Chapter 50

Massimo had given me the choice in the shower, and I'd picked him. He warned me time and again, but I did the opposite. Little did he know, one day I would prove him wrong, and that day would be the day I won. Because in the end, he wouldn't see me as his enemy, but as his lover.

I took what he gave, and as I bounced above him, I felt the pain ease into discomfort with a lace of pleasure. It wasn't easy. Too sore, too drained.

"Alessandra."

I couldn't look down at him.

"Look at me," he barked.

I didn't.

"Fuck!"

Massimo stopped, and relief immediately returned. While inside me, his hands slid from my hips and up my waist, leaving his mark in their wake as he continued touching my skin until his hands clasped my face.

His thumbs roughly brushed over my jaw, cheeks, and lips.

"Don't look away." His tone was not to disobey.

I kept my eyes on his cruel ones.

With his hands on my face, he pulled down while his hips pushed up.

"Hmph." I closed my eyes from his force.

"Alessandra!"

I opened my eyes, and he shoved himself deeper.

With our eyes tied, he resumed fucking me, and I loosened my muscles, taking him easier than fighting him. Soon the discomfort eased, and I met his hips.

Fuck, that was all he needed.

He thrust one last time, gripping my face until warmth filled me in soothing spurts inside.

I collapsed on top of him as he let me go. Both our bodies bounced with our breathing. Both spent by our fight. Both satisfied.

We lay in silence, listening to our breathing return to its usual cadence. I breathed in his scent, memorizing the smell of his clean and masculine body wash. The blend of our chaotic time together and the new crossbreed we'd created by our skin mingling.

The aroma was unique, both present and strong, both fighting to overpower. Clashing and yet, balanced. Even our scents fought one another.

Massimo's chest caved, exhaling deeply, and he shifted slightly, ready to slip out of bed. I didn't want him to leave, not yet, not tonight. I took it upon myself to shift off him and into the bed, regretting even trying.

With his heat far from my touch, a chill crawled over my skin, and I battled my foggy mind and exhausted muscles to move.

"I'll get you a warm towel," Massimo announced with indifference and sat up.

"Just stay," I murmured into the pillow and turned my head toward him.

"The bathroom light is still on."

I hadn't even noticed how night had arrived, or how I was able to see him clearly even in the shadows.

"Leave it."

He dropped his head, eyes looking down at my sheet-covered frame, and the laziness that filled my eyes.

"You should soak for a while."

The bed dipped as he leaned back into it.

"Already did."

"You will ache in the morning." Massimo's cold voice carried through the silence, and I questioned why he was so adamant to be alone.

"Are you so miserable lying next to me that you can't stop finding different ideas to be apart?"

"My apologies for trying to help," he quickly bit. "I'll remind myself after fucking you not to offer a fucking rag or ask if you need to soak your body after being someone's punching bag for the day." I lifted my head and chest off the pillow to watch him continue. "Or better yet, give a fuck if you are in pain the next day."

I sat up pulling the sheet along with me to face his wrath and the hypocrisy of his words. How dare he act like he cares? To believe in himself.

"Give a fuck if I'm in pain?" I laughed. "You?" His gaze turned to slits. "The man whose fingers penetrated me in the shower with a smile after seeing it caused me pain? Or how about the time you smirked after I begged and cried in pain?" I clutched the sheet tighter. "Or was that not pain, Massimo?"

My cheeks flushed with heat, angry to explain how those smiles left a trace behind. Upset that I had to give and tell him something I'd preferred to keep inside. Irritated of opening up and showing him how they'd bothered me enough to speak of it.

"Are you done?"

That stronzo!

"I wiped the tears off your face after I first had you, not for fun, Alessandra. I did it because I didn't want to cause you harm or pain while I fucked you." He shifted in search of comfort, detached. "I mean, not unless it's what you want at the time." Massimo's arm creased before he tucked his hand behind his head.

"I smiled in the bathroom after hearing how long it had been since you'd been with another man. I smiled because you confirmed it while I touched you, and your tightness swore it."

I played back our encounters, and while they all aligned, he spoke so unemotionally that I only felt its distant truth.

"And I did smile when I saw your pain-ridden face when you sat on my dick. Not because of the pain it caused, but because it allowed me to realize how you can hardly call yourself not a virgin." He smirked. "Let me guess, you've tried almost everything sexual at least once, so no one could decide for you who it would be."

I looked away. My heart hammering against my chest, processing his honesty and how easily he read past my most private secrets.

"Don't worry we don't have to talk about that now."

I met his eyes.

"But Alessandra, I don't have to cause you physical pain to hurt you." He shrugged. "There are many other ways. Just now, I detest seeing a bruise on your body."

"I" I was speechless.

"Don't say anything, Alessandra. This is no pillow talk. Don't look for what isn't there."

While Massimo's insensitivity caused my chest to tighten, and the void inside to collapse all around, I respected his reminder. His warning.

We both remained silent with our eyes fixed on one another, confined to the moment. Limited by words and thoughts. My hands didn't move away from my covered chest, and he lay calmly waiting for my will to settle.

With a nod and ready to feel the pillow's comfort, I told my heart to compose, and my mind to pause. To stop feeling. To stop fixing.

At least for the night.

I pulled the sheet and fully covered my body, but the chill never broke. I pushed my damp hair above my head to remove some of the cause, but after minutes the pesty crawling chills periodically arrived.

I rubbed my feet together non-stop. I shifted around, trying to find a warmer spot. But not once did I attempt to leave the warmth beneath the cover, not to dry my hair, or to bump the thermostat up.

"What's wrong?" Massimo asked in a raspy voice.

"Nothing."

Massimo exhaled loudly but didn't ask again.

I peered over his body, appalled to see him comfortable with merely a part of the thin sheet covering him. Without a thought, I slid closer to him anticipating the warmth his skin promised. Massimo's body tightened by my path, and when my body pressed against his side, his muscles hardened. But when my cold hand landed on his burning chest, he tensed.

Darkness couldn't fail me, not tonight.

It wasn't the first time I'd felt his skin this way, but it was the first time after sex. I knew he didn't want my touch. How he wanted to keep him and I, not an "us" in my mind.

It was easier said than done because as I was pressed next to him, my body reacted with comfort and familiarity, something I hadn't experienced before with another human. Stirring something I couldn't fight against my body.

Even so, I had to hide thoughts I hardly understood.

"I'm just cold," I whispered.

Massimo didn't move me away or relax.

"Your fucking hand is freezing."

I laughed and snuggled deeper into his body. My freezing hand slid up to find a new and fresh hot spot on his body. It came to a complete halt when I encountered liquid warmth followed by a light jerk from him.

"Dio." I gasped and lifted my head. "You are bleeding again."

"Leave it." He returned my words. "It needs to breathe to heal faster."

I hated how used he was to his bleeding body. How normal he said it as if it didn't matter.

Yet, this was his life, our life.

Bullets were served for breakfast.

He never spoke of how it had happened. Always hiding and keeping me in the dark regarding the danger we opposed. That had to change, and seeing his wound, I knew I would forever hate his power by being a target.

"Sleep, Alessandra," he chided.

I lowered my head to his wound and kissed just below it. His head shook, displeased, and I didn't give him the chance to tell me not to, or to go to bed. I beat him to it with a small smirk.

"Sleep, Massimo."

"Boss."

Elio walked inside my office at Malvagio's without knocking, eyes unhinged in bloodlust waves.

We had a problem.

I raised my hand to stop the Capo who sat across from my desk. This meeting had to be rescheduled.

Elio's darkness wrapped the room with abuse and his body with impatience. He wore all black, casual. Work attire for a clean-up day, a messy day. It promised a long night.

Elio had stayed away from my path since finding him on top of Alessandra with a balled fist. Sadly it hadn't been long enough as my fingers itched for my gun. Craving pain.

He'd defied my orders and still walked alive after his disrespect. Elio had been provoked and while he should've walked away, he'd chosen to bruise her body. I'd struggled to pull the trigger on my brother that day, but I was afraid I wouldn't a second time.

"Get out," he ordered.

Renzo's attention bounced between Elio and me, waiting for my order with alarm and furrowed brows by Elio's dire demand.

Elio's temperament and ruthless soul were no secret. And while all my Capo's didn't fear much, they all feared Elio's devil when provoked and near.

"Now!"

Aware of Elio's tenacity, I downed my drink.

Renzo stood, and respectfully waited for my nod before leaving the room. Elio slammed the door behind him so vigorously that he barely missed Renzo's heels.

I took a deep breath. "He's a capo, treat him as such."

"No, he's a little bitch that can't solve his own personal problems."

I ran my hand over my face. There was no point in reasoning in his state. I flicked my wrist and glanced down at my watch. I didn't have time to deal with Elio. I only had a few minutes to change and leave for tonight's charity auction.

"I need to pick up Alessandra."

"About that."

Elio's black boots crashed loudly against the floor. He picked up the remote from my desk and flipped through the channels. I stood and watched him carefully as his eyes trained on the screen. His beard was at least three days old, and his veins pulsed in his neck while his jaw flexed. For once the sound coming from the television didn't get cut off by his channel browsing, and this time, my attention swiftly shifted to the broadcast.

"You are right, Linda. This could be the hands of a serial killer on the loose. And while the authorities are furiously investigating, panic has swept through Miami and surrounding cities after five females were brutally abused and killed last night."