“Marcello,” I moaned.
I closed my eyes from the blinding pain, which eventually turned to pure pleasure. He spread me open, shoving himself deeper and deeper, burying himself inside me. I took every inch of him, and with each second, I grew closer to reaching my climax. One after the other, waves of pleasure spread over my skin. I screamed his name, letting go until my throat was raw, my orgasms leaving me speechless.
His fingers found my nipple once more. He squeezed the tiny bud as his body trembled, shaking through me. Our heavy breathing filled the air. We just fucked on the hood of his car, after we buried a body. Could we be more fucked up?
Marcello crashed on top of me and kissed the top of my head. “I didn’t want to see you again. I planned to stay away.” He sounded conflicted about his choice to be with me. “But you’re making it too fucking hard.”
“Don’t fight it,” I whispered. “I know I can’t.”
He pulled out of me, and I spun around as he discarded the condom and zipped his pants. “We can’t see each other after tonight.” He stroked my jaw with his thumb. “Don’t call me. Don’t text me.”
“Why not?”
“There’s a war coming to Devil’s Creek.”
I gasped at his confession. “Who’s coming?”
“I’m handling it,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “But I need you to stay away from me.”
“What did you do?”
“A business deal gone wrong. This is serious, Rhi. I’m not kidding. Don’t call or text. Don’t even think about me. These people are dangerous. You don’t want to pop up on their radar.”
“Okay,” I choked out. “I understand.”
Chapter Eight
Marcello
My father summoned me. Desperate for a shower, I wasn’t in the door two seconds before he sent me a text message ordering me to come to his office. I took a left at the top of the stairwell and headed in his direction. Our estate was massive, with more bedrooms and bathrooms than you could count.
I shared the fourth floor with my father. Luca had the entire third floor to himself. Bastian and Damian claimed the second floor.
My father sat in his office on a leather couch with a cigar in his mouth. Even at his age, he still had his good looks. My entire life, I considered this man the epitome of power. My father was strong and ruthless, and I had learned everything about life from him. How to survive in this world. How to inflict pain on those who fucked with us.
Luca leaned back in the armchair by the fireplace, nursing a glass of scotch. He wore a different suit than earlier, his hair freshly styled into spikes.
My dad tipped his head toward the leather chair beside Luca. “We need to talk about the Irish whore.”
“Stop calling her that.” I dropped into the chair, already on the defense. “It wasn’t her fault. Cillian forced himself on her.”
He shook his head, disappointed. “I don’t care what he did. Cillian was a Founder. She’s nothing but a whore. Indispensable. Worthless. Without Cillian, you have just fucked up the deal for the Knights.” His voice raised a few octaves, his lip quivering in anger. “You should have let him fuck her. Did you ever stop to consider what killing a Founder will mean for our family? Your actions were stupid and reckless, Marcello.”
“I’m sorry for putting us in this situation. But I won’t apologize for saving her from that monster. This isn’t the first time we had an issue with Cillian Cormac. He’s a fucking predator.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Dad snapped, flicking the ash of his cigar into the tray on the table in front of him. “The Cormacs will seek revenge if they discover the truth.”
“They won’t find out,” I assured him.
He pointed his finger at me, his dark irises like lumps of coal. “You better hope not. Cillian was a piece of shit and a horrible businessman, but his family has many connections with The Founders Society. Unfortunately, we’re not like them. So we have to work for everything we have. And I will not let your stupidity destroy what I have spent my entire life building for my sons.”
“Marcello understands,” Luca said between sips of his scotch.
As kids, my brother always came to my rescue. He defended me, even took the punishments for me. My father was a cruel man who enjoyed inflicting pain and suffering. Luca endured his torture, embraced it because he was like our father. But I was nothing like either of them. For most of my life, I wanted to be free from this family and the never-ending obligations that came with being a Salvatore.
“You’re playing a very dangerous game, Marcello,” my dad said with a bite to his tone. “We cannot afford any more mistakes.”
“We have the situation under control.” Luca’s gaze shifted to me. “Isn’t that right?”