Page 10

Chapter nine

Dominic

R age fucking blinds me.

I can’t think, breathe, or see anything but the red-hot fury searing through my veins. The moment I realized Alessa was gone, every other sense just fucking shuts down.

Gone.

She didn’t just leave. No, that would be too goddamn simple. She had the nerve—the fucking gall—to make her bed first. Tucked it all in like it was any other day, like she wasn’t about to rip everything apart and disappear. A final “fuck you” to me, neatly wrapped in sheets and pillows before she slipped out of her room.

Out of the house. Out of the fucking estate, Goddamnit!

It doesn’t make sense. How could I have missed it? How could anyone have missed it?

I picture her, that defiant little smirk she wears when she knows she’s got the upper hand, walking out like she owned the place. Maybe she took her time. Maybe she looked back one last time just to savor it, to savor me not having a fucking clue she was already gone.

It’s the thought of her laughing at me that makes me want to tear the whole damn place apart. Punch a hole in the wall, set fire to every fucking thing she’s touched. Because she played me. She fucking played me, and I let her.

She’s gone.

But where? Where the hell would she run to? She knows there’s nowhere she can hide that I won’t find her. When I get my hands on her—she’d better pray I don’t.

The scales tip back in my direction when TJ informs me that Alessa is at Luna Rossa.

My lips curl into a dark grin. Of all the places she could’ve run to, she ends up at the club.

My club.

One of many pieces in the empire I’m building, brick by bloody brick. I’ve spent years studying how the Dons operate, watching their strengths and their weaknesses. Once I’m at the table, I’ll change everything. But first, I need to handle this Russo situation.

God really does work in my favor. Dio gioca davvero dalla mia parte.

I drag her ass out of the kitchen, my fingers digging into the soft flesh of her arm. Her body stumbles to keep up with my pace, and I don’t slow down for shit. I feel her tugging, trying to pull away, but it’s fucking useless. She’s not going anywhere. Not this time.

“Let go of me, Dominic,” she grunts, twisting her arm in my grip, and I couldn’t care less if it bruises that perfect skin. She almost fucking ruined my chance at being made—a chance I’ve been clawing and bleeding for since my father died.

I try to ignore the fact that she’s basically naked. Sure, she’s wearing an oversized shirt, but I can see her nipples hardening underneath the thin fabric, reacting to the cold. And those shorts— cazzo . Don’t get me started with that scrap of fabric she’s wearing. It’s basically underwear, made of silk that clings to her thick ass curves like a second skin, so short that her ass cheeks peek through with every step she takes.

I want to carve Harold’s fucking eyeballs out with my thumbs for seeing her like this. That prick played hero, offering her shelter and food like some white knight when she belongs to me. Alessa’s mine—my captive, my property, my problem. No other man touches or even looks at what I own. Period.

Anyone who forgets that rule… bleeds.

“Don’t fucking push me, Alessa,” I warn, pulling her along with me toward my office. My fingers tighten around her arm, feeling the delicate bones beneath her skin. One twist and I could break her—but I need her whole. For now.

“Go fuck yourself!” She jerks her arm, trying to break free.

She’s cold to the touch, and when I saw her sitting in that kitchen, soaked to the bone and shivering like a stray mutt, I almost felt guilty.

Almost.

She just looked so pathetic, munching on those cheap scrambled eggs and drinking stale coffee, having lost weight after being confined without food for three days.

But fuck me… the horror in her eyes when she saw me? Porca Miseria . It felt like a knife to the gut. But business is business, and it doesn’t mix well with whatever twisted attraction I feel for her. Right now, Alessa is nothing but business. Once I have what I need from the Commission, maybe I’ll have some fun with her. At least I fucking hope I can.

I shove her into my office hard enough that she stumbles, but she catches herself before her face meets the floor. She’s weak, yet somehow, exhaustion looks fucking good on her.

“Sit the fuck down,” I order, and she drops into my chair, the leather creaking under her soaking clothes.

I walk to the cabinet in the back where I keep spare clothing. I grab a black shirt and a pair of boxers, hoping they’ll fit her. When I turn back, I catch her scanning the room, no doubt looking for an escape route. But she’ll have a bullet in her leg before she even makes it to the door.

“Get dressed,” I demand, throwing the clothes at her face. She glares at me like I’m Satan himself. There’s not a hint of submission in those green eyes, even after all those days without food. “Five minutes or I’m going to undress you myself, and trust me, piccola, you won’t like my methods.”

I turn to give her the privacy to change before she catches pneumonia. The last thing I need is a sick woman to babysit.

“Four minutes,” I call when I don’t hear her move. Still no sound of clothing. “I’m not fucking playing, Alessa. If you’re not dressed when I turn around, I’ll have TJ hold you down while I rip that shirt off your body. è chiaro? ”

It must be hearing TJ’s name that finally gets her moving, because I hear the chair scrape as she stands. A smirk tugs at my lips as her wet clothes hit the floor with a slap. The sound of fabric rustling follows, but it’s her muttered curses that amuse me most.

“Two minutes.”

“You can calm your balls down, asshole.” Something wet hits my back. Did this bitch just throw her soaking clothes at me?

I spin around, fury burning through my veins like acid. My hands clench into fists at my sides, every muscle coiled tight with the urge to tear into her. She stands there, arms crossed over her chest, that defiant fire still blazing in her eyes.

“Do you know how much I could have lost with your little stunt?” I stalk toward her, closing the space between us.

“In case you don’t know it yet, Dominic,” she juts her chin forward, “I don’t give a shit. Not about you, not about the fucking Commission.”

“Well, you should. Because if you screw this up for me—“ I step over her wet clothes on the floor, ”—I’m going to fucking ruin you, Alessa. Very. Fucking. Slowly. And you’ll regret not telling me what I want to know.”

“I’m not scared of you, Dominic.” Her breath catches in her throat.

“You should be.”

“Well, do better, then,” she taunts, chin tilting up. “I mean, do you have any idea how easy it was to leave your safe house? If I hadn’t stopped running, I could have reached the city. And you know what I would have done then? Gone straight to the Commission and told them what they need without defiance, made sure you never get what you want.”

“You think you’re fucking smart, don’t you?” I lean in, resting my hands on the desk behind her, trapping her between my arms. Her scent—rain and fear mixed with that raw heat coming off her skin like honey and salt—hits me like a drug, making my cock stir. “So damn clever.”

“I’m not the one who lost my captive.” She meets my eyes, unflinching.

“And I’m not the one who stumbled into her captor’s club.” Her eyes widen as the pieces click into place. Dark satisfaction spreads through me. “That’s fucking right. I own this place. And Harold, who so kindly fed you and poured your coffee? He ratted you out the second you walked in.”

“I hate you,” she hisses, pupils dilating with rage.

“Once I get out of here, I’m going to be the worst thing that has ever happened to you.” Her voice quivers. “I will ruin everything you’ve ever worked for. I’ll watch your empire crumble, I’ll make your family bleed, and once I’m fucking done, I will bury you alive.”

I should cut out her tongue for threatening my brothers, but I know she’s all bark and no bite. Just a helpless lamb surrounded by wolves.

“Such a poetic threat. It’s adorable.” I run my thumb over my brass knuckles. “Now, want to hear my promises? When we go back to the house, I’m going to chain you in the basement myself. You’ll roll in your own piss and shit like a fucking animal. And only when you’re desperate enough to give me what I want, maybe—just maybe—I’ll let you have your room back.”

She’s got fire, this one. The kind that reminds me of the old stories about her mother. Isabella wasn’t just a soldier—she was a strategist. “You’ve got it,” she told me once after I’d handled a particularly messy situation for her. “Patient. Calculating. Remember that when you’re running things someday.” Sometimes I wonder if Alessa inherited more than just her mother’s looks.

Fear flashes across her face. Her defiant stance crumbles, and her features soften as she exhales. The moment of vulnerability reveals a crack in her armor.

“You can just kill me,” she whispers, shoulders slumping. Her gaze meets mine, and I notice pink raised marks around her neck and bruises covering her arms. I frown, wondering if the stress of the past few days is showing on her body. Because I know I didn’t put those marks there.

I open my mouth to respond when a commotion outside interrupts me. Deep male voices cut through the air, making Alessa flinch. The voices don’t belong to my brothers or my men. Something’s wrong.

“What the fuck is it now?” I grab my gun from my waistband. I head for the door but turn back to Alessa, who’s listening to the chaos outside. “Stay here.”

“I’m—“

“For once in your fucking life, Alessa, listen to me.” I point the gun at her. She swallows hard and nods. “Say it.”

“I’ll stay.” The words come out like they’re physically painful for her to say.

“See? That wasn’t so hard.”

She flips me off, and I smirk as I walk out the door to see what fresh hell awaits me. I’m actually looking forward to punching someone. Otherwise, I might lose what little control I have left and give Alessa exactly what she deserves.

I move silently toward the main hall, gun ready.

“We told you we’re coming back for more, Harold, my man,” a voice says, the thick Russian accent immediately telling me who’s crashed my club.

Fucking Dashkovas.

The Dashkova triplets think we’re cut from the same cloth—power-hungry men with short fuses, too many guns, and never enough cash. Except I have all those things—power, guns, money, and a hell of a temper. And after the day I’ve had, my patience is thinner than a razor’s edge.

These bastards aren’t Bratva or whatever bullshit they sell on the streets. No real Russian mob would touch these losers. They’re just thugs in white tank tops stained with cheap smetana sauce, wearing loose jeans that show their boxers like it’s still the ’90s.

I see TJ in the middle of the room, gun pointed at them, with Harold cowering behind him. My head of security is at a disadvantage.

“This again, really?” I step out from my hiding spot. The triplets’ heads snap toward me, eyes widening in surprise. “Didn’t I tell you I never wanted to see your faces again?”

Last time I encountered these motherfuckers, I was checking a shipment of bootleg suits. One of them is missing an index finger thanks to that night, and after I threatened to cut off their dicks and shove them down their throats, I haven’t seen them again. Until today.

“Gianelli,” the center one calls, the heaviest of the three. Fear flashes in his eyes. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Look, dumbass,” I massage the bridge of my nose. “I have a guest in the back, and I don’t want to keep her waiting. Why don’t you, Dumber, and Dumbest crawl back to whatever shithole you came from, and I’ll forget you were here.”

TJ doesn’t lower his weapon, and neither do the Dashkovas, who now have their arsenals ready—one with a revolver, one with a knife, and the other with a nail-studded baseball bat. Cristo , please don’t tell me I have to exterminate these idiots today.

“No!” Dumber screams. He’s the tallest and the shakiest of the three. “You cut off my brother’s tongue last time. It’s payback time.”

Oh. That was a tongue? My bad.

“I didn’t even remember that,” I glance at Dumbest, the tongueless one. “Shame. And here I thought you’d learned your lesson.”

“Kill this motherfucker!” Dumber charges at me with his knife. The mute brother follows suit. Dumbass points his gun at TJ and fires, but my head of security dodges just in time before turning to the two rushing me and pulling the trigger.

Dumber screams as he falls, blood gushing from his calf. “Blyad!”

Harold runs from behind TJ toward the counter, seeking cover. When my security chief turns to Dumbass, the coward’s already disappeared among the overturned tables and chairs.

I focus on Dumbest as he swings his bat wildly at my face. The air whistles as the weapon misses by inches. I duck just in time, adrenaline sharpening my senses. In one fluid motion, I rise, twisting toward him. Before he can register what’s happening, my fist connects with his face, brass knuckles enhancing the impact.

The crunch of bone shattering echoes through the room. His cheek caves in, teeth flying from his mouth, blood spraying in an arc as his massive body crumples.

I throw another punch the moment he tries to rise. His body jolts violently, more blood painting the floor as he slumps back down. Without hesitation, I pull out my gun and fire into his thigh. The crack of the bullet echoes as he howls in pain.

Blood splatters my face as I listen to his agonized moans.

As expected, these shitheads had nothing to offer. They couldn’t even save themselves.

I walk toward Dumber, who’s already pale from blood loss. I tower over him, giving him a bored look.

“I warned you last time,” I say flatly. “Cutting his tongue was me being kind. Maybe you three need a better lesson.” I raise my gun, aiming at his head as he lies helpless on the floor.

I’m already imagining his brain matter decorating my floor when a voice speaks behind me.

“You shoot him, and I’ll kill your pretty little girlfriend.”

My blood runs cold as I turn and see Dumbass.

He presses his revolver firmly against Alessa’s forehead, his arm locked around her neck, holding her in place. Alessa stands frozen, her hands trembling as they grip his forearm, trying desperately to loosen his hold, but she’s powerless.

And for the first time since I took her from her penthouse, there’s real terror in her eyes.