Page 13 of The Diávolos: Part One
I hadn’t realized how much taller than her I was until I looked down and saw her big brown eyes gaping up at me. She may have been small in stature, but her mere presence loomed over me. I trembled with the need to feel her body against mine, to connect with her soul. It had almost knocked me off my fucking feet.Literally.
She is even more gorgeous up close, her beautysuffocating, blazing with a fire even the devil couldn’t handle.I couldn't keep my eyes off her. I'm positive she caught me staring. I wish I cared. As my eyes were traveling along her body, they’d landed on a scar on the inner part of her right wrist. My eyes had lingered for a fraction of a second too long and she must have noticed as she quickly covered it with her hand. Seeing her hurt didn't sit well with me, even if it seemed to be self-inflicted. I want to find out who or what caused her to need to feel pain to cope and make them pay.Why do you even care, Evan? She’s the enemy’s daughter,I remind myself.
I can’t get the feeling of her body pressed up against my chest out of my mind. The way her small frame fit perfectly in mine. I was simply going to exchange a few words with her and introduce myself, just enough to pique her curiosity and leave her wanting more. I wasn’t going to stay and use the facilities, but when I realized she was uncomfortable with the idea of shooting a rifle, I felt drawn to help her.Let’s be honest, what the fuck was I thinking? There was no way I could keep my hands off her.
It was my fault there were not any handguns left for her to shoot after all.
She froze when I stood behind her, her body’s reaction to my touch making my dick twitch. I hope she could feel it lengthening under my pants. She was wearing one of those low-cut tank tops that gave me a full view of her cleavage from my towering height and my eyes kept drifting there. The air was thick with tension between us as I’d parted her legs. I wanted to slip my fingers down her tight as sin leggings to feel the warmth of her pussy.
The way her hand had gripped the forestock had me picturing how it would look wrapped around my cock. She followed all my instructions without saying a word, and her obedience made me wonder how submissive she would be in bed. I ought to punch myself for even thinking this way. But I never claimed to be a good man.
Which is how I end up stroking my cock in the dark corner of the alley, thinking of Angelica. I suddenly snap back to reality. I shouldn’t be doing this, not in response toher.My enemy’s fuckingdaughter. Anyone could walk by and see me right now, but there’s no use trying to stop. I continue touching myself at the reminder of her body against mine. And I come so hard I think I might pass out.
* * *
Three weeksearlier
“Goddamn,” I say out loud as I open the door to the small gym in my building and I’m hit in the face with freezing cold air.
Summer has begun, and the Cebrene heat is already suffocating. My building always overdoes it with the AC. I walk to the back of the gym, passing walls covered with floor-to-ceiling mirrors, and set my bag down near the lockers.
It’s five a.m.The early bird gets the worm, as they say. I can’t be bothered to be surrounded by people. I’m more comfortable alone with my thoughts.
I connect my wireless headphones to my phone and press play on my current workout playlist before putting it in my pocket. The sound of ‘Popstar’ by DJ Khaled featuring Drake starts playing loudly in my ears and I focus on my workout.
Forty-five minutes later I’m still going strong. I take off my sweat-drenched shirt, throw it to the side and lie back on the bench to start working on my incline press. I place my hands on the bar and as I lift the rack up, I try not to think about the pressure I’ve been under these past weeks. I’m tired and overworked but I don’t let those feelings cloud my focus. I release a puff of air and slowly lower the bar to my chest, then press it back up again, over and over, only stopping when I can’t feel my arms. I keep pushing myself to the limit, as it’s the only thing that will stop my thoughts from overwhelming me. I grunt, sweat dripping down my forehead and chest all the way down to the ripples in my abdomen, and I wipe away the dampness with a towel.
Even though I stay up late most nights, I can’t sleep more than a few hours at a time. Working all day, taking calls and meetings, and going to the club afterwards to check on my crew, I usually don’t get home until one or two in the morning. Sometimes later, if a woman is lucky enough to grab my attention. Then there are the nights where my sleep is interrupted by nightmares.
However, I don’t let fatigue stop me.
I wasn’t raised to be a little bitch complaining about being tired and taking naps. My uncle, Ignatius, always taught me that success isn’t an accident. It’s hard work, perseverance, and sacrifice. So, if I have to forgo a few hours of sleep per night to be successful, I’ll do it.
But this morning, I’m struggling to stay awake.
Last night, I was at my club with Dion, Xander, and my uncle. The drinks were flowing and the ladies were flocking. I welcomed the distraction and indulged in way too much alcohol and pussy.
My uncle has been coming down on me to maintain our business relationships and meet with his many partners. I don’t normally play this part with the big dogs; I prefer to wait in the shadows for orders to punish or kill. But lately, my uncle has been occupied and distant. He’s been quiet about his whereabouts and who he talks to, which is out of the ordinary. I have a hunch he’s mixed in something he doesn’t want me to be involved in. I know better than to question him, but whatever he’s doing can’t be good news. I’m sure I’ll find out when the time is right.
On top of all the work I have to do for my club and warehouse, now I have to deal with my uncle’s cranky, man-child associates. He’s probably forcing this on me because I’ll soon take over the family business, butfuck, I’d rather deal with a nursery full of newborns than have to put up with overgrown trigger-happy babies.
Ignatius doesn’t like dealing with violence himself, so when he wants to send a message, or teach a lesson, that’s where I come into play.The Diávolos. TheDevil.
I didn’t get that nickname for nothing. I’m ruthless as fuck and I’m not scared to eliminate our enemies, even if it means getting my hands dirty.
I was what people would describe as a 'troubled' kid. My uncle found a way for me to channel my temper, use it as a weapon. Over the years, I developed a taste for punishment as Ignatius let me take my anger out on his enemies, allowing me to connect to the evil within me. I became a different person when I tapped into my rage. I knew I was fractured, but this was how I made peace with myself. By becoming the devil himself when I needed to protect my family. They say,‘to know your inner demon is to know yourself,’and I can tell you it’s true.
Yesterday, I had to pay a visit to one of the warehouses my uncle owns. He got word that some of the guys were messing up the shipment schedule, which ultimately caused a delay with one of the trucks. In the arms trade, every minute counts, and sending out a delivery late could potentially create a domino effect of problems that neither my uncle nor I want to deal with.
The workers immediately sensed trouble the moment Xander and I had walked in, looking at each other frantically or scurrying away to hide. We could hear their frightened whispers. It’s never good news when theDiávoloscomes around unannounced. I hadn’t been sent to murder these men, but I called on the ones who were disrupting the schedule. All three had knelt before me, a few feet away, while Xander aimed a gun to their heads. The goal wasn’t to shoot to kill, but if one of them tried to make a run for it, a bullet would’ve been sent right through their kneecaps.
I took off my jacket, rolled up my sleeves, and approached them. They were trembling, begging, and sniveling for their lives. I squatted down to analyze them, I could smell their fear.I fucking love it when they cower in terror at my mercy.One cried, the other prayed to God, and the third pissed himself.I fucking hate when they piss themselves.
I beat the fuck out of them in front of everyone.
“This ought to teach you all to pay more attention to your fucking jobs,” I casually stated to no one in particular. Xander handed me a rag to clean my bloodied hands and we walked out of the warehouse.
I still somehow had pent-up energy to release. That rarely happens, usually exacting punishment gives me total satisfaction, so we went to the club right after to help me blow off some steam. By steam, I mean find some hot girl and bury myself deep inside her pussy. I don’t sleep around as often as I used to, but things have been stressful at work.
