Page 9 of Broken Princess

Taking Sin’s place on the stool, I sigh and whisper to myself, “She’s nowhere fucking close to okay.”

Sitting in silence for I don’t know how long, my mind races like a torrent of water through river rapids. I’m lost. I’m so fucking lost. When there are things to be done and tasks to complete, I’m fine. But sitting here, staring at evidence of my failure… It’s too much. This is the second Bianchi sister I’ve failed. I wasn’t on the crew that was protecting Isabella when she went missing—but my brother was.

Gianni ran her protection detail, and when someone took her, it devastated him. My crew was the first to join the search and we didn’t stop until we found her. We searched for three days straight, convinced we would find her alive, but we were wrong. According to the autopsy, we were only a few hours too late.

After that, Mateo had multiple protection details on Aurora twenty-four-seven, and when she got married, the De Lucas took over. Fat lot of fucking good that did her. Turns out Aurora didn’t need protection from some unknown attacker. She needed protection from her scum-sucking husband.

I won’t let the Bianchis down again—let Aurora down again—I fucking can’t.

As I keep my gaze cast down, my hand reaches for the long strands of ebony silk fanned out on the pillow. I pull them back and lean in, resting my lips by her ear.

“You’re safe here, guerrierotta. Rest as long as you need to. We’ll protect you.”

Her eyes remain closed, but her breathing becomes more restful, like she’s heard me and finds some comfort in my words.

CHAPTER FIVE

NICO

The scalding water courses down my back as I lay my cheek against the cold tile. The contrast in temperature is invigorating. It’s helping me both stave off my exhaustion and temper my rage.

I’m a monster. I know I’m a monster, but there’s a limit. There are lines even I don’t cross. I can extract information with a blade carefully placed on a nerve cluster, a good old-fashioned beating, or resorting to removing an appendage or two. Three at a push. Because of that, I know the beating Aurora took served no other purpose than to gratify Max. He got off on it. He enjoyed every moment. I thump the wall with the side of my fist, my breathing laboured as I try to rein myself back in.

This is hitting Benedict hard. He’s as exhausted as I am, and passed out the minute I made him lie down on our bed.

Growing up, he was the closest to Aurora of all of us. He’s… different. Zo, Sin, and I are all bastards. And I mean that literally. We are a highly respected crew and sought after for our various skills, but we’re at the bottom of the food chain. The unclaimed progeny of Made Men who knocked-up their mistresses. We’re family. But we’re also not family.

Benny, however, is different.

He’s Cosa Nostra, born and raised. The youngest son of one of Mateo’s most ruthless capos—Marco Romano. When Benny came out, he was disowned. I didn’t want him to tell his father—I knew what the reaction would be and I’m not worth the consequences he’s faced because of it. What he did to my Benny was abhorrent, but when he eventually told me the vitriol Marco spewed at him, it made me want to hunt him down, cut his tongue out, and feed it to him.

Benny vetoed the suggestion. Spoil sport.

Even now I want to kill Marco for the pain he’s caused my Benny, but it would cause him more suffering if I went after his father. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for that man. Even though I don’t understand the grace and forgiveness he offers others, I would never jeopardise what we have.

He’s the best thing to happen to me. I don’t deserve him, I never have.

When we met, I was in the midst of a self-destructive spiral that, had it continued, would have ended with Zo retiring me—permanently. I was stuck in a cycle of self-loathing and hating the world. Neither the crew nor the Bianchi capos could control me. More often than not, my targets died long before I could get anything out of them.

What’s worse is I didn’t care. I was new to Zo’s crew. I didn’t understand why anyone gave a shit about what I did or what happened to me. One day, a mark got the drop on me and left me for dead. Zo and Sin saved me. They didn’t have to. My death would have solved a lot of their problems. And no one would have tossed roses onto my casket; no one would have missed me. Looking back, my stomach turns thinking about how I treated the people I now consider my family.

But they saved me, and I’m grateful. They saw something in me I didn’t, and I finally found a place I didn’t hate. That’s when I found Benny.

We’ve been together for four years now. In fact, we met at Aurora’s wedding. What he saw in me, I will never understand. But he walked up to me—in no way intimidated by my default fuck-around-and-find out glare—and asked me out, broad smile on his face, infectious joy radiating from him.

I thought he was an infuriating ray of fucking sunshine, determined to annoy the fuck out of me. I also thought he was gorgeous with an ass I wanted to ride hard and a cocky little mouth I wanted to silence with my dick.

My complete opposite. He is day to my night, light to my dark, and obedient to my commands.

Just imagining his hands on my thighs makes me hard. I run a hand down my torso, feathering my fingers along the ridges of my abdomen, down to my rapidly hardening length, gripping tight as I imagine my Benny on his knees, eager to suck my cock. I imagine how he runs his tongue along the base of my shaft, teases every rung of my ladder, and takes me all the way to the back of his throat. He has a way of sealing his eager lips around my crown with a sinful technique that coaxes a near constant stream of pre-cum from me. Just as the beginning of an orgasm tingles at the base of my spine, I hear the shower door being wrenched open with a loud rattle. I’m spun around, slammed back against the cold tile, and I’m unable to prevent the strangled grunt that’s forced from my lungs.

Benny stands before me, a mix of anger and desire burning in his gaze, so worked up he’s practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “How fucking dare you deny me what’s mine.”

He’s sexy as fuck right now, the frenzy of emotion in his eyes hitting me full in the chest. Benny looks desperate and cock-hungry; it enflames me. But as his Dom, there’s no fucking way I’ll let this behaviour stand. He’s mine to command, not the other way around.

I reach out slowly, running my hand up his neck and in a quick jerk I grab his hair, pull his head back ruthlessly and force him to his knees. His chest heaves, and his eyes shine with lust. His tongue traces his lower lip before he bites it. Benny is waiting for me to make my next move—like a good fucking boy.

“Fucking brat. Who do you think you are? My orgasms are mine to do with as I please. If you want my cum, then you can beg for it. Beg for my dick like the dirty little whore you are.” I run my other hand along his upper lip as my cock twitches eagerly in front of his mouth. “Tell me what I want to hear.”

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