Page 12

Chapter Twelve

Romeo

Antonio kneels in front of me, his face pale and slick with sweat under the harsh light of the warehouse. His hands are bound, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

He knows his pleas will fall on deaf ears, but desperation has a way of overriding logic.

“Please,” he stammers, his voice trembling. “Romeo, I didn’t mean for it to go this far. I didn’t know Salvatore would—”

I hold up a hand, cutting him off. The silence that follows is heavy, broken only by the muffled sounds of the city outside. My men stand at the edges of the room, impassive and silent, their presence a stark reminder of Antonio’s powerlessness.

“You didn’t know?” I echo, my voice low and cold. “Do you think that excuses you? You have my brother’s blood on your hands. You sold your daughter to me, then promised her to my greatest enemy.”

Antonio’s face crumples, and he shakes his head violently. “I’ll do anything. Anything you want. Salvatore’s planning another shipment—a big one. Drugs, weapons, the works. I can give you the location, the contacts. Just…let me live.”

I study him for a moment, his pitiful form groveling before me. The information could be valuable, but Antonio’s usefulness is dwindling. His betrayal still stings, a wound that festers every time I look at him.

I nod once to Matteo. “Take him to the safe house. Make sure no one knows he’s there. For now, he stays alive.”

Antonio sags with visible relief, but it’s short-lived. Matteo’s men haul him to his feet, dragging him toward the exit. I watch him go.

His time will come.

Just not yet.

***

The penthouse is quiet when I return, the distant hum of the city barely audible through the thick glass windows. I head toward my study, eager to plan my next move, but the sight that greets me when I push open the door stops me cold.

Viviana is there, standing in the center of the room. She’s leaning over my desk, her fingers skimming the edges of a stack of papers, her curiosity palpable. She looks up when she hears me, her expression a mix of defiance and guilt.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice calm but edged with steel.

She straightens, crossing her arms over her chest. “Looking for answers,” she says sharply. “Like why you took my phone.”

I step inside, closing the door behind me. The click of the lock is deliberate, a reminder of who holds the power here. “You don’t need it,” I reply smoothly, my gaze raking over her. “Anything you need, you come to me for.”

Her jaw tightens, and she takes a step toward me, her eyes blazing. “You’re unbelievable. You think you can just take whatever you want, control everything I do?”

“I don’t think,” I say, my tone darkening as I move closer. “I know.”

She glares at me, her defiance flaring. “You’re a coward. You hide behind your power, your money, your men. You think locking me in here makes you strong. It just makes you pathetic.”

My patience snaps. In two strides, I’m in front of her, backing her against the desk. The sharp intake of her breath sends a thrill through me, the tension between us crackling like a live wire.

“Careful, Viviana,” I murmur, my voice low and dangerous. “You’re testing my limits.”

“Good,” she snaps, her eyes blazing as she tries to pull her wrist free. “You deserve to be tested.”

Her defiance only fuels the fire inside me. My hand slides to her waist, pulling her closer until our bodies are almost touching. “You don’t realize who you’re playing with,” I growl, my gaze locking onto hers.

Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t look away. “I’m not afraid of you.”

A dark smile tugs at my lips. “No?” I lean in, my lips brushing against her ear. “Then why is your heart racing?”

She shoves at my chest, but her movements lack conviction. “Because I want answers. Because I can’t understand you.”

I look down at her, wanting to explain, not being sure what to say. I don’t ever look at myself closely. It’s better that way. I don’t want her to look at me too closely, either. She won’t like what she sees.

“What did you want to be when you grew up?” she says suddenly, her voice soft.

I blink, thrown off balance by her question.

“What?” I ask her, confused.

“The day that we first met,” she goes on. “I told you that I wanted to be an artist and then I asked you what you wanted to be. You never answered me.”

My heart, which I never consider, which never has any sway over my life, throbs painfully at her words. I remember realizing in that moment that no one had ever asked me that before. I remembered having no reply to give to her.

“You didn’t get to imagine being anything else, did you?” Vivianna says to me, her voice sad. She goes soft against me, reaching up to run her fingertips over my temple. “This is my prison, here, in your house, but you’re in prison every day…in here.” She touches my forehead with her fingers and looks at me with an ache in her gaze.

I open my mouth to argue with her, to tell her that she’s wrong, but the words don’t come.

Instead, I kiss her, rough and demanding, capturing her lips with a possessiveness I can’t suppress. She freezes for a moment, her hands braced against my chest, but then she kisses me back, matching my heat with her own fire.

Her defiance fuels my desire, her sharp retorts and heated glares only drawing me deeper into the obsession I can’t shake. My hands roam her body, sliding down to her hips as I lift her onto the desk, the heat between us burning brighter with every touch.

My cock presses against the inside of her thigh, and she shivers, a little moan escaping her lips.

“You’re mine, Viviana,” I murmur against her lips, my voice a mix of triumph and need. “Whether you admit it or not.”

She pulls back, her cheeks flushed, her breath coming in short gasps. “I can’t be yours if you don’t even know who you are,” she replies though her hands clutch the edges of the desk as if to steady herself.

I sigh, leaning in until our foreheads almost touch. “You’re already mine,” I whisper, my hands tightening on her hips.

Viviana is soft and delicate beneath my touch. Her skin is warm and so beautifully smooth it drives me wild, makes my cock throb against the restriction of my pants.

“You can fight me all you want,” I say, my voice low and deliberate as I step closer. Her back is against the desk now. There’s nowhere to run. “It only makes this more exhilarating.”

“You’re only lying to you,” she says, her words clear despite the desire in her tone.

She squirms under my touch, her hands coming up stroke along my ribs, hugging me close to her. Her body betrays her, arching slightly toward me even as her words tell me that I can’t have her, not really. I let my hand trail down, sliding beneath the hem of her skirt, onto the smooth warmth of her skin. Her proximity is igniting a fire in my veins.

She’s soaked through her panties already. Fuck, it’s hot.

Her breath hitches, and I lean in, my lips brushing her ear. “Tell me to stop,” I growl, my fingers circling her wet entrance. “Say it like you mean it.”

Her lips part, and her hips buck, but no words come. I feel her trembling against me, her defiance giving way to something raw and unspoken. I chuckle softly, darkly, before kissing her, my tongue tangling with hers. Her lips are warm, soft, and perfect against mine, and I lose myself in the taste of her.

I hurriedly remove myself from my pants, cock springing free. Viviana gasps as I align myself with her pussy, and she whispers, “More.”

It’s all the fuel I need.

I swarm up over her, pressing her against the desk, the wooden surface cool under my palms as I pin her in place. My lips trail down her neck, tasting her, claiming her, while my hands explore the curve of her waist, the softness of her thighs. She shivers beneath my touch, and I grin against her skin.

“Ask me nicely,” I say to her, the head of my dick just tucked inside of her. It’s all I can do to keep from driving home inside of her, but I want her to want me. I want to be sure that she actually needs me like I need her.

“Please,” she whispers, wriggling a little under me.

“Please, what?” I say to her.

Her eyes open, and she meets my gaze for a moment. Then, she smiles and she says, “Please, fuck me, Romeo.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” I growl at her, slowly sliding inside of her.

She mewls with pleasure as I fill her to the brim, her back arched off the hard surface of the desk, her butt pressed against my thighs.

“Vivianna,” I moan, pushing even farther into her until she cries out. “Oh, God, you feel incredible.”

“Fuck me, Romeo,” she pleads, moving on her own, making me want to come immediately. “Make me come.”

She’s so tight as I thrust into her. I fit so perfectly that I can’t keep the moan from my lips. She writhes beneath me, her eyes slipping closed, cheeks flushed in ecstasy.

I fuck her into the desk, my pace erratic, fueled by the all-consuming desperation that overtakes me. Arousal burns me alive as I use her, my breath coming in shaky gasps.

“Romeo,” she whines, and she gasps in delight as I tug her hair. She likes it rough, huh?

I can give her rough.

She stiffens as my free hand comes grips her breast forcefully. She presses into my hand harder, welcoming my rough caresses. Her breath is uneven, but she keeps repeating my name like a prayer.

She tilts her head slightly, giving me more access, and I seize the opportunity, my teeth grazing her shoulder. Her soft gasp sends a jolt of heat straight through me, and I press harder against her, letting her feel just how much she affects me.

Viviana is gasping now, and I’m so close I can feel the heat building to its peak. She comes with a cry, her walls tightening deliciously around my cock. Her whole body tenses before the orgasm shakes her to her core.

It’s the most beautiful damn thing I’ve ever seen.

I can’t take it anymore. The sight of her with her back arched, ass pressed against me, sends me over the edge. I grip her with bruising strength as I come, deep inside of her. For a moment my vision goes white. I call out, but even I don’t understand the words I say.

Her fingers clutch the edge of the desk, knuckles white as if she’s holding on for dear life. “Romeo,” she whispers, my name slipping from her lips like a plea and a curse all at once. “Thank you,” she says, and the words feel just like she said I love you.

In the aftermath, the heat—and our combined release—cooling between us, all I can hear is the thrumming of my own heartbeat. I pull out, a long trail of come still connecting us.

The air between us is charged, electric, and as she slowly lifts herself up to face me, I take her in. She’s flushed, her skin damp with sweat, her hair disheveled and framing her face like a halo. Her eyes meet mine, wide and filled with something I can’t quite name—anger, confusion, longing.

She’s breathtaking.

Without thinking, I reach out and brush my thumb over her cheek, my touch uncharacteristically gentle. I lean in and press a kiss to her forehead, the tenderness of the gesture surprising even me.

For a moment, her breath catches, her body going still under my touch.

“Clean yourself up,” I say quietly, my voice softer now, though still commanding. “You look...undone.”

She doesn’t say anything, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths, but then she grins at me. “I should hope so,” she says to me. “Any woman would be undone by that.”

For a moment, we’re locked in a quiet standoff, the air between us thick with the heat of what just happened.

I see the war in her eyes—the anger she wears like armor and the vulnerability she can’t quite hide. It stirs something primal in me, something that makes it impossible to look away.

Viviana straightens, breaking the standoff, her fingers brushing absently over the hem of her shirt, as if she’s trying to regain control. The sight of her like this—flushed, disheveled, utterly captivating—makes it harder to walk away, but I force myself to take a step back.

“I’ll be in the kitchen,” I murmur, more to break the silence than anything else. She doesn’t respond, her gaze dropping as she adjusts her clothes, and I let the door click softly shut behind me.

***

The hours stretch on as I work in my study, my mind stubbornly circling back to her. Viviana. Her defiance, her fire, the way she trembled beneath me—everything about her lingers in my thoughts, clawing at my focus.

I can’t be yours if you don’t even know who you are.

Her words keep echoing in my mind over and over. She’s not wrong, and the realization that I really don’t have any idea who I am, short of The Revenant, is utterly terrifying.

I had promised myself for all my life that I wouldn’t end up like my father, and yet, here I was, a living weapon, with no self, and no personal desires beyond collecting things that made me remember who I was as a boy.

Vivianna deserved better, I knew that now. But I couldn’t let her go, either.

The reports in front of me should command my attention. Salvatore’s movements were growing bolder, his threats more pointed. My men had tracked his operations to several key locations, and Matteo’s updates suggested he was preparing for something big. Even as I sift through the details, though, my mind drifts.

I think of the way she looked at me, the way her body responded despite her protests. She’s a storm, and I’m willingly caught in her chaos.

The soft chime of my phone pulls me from my thoughts. I glance at the screen, Matteo’s name flashing across it.

“What is it?” I answer, my voice clipped.

“Salvatore’s sent a message,” Matteo says, his tone grim. “You’re going to want to see this.”

I sigh, already irritated by the interruption. “I’m busy, Matteo. Handle it.”

“You’ll want to handle this yourself,” he presses. “Trust me.”

I hang up without another word, irritation curling in my chest. Salvatore’s antics are growing tiresome. I’ve been patient, waiting for the right moment to strike, but his persistence is testing the limits of that patience.

Pushing back from my desk, I rise and head toward the living room where Matteo is waiting. My men stand silently along the walls, their expressions grim as Matteo steps forward, holding something small and white in his hand.

“What is it?” I ask, my tone cold as I approach.

He extends it toward me—a folded handkerchief, stark white except for the dark stain marring its center. Blood.

My chest tightens as I take it, unfolding the fabric carefully. The initials embroidered in the corner make my blood run cold.

It’s my brother’s.

A memory flashes in my mind—my brother’s lifeless body, the blood that had soaked his shirt, and Salvatore’s smug grin as he denied his involvement. The handkerchief had been a gift, one my brother carried with him always.

“He’s taunting you,” Matteo says quietly. “He wants you to remember.”

As if I could forget.

My fist clenches around the fabric, the tension in my jaw threatening to snap it as I stare at the symbol of Salvatore’s challenge. This isn’t just a message; it’s a declaration of war.

“He’ll regret this,” I say, my voice low and dangerous.

Matteo nods, his expression grim. “What’s the plan?”

I glance toward the hallway. Viviana’s room lies just beyond it. A flicker of doubt creeps in—Salvatore knows about her, and she’s already in the crossfire.

“No one gets near this building without my knowledge. I want eyes on every move Salvatore makes, every whisper, every breath.”

“What about Antonio?” Matteo asks, his tone cautious.

“Keep him alive,” I reply, though the words taste bitter. “For now. He’s still useful.”

Matteo nods and leaves without another word, the tension in the room thickening in his absence.

I stare down at the handkerchief in my hand, the bloodstain dark and accusing. Salvatore’s game has gone too far, and this time, I’ll end it.

Even as my anger burns, my thoughts drift back to Viviana. She’s a complication I can’t afford, she wants a love I can’t give her, but I can’t bring myself to let her go.

The storm outside is nothing compared to the one building within me. Salvatore has made his move. Now, it’s my turn.