Page 27

Alessio

My eyes snapped open but my heart was pounding and sweat dripped off me.

I blinked in the dark and the slow realisation dawned on me that Francesca was lying beside me with our child safe in her womb.

I wiped the sweat off my forehead and pulled the covers off my side of the bed, careful not to disturb Francesca.

I slid off the bed and yanked my damp T-shirt off, rolling it up before tossing it into the laundry basket.

The damn night terrors wouldn't leave, she had been abducted for twenty-seven hours but seeing her bloody, bruised and traumatised fucked me up.

The entire ordeal made me secure our home like Fort Knox.

There was gated entry with my men on guard duty, and every window and door was secured.

Night lights, high-definition cameras and Rocco became Francesca’s permanent detail.

The panic room was being built and would be finished in the next few days, I worried about Francesca inhaling the dust.

She shouldn't be downstairs since the doctor had ordered her to remain in bed, but as she grew stronger she became more rebellious.

I missed pounding her plugged ass into our mattress, fucking my sweet Kitten into oblivion always used to keep her in check.

Thankfully, it was mainly bruising, abrasions, with one cracked rib.

When I saw her lying on that filthy floor, I thought she was dead.

The doctor had checked all of her body and given her a month of bed rest, depending on how her rib healed, the time might be extended to six weeks.

I helped her with the ice packs, creams and painkillers.

Every single mark on her body was seared into my memory because I would make Clive pay for what he did to my Kitten.

Vittorio had come clean with Francesca and I’d left them to talk after seeing that Francesca was able to handle the conversation.

I rubbed my chest to ease the ache when I thought of how our child clung to life, our little miracle baby.

To witness Francesca’s joy when she learned that she was not only pregnant but no harm had come to our child was a moment I wouldn't forget.

Her sorrow, guilt and trauma lessened from the good news.

She had one more week until the doctor came to see her again. There was still a stubborn mark beneath her eye, a reminder of my failure to protect my wife.

Clive was kept in a cell I had created for sensory deprivation torture.

He came out sporadically for short bursts of relief but only because I wanted him to be aware of what was happening to him when I hurt him in ways he had never imagined.

“Alessio?”

Francesca said, her voice heavy from sleep.

“I’m here, Kitten,”

I said, returning to bed.

In the first few days she was skittish and her eyes always followed me, so I ensured I remained by her side. While she slept, I worked on my laptop and when she was awake I annoyed the fuck out of her.

I slipped under the covers and Francesca was snuggling into me, her hand roaming over my neck where my tattoo was before she trailed it down my chest, teasing me as she got closer to the edge of my shorts.

“Il mio piccolo gattino arrapato,”

I murmured, grabbing her hand before she reached my dick. My horny little Kitten.

“I can get you some pills if you need help, Sir,”

she said before she sighed and put her hand on my chest.

“I can't wait until you are all healed up so I can fuck your asshole so hard that it knocks the sass right out of you,”

I grumbled, placing my arm around her while she placed her head on my chest.

“I don't even care where you fuck more anymore, as long as you fuck me somewhere,”

she sniped at me.

“Really?”

I asked thinking about her elusive ass.

“Yes, really,”

she said, her exasperation merging with her frustration.

“Fine, you had better not back out. You have another three weeks before your rib will be fully healed.”

“Three weeks?”

she screeched, moving to sit up but I pushed her back down.

“Do you want me to make it four weeks, Kitten?”

“No, Sir,”

she said sullenly before she settled down again mumbling under her breath.

I smiled in the pitch-black room knowing exactly how I could use my donkey dick against her. She would complete her bedrest exactly as the doctor ordered her to.

***

My men came to visit Francesca, they all sat around the bed on the chairs they brought in with them. I frowned at the array of balloons, flowers and teddy bears. Francesca’s delighted expression at all the gifts made me glare at the three stooges.

The bastards, why hadn't I thought of that?

“Ewww. Who had pasta with their garlic?”

she said, eyeing them up before her eyes settled on Nero.

Armando and Silvio began to snigger as Nero narrowed his eyes on my wife. I tried to focus on my work but gave up when their chatter was more interesting.

“Why are you always picking on me?”

Nero demanded, sitting upright with indignation.

“I don't mean to, honestly, but you are susceptible and make it rather easy for me to get under your skin,”

Francesca said holding out a teddy for him as a peace offering.

“I bought you that,”

he said, his voice flat, and he pursed his lips.

“Hey, take it easy on her,”

Silvio piped up. “She wasn't wrong about the garlic.”

“Or your cologne,”

Armando joined in.

“I apologise for my rudeness, Nero. The changes in the hormones mean certain smells, uh, irritate me,”

Francesca said playing on the whole pregnancy defence as she began to rub her non-existent belly.

Well, not her cute paunch. God, I missed her juicy ass. The way it used to ripple when I fucked her tight hot wet cunt. No one could take my dick the way, Francesca could. All she needed was her ears and tail stuffed in her ass and a few lashes of the whip and she would be dripping for me.

“Alessio!”

“What?!”

I snapped at Armando, angry at him for ruining my daydream.

They were all looking at me and I was glad that my laptop sat squarely on my hard dick.

“Why are you so tetchy?”

Armando asked while Francesca covered her mouth, but it did nothing to hide her giggle.

Armando looked back and forth between us before he began to grin.

“How long are you tied to the bed, Francesca?”

he asked her, but he was looking at me with a smirk.

“Ugh, the doctor said six weeks in total so I have one more week left,”

she grumbled.

“Maybe after a week's time, my cousin will be less agitated,”

he said, slyly before he looked at Salvio.

This was the problem with blood relatives in the Mafia, you couldn't kill them unless they betrayed the famiglia.

***

I took advantage of their visit and left Armando and Salvio with Francesca while I escaped to take a little chunk out of Clive. I told Vittorio that I would take care of him but I didn't specify a time span of the said deed.

Nero came with me since he specialised in torture as my enforcer, but today, he was here to ensure I didn't kill him. I opened the metal door while Nero switched the light on. The bulb wasn't very bright, but Clive covered his eyes at the sudden light.

“I bet you wish I had shot you,”

I said to him as I crouched down to take a closer look at him.

The man was a mess. His hair was overgrown, the dark circles under his wild eyes made the white of his eyeballs stand out.

“Please, I’m sorry, let me g-go,”

he whimpered.

“How did you beat my wife, Clive?”

He closed his eyes and his head dropped down until I couldn't see his face. I took a handful of his hair and pulled his head back.

“How did you beat my pregnant wife?”

I bellowed at him, standing up and dragging him with me. “Answer me.”

“I punched her. I kept punching her until she fell on the floor,”

he cried, his eyes pleading for mercy, but I spent weeks next to my wife.

She couldn't use the bathroom by herself he had fucked her up so bad.

“And what did you do when she was on the floor?”

I asked calmly, tightening my fingers in his hair until I felt strands of his hair being pulled from his scalp.

“I kicked her.”

“Did you hear that, Nero? He beat a woman half his size.”

“Yes, Boss,”

he said, his voice as cold as my heart.

“There is no mercy for you, Clive,”

I said, releasing his hair to roll my sleeves up.

I spent the next forty minutes venting my rage on him, stopping every so often to ensure there were no fatal injuries. A few cracked ribs, his face was a bloody pulp and he lay collapsed on the floor, reminding me of how I found Francesca. My knuckles were bloodied and my shirt covered in his blood.

I stood there and stared at his unconscious body, joyous in knowing that I could do this for months at an end to prolong his suffering.

“Francesca wants his testicles,”

I said, wondering if she meant it literally.

“Are you serious?”

Nero asked, with his eyes bulging out of their sockets.

“Yeah, but I don't know if she meant it literally,”

I said walking to the small sink.

It was covered in grime but I wanted to wash that cunt’s blood off my skin.

“God, you two were made for one another,” he said.

When I glanced at him, he was pulling open the first-aid box.

“Make sure you put the chains on him. I don't want him killing himself,”

I said with a smile.

There would be no escaping the Beast.