Page 64 of The Boss
Toscani was almost a clone of his father, with the same deep olive skin and dark locks of hair. He had the same nose and jaw, and the only difference Conall could see was the sharp blue eyes, the complete opposite of Folliero and Elio’s warm brown.
“So we’ve finally caught Killough’s pet. Good job, men.” Toscani’s smile sent chilling shivers down Conall’s spine. Sloan wasn’t the nicest person, but Toscani was downright terrifying. The ill intentions were clear in his gaze as he dragged it along Conall’s body with interest. “I always wanted to see what Killough liked in you. So far, I’m impressed. You’re beautiful.”
The tips of his fingers dragged down Conall’s chest, sending a tremble of disgust through Conall. He glared, and went to kick out with his good foot, but Toscani seized his ankle before he could.
Toscani tutted at him, his grin widening. “Naughty boy. Do I have to break this ankle, too?”
Had he been watching them the entire time? Conall sneered at him. “Do it. I don’t care. Sloan will be coming for you. I can’t wait for him to get here.”
Toscani’s confidence didn’t dwindle; if anything, his smile grew bigger, and it was distressing to be near. He walked and talked with a calmness that frightened Conall down to his bones, and it made him wonder if Toscani had done something so Sloan couldn’t find them.
“Give me the knife.” Toscani held his hand out and the other man passed it to him. He held it in his palm, as though weighing it, his thumb caressing the blade. “You have such beautiful skin, Conall, I can see why you’ve become Killough’s favorite. You’re very pretty.”
“I’m notpretty. Pretty is what you call a woman.” He curled his hands into fists and wiggled his wrists, but the ropes were tied too tightly, and he didn’t have a chance of loosening them. His skin burned from where the rope rubbed up against it, and his body’s humming throbs of pain reminded him of the injuries he’d already sustained. He didn’t need to piss them off more, but if they were going to do it anyway, he’d prefer to give it back to them.
Toscani laughed deeply and stepped closer, reaching out to touch Conall’s chest. Conall tried to wiggle away from his fingers, but he couldn’t get far enough to avoid him.
“Don’t touch him,” Ronan snapped.
Toscani rolled his eyes. “Shut the help up.”
The monster of a man stormed around them and aimed his fist into Ronan’s jaw. Ronan’s head jerked back with the force of the punch, and Conall cringed at the sound of crunching bones. Then the monster forced a cloth into Ronan’s mouth to keep him quiet.
“Let’s try that again,” Toscani whispered gently, as though talking to a child. “Are you going to cooperate?”
Conall’s lips curled into a gentle smile. “Go fuck yourself.”
Toscani’s disturbing laughter made Conall’s body go cold all over. “No, I’m going to fuckyou.”
His eyes widened, and more than fear filled him. He expected to be tortured, his skin cut and bruised, but he never actually thought aboutrape. “If your cock comes anywhere near me, I’ll bite it off.”
Toscani tutted again, and Conall decided it was the most annoying sound in the world. “Can’t do that if it’s in your ass, pretty.”
He clenched his teeth, anger licking at his insides. He’d die before he let that bastard near his arse. Sloan was different, he’d interested Conall from the start, but this guy was nothing more than a sneaky rat that needed to be stomped on.
“But first, I want to see how much you bleed.”
Conall struggled against his bonds, but it was no use. Toscani was too close, his spicy cologne too strong, and there wasn’t a damn thing Conall could do to escape him or the blade pressed against his chest. The first slice was shallow enough that only a small bit of blood welled at the wound, but deep enough to earn a hiss from Conall.
“I love hearing my victims scream,” Toscani said, his New York accent coming out as a drawl. “Can you scream for me, pretty?”
“I’llneverscream for you,” Conall hissed in response.
“We’ll see about that.”
The next cut was deeper, and a gasp escaped from between Conall’s lips before he could stop it. The blade carved across his right pectoral muscle, above the other shallower cut. But he didn’t scream. He wouldn’t scream.
Toscani stared at the blade, glinting except for where Conall’s blood coated it. “Your blood is as beautiful as the rest of you.”
Conall laughed abruptly. “You’re fucking crazy.”
“That’s what my mother said before I carved her into pieces.” He looked at Conall with those cold eyes, and Conall felt the stare right to his bones. “I sent her limbs to my father one box at a time. He still doesn’t know it was me.” He slid his fingers over Conall’s cheek and down his neck, pausing at the collar. He traced it, as though it was the most intriguing thing he’d ever seen. “What would Killough do if I send your limbs to him?”
“He’d find another pet.” Conall shook his head, jaw tight and lips pressed together tightly. “I’m not special to him.”
“Hm, I’ve been watching Sloan Killough for a long time. Trust me, you’re special. Well, you were.” His gaze glinted with a kind of maliciousness Conall hadn’t seen before, and a protectiveness rose inside him. He had to protect his boss at all costs. It was hard enough seeing Sloan being smashed across the head, he wasn’t going to let this bastard in front of him win.
“I met your brother and father the other day. Nice guys.” Conall forced a smile onto his face. “I’d have no problem fucking Elio. He’s hot and he’s the actual heir to the Folliero mob. He comes with power, unlike a bastard son like you.”
