth to a child without a father?
I shake my head and turn back to the house. Elena truly is full of surprises, but I can’t say that I find it charming. I prefer to keep all secrets outside of the family; in this house and in my life, I can only afford to have people I can trust. Sometimes, it is a matter of life and death, so by the time I reach the cabinet, I’ve already sent my cousin a message:
Check out Elena and Max. Send me everything you find.
Everything?
Yes.
Got it.
Matteo is good at this. I block my phone and pause in front of the door to my cabinet just a moment before an echo of Elena’s voice reaches me, accompanied by the squeak of her son. They both sound as happy as if they were apart for months. I listen to their voices for a few more seconds, waiting for something interesting to slip out of Elena’s mouth, but all I gather is that she calls him Max, and they are going to eat breakfast. Fascinating.
But that’s enough distractions for today-it’s time for me to focus on my duties. On top of the whole mess with the Mexicans, I have an important deal with a new supplier coming up, and it’s not a good time for me to let my thoughts wander.
I receive a message from Paolo half an hour later, and it’s a signal that I should join him in the warehouse. It’s an old building in the halfruined parts of the Mountain View area that used to be a storage facility for the local farm machinery company. It’s been a few years since they lost all their dignity, money, and lives to Father, and the warehouse has been our main place of business ever since.
“He says he wants to talk to you,” Paolo says through the phone, and I hum, striding down the stairs. Quite a bold demand for a man chained to a chair for more than a day.
“It better be something important.”
“Do you think he’s in shape to joke around?” I scoff. “You know Mexicans. They’re fucking-” What the hell?
I catch a weird movement from the corner of my eye. It gives me only a fraction of a second to react, and I follow my reflex, sharply turn around, and throw my arm out to catch the danger. Because, of course, it must be something dangerous. An attack! Why else would anyone sneak up on me in my own house?
And it’s only when I hear a startled yelp and realize that I have missed the aim-because it’s too damn short for what I’m used to-that my brain takes over my instincts. I look down and see the boy from yesterday lying on the floor, his big eyes staring up at me in a mixture of horror and awe.
“Max!” Elena’s cry follows him, and a moment later she runs out of the dining room so fast her bare feet almost slip on the floor. She only glances at me before rushing to the boy, her loose hair and the sides of her robe swaying from the motion. “What have you done?”
“I-I’m sorry, Mom.” Max barely tears his eyes away from me to look at his mom with an apologetic pout. “I didn’t mean to!”
“What happened?” Elena finally looks at me, crouching next to Max to help him sit up, and I raise my eyebrow when I see an accusation in her eyes. Is it my fault that he appeared out of nowhere?
“I showed your son what happens when he runs around the house without thinking,” I say calmly, but it doesn’t look like she believes me.
Elena rushes to check Max for any signs of injury, murmuring something in Russian under her breath, and I shrug and move to turn around. Paolo has been on the line the entire time, I’m pretty sure he has questions. But before I walk away, I feel a gaze on me and glance behind.
It’s Max who is staring at me over his mom’s shoulder. Elena pointedly ignores me as if last night didn’t happen, but her son seems to be more than curious. When our eyes meet, Max hurries to look away, and I catch a glimpse of fear in him. Did she tell him to stay away from the big bad guy? I chuckle, and Max glances at me again, unable to tame his curiosity.
Max reminds me of Paolo when he was younger-the same dark and mischievous eyes, curly hair, and talent for getting into trouble. I catch his gaze for a moment and, unable to stop myself, wink before finally turning away to the door. You know, I kinda like him.
Paolo does remain on the line even as I leave the house, but I ignore the teasing tone of his questions and simply say that Elena’s boy was playing around. For some reason, Paolo thinks that it’s funny that I have to live with her. I don’t know if we’re supposed to fall in love or what, but knowing the books he reads in his free time, I wouldn’t be surprised to hear a scenario like this.
The drive to the warehouse doesn’t take long, but a drizzle of rain has enough time to turn Chicago gray and humid. When I reach the interrogation rooms, Jorge is waiting for me exactly where I left him yesterday-sitting on a chair with his hands chained behind his back. The room stinks of blood and urine, and the fan below the ceiling barely has enough power to make it more bearable.
When a guard opens the door for me, my first thought is that Jorge is unconscious. His body is slumped against the back of the chair, black threads of dirty hair are covering his eyes, and his breath is raspy but stable. Shit. Did I come here for nothing? But when I step closer to him, the Mexican slowly raises his head and gives me a bloody smirk.
“Don Riccardo.”
Disgusting. I meet his gaze and pull my hands out of my pockets.
“You said you had new information for me.”
Jorge bares the remnants of his teeth in a grin. “Yes, I wanted to talk to you, oh almighty Don-”
I hit his cheek with the back of my palm, losing patience. He’s going through the same fuckery again, and I’m not gonna listen to his blabbering all day. “Information.”
“Oh, but it wasn’t anything new! Did I say I’d give you something new?” He glances at Paolo, and I follow his gaze and see a note of confusion in Paolo’s eyes. Damn it. It’s another stupid joke.
Jorge chuckles, sensing our confusion, and raises his head as much as possible with a twisted shoulder. “All I have to offer, Don Riccardo, are my congratulations on your marriage! Sadly, I wasn’t there to cheer for you in person, but I’m sure your wife was as beautiful as they say.”
“Who says?” I frown, but Jorge ignores me. His gaze starts swaying across the room, and I’m not sure his mind is still able to process what I’m saying.
“It must have been a grandiose ceremony!” Jorge’s smile suddenly drops, and he closes his eyes, breathing harder through the effort of his speech. “What a shame…that so soon, Elena will have to…will have to change her white for black.”
What the hell? My hands curl into fists despite myself, and I push his chair with full force. “What are you talking about?”
But he says nothing after that, no explanations for that mess of a speech. I slap him again to bring him back to his senses, but Jorge only groans in response as his whole body convulses from pain. It sends more blood gushing from the wounds in his stomach and arms, and the sound of his breath turns raspy again.
Is there anything that can make him suffer even more?
I eye him for a second, breathe out, and turn to Paolo. “There’s nothing we can get from him.”
He nods with a look of disappointment on his face. We caught Jorge near our docks the other day; he was good enough to get there on his own, so we had high expectations for him. Perhaps we should’ve used him as bait instead, but it’s too late for it now.
“Do you want me to get rid of him?” Paolo reaches for his gun, but I shrug, take out my dagger, and turn to the half-broken human in front of me.
“It’s not worth the bother.”
The dagger lands in the side of his neck. Jorge widens his eyes and gasps for breath, but only blood fills his throat-until his body loses the last bit of life.