Page 6 of Stealing Her Heart
“A woman I intend to court.”
“Court. As in date? You don’t date,” Dita states the obvious.
“I am taking it up,” I respond, shooting her a look to shut her up. I have defended my newfound need for this woman enough times with Dario. I am not about to do it all over again with my little sister. “I am allowed to change my mind about things.”
“Sure. Sure, you can change your mind. About your tailor or where you get your coffee. About making time for a woman.... I don’t know,boss,” my sister teases me by calling me capo, grinning at me with the perfect teeth I paid for by being capo.
Shaking my head, I wipe my mouth and push back from the table. I do not need to explain myself to either of these idiots. I love them both, so their input is important to me. I often turn to one of them for counsel. Waving Dario off as he begins to follow me, I storm out of the kitchen.
In my office, I sit behind the big, dark oak desk my father used to sit behind. His favorite whisky is still on the desk beside his photo of all of us. We were out on his boat drinking good wine, laughing, enjoying a day together as a family. I wish more people got to see that side of him.
Instead, the world knew his brutality. His iron fisted rule of his borough. He was known for giving two chances but nothing more. It might have been engraved somewhere for how strictly he followed that expectation. Even with us, his own flesh and blood, he did not cater to incompetence or laziness.
Sitting at my desk, I hit a button that causes a bay of monitors to lift. This is how I watch over my kingdom. Only today, it is not the city streets or the warehouses I own that I am watching. What I am watching now is the same thing I’ve been watching all day for the past few days.
Gianna circles the yard of her father’s modest mini mansion, plucking at the petals of a flower she clutches in her fingers. Each petal is tossed to the ground at her feet. There is no sound from the half dozen cameras I had posted around their place, but I see her mouth moving.
“Little princess never stops dreaming,” I whisper, reaching out to touch the image of her on the screen.
Tracing her figure, I let out a breathy sigh. Jesus, she is a vision. All that dark hair tumbles down her back as she walks in the sunshine. In a demure white linen dress, she still looks like a fairytale princess. Just as she wants to be. I imagine her walking through the walk-in closet of my bedroom, the entire thing filled with as many bubblegum pink dresses and sparkles as she wants.
Just thinking of her being here, in my space, it makes me so hard it hurts. I’ve been aching with need for her since I first laid eyes on her. I have rubbed my dick raw as I watch her on these cameras. Seeing her living, breathing, existing, it makes something fresh and bright burn inside of me.
“Such a pretty little princess,” I hum as I light a cigar, my other hand undoing my belt.
It might be sick or twisted of me to rub one out while spying on her. I do not care. I would jerk my dick in front of her and come on her pretty tits if I could. And I will. Very, very, soon, this will be more than my daily obsession. I will have her on her knees in front of me, that pretty pink mouth open to take my cum down her silky throat.
“You will be such a good girl for me. My sweet little slut,” I groan as I fist my stiff cock, letting the sticky cum drip down my hands.
As if she knows I am watching, she turns towards one of the cameras, tilting her head back in the sun. With her arms crossed behind her, piling her thick hair atop her head, her full, round tits look divine. I imagine burying my face in those pretty pillows as I fuck her hard, my mouth suckling at one of the tight pink nipples.
I cannot think of anything else but having her. Claiming her. Fucking her sweet, tight little body for days. Once I have her, I might tie her to my bed so I can live out the hundreds of fantasies I have had about her. I think she would let me. I would be so fucking good to her. I would eat her pussy for hours, until I was drowning in her pleasure. I would suck down every sweet drop of her cum, I would live off her moans and her cries of pleasure.
“Ah fuck,” I hiss as I pump my cock faster, harder, the cloud of smoke from the cigar sweet in the air. “I am going to be so good to you, princess.”
I grunt the words as I start to come, shooting all over my desk. I can’t wait to spread her out on this very desk to devour her pretty little pussy. I am a man possessed. It will take more than a few days to work this out, it will take weeks, months. Hell, it might take the rest of our fucking lives.
“Yeah, the rest of our fucking lives,” I pant after my orgasm as I suck on my cigar. “Time to get a start on our life, princess,” I declare.
It is a promise—I will have my princess before they give her to a man unworthy of her.
Chapter Four
Gianna
Being alone is the one thing I cherish most.
Too bad I am rarely alone. Most of my life there has been someone trailing my every move. Bodyguards or my father’s friends have been my shadow ever since I can remember. I have gotten used to it, but I still try to shake them sometimes. They’re used to it and some of them even allow it.
There was a time I thought it meant my father cared about me. That he might not be able to say it or show it the way I wished he would, but he wanted to keep me safe. Now I just think he saw me as a bargaining chip that he could pull out when he needed to save his own ass.
“Behave until the wedding, Gianna. Then you will be Santino’s problem.”
My father’s words this morning echo in my head. Mother stayed silent as she often does. He provides her with a life she cannot live on her own. He is all she has ever known so I suppose I cannot blame her. I can still hate them both and I do. All I am to them is a tool, an object they can trade off to whoever they choose.
It has been almost a week since the engagement party. I have not seen myfiancésince, and I hope it stays that way. He berated me for hours that night once he got me alone. It was not as bad as it could have been. For my act of disrespect—talking to Gabriel as he commanded I do—he could have hurt me. I could tell that he wanted to. I decided that night, as he stood there shouting, red-faced, cursing and calling me foul names.
I would die before I will be his bride.
