Page 10

Chapter 10

Vito

2 months later

It's been fifty-nine days. The Chamber cleared Raf and me for any involvement in Aiken's death or guilt of any kind, but we're no closer to finding Aiken's killer.

Babbo 's health continues to decline. It's November now, and I'm not confident we'll have him at Christmas.

Word is out about our father's decline, and the reins have fully been handed over to Massimo. Our enemies are pushing and testing with the change in leadership to check for any weaknesses, which means I'm busier than ever.

Music thumps in my playroom while I 'play' with the piece of shit I have down in the basement.

The Czech mafia soldier hangs from his wrists, wrapped in chains from the ceiling. His screams and wails are diminishing, so Raf lowers the music, knowing that I love to hear my enemy's pain. This piece of shit is about to pass out on me again, so I slap his face, making spit and blood fly from his lip and nose.

"Wakey, wakey, Havel," I croon, getting right in his face. "Now is not the time for sweet oblivion."

Havel doesn't even try to lift his head. But his breathing tells me my slap has dragged him back to his hell.

Raf chuckles, leaning against the wall, twirling a toothpick in his mouth. "You want me to hit him with another shot of Epi?"

Before I can decide, the door to my playroom opens, and Massimo walks in. His dark brown eyes lock on me before they flick to our prisoner. His face is cold, hard, and filled with wrath and hate.

Massimo often is unreadable, but with this piece of shit, he's an open book.

Our family doesn't participate in or condone human trafficking in our territory, and the Chamber stands behind that as well. This stupid Czech soldier was not only trespassing into our territory but was transporting cargo not allowed.

"Has he told you anything yet?" Massimo asks me, but his eyes don't leave the man hanging from his wrists as he prowls around him.

I've worked Havel hard over the past two days. His body is slashed everywhere and has chunks of flesh missing. His eyes are slits, and his nose is mush. He's missing all his fingers and toes, with the flesh cauterized so he didn't bleed out, and missing all but four teeth. His broken ribs, based on his breathing, might be starting to puncture his lung.

Oh, and his dick is gone—courtesy of a dull knife that I used to saw it off.

Not that I have a cock fetish. I sawed his dick off because this motherfucker was transporting a woman who had been violated in heinous ways, and who likely died from her injuries in the trunk of Havel's car.

"He's got nothing to tell us." I sigh, walking to the table and setting my knife down. "Like the other two Czech soldiers we've caught in our territory, he's low-level and knows nothing. He was only transporting. Expendable if he gets caught."

"Fuck Simon Novak," Massimo growls, pacing around Havel with death in his eyes. Simon Novak is the leader of the Czech mafia and an increasing pain in our ass as he's one of the enemies testing us for weaknesses.

Massimo clenches his fist as he stares at Havel's lowered head, who whimpers as he floats in and out of consciousness.

I can see Mass is about to unleash. He leaves the wet part of this world to me for the most part, but his frustrated rage is demanding blood for blood. "The woman this fuck was transporting has been missing for almost a year."

"The Feds identify her?" Raf guesses.

Massimo plays nice with the authorities when it suits our needs and has a connection with Andrew Glass, the FBI director.

"Tahlia Voss," Massimo growls. "An American who went missing in Brazil."

"Same M.O. as the last two women when we intercepted the Czechs." I frown. "Novak has a regular source. A ring."

Massimo's dark eyes meet mine.

Sophie had been saved from a ring—a death ring that was also involved in sex slavery. We always felt that her father, Geraldo Ortez, and the group he worked with, had a third party backing them to do what they did. Because they had the balls to do it in our territory, as well as a rival cartel's territory, which marked Ortez and his companions for death by their cartel, yet they still risked it.

However, if a third party was involved, they never acted further against Sophie once Ortez and his co-conspirators were blown to smithereens. Still, we're always alert and cautious regarding Sophie and that past threat.

"Czech mafia is relatively small-time," Raf chimes in. "They have to be allying with someone."

Someone bigger, more powerful.

I agree, as does Massimo, but who is yet to be seen.

We've suspected Eduardo Tocci, a Don with La Famiglia— another Italian mafia syndicate — who rules Las Vegas. He's close territory-wise, has a history of hate for the Santoros, and is deep into peddling flesh. He's another motherfucker I'd like to put into the ground. It's rumored that he has a network of brothels where people are forced into servitude and force-fed drugs to keep them out of it. He's also rumored to run auctions where sick fucks around the world can buy people of any age—the vilest form of 'online shopping'.

We've been searching but have yet to find any evidence to confirm that he's backing the Czechs.

Massimo links his fingers and cracks his knuckles. "Turn off the music, Raf. I want to hear every grunt of pain and every single scream."

I grab a needle of Epi off the tray. Going to Havel, I grip his sweaty hair to yank his head back and slam the needle into his neck, slowly depressing the plunger.

"You want to change so you don't wreck your pretty suit, Mass?" I look at his immaculate suit while my jeans and shirt are covered in blood.

He doesn't answer me, though. Just lands a powerful punch to Havel's side. The sound of bones crunching—breaking further from the damage I inflicted previously—fills the room. Havel's screams follow as he snaps to full consciousness, both from the punch that was like a sledgehammer and the adrenaline now rushing through his body.

"Tahlia Voss." Massimo seethes in Havel's face, gripping his chin to force his head up. "Did you even bother to learn her name?"

Havel howls in pain as Massimo damn near crushes his jaw in his massive hand.

"You fucking piece. Of. Shit." He shoves Havel away, making him swing by the chains wrapped around his wrists, causing more agony. "I vow to make your remaining breaths as painful as fucking possible."

Havel whimpers.

Massimo's huge fists are a flurry after that, raining down pain and judgment on this man's flesh, extracting his pound of flesh for justice for the poor woman.

Raf and I stand by and watch, letting Mass have his fun. He stalks over to the table and grabs a knife and screwdriver. He rams the screwdriver into Havel's thigh, then twists it, and pulls it out. He does it over and over again all over Havel's body, but without delivering a fatal blow.

Massimo switches to the knife. I suspect what he's about to do; when he 'plays' it's gruesome as hell.

"Shit, he's gonna do it," Raf hisses. Not because he's averse to what's going to happen, but because it makes a fucking mess.

Massimo slams the knife into Havel's stomach, right under his ribs. Havel is losing consciousness, but when Massimo forces his hand into the wound, ripping the delicate tissue, he wakes and screams again. Massimo breathes like an enraged monster as he forces his hand in deeper, then yanks his hand out, pulling whatever organs and tissue he can grab to the outside of Havel's body. Havel's shrieking screams quickly die out as death rushes to claim him.

"Burn in hell, you fucking pig." Massimo slashes his throat, finally ending him. The smells of death permeate the air and his massive frame heaves as he gets his rage under control.

"That's why I don't wear the expensive monkey suits, brother." I smirk.

Massimo twists his head to look at me. "You're a cunt."

My body instantly reacts, associating that with my forbidden fruit, Eden, but I ignore it like I always do.

Massimo straightens up, adjusting the soaked bloody cuffs of his shirt. Everything will have to go in the incinerator. I have a specially formulated soap that destroys the blood from the skin and hair, but I don't have clothes here that fit him. I'm slightly taller than Massimo and more chiseled, but he's a beast in the width department.

"You need to keep clothes here."

He shrugs. "I'll get Gabe to go grab me some."

Raf takes his toothpick out of his mouth and grins. "It's always a pleasure to watch you work, Mass. I'll get Mario started on cleaning this mess." He leaves through one of the hallways that lead deeper into space.

"You took away all my fun," I taunt, but I'm not serious. "You gonna make this a regular thing now that you're Don?"

Massimo doesn't take my bait. Instead, he regards me with a brooding expression. "This situation with the Czechs is exactly why I need you as my second, Vito."

"No, this situation is why you need me in the role I've always played, Massimo. On the streets, finding our enemies, protecting our family, not behind some desk and just talking about shit."

We've been having this argument for months.

"My second wouldn't be stuck behind a desk just talking about shit, and you know it." He places his bloody hands on my shoulders. Brothers bounded by love, loyalty, and blood. "I need you by my side, Vito."

I grip his shoulders back. "And I am by your side."

"We can make this work. It doesn't have to be the conventional roles and how it's been done in the past. We can carve it out for how we'd want it to work."

I scoff and shake my head. "You're the most conventional out of all of us, you grumpy motherfucker."

A smile tugs at his mouth, but it fades quickly. "I'm trying not to be so conventional and traditional—for you, for the family. But I need you, Vito. I don't want to play the Don-card, but if I'm forced to, I will."

I hiss out a breath.

His eyes have a quiet resolve in them. "Raf can take a larger role on the streets—here in the city and in our broader territory. I'm not asking you to give that up; I'm just asking you to fit in some additional roles by my side. Zio Marco is willing to absorb some, too, along with his consigliere role."

"So we're going to job-share the second-in-command?" I scoff. "It already sounds like a fucking office gig."

He smirks and squeezes my shoulders, then releases me. "We can tailor it to how you want." He points a bloody finger at me. "Within reason."

I grind my jaw. "Two men doing the job of three… that sounds like a risk to the Don and family, Massimo—"

"Not when it's you and Marco. It's quality over quantity." I grunt, but he continues, "Our surveillance and gathering intel teams are the strongest they've ever been. Our security team has always been top-notch under you, and you can expand however you see fit. Raf is more than capable to take on more. We'll make it work, I promise."

I stare at my brother. He's a strong and capable leader. His nature is to be rigid and conventional; however, he really is trying. My brother needs me. My family needs me.

After I nod, he pulls me in for a hug. "You go shower first," I tell him. "I'll help the guys with the clean-up."

Then, after I'm scrubbed clean and have fresh clothes on, I need to get to Gilly's.

I'll tell myself it's to meet Hugo, Dom's second-in-command, because we're helping the Saints with a rival gang problem. However, I know that's a bald-faced lie.

In the past fifty-nine days, my father's decline, Massimo's taking over as Don, and our enemies challenging us haven't been the only things that have progressed. My obsession with Gilly's owner-operator has as well.

Eden.

Time has not eased the ache in my balls from not being able to fuck her. I fantasize about her everywhere and all the time, especially as I secretly watch her work at Gilly's.

My fantasy today is about bending her over her desk, spreading her ass cheeks wide so I can watch my cock impale her pussy while I play with her tight, quivering asshole. I'd splay her on the desk, eating her pussy and forcing multiple orgasms until she begged for no more. Then I'd cover her magnificent tits with my cum.

It's been weeks—well, two months, but hey, who the fuck is counting?—since I got laid or even answered one of Lexa's booty call blowjob requests. It's ridiculous; I haven't touched another woman since Eden came into my life. I can't fuck or touch another woman, even though I can't fucking have Eden.

And my want and lust for this woman is goddamn torture.

Multiple times a day, I curse I hadn't fucked her before she became Aiken's successor. Because if I had, she'd be out of my system already. I could've one-and-done'd her and been done with it all. If it came out that I had screwed her, no one could say shit because it happened before she was off-limits.

This untouchable, forbidden bullshit is making it worse. Just like telling a kid they can't do something, which only makes them want to do it even more.

But instead of getting my hand slapped because I stole a cookie out of the cookie jar, fucking Eden could have dire and deadly consequences.

If I could sink my cock into her someplace we'd never get caught, I'd jump on it. I had even played around with the idea of meeting her outside of the city, maybe some place hot and tropical; however, even though I'm the risk-taker in my family, this is a line I don't dare cross.

It would only be a problem if someone found out you fucked her , my mind urges me to fall prey to my growing obsession.

But it isn't only the risk that's stopping me; it's the fact that Eden is completely and totally uninterested in me. Most women fall over themselves trying to get my cock; however, with Eden, maybe she really isn't into cocks like she hinted.

Or maybe she's into cocks and doesn't want yours.

Regardless of the ache in my balls and how my cock leaks pre-cum just by having her in my sight, I still go to Gilly's at least once a day. Usually at night, which isn't out of character for me, but lately, I've been going there in the afternoons, too—once Eden has started her shift.

I want to be in her domain—in the Garden of Eden, trying not to take a bite of the forbidden fruit that tempts me day and night.

I fully acknowledge my weakness and that my want for a woman, my want for this woman, is consuming me.

But just like all the other times, it doesn't matter what I tell myself or how I justify it; I'm still going to go. Willingly. With a hidden smile.

Because, even though I can't touch Eden, seeing her is the absolute best part of my day.