Page 10 of Forgive Me, Father (Don #1)

TEN

THE LITTLE RUNAWAY

I was alone the entire day. The doctor came. He told me I could request someone to be here with us. I said no.

He did his inspection and gave me a wink. I hated that. So creepy.

They brought in the food, but I barely touched it, picking at it slowly. I wasn’t in the mood for tonight, and the tears kept flowing, unstoppable. I’d never felt this alone in my entire life.

Tonight was going to be horrible. He was big, gigantic.

I’d felt it when he was getting off on strangling me.

Whatever was happening made him hard, and he’d pressed his shaft right into me.

The worst part was that my body had loved every second of it because I was drowning between my legs when I got to my room.

My panties were soaking wet, and it wasn’t because I’d peed myself. I wish I had peed myself.

This feeling, this chaotic mix of fear and excitement, was unlike anything I’d ever known. It was a storm inside me, clashing violently, twisting my insides in a way that almost made me want to vomit.

Then, a knock at the door. Nico stepped in, his eyes sweeping over me. I hadn’t even bothered with my robe yet, and his stare lingered on it, draped over the chair, as if it held the weight of everything that was about to happen.

“Camilla, don’t do this, please.”

“Do what?”

“Defy him. I begged you earlier, just do as you are told and your life will be easier. He is a good man; he just doesn’t know how to handle his shit sometimes.”

“No fucking kidding. I still have his fingerprints around my fucking neck, Nico.”

“Just put on the fucking robe.” He threw something on the bed. “And make sure you get a good amount of lube on that cunt of yours.”

Heat surged up my cheeks and burned my ears as I watched Nico turn on his heel and walk out the door.

It stung, but there was something twistedly deliberate about it.

He was being cruel, detached. I couldn’t help but think that, in his own messed-up way, he was trying to prepare me for what was coming. At least, I hoped that was the case.

My gaze went to the white and black bottle that was on my bed.

I grabbed it. It was lube. Silicone-based.

That was against the rules. Was Alfonso fucking insane?

If they discovered I had lube on me, I closed my eyes.

But feared if I didn’t, he would tear me open tonight, and I would be screaming, just not his name. I’d never been this scared either.

I picked up the lube. It felt like it was the only way I was going to get through tonight. Fuck everyone.

I took off my jersey and pulled off my shirt. I took off my bra and then started working off my pants and underwear. I only had my socks on, but nobody fucks with socks on, so I pulled them off too. My wedding pedicure still looked beautiful. At least my toes looked stunning.

I grabbed the bottle off the bed where Nico had thrown it, twisted the cap open, and squirted a good amount onto my hands. It was cold, and I just slapped it on my pussy.

I sucked in breath since it was freezing, but my fingers started working the lubricant along my length and in-between my folds.

I found my clit, started working the lube in good, and my eyes closed as it felt euphoric.

I’d dreamed about tonight so many times.

Just to get it over with and then I could have explored Philip’s body just the way I’d wanted to.

Now that would never be my reality, and I doubted that whatever I’d felt for Alfonso would ever return.

I was like a flower; I blossomed with gentle and died with rough. Something I doubt my new husband would ever grasp.

A moan left my lips as my finger kept circling my clit. I knew I should stop. Now wasn’t the time to come. I couldn’t, but I wanted to come so badly. I wanted to come hard and tonight wouldn’t happen either.

I doubted that Alfonso was that type of man, that type of lover. I’d seen a different side to him this morning that scared me shitless.

A knock on the door forced me to stop. The tingles were still there. I was aroused but didn’t reach my orgasm.

I covered up just as the door opened.

Nico entered, and he looked pleased when he found me in a robe. His gaze flicked to the lubricant bottle.

“You know it’s against the rules to use lube. He knows that; why would he send it to me?”

“Because some families can break some rules, Camilla. You have much to learn. Here is your mask. Put it on and follow me.”

I took the black lacy mask that would only cover my eyes and tied it on. The robe was closed in the front by tiny hooks. It was a beautiful black and red colored robe too. The satin fell softly over my hips, and my heart pounded as I pulled the strings tighter behind my head.

Nico helped tie it into a knot. “For what it’s worth, he feels like shit.” My eyes slid up to meet his. “But you didn’t hear it from me.”

* * *

I followed Nico into a room filled with members of the Dons wearing their Il Volto Nero garbs. Their faces covered their identities and their robes reached their ankles.

I had no idea where my father was, but I knew he was among them. He probably already signed the contract with Alfonso.

Everyone looked at me, and I froze. I wanted to run away. Nico pushed me from behind, and I inched forward until I reached the bed.

“Keep your robe on,” Nico whispered just as I wanted to take it off, and I turned to look at him.

His back was already facing me, walking in the direction of the door. He opened it, squeezed through, and closed it behind him. Leaving me with them.

There was no sign of Alfonso, and all the figures wearing their masks were staring at me, waiting for me to take off my robe.

My hands moved slowly to my robe when Alfonso entered the room.

He was dressed in an elegant black robe and wore a more masculine black mask.

He stopped on the opposite side of the bed.

My heart stammered in my chest. My hands trembled as my fingers lingered on my robe.

This was humiliating, getting undressed in front of your father.

Not to mention having this asshole seeing me naked for the first time in front of other people.

What if he didn’t like what he saw? What if I disgusted him and he couldn’t get hard?

My throat tightened as Alfonso climbed onto the bed. The silence that followed was suffocating. Couldn’t they play some music, just to drown out the awkwardness in the air?

I kept staring at him. His green eyes stared from behind his mask and his neatly combed hair was now a messy black mop, making him look even more dangerous than earlier. He moved to the middle of the bed on his knees and stood on his kneecaps.

He motioned for me to join him with a single, sharp flick of his finger. I just stood there, frozen, staring at him. His gaze hardened, a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes, and I knew now was not the time to defy him.

With a reluctant sigh, I placed one knee on the bed, followed by the other.

I lifted my robe just enough to keep my movements steady, feeling the weight of his stare on me as I slowly shuffled toward him.

My heart hammered in my chest, each beat louder than the last, as if it were trying to escape.

It felt like it was pounding in my throat.

I stopped just in front of him, my throat so dry it felt like sandpaper, and a wave of nausea crept up on me. I was afraid I might choke on it.

He leaned in closer, and the scent of him hit me, rich and intoxicating, like a blend of leather and spice with a hint of something warm, almost smoky. It was a scent that enveloped me, both grounding and overwhelming, and it made my head spin in the best and worst ways.

His breath caressed my neck. “You keep your eyes on me. Pretend they are not here.” His voice was gentle. There wasn’t a tremble. Just the confidence of a man who had done this a million times.

I nodded, and then his lips planted a soft kiss on my neck before he lifted his head.

He spoke to them. “There will be no orgasm coming from her tonight, and there will be no yelling of my name leaving her lips either. I will orgasm, and I will show you the blood you need to see. We are consummating a wedding, not making a porno.”

The one in front objected in Italian, and Alfonso cut him off quickly. I had no idea what he’d said, but the entire room fell silent.

Another voice echoed into the recorder filming us.

My name came first, and hearing it without the last name I had always known sent a chill through me.

I was a Pontisello now. Then, they said his name.

The same name I’d heard on our wedding day, still carrying that weight of something new, something unknown.

The speaker ended with another name: Coniglio Bianco . A gasp pushed past my lips as I understood that last word.

I stared into his green eyes, and he opened his robe. His entire body was draped in scars and covered in tattoos, but that was not what my eyes lingered on. Above his left breast was a tiny tattoo of a white rabbit.

Alfonso was the White Rabbit, meaning that I’d had it wrong all this time. The White Rabbit was Rico Ponticello’s oldest son and the heir to the first chair.

I was way in over my head.