Page 92 of Beauty and the Mafia Boss

It wasn't a coincidence that I wasn't alone, I just wanted to know if she had the courage to interrupt what she probably thought was an appointment to obey the absurd order to ask me, at a pre-determined time, to insert a plug into her anus.

I dismissed Dario as soon as the barely audible knocks sounded, and when Gabriella entered my room, I was barely able to place the jewel in her ass before drowning in her folds. Everything about theragazzaincites my total imbalance, and I enjoy the sensation more every day, instead of being irritated by it.

“Maybe we should take a trip to Brazil,” Tizziano suggests, forcing my attention back from wondering about being between Gabriella's legs. “If the Brazilian managed to keep Vitto distracted, the woman must really be something from another world.”

“Is that why you finally left the housemaids alone, Tizziano?” I ask, ignoring the pang of irritation that having my brother thinking about the kind of woman Gabriella is caused me. “Are you sick of Italian women? Or does it have something to do with your pursuit of my housekeeper, specifically?” The underboss's eyes narrow before he turns his face away from my questioning.

“Damn omniscient god complex,” my brother grumbles and I don't even give him a scratch of my throat in recognition.

There's nothing that happens within these walls that I don't know about. That's why those soldiers' attempt, weeks ago, to touch Gabriella left me so beside myself. Rape will neverbe tolerated within these walls and yet, those rats thought they could get away with it simply because Gabriella didn't have Italian blood running through her veins, ignoring that, regardless of theragazza's nationality, her life, as well as theirs, belonged to me to protect or exterminate, so they are dead.

And if that day the prospect of what could have happened infuriated me, today it gnaws at me with such force that it puts me on my feet. With every second, the idea of any other hand touching Gabriella, any other mouth feeling the softness of her skin and the taste of her lips, becomes even more unacceptable.

They marked her. Those sons of bitches had the audacity to mark my property, and I find myself wishing for the thousandth time that they were alive just so I could kill them, slowly, and enjoy every scream they had to give me.

“Are we going somewhere? We haven't discussed the contracts related to Eritrea yet, they need to be signed, Vittorio,” Gianni warns, standing up, as do Tizziano and Cesare, right after me.

“To the office at the training center,” I warn.

Tizziano doesn't need to know, but he's right. I'm distracted and it's going to be impossible to concentrate when images of Gabriella's naked body are attached to every wall in this room, when the sounds of her moans, her screams as she comes keep echoing in my mind just by looking at my own desk.

The TC office is a neutral environment, unless, of course, what fuels the memories in my head is not the space, but the desire roaring through my veins for me to strengthen my hold on Gabriella after the chaos installed in my mind by the simple possibility that she had been touched by another man besides me.

I open my office door and walk through it without looking back, just hoping I don't see Gabriella on the way to the stairs. My housekeeper's frightened appearance when I arrive in the living room, however, is impossible to ignore.

I stop my steps, forcing Tizziano, Cesare and Gianni to do the same. Rafaella's face becomes whiter with each word she hears through the phone held to her ear.

“I-I'll let him know,” she replies stuttering, and my body immediately tenses, despite the impossibility that anything really serious can be informed to me by a message from the housekeeper.

“What is it?” In the midst of her own despair, Rafaella only seems to become aware of my presence when she hears my voice, even though a space of less than two meters separates us. The girl blinks her blue eyes, but she doesn't respond.

“Rafaella,” Tizziano calls her, and she looks away towards him. An awkward exchange happens a second before she looks back at me.

“It was a call from the stables, Don. Gabriella was attacked by Galard.”

“What?” I hear the words, but they don't make any sense.

Gabriella has been visiting the stables for the last few days, but that hasn't worried me, even though I know the temperament of each of my animals, because thebambinanever really gets close to the horses.

I watched her on camera, several times, for much longer than would be considered acceptable, and as she did when she found me training Galard in the pen, Gabriella keeps herself far enough away so as not to invade the animals' space. The information that Galard attacked her is illogical.

“The stableman didn't s...” Rafaella begins the explanation, but I don't wait to hear the end.

With an unknown sensation making the blood throb in my ears, I go down the stairs to the exit of the house without caring about anything other than reaching my destination. In an even less rational attitude, I climb onto Cesare's motorbike, parked at the main door. The key is in the ignition, and I close the distance between the mansion and the stables in less than five minutes.

Forcing myself to demonstrate some control now that I'm in public, I park the bike as carefully as possible before turning it off and getting off. There is a cluster of employees around the huge shed that houses the horses, and the eyes of each of them are on me. I force my legs to walk as casually as always and enter the space covered by tiles.

The image I find is alarming in its essence. Galard is outside his stall. The large, imposing body is at the end of the corridor, facing me and, behind him, sitting on the floor and with her back against the wall, is a visibly affected Gabriella. There's a trickle of blood running down her forehead, and she keeps her eyes fixed on the hand that's pressing on the right side of her ribs, as if checking to make sure nothing is broken.

It's the first time ever that her eyes haven't recognized my presence immediately when we're in the same room. That, in itself, says a lot. I look around, looking for an employee, any employee, and I don't find anyone. Apparently, they all thought it was a good idea to gather outside the stables and simply leave the girl there, at the mercy of an animal whose temperament is known to be difficult. I clench my teeth to the point of pain before approaching with firm steps, without ever looking away from Galard's immense black irises.

“Walk,” I order him, opening the door to his stall, but the horse barely moves.

He seems to make a small movement backwards, towards Gabriella, and it takes a lot for me not to show the apprehension that the movement causes me. Galard has never responded to anything other than control before, and this is definitely not a time for testing.

Gabriella looks up at me as soon as she hears my voice. A few strands of her hair are loose and falling over her forehead, but I don't allow myself to focus my attention on that or any point on her body, not yet. Not until she speaks, at least.

“Everything is fine. Don't scold him, Galard has already apologized to me.” I replay her words in my own head three times before their complete lack of meaning is written across my face.

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