{EDMONDO'S POV}
**I’m sick.Sick of the damn reports. Sick of the lies. And sick of her. Every damn day, I feel it creeping in; questions that claw at my insides.Where is she?Why hasn’t she come back?Is she fine?Has she eaten?Hope mother isn't making her feel unwelcomed?What is she up to currently?Is she on her way here?Is she outside my estate gate?Should I send a message?Maybe an order to bring her back?Damn, I'd told myself she’d return after I shooed her that night. I’d told myself she wouldn’t give up. But no. No, she didn't.A week has passed, and not a damn word. A week and four days since I last saw her, a week and four days of wondering if I made the right call by telling her to get lost.Wait. Hold on. Am I missing Cara?Shit.Fuck, anyway, I kept an eye on her through my men and the{CARA'S POV}**I slip out of the room as quietly as possible, though my movements are deliberate and cautious. The place is silent. Everyone is deep in sleep. The darkness is swallowing everything whole. There’s a heavy weight on my shoulders, a feeling. It's a feeling that something.. or someone.. is watching, waiting for me to slip up. I stop by the dining table, glancing around. My pulse quicken. And there she is. Madre Padrina.She doesn’t say a word. Just watches me. Her eyes carry the kind of weight that makes my insides tighten. There’s a knowledge there, a wisdom… or maybe just the weight of secrets I’m not privy to yet. I brace myself, ready for whatever’s coming. But instead of questioning me right away, she simply speaks.“You’re going out, I see.” Her voice is calm and smooth like she’s asking about something as casual as the weather. But I know it’s a test. It always is
{CARA'S POV}**“I beg you, Edmondo. Please. Please have mercy.”I’m on my knees. Begging. “Please, Edmondo, I beg you.. don’t, don’t do this,” The words tumble out, desperate, weak. But I can’t stop myself. I feel the cold floor beneath me and I inhale the smell of urine spoiling in the air; Pietro’s piss, I’m sure of it. He must have pissed on himself out of fear.He’s standing there. Edmondo. His shadow is long and dark behind him, cutting through the dim light. I can feel the heat radiating from him. It's a smoldering, red-hot anger curling around us. I don’t know how much longer Pietro’s going to last under Edmondo’s gun. The barrel’s pressed against his head, and I can practically hear the blood pumping in Pietro’s temples. One wrong move. One slip from me. And I’m sure Edmondo would pull the trigger, ending him right here. I don’t think he’s bluffing. I’ve seen it be
{EDMONDO'S POV}**I’m sitting in my study, my eyes fixed on the computer screen, but my mind is elsewhere. The hallway is quiet, lit only by the dim light flickering from above. The silence makes everything feel worse. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle from the rooms nearby is sharp against the stillness.And then I see her. Cara.She comes out of my room. Completely naked. As I had commanded. It's just her damn fiery red hair cascading down her back that she has on. My breath hitches in my chest.But I don't let it show. I sit back in my chair, staring at her for a long moment from my computer. She doesn’t know I’m watching, but I am. And there’s something about that; her walking out like she owns the damn place… it pisses me off and gets me turned on at the same time.I stand up slowly.I walk toward the door of my study. My footsteps are soundless like
{EDMONDO'S POV}**I don't know whether to laugh or fucking snap. Out of the three men in the room, two have their heads down, too scared to even look up. The third? He’s foolish. He's just staring at my Cara. His eyes are glued to my Cara's curves like she’s some damn piece of meat for him. I see the way he’s ogling my Cara: her ass, her breasts. It's disgusting. And pissing me off. That's it. I’ll be needing his two eyeballs after I’m done with Cara since he can't fucking keep it to himself. I won’t kill him, no. He’ll still be alive, but those pretty little eyes of his will be gone. They’ll be put out for free donation. But for now, I push the thoughts away. Cara with her body shaking, walks in, head down. I see the tremble in her. Probably from watching me become the monster, the devil she never thought I could be. Maybe I’ve scared her. Doesn’t matter still.
{CARA'S POV} * * Before I can process his command, my body obliges. Next, Edmondo is kissing me before the three guys who stood just by the door. His kisses are slow and deep. Hot and electrifying. Better than the kiss with Pietro. Best. He's savoring me through my lips. And it's turning me on. My body is straining against the table in between us. Yet, my hands reach out and grab his shirt. I feel a want… or is it a need? I don't know. All I know is that I want to feel his body against mine. “Genziana,” I find myself whispering for no reason at all. I don't even know what the word means or is. Oh, yeah. Mio Dio. It's the drink I sipped, or gulped from Edmondo's cellar. It's a tiny alcohol cellar and it's beautiful. Ugh, blrr… Everything seems to be slow. I’m feeling the alcohol and the courage is pushing me to speed thi
{CARA'S POV}**"Let’s fuck, Cara,” he says. No. He orders in a low, calm way as he reaches both hands up to my chest. His left hand cups my breast. The other reaches underneath, where my scars are to trace it. His voice is gravely cold and full of desire. “I'd make you two promises. One, I won't fuck hurt you but I won't hold back either. Two, you'd scream so loud, every damn soul in this estate would find it hard to sleep after your scream must have awakened them.” My mind spins. The spinning has quite little to do with the alcohol and a lot more to do with knowing he is in total control of me and what happens next. I’ve never trusted a man with total control aside from Edmondo. Now, fear isn't even involved. Hey, now if we're talking about the ‘nevers’; I've never had sex before. Ha! And then again I’ve never been tied to a coat rack either.
{CARA'S POV} * * “It’s Cum, Cara. And I know you liked that you let it out on my face.” He reaches up with one hand and works on the knot binding my hands while his other hand works on me. As soon as I feel my hands free they’re shamelessly on his belt, unbuckling and pulling it out of the way. Bitchy Me. Mio Dio. I don't know where it comes from but now I start to imagine having his manhood in my mouth. And that stupid thought makes me seem… frustrated. It's the magazine. Agata's magazine. She'd brought it one of the days she came to stay over at my place. Papà never lets us touch those stuff. In fact, anything girly, anything that gives us the impression that we are girls… he made sure we never got that. One time I had gone to stay with them for a week in the estate, I got to find out my sisters used sanitary pads secretly. He never got those for them
{CARA'S POV}**My body is still trembling from the sex rounds. My mind is a whirlwind of emotions. We've gone four rounds and it's almost a bright morning. The alcohol did help. The courage, the stamina… and now, I'm finally coming down to my weak self. My eyes are clear now.Mio Dio.I don't know how it got to this point, how I ended up in his bed, tangled in his sheets, my body humming with a strange mix of exhaustion and satisfaction. What I do know is that the night started in chaos. But now... now I feel warm. Safe. Happy, even.I shouldn’t be happy. Pietro is suffering because of me. Edmondo made it clear what he did to Pietro. But despite everything, I can’t deny the fire Edmondo has ignited within me.He’s lying next to me, his eyes closed, his breathing steady, like nothing ever disturbs him. He’s carved from stone, I swear. This man is so cold and unyieldingly forceful… yet when his h
{BONUS × FINAL CHAPTER} * * The first time I hear the fridge open, I ignore it. The second time, I hear the unmistakable clatter of a spoon against a plate. I ignore it.. again. I roll over, reaching for Carina and as I suspected, her side of the bed is empty. It's warm but empty. The third time I hear noise, I sit up, groggy and blinking against the dim glow of the kitchen light spilling into our bedroom. “Carina?” With that follows an funny, guilty silence. Then, a crunch sound. I throw the covers off and shuffle to the kitchen, where I find my very pregnant wife sitting on the floor in one of my old shirts, surrounded by an assortment of food. A half empty tub of ice cream. A jar of pickles. A box of cereal. A slice of pizza on a napkin. And, God help me, a jar of peanut butter with a spoon sticking out of it. She looks up at me with those big brown ey
{EDMONDO'S POV}**Tomorrow comes fast. And it's morning again.The morning spills through the massive windows, drenching the room in soft gold. Outside, Vegas hums with life; cars weaving through the Strip, neon signs still flickering even in daylight, the distant sound of laughter and slot machines. But in here, in this bed, it's quiet. It's just us.Carina Morelli is curled beside me, wrapped in the sheets. Her bare shoulder is exposed and her hair is a dark tangle on the pillow. I reach out, brushing a strand away from her face. She stirs. Her lips part slightly and I pause, watching her. Before, love was brutal. It was a battle. But this… this is something else entirely.Her eyes flutter open, it's hazy with sleep."You're staring again," she murmurs, voice thick with drowsiness.I smirk, running a thumb over her cheek. "You're in my bed. What else am I supposed to do?"She shifts. She stretches her arms above her head, the sheet slipping lower. My gaze follows and she knows it
{EDMONDO'S POV}**I am wide awake……and the world is too bright.Or maybe it’s just this city: Las Vegas, with its neon lights and chaotic energy, its crowds of dreamers and gamblers. The world is too loud, too open, too free. I used to think freedom came with power, with control, with a gun in my hand and a city at my feet. But here, in a five bedroom condo that is too small compared to my estate back at Trento but too big for just the two of us, freedom tastes different.It tastes like her.Cara moves around the kitchen barefoot, wearing nothing but my shirt. The sleeves are too long, the hem brushing her thighs, and she looks like she belongs in a life I never imagined for myself. Her hair has all grown out, the soft waves are now framing her face. I remember when I forced her into dying it black, then she cut it short. She looked as untouchable as she tried to be. Now, she looks… happy.Happier than I have ever seen her. The woman who once lived in black, whose eyes carried
{INGRID'S POV}**The air in Italy is different when we arrive. It’s thick, suffocating, and all pressing down on me from all sides. From the moment we land and got into the car, I feel it in my bones.. like something is wrong.I step out of the car. The gravel crunches beneath my feet. My breath catches at the sight before me.Something is indeed wrong. Not because of the silence, not because of the way the sky hangs low and gray over Trento, Northern Italy, but because of them. Everywhere; black.I see a sea of black. Men and women standing in eerie silence with their heads bowed and their faces unreadable. The only sounds are the occasional rustle of fabric, a sniffle, the sharp bite of the wind against my skin. And then I see another; six men standing apart from the rest, wearing black suits but with blood-red hood capes.Blood-red. Is that a deliberate choice? Or is it a symbol?I swallow hard, glancing sideways at Mr. Giovanni, but his expression is unreadable. His gaze sweeps
{GIOVANNI'S POV}**The jet hums with a steady vibration, a soft, luxurious purr beneath us as we soar above the clouds. The private cabin is dimly lit, a golden glow casting soft shadows along the leather seats. Outside, the world is a stretch of endless dark, pinpricked with distant city lights below.I sit comfortably, my legs stretched out as a glass of whiskey rests in my palm. Across from me, Ingrid is curled up in her seat, het legs tucked beneath her. She's scrolling through something on the new phone I got her. She looks up, catching me watching her and arches an eyebrow. “You’re staring,” she murmurs.I take a slow sip of my drink. “Admiring, bambina. That's the word.”She huffs but doesn’t look away. “That’s new, uncle.”“Is it?” I smirk, tilting my head. “I seem to recall a certain young little lady throwing herself into my arms just hours ago. Was that not you?”She rolls her eyes but shifts slightly, uncoiling her legs. “You act like you didn’t force me onto this plane
{INGRID'S POV}**The swollen head of Mr. Giovanni's cock pushes just inside me, making me gasp and grab his shoulders. I can't tear my eyes away from the sight of his thick, veiny manhood held tight in his strong hand as it plays over my cute pink flesh.All the ways I imagined I’d give myself to man maybe in marriage or love relationships, it was never like this. Never like meeting Mr. Giovanni, losing my virginity while doing this with him, and doing it again.Actually, there was only ever one way I imagined loving a man for life. In a normal, average style, falling in love with a guy my age when I'm at least twenty one, kissing him, dating him, loving him and then we get into a relationship. The only way I believed my mother would want me to be happy.But with Mr. Giovanni, on his study desk, in Ireland not even Italy, in the light day evening of the day? This is better actually.This is sexier. Officially, I’ll lose myself to him even if not in the proper way. Even if he's actua
{GIOVANNI'S POV} * * Love her? Now, that's a funny one. Men like me don't fall in love so easily. But it is strange that I so much have this overflow of urge to control this little one. “Believe whatever you want.” I press my mouth over hers in a searing kiss, and this time, she doesn’t have time to pull away. She melts against me, and as I thrust my tongue into her mouth, her lips part for me. I feel her sharp inhale that pushes her little swollen breasts against my chest. I break the kiss and glare down at her. “Just in case you were thinking something foolish, I’ll make this clear now. I don't fall in love. Maybe obsessed with you but I'm not sure. What I'm sure of is that there are too many out there. I don’t want to see you around other men, not even someone you knew before me. Or I won’t be responsible for what I do to you and him.” She arches her eyebrow, her expression challenging me. As always. But I'm growing to hate her feistiness. “Oh, really?” But I will
{GIOVANNI'S POV}**I watch her from the doorway, unseen.Ingrid stands in front of the mirror, holding the dress against her frame, tilting her head as if trying to decide whether it suits her. The fabric spills over her arms like liquid, deep green, rich, the kind that makes her look older than she is. The gift had been deliberate. A test, maybe. Or just another way to remind her of who decides what she wears, where she goes, what she becomes.She turns slightly, checking the side of the dress, her expression unreadable. And yet, I know exactly what’s going through her mind. She wants to refuse it. Reject it on instinct because it’s too childish. But she doesn’t. Because, in some ways, she already understands that acceptance is easier. And Safer.I lean against the doorframe, waiting. She runs a hand down the silk one last time before exhaling sharply, setting the dress aside, and walking toward the door. I step away just before she opens it, making it seem like I just happened
{GIOVANNI'S POV}**I make sure the room is dimly lit so my little girl can be comfortable. The heavy curtains are drawn against the early evening sun. I sit across from my bambi, a bowl of fruit in my hand. My fingers peel a piece of orange with slow precision. She watches me with her expression unreadable, and I see the tension in her shoulders; the way her fingers tighten around the fabric of her big shirt."Eat," I say, holding out a slice. "I want you to be healthy for me. Soon, I will begin hand-working those tiny tits, I want them bigger."She rolls her eyes but takes the fruit from my fingers. Her lips brush against the tips in a way that is entirely too deliberate. I ignore it. For now I always ignore her petty advances.Silence stretches between us. I pick up another piece, twirl it between my fingers before offering it to her. She leans forward, her gaze locked onto mine. The game she plays is subtle, but I’ve always been good at seeing through people. Always."You want