Page 3 of Brutal Heir (Ruthless Heirs #3)

SOMETHING MONSTROUS

A lessandro

The roar of the blood pounding through my veins muffles the click-clack of the girl’s heels on the marble. I can’t keep my eyes off the mesmerizing sway of her hips as she darts in front of me and scurries into the bathroom.

Fuck, this is actually happening.

After months with only the company of my rough palm, I’ll finally get a much-needed release. I wheel myself into the bathroom behind her and watch as she drops to her knees in the tight pencil skirt.

I can’t quite believe my eyes as her hands find my thighs and slowly work their way up.

I shouldn’t be this surprised… all my life women have fallen to their knees for me, but that was before.

I would never admit it to my sister, the queen of narcissism, but I too am, no was , vain.

I’d taken my good looks for granted. Now that I’ve been permanently scarred across the right side of my face, neck and every inch of my body, I understand for the first time in my life how fleeting beauty really is.

Darkness edges into the corners of my vision, the pungent, ghostly scent of smoke filling my nostrils. I wince as memories of the explosion rush to the surface. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to chase them away, to focus on the slender fingers teasing their way to the zipper of my slacks.

I want this. I need this. To feel something other than pain. To be wanted. Desired.

But the second she touches me, it’s not her I see, it’s flames.

And the nightmare takes over, pulling me under. The sound of her breathing morphs into screaming. My screaming. Her fingers on my thigh might as well be fire. It’s not skin-on-skin, it’s pain-on-pain.

The tarmac shimmers under the late afternoon sun, heat waves rising off the asphalt like ghosts. Serena stands across the way by the airplane hangar with a tall, dark-haired man. The asshole who kidnapped her.

Who she’s kissing?

What the fuck? I tug at the collar of my perfectly starched dress shirt as I descend the jet stairs, already irritated by the humidity clinging to my skin and now seeing that? What the fuck has Serena gotten herself into?

Unbuttoning the top two buttons, I linger on the last step, waiting for the unlikely pair to stop making out. Beads of sweat pool on my brow as my irritation flares. Milano in the summer always smells like jet fuel and overpriced perfume.

A black SUV waits just ahead, the Gemini crest stamped on the plate like a silent threat. My small security detail fans out, two men only steps ahead and one behind. It’s routine. Familiar. Safe.

Until it’s not.

The click of my shoes on metal.

The pilot and flight attendant laughing behind me.

My foot touches the ground ? —

Boom.

The world rips open.

A shockwave punches me in the chest and throws me backward like I’m made of glass. I slam into the tarmac, pain detonating in my shoulder. I attempt to draw in a breath, but there’s no air. Heat licks across my skin, suffocating, searing.

Flames roar to life somewhere to my left. Black smoke rises like a curtain. My ears ring so loud I can’t hear anything else.

My skin, fuck, my skin is on fire. Not metaphorically. Literally.

I try to scream but the air is too thick. Everything smells like burning flesh. My flesh.

I can’t see. I can’t breathe. I can’t move.

There’s shouting. Footsteps. Shadows.

And then…nothing.

Just black.

I blink quickly, ridding myself of the nightmarish scene, my chest heaves, and a trickle of sweat races down my spine. A head bobs between my legs, but I don’t feel anything but suffocating fear and debilitating pain.

A pair of light blue eyes lift to mine, lipstick smeared across full lips. With her head out of the way, I catch a glimpse of my completely flaccid dick. Fuck.

Her hand wraps around my cock, trying to coax it up, but it’s no use. The grisly memories consume my vision, stealing every ounce of heat and lust.

I can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t even get it up, and that might be the cruelest cut of all. They say scars fade. But no one tells you how to survive when the fire keeps burning inside you.

“Are you okay?” Her voice, her eyes as they meet mine, are laced with pity, and it’s the final nail in my coffin.

No, I’m not okay, and I’m not certain I ever will be again.

Her pity slices deeper than the scalpel they used to clean the wounds. She doesn’t flinch, and that makes it worse. I don’t want understanding. I want control. I want to forget.

“Get out!” I growl.

Her light brows furrow as she regards me, fingers still wrapped around my limp dick. “What?”

“I said get the fuck out!” I shout it this time, a tangle of fury and shame ripping at my insides.

The first time in months that I’ve had the chance to be with a woman, and I can’t even get it up?

This is absolute hell. I’m being punished for all the females I fucked around with and never called back.

The server scrambles off the floor, tugging down her skirt as she races out of the bathroom. I stare down at my limp cock like it’s mocking me. Like it's just as useless and broken as the rest of me . Maybe this is who I am now. Not Alessandro. Not a man. Just… wreckage.

Until the smack of approaching footsteps drags me from the stupor, and I whirl around, slamming the bathroom door closed behind me.

Leaning over the vanity, I turn the faucet and run my hands under the cool water before splashing it across my face.

Finding my reflection in the mirror, I wince at the sight.

I stare at the stranger looking back at me.

The skin on the right side of my face is a map of ruin. It’s mottled, tight, and uneven. Angry shades of red and pale, waxy pink climb from my jaw to my temple like a fire still frozen in motion. It doesn’t feel like mine either, numb in some places, hypersensitive in others.

The worst part is the eye, the dark one, not its blue twin. It’s still mine, still piercing and sharp, but the skin around it pulls and crinkles unnaturally, like the flames tried to steal it too and almost succeeded.

A trail of silvery grafted skin slices down my neck and disappears beneath the collar of my dress shirt. I don’t need to look lower. I know the pattern by memory, the jagged patchwork that snakes across my chest, ribs, and shoulder.

I lift a hand and run my fingers along the sharp line where healthy skin becomes something else. Something monstrous.

Everyone says I’m lucky I survived.

I’m not so sure.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, I tear my eyes away from the monster. As much as I’d like to, I can’t hide in here forever. It’s only a matter of time before my sister or one of my nosy cousins come looking for me.

If they haven’t already…

Right on cue, a sharp knock batters the door.

“Are you taking a shit or something, Ale?” Matteo’s voice seeps through the thick timber.

My mouth almost curls into a smile at his question. Out of everyone in the family, he’s the only one who doesn’t coddle me. I’m sure my sister or Serena sent him to check on me, but at least he’s smart enough to turn it into a joke.

“Yes, so let me go in peace for fuck’s sake,” I call out.

I wait a few minutes, hoping he’ll get bored and leave but the telltale footfalls never come. Stubborn ass. Heaving in a breath, I flush the toilet and turn toward the door.

Sure enough, I find Matty leaning against the wall, a grin on his face.

“What are you smirking about?”

“Did you get my present?” He waggles his brows toward the kitchen.

“What present?”

“The hot server girl I sent to…”

I barely keep the practiced mask in place as realization slams into me. “You paid her?”

“She’s not a prostitute or anything. I just slipped her a hundred bucks as a little incentive.”

My fingers curl into fists in my lap as I picture that head of blonde hair bobbing on my drooping cock. “Fuck, Matty, what the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking it’s a holiday, and you deserve a little fun after all the shit you’ve been through in the last few months. Don’t tell me you hadn’t thought about hooking up with her. I saw the way you were eye-fucking her at the table.”

Yeah, I’d be fucking her and every other woman alive with only my eyes for the rest of my life because apparently my dick is broken. “I hadn’t,” I grit out, the lie easily spewing out.

“So did she even try to come on to you? Otherwise, I’m going to have to get my money back.”

“No,” I snap. “Don’t. She did try… I blew her off.” Again, the lies effortlessly tumble out.

“Why would you do something so stupid?”

I drag my hand through my hair, glaring up at my cousin. It’s a view I’m not used to. I’m the older, taller one of the two of us and all our lives, he’s looked up to me. “I don’t know.”

“Have you been with a woman since—” His words fall away as everyone’s does when they refer to the incident that left me mangled beyond repair.

“Of course I have.”

He eyes me skeptically, and I don’t even know why I lied that time.

Matteo is like a brother to me, but for some reason, I can’t bear to tell him the truth.

He inches closer, slapping me on the good shoulder.

“Okay, if you don’t want a gorgeous blonde to suck your dick between our five-course meal, I’m not going to force her on you. ”

I almost choke on a laugh. A real one, one I haven’t felt in months.

“I appreciate the effort, Matty, but I’m more than capable of getting my own ass. Without having to pay for it.”

“Good. So does that mean you’re coming to the Velvet Vault with us tonight?” A hint of mischief sparks across those deep green eyes, the ones he shares with his mom, Aunt Maisy.

“I’ll think about it.”