Diego: A Dark Mafia Hate Story (Chicago Crime Family Book 1) Page 5

  “Well, I could always call Sierra up her and let her take care of me. That’s the waitress I kissed earlier. Pretty sure I left her wanting more.”

  “No!” Donata says with desperate force. “How could you? Not after…” tears well up in her eyes and her words trail off. Not after that incredibly intimate moment, is what she wants to say. And that is why I have to slap her down. She can’t think we’re lovers. Can’t start acting like that. She has a part to play in my grand scheme, and it isn’t “girlfriend.”

  “Her or you, sweetheart. Doesn’t make any difference either way.” That’s a lie. I crave Donata like oxygen, and the thought of Sierra is enough to make my dick go limp, but I’ll die before I let her know that.

  “I’ll try,” she says quickly, and a red blush stains her face. I move so I’m standing right in front of her, and her eyes go huge when I unzip my pants and present her with my cock.

  She gets on her hands and knees. She’s awkward and tentative at first. Her teeth scrape over the head, and she gags when I shove it into her mouth, and I have to firmly hold her head still and instruct her. When I pump into her warm, sweet mouth and shove my cock halfway down her throat, she panics and tries to pull away but I trap her with my fingers in her hair and force her to hold still.

  Soon she’s into it, sucking on me hard, her tongue swirling around my engorged shaft. I urge her on with animal grunts and groans. It doesn’t take long in my aroused state before I climax, exploding into her mouth, and I force her to swallow every last drop.

  When I slide out of her, panting and satisfied, she pulls back and stares shyly at the ground.

  I feel a strange hollowness. I want to take her in my arms. I want to bury myself inside her, to murmur in her ear and tell her how beautiful and magical she is. Those aren’t options that I will allow myself, however.

  “You kept your end of the bargain. Let's go get you dressed,” I say, zipping back up.

  She looks up at me, her big eyes wounded and sad. I put that look there, and for once, hurting someone doesn’t feel so good. “I can put my clothes back on?” she says hesitantly.

  "I am a man of my word," I say. "I will never lie to you." There’s a lot that I won’t tell her, but I won’t lie.

  "Well then. Are you really going to hand me over to Angelo in 30 days?” Her sweet face begs me to say no.

  "Are you sure you want to know?"

  Her face falls, as she braces herself for the bad news. "Of course. This is my fate, my future, we are talking about."

  “Angelo gave me an order. Do you know what happens to soldatos who disobey orders? We disappear, and if we ever emerge again, it’s only in pieces.”

  I expect a tantrum or a storm of tears. Or maybe now she’ll finally beg.

  Instead, she gives me a calculating look. “Did you ever think of being more than a soldato? Of being the one who gives the orders?” Full of surprises, this girl.

  Every day.

  “I’ve risen up in the ranks, I’m not an errand boy any more. I’m the captain of a very loyal crew. I make excellent money, I command respect, and I love what I do.” That’s all true. It’s just not the full answer. But who is she to know my future plans? Only Claudio, my bartender Carmelo, and Rocco know them, and even they don’t know everything.

  Her eyes fill with pain at the knowledge of what’s facing her. Everyone knows how Angelo treats women. Hell, the way that he grabbed her tit downstairs made me want to fucking kill him; it took everything I had not to launch myself at his throat. She stares at me, and I see a shimmer of tears, but then she blinks them away.

  All she says is "I see." Strong girl. Brave girl. She still doesn’t beg me. I don’t think she ever will.

  That doesn’t mean she’s going to submit to her fate quietly, of course. She’s going to try to escape. And I’ll be prepared for it.

  And because I’m a sick, twisted fuck, I’ll not only punish her for it, but I’ll love every minute of the punishment. God, I loved spanking that ass. The sting of my palm on her flesh, the way she quivered and cried out, turned on despite herself, squirming as I heated her ass…well, great. Now I’m getting hard again just thinking about it.

  I lead her out of the room to her outfit. Claudio and Rocco are sitting on the living room sofa, drinking beer. She stiffens up and her hands move to cover herself.

  “No. You can dress, but you’re not allowed to cover yourself with your hands.” She’s about to go downstairs, and I need to drill it into her stubborn little head that she’s not my guest, she’s not my lover, she’s my prisoner.

  Claudio ignores her, but Rocco openly checks her out, just to piss her off.

  She pulls on underwear and shorts, then picks up her T-shirt. Then she shoots me a dirty look and says with annoyance “I need my bra. Did Claudio cut it up with the rest of my stuff?”

  “Excuse me?” I snap. “Try that again, with a little more respect.”

  She flushes. She can’t ever think it’s okay to speak to me in such a fashion. I will keep reminding her of her new place in the world every time she so much as slides a toe over the line.

  “Tomorrow, could I please have a bra in a size 36D?” she asks quietly.

  “Pretty please, Diego.”

  “Pretty please, Diego,” she echoes, biting her lower lip. She can’t even look at me as she says it.

  “That’s better,” I say, smiling to myself at her simmering, frustrated rage. “We’ll see. Now, let’s get that beautiful ass of yours downstairs. Brooke needs to train you to wait tables.”

  Chapter Five

  Donata

  The bar has filled up considerably since I first walked in the door. Everyone stares at me as I walk down the stairs, and I wonder how many of them have come here just to gawk and smirk. Apparently, word travels fast.

  Brooke, the dark haired-woman I saw earlier, takes me through the bar and shows me what to do. There are twenty tables and six booths. She bartends, along with a guy named Carmelo, and sometimes she waits tables. Sierra, the girl that Diego kissed, just waitresses. I’ll bus tables. There’s a kitchen in the back, and the waitresses pick up orders from a window that opens into the bar, and if it’s busy I need to help deliver the food.

  Mechanically, I rush around, snatching up empty glasses and scrubbing tables. It’s hard to focus. My mind keeps wandering back upstairs to the apartment, to what just happened to me.

  I just shared the most intimate experience of my life, my first orgasm, with a man who’s only using my body to punish me. And that’s not even the worst of it. He made me feel things I never even dreamed were possible – and he plans to discard me like trash.

  I won’t let it happen.

  I may have played the part of meek little good girl all of my life, but that just means that I was forced to learn to be a good actress. Like all the women in the outfit, I faded into the background and pretended to be invisible. Which meant that I heard and saw a lot of things – things that I might be able to use to gain my freedom somehow.

  When my father had other bigwigs over at our house, he would have me or my stepmother bring them food and drinks. They like to be served by women, and with certain topics of conversation, they didn’t trust anyone who wasn’t family.

  Sometimes they stopped talking when I set down trays of food or drink or removed them, but entering or leaving the room, I still overheard plenty. I know which of my father’s properties Tiberio and Angelo use to stash their illegal goods. I know what routes they take, and who they bribe at the airport to make sure that cargo makes it through un-inspected.

  Not only that - just knowing who came over to the house is a kind of power. I know what senators and judges and cops are in the family’s pocket.

  I’m not yet sure what information is useful, and what isn’t, but it’s all filed away in my head.

  As I work, I’m quietly gathering even more intel. I observe where the exits are. There’s a big bouncer by the door; I’d never get past him. The kitchen is a possibility, but I haven’t had a chance to explore it yet. The bathroom window is locked and the glass is too thick to break.

  Diego sits with Claudio and Rocco at the booth at the far end of the room, and I notice that everyone gives them a wide berth and nobody is sitting at the booth next to him, even though the bar is crowded. He could have chosen to speak to them upstairs if he needed privacy, but this is a show of power.

  I never see Diego looking at me directly, but I feel his eyes on me all the time, and I am sure that he’s aware of where I am at every single moment. I’m like a mouse being stalked by a lion.

  I just can’t stop thinking about Angelo, about his hand crushing my breast, about the revolting feel of his tongue sliding on his face.

  Can I possibly hope for mercy from Diego? After all, he could have raped me, but he didn't. He could have whipped me, but he didn’t. Instead he lay there with me and showed me physical pleasure like I’ve never known before; he made me orgasm and watched me with tender, passionate eyes.

  And he didn't let my father get away with slapping me.

  But he also said he wouldn’t lie to me, and I believe him. And he told me that he has no choice but to hand me over to Angelo.

  No, I’ve got to be realistic. My future depends on thinking with a clear head. Diego isn’t going to risk his life by defying one of the Calibri brothers. The only person who I can rely on now is myself.

  Grimly, I set down my tray and quickly unload the dirty mugs into the sink. “You picked up on it pretty quickly,” Brooke said, sounding mildly surprised and maybe a little disappointed.

  “You mean, for a spoiled princess?” I say wryly.

  “Something like that.” Her lip twitches in what might have been the start of a smile.

  I smile back, because I need all the allies I can get, and head across the room to mop up a table, avoiding Sierra, who’s got a sullen scowl permanently stamped on her face.

  As I move around the room, my mind drifts home to my family. The boys would have gone to bed hours ago; it’s almost midnight. Will they miss me? What will they have been told? Surely not the sickening truth of what’s happening to me, but nonetheless, my banishment will have been used as a lesson – this is what happens if you step out of line.

  My stepmother will be lying awake worrying about me, but maintaining that perfect façade. She’ll be blaming herself, because she takes responsibility for everything. She shouldn’t. My mistake was mine alone.

  My father tends to take out his temper on everyone around him – well, those with less power. He will be sullen and snappish, breathing through his mouth because Diego broke his nose. I quail at the thought of it. I always lived in fear of his anger or disappointment, and knowing how much I’ve let him down is a bitter pill to swallow. I failed at the most important role in my life: loyal daughter. That was all that I was supposed to be, the one thing that was expected of me, and I couldn’t even do that?

  All of a sudden I feel a hand on my right butt cheek. One of the guys is trying to slide his hand right up under my shorts. I act on instinct, spinning around, bending his thumb back, and forcing him to the floor. When he tries to scramble to his feet, I bend it back and make him scream.

  He manages to wrench his hand away from me, and as he leaps to his feet, I smash a beer bottle on the table, shattering it. He stands there, meaty fists clenched, glowering as I threaten him with the jagged edges. Diego shoots across the room, and the guy spins around, spluttering. “Did you see what that bitch just did to me?”

  “Yeah, I saw it. I saw you put your hand on my property. And I saw her kick your ass.” Diego’s face is set in hard, angry lines. “I don’t miss much around here.”

  The guy’s face blanches. “Sorry, I…I heard about what she did to you, and I was pissed off at her for it so I thought -”

  He makes a gurgling sound as Diego grabs his throat and propels him backwards half a dozen steps. When they get close to the door, Diego releases him – then punches him in the face so hard that teeth fly from his mouth.

  Diego turns around and raises his voice so the whole bar can hear. Every eye is on him; the music has died down and you could hear a pin drop.

  “Any of you assholes touch any of the women who work here, you deal with me.” The man is whimpering and blood and saliva stream from his mouth. “Clean that up and get the fuck out,” Diego says, pointing at the man’s scattered teeth. The guy falls to his knees and frantically scrabbles to pick up his own teeth, and blood and saliva drip from his mouth.

  Diego heads over to me, grabs me by the arm, and marches me across the room. He pushes me down the hall and then up the stairs to his apartment. I brace myself for him to punish me yet again.

  When we get inside, he lets go of my arm and I take a step back. To my surprise, he doesn’t look angry, just thoughtful.

  “Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

  “I took self-defense classes,” I say reluctantly.

  “For how long?”

  I don’t want to answer him, but if I refuse, he’ll punish me, and then he could find out anyway by asking around. I’m sure he’ll end up punishing me for something else; I might as well save myself some bruises.

  “For years.”

  “That’s not an answer.” There’s a bite to his tone now. He doesn’t miss anything.

  “Since I was eight.” The year my father married my stepmother.

  “I didn’t know.”

  I shrug. “Not something that we advertised.”

  He frowns, looking at me calculatingly. “I’m surprised Umberto let you do that. The bosses like their women passive and helpless.”

  That’s a harsh assessment, but fair. “I know. My stepmother convinced him that given our position, I was at risk of being kidnapped, and I should be able to defend my honor if necessary.” I wear a thin metal bracelet that can be used to pick handcuffs; so far, Diego’s let me keep that.

  “What kind of things did you learn?”

  “Basic self-defense.” I try to downplay it. “How to get out of a choke hold, stuff like that.” I’m kind of regretting lashing out at that guy, now. It would be better to have Diego think of me as completely helpless. It’s not like I’d ever be able to beat him in a fight, but I do know how to knock even the toughest guys out of commission briefly using pain points and body dynamics.

  I could possibly disable one of his bodyguards long enough to grab their weapon – but only if I had the element of surprise. Which I’m losing now.

  “There was nothing basic about that. You kicked ass.” His lips curl up in a smile, and the warmth of admiration in his voice heats my entire body.

  “Thanks.” I don’t know what else to say, but I do feel a little flicker of hope. If I could make him like me, if he felt more for me than lust…

  He glances at the clock. “OK, you’re done for the night.” I follow his gaze and realize to my surprise that it’s 1 a.m.

  “Strip,” he adds. I bite my lip, but after a couple of seconds I obey him, reluctantly peeling off my shirt. All of a sudden I’m up against the wall and he’s pinned my wrists over my head. He slaps my breasts hard with his free hand, and I shriek in surprise and pain. He keeps smacking me until they sting.

  When he stops, tears are running down my cheeks.

  “I did what you said!” I cry, hurt and furious. This isn’t fair. I hate everything about this new life. I follow the rules, and I don’t get hurt. That’s the credo I’ve lived my life by.

  This isn’t fair.

  His eyes blaze with anger. “You were slow, on purpose. I know you don’t like to be naked out here, in front of me, knowing that Claudio and Rocco could walk in on us in any time. And you know what? That’s why I’m doing it. In case you forgot, you’re being punished.”

  I glare up at him, blinking away tears. The skin of my breasts feels hot and achy, and even worse is the arousal that pulses between my legs now. It’s so humiliating that he has this effect on me. If he stroked me again, if his fingers slipped inside of me and pressed against that secret place, I’d come on the spot. “When I give you an order, you obey me instantly, or it counts as disobedience. Understood?”

  “Yes,” I grit out the words.

  He drops my hands.

  “Pants off.”

  I hurry to shimmy out of my shorts, dropping them on the floor.

  “Now, pick your clothing up and take it to the washing machine. I’ll show you where it is.”

  I obey him, moving fast. Anger pulses through my body, and there’s nothing I can do about it. So I stuff it deep inside me the way I’ve been taught, and keep my face blank and neutral as I toss the clothing into the washer.

  He leads me down the hallway to a small room, and opens the door. There’s no window, and the walls are smooth concrete. There is a twin mattress and a heavy wooden frame which I’m sure I won’t be able to dismantle. There is a white desk, and one chair, and a chest of drawers, and a closet.

  “This is where you’ll sleep,” he informs me.

  I look at him in confusion. “I’m not sleeping with you?” I blurt out, and I realize that I feel a faint sting of hurt.

  He shocks me by giving me a sad, rueful smile. He reaches up and strokes my cheek so tenderly that I want to weep. That hand which brutally smacked my breasts, and heated the flesh of my buttocks, has a feather light touch now. “Sweetheart, if I let you sleep with me, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from doing things to you that would make a nun blush. So if you’re ready for me, come on. Otherwise, you’ll stay in here.”

  He’s staying true to his word that he won’t force himself on me, at least. He’s leaving me that last little bit of dignity.

  “Yes, I’ll sleep in here, thank you.” I keep my voice quiet and respectful, even though my feelings are anything but. I’m angry, I’m hurt, I’m frightened, I’m frustrated…a tsunami of emotion boils inside me with no chance of release.

  “Now that’s more like it. Good girl.” He cups my chin in his hand and leans in to kiss me. I should resist, I should turn my face away, but instead I tip my head up and let him melt me with a kiss of astounding sweetness. His tongue swirls around mine, probing gently, and I respond hungrily. All too soon, he pulls away with a groan of frustration.