Page 46 of Dark Mafia Heir

I add another finger and squeeze into her tight pussy.

“Antonio...” Her eyelids flutter shut. Hearing my name pour from her lips ignites a fire in my groin, burning, consuming, until I’m not thinking straight.

“That’s it, call my name,gattina.”

My nails dig into her hips, and I move my fingers in and out of her. I am almost fucking shaking when her moans grow louder, echoing off the bathroom walls, hitting my ears like they’re begging for more.

Her walls clamp down on my fingers, squeezing tighter, and I know she’s close, but I take my fingers out, and she whines in protest.

Vivienne flips around, green eyes clouded with desire, and before I mumble a word, she drags my lips to hers and rips my shirt open. I lift her legs off the wet tiles, and she feasts my hair with her fingers.

When I thrust into her, she cries into my mouth, writhing in pain. I’d gone in too hard, too quick. But she doesn’t tell me tostop. So, I kiss her gently, pull out of her, and slide back in, slow enough to soothe the sting.

I shouldn’t care that I physically hurt her, but I do.

And I fuck her slowly, peppering her neck with tender kisses I didn’t know I was capable of giving. She shuts her eyes, parts her lips, and squeezes me hard when her orgasm hits like a storm.

I don’t remember what I mumble in Italian, or what she leans to whisper into my ear, but her beautiful face is all I see when I explode and come inside her.

17

Vivienne

“Twelve bloody. . .argh!”

I’m almost pulling my hair out when I get to the thirteenth CCTV camera hoisted by the side of the house, which is partially hidden by a bunch of overgrown leaves from a nearby tree.

This wasn’t the initial plan—spying, moving around the large estate, counting the installed security cameras. No—as hard as it might seem to convince anyone who accidentally catches me in the act—this wasn’t the plan.

It’s a warm afternoon, one I initially planned to enjoy with an aimless stroll around the vast estate, and surprisingly, it was going really well. I mean, after spending one week indoors, reliving the heated shower sex moment, I needed a break, and a change of scenery.

The sun shone on the big house, and other houses littered around. The grounds looked amazing, and the structures blended nicely with the trees and grass around them.

The lawn was perfectly cut, the flowers blooming beautifully, the air smelling sweet and fresh. I heard the birds chirping and leaves rustling in the breeze. Hidden behind the house were some orchards. Rows of fruit trees stretched towards the sky. I went in and out of the orchard, and stood on my toes to gaze at the distance. It looked like rolling hills, green pastures, and I desired watching the sunset on that scene.

Life, in that small nick of time, seemed good, and normal. As normal as it was when I played with Harper in our make-believe garden back at home. As normal as was it was when I moved about with my head held high, breezing in and out of any club I saw fit.

That was until I was reminded about how I got here in the first place. Absolutely nothing about that was normal. Yes, I was kidnapped by my husband, and with that came the responsibility to recall my plans to escape from all of this.

The memory burns in my mind, a vivid and unrelenting image that refuses to fade no matter how hard I try. I can still see Antonio standing amidst the terror, his dark eyes cold as ice as he moves like a predator through the bloodied remains of my father’s men.

It isn’t just the violence that haunts me—it’s the reason why he did it. Taking men’s lives to pass a message of just how cruel he really was. Men who had served my father for years reduced to a heap of silence and soulless bodies.

I could still feel my heart pound in my ears, the fear seizing me as I realized that day was probably just another day for him, nothing special.

Every time I remember Antonio doesn’t look like a monster, that is the most unsettling part. He was always controlled, almost regal in how he carries himself, as if what he’d done was beneath him, but necessary—it was terrifyingly composed.

Thatis what led me to start this devious act of mine, and my mind was almost blown at the number of security cameras in the house. How many did someone really need?

It doesn’t matter.

I can’t stay here, anyway. Not in this life, not under Antonio’s shadow. Whatever my father had done to bring this upon us doesn’t matter either.

Antonio might think he owns me, that I’ll cower like some obedient pawn in his games. But he’s wrong.

I would find a way out. Out of his reach, out of this nightmare. No matter how long it took, no matter what I had to do, I would escape Antonio and this fucking world he thinks he’s trapped me in.

I start making a turn around the house, back to the front, when movement at the entrance makes me pause.

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