{INGRID'S POV}**I feel him nudge me from behind so I move away from the space close to the door. He steps forward and keys into the lock, opening the door and stepping in ahead of me. I enter. I don't even attempt to shut the door behind me after I enter, only fold my arms like a spoilt kid who is being grounded.He finds the light switch as soon as I'm in after him. He peeks out the door, his eyes checking out the neat little hallway before shutting the door. This is definitely a hotel room. No, more like a condo. But it's... unusual. There's a handmade tapestry of a dolphin breaching beside a boat hangs above the bed, and a photo of pirate colleagues on the deck sits on the kitchen counter. It isn't exactly the kind of decor I'd expect to find in a… sort of hotel condo room. But then again, life is full of surprises, and sometimes the most unexpected places can become the most memorable. So, the lady always in a yellow scarf who fed me on the street for a month before she die
{INGRID'S POV}**“Maybe it’s because nobody will ever love me because of my past. Nobody will ever really touch me, no, not after someone else did. Nobody will ever let me know what it’s like to have a man fall in love with me for all time when my heart beats for someone else who doesn't even care. They wouldn’t, now would they? There's nothing good or lovely about me or my life.”His eyes widen on mine, and I see more than those emotions. Worse than hate or disgust. It's Pity. I see damn pity. It's directed towards me. And I hate that. “You need to get some fucking therapy and work on your self and mind,” he says, his hands still gripping tight on my wrists.“....” God I'm speechless. Really? Therapy?! What does he think of me? A lunatic? I have not lost my mind!He stares at my thighs, and I feel ashamed of them, so fierce in my pain. I have a low waistband on, which I made by myself because I feel bold wearing them, but he barely even notices. His attention is so fixed on my fla
{GIOVANNI’S POV}**I shut the door behind me seeing to it that the slam echoes in both my ears and hers. My hands flex at my sides, my fingers tingling from where they had just been wrapped around her throat.She wanted me to hurt her. She fucking wanted me to hurt her. Punishment, hard sex... anything that would hurt her she wanted it.And for a second…. for one fucked up second, I almost did. I saw it in her eyes, that plea for something more than just words, something deeper, something that would cut through whatever storm was brewing inside her. And I could have given it to her.But I didn’t.I don't break little girls. Or maybe I do, but I don't want to break her. Also, I don’t indulge their self destruction. Not like that. Okay, maybe I do too but if and only if I should find interest in a little girl, which has never happened aside from Ingrid La Rosa. My jaw tightens, and I push the thought away. I move down the dimly lighted hallway. The weight in my chest is a familiar
{INGRID'S POV}**The air inside the guest house in the clubhouse feels as stale as a musty basement, it's like it’s pressing in hard on me. The walls are too close. The furniture, too still.I’m curled into a ball, crying myself into nothingness in the same room. I felt bad, but everything feels different now. And it's because of him. Because of his words to me.‘I’m giving you five minutes,’ is all he says in the end. That was all he said before leaving me here, alone with the weight of it.Five minutes for what? To breathe? To collect myself? Or to decide what to do next? That time was never enough and couldn't be.I press my fingers against my temples. My mind is a mess. My pulse is erratic. I need to move. I need to get out of here.I grab a dress from the cupboard. It's good there's one there, even if it's bigger and longer. And so out of shape.I leave the room quietly and the place entirely.The moment my feet hit the ground outside, the cold air rushes against my skin, clear
{INGRID'S POV}**This is exactly how it turns out to be. Cry myself into a mess and get comfort from him, all in his arms, despite the fact that it's all in broad daylight in an open room he said is mine.The heat of his palm rests at the back of my head, his fingers threading into my hair as my face presses against his chest. His breathing is slow, deep, steady; like he’s forcing himself to stay still, to not react. But I feel it. The tightness in his muscles, and the way his fingers twitch slightly against my scalp.It should be humiliating. Letting myself fall apart like this, soaking his shirt with my tears while my body trembles against him. But I can’t stop.I should pull away. I don’t.Instead, I stay there, breathing him in, feeling the warmth of his body like it’s the only thing keeping me grounded. His fingers tighten in my hair for just a second before he exhales, slowly and heavily.“You need to stop crying, bambina.” His voice is quieter now, but a little rough around t
{INGRID'S POV}**“It was wrong of me to treat you like that. I like that you’re the horny girl I fucked months ago. Just… you were my first ever little girl that I fucked. Ever. It’s difficult for me to accept as well that I'm attracted still to that little girl. I didn't want to run away then too. I just had in mind that it was a one time thing.” He strokes my hair back and presses soft kisses to the back of my neck. “You forgive me, don’t you? You want your uncle Giovanni to kiss you and make it better, don't you, bambina?” He runs his tongue up the column of my throat.I'm consumed. We both are, and by passion. But…“I think….” I begin, trying to bring up the matter of my father. I and Cara's father. Because, what if after whatever we do now he acts all cold and snobbish again? Then I wouldn't get any answers and end up being used again. “Wait. Don't.”“You still don't believe me or trust me. Right? This is my fucking manor, bambina, I can't run away from my own house.” He squee
{INGRID'S POV}**Done sniffing, he throws my underwear aside and his fingers find my slit amidst the hairs. He slides in possessively over my clit and my pussy and back up again. His fingers are coated in my slipperiness.“After I took your virginity, no one has gone in there right?” He asks.I nod.“Fuck. I’ll be careful with finger fucking you then.” He brushes his lips over mine and reaches down to drag two fingers up my pussy and rub slow, firm circles on my clit. Heat blooms in my cheeks, and my head tips back with a cry. Mr. Giovanni makes a deep, decadent sound in his chest. His groaning makes me want to be his niece for real. So he can spoil me, adore me, love me, and unholistically fuck me. At the time I think I’m going to come from the way he’s massaging my clit, he slides his fingers down and pushes them inside me. Not very far, but a little deeper each time, making me burn around him.I keep my mouth shut tightly together. I'm scared and so much embarrassed that someo
{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
{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