Page 54 of Brutal Queen

We cover some outstanding supplier issues and a few ideas for tweaks to the marketing for the other clubs. Enzo throws out some ideas. He’s been relatively quiet, but I know it’s because he’s been keen to learn the businesses. When I appointed him as my underboss, he said he wanted to take time to understand the role, hence this is the first of multiple meetings I’ve arranged to check each capo’s progress in the last couple of months. But he and Dante will attend them with me, so all the finances are transparent and any issues can be addressed together initially.

It was his idea, and he wasn’t wrong. Instead of the old way of presenting weekly information at some kind of formal summit meeting, this way we get to engage with each capos on their turf and see more of the businesses for ourselves.

When we wrap everything up, Dante makes a swift exit. The man is rigid with very little tolerance for small talk, much like his daughter. Despite sharing similar demeanours, she doesn’t get many other features from him. Where Dante’s hair is jet black and seemingly resistant to the passage of time, Doc Em’s is a rich mahogany colour. His eyes are an icy blue whereas she has rich brown ones, I’m assuming from her mother, though neither one of them will ever talk about her and I was too young when she left to remember what she looked like.

As I get up to leave I add, “Can I give you a word of advice when it comes to women, Dom?”

He appears to startle at my words but doesn’t say no.

“As much as women love a grand gesture, and believe me we do, we also like it when people remember the little things. I’d maybe bring her something by way of an apology when you explain this meeting to Gabriella later. Because if I were her, there’d be a lot of shouting before I forgave you.”

“Understood. I’ll make sure to pick up some cannoli on the way home.”

“Home?Interesting choice of words there, Dom,” I say as I leave his office. I can’t help but chuckle when I hear him swearing under his breath.

When we get to the car, the driver opens the rear door for me and I ask him to give us a few minutes while Enzo heads round to the other side, slides into the rear passenger seat, and puts his arm around my shoulders, kissing the top of my head.

“You didn’t have to be quite so mean to him, you know,” Zo chuckles.

“Those two couldn’t be more obvious if they tried. It’s been going on for a while.”

“Still, it’s not kind to tease your subordinates,” Enzo chastises me.

“You like it when I tease you though, don’t you?” I reply, turning in my seat before throwing my leg over his lap and straddling his hips. He pushes his legs wider, forcing mine to follow suit… and I moan as I feel the stretch in my inner thighs. I don’t know what it is about riding this man like a prize stallion, but even the suggestion of it when I feel his thick thighs moving beneath me has me eager to seat myself on his cock.

Walking my fingers along the buttons of his crisp white shirt, I stop at the collar to pop the second button, the top already being open. Slowly easing my fingers beneath the stiff peaked collar of his shirt to wrap my hand around his neck.

“I know you love the feel of my hand around your throat. Ican feel it in every shudder of your breath and twitch of your dick. But how about I claim you?” I squeeze against his racing pulse points. “Tell me,mio re. How would you like to replace this hand with a collar?”

Rocking against his cock and flexing my fingers, I bite my lip with smug satisfaction when he closes his eyes like he’s savouring my touch.

“Would you like that? A constant reminder of who you belong to?” I purr in his ear.

“I’d fucking love it,” he growls, a second before bringing his lips to mine in what I’m expecting to be a wild and lustful kiss that descends into chaos, but it’s delicate and so very soft that I find myself dropping my hand from his neck and hugging him close. I kiss him long and slow before pulling back and staring into his eyes.

“You’re mine, Enzo Moretti.”

“Forever fucking yours, Don Bianchi.”

There’s a loud, and overdramatic slam of the front door, where my driver, Michael, makes sure to announce his entrance into the front seat. I let out a strangled laugh and dismount Zo’s lap. As much as I hate the interruption, we don’t have time for this now. We have more pressing matters to attend to.

Zo leans across and kisses my temple. “We’ll pick this up again later,mia guerrierotta.”

“You can bet your ass we will, Zo,” I reply with a smile laden with promise.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

ENZO

Checking my phone, I see a message from Nico confirming which wet room he and Etta settled on before relaying the address to the driver. I also see that we’ve been sent updates while we finished up the meeting. The girl is at the hospital safely in Doc Em’s care, Sinclair is already at the wet room, and Stefano and Luc are heading back to the warehouses to carry on with the full inventory I asked for. We need to know what’s currently in our arsenal.

I lace my fingers with Aurora’s, running my thumb over the back of her hand. Taking over as underboss has been a steep learning curve. However, it’s been a good distraction from the intense physical therapy the surgeon recommended. If Doc Em hadn’t insisted I keep going with it, I’d have given up after the first week. It was worth it though, as I’ve regained almost complete mobility in my shoulder and the pain has eased considerably, which is handy since Aurora allowed her inner rigger out to play. That was a surprise.

Every time she lays her hands on me, she exposes a new hidden desire. The ropes, the squeeze of her grip round my neck. And fuck me. When she said the word collar, I felt like my mind had ascended to a different level of consciousness. Even thinking about it now makes my pulse race. Just the idea of her placing something on me that declares me as hers makes my cock throb.

However, every time I try to picture anything metal around my neck, I’m assaulted by vivid flashes of my time with Max. The iron collar in the cell. The barbed wire on the St Andrew’s Cross. The heavy chains he used to strap me to the surgical table. They race around my mind like cattle stampeding, getting more out of control the longer they’re allowed to run free.

Aurora must notice the shift in my mood because she’s turned our hands over and has started mirroring me, running her thumb gently over the back of mine.

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