Page 6 of DeLuca: The Devil

Marco and Benji both nod, “We do. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

My security adds, “Do you want me to pick her up? Tail her?”

I shake my head, “No, I’ve got it for now. I’ll let you know when I want her brought to me.”

Benji looks away from me, “Are you going to kill her, Boss?”

I don’t delight in killing women, but if it needs to be done, I’ll do it. Even one as beautiful as Giada Baretti. That’s not where I’ll start, though. By the time I end her life, she’ll be begging for it. If I decide you need to die, it’s rarely quick and painless. I am the devil after all. The thought of making her scream makes my cock hard as a rock.

There are few certainties in life, but one thing I’m sure of, I’m going to fuck her before she takes her final breath, willingly or not.

Marco arches an eyebrow, “So, you’re going to pretend she hasn’t been watching you, trying to get information on you?”

I smirk, “Not at all. The stalker will become the stalked.”

They both rise from their chairs and turn toward the door when Marco turns to me, “If you were anyone else, I’d be worried about you developing feelings, but we all know the devil fucks but never falls in love.”

I chuckle as I grip his shoulder, “Not in a million fucking years.”

I’ve watched many men fall in love through the years, even my brothers Dante and Damian. Damian fell madly in love with Kat and Dante with Jewel. Although Dante and Jewel, turned out to be a fucking nightmare for the entire family, especially me. It ended with a bullet wound in my chest and a two-week hospital stay where I nearly died. Five years later, I am still not over it. I never will be. Dante is permanently on the very top of my shit list. The only one higher right now is Anthony Baretti. If he thinks he can send his pretty little daughter to distract me so he can take a portion of my business, he’s sorely mistaken. He won’t live through it, but I won’t simply kill him. I’ll take everything from him first, starting with his daughter.

Chapter Four

GIADA

I spent the day designing a movie star’s new home in New York City. He had no use for helping in the design process. He didn’t care about colors, quality, or anything other than money. Every choice came down to going with the most expensive option. I hate people who can’t see beyond the dollar bill. You’d think it’d make my job easier when the client doesn’t have input. That’s not the case. I like to work with people who want their homes beautiful, suiting them, not simply the most expensive designs in the movie industry. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what I got this time around. When you choose the most expensive pieces, it doesn’t necessarily go well together. I’ve already requested the famous Kris Welch not to tell anyone who designed his home. I don’t want my name on it.

I walk out of my office and find my driver waiting for me. After climbing inside, I tell him to take me home where I’ll get ready to go out with my best friend, Natalia. Tonight is club night. A night to unwind after the work week is done, but more than anything, it’s a night to pretend I’m normal like my friend. No mob boss father, no future mafia husband that I can’t stand, and no devil’s kiss that I can’t get out of my head.

He kisses like a god. His touch was strong and soft. For the first time in my twenty-three years, I felt desired. God save my soul, I’m promised to another man, yet I wanted more, so much more.

I cannot want the man I’m supposed to help my father bring down. I’d like to say I’m not attracted to Domenic De Luca, but the fact is that all six-foot-fiveish of that man is intoxicating. His full-sleeve tattoos and monster muscles are as tempting as sin. My heartbeat faster when he called me beautiful. No man has ever said those words to me. My future husband certainly never will.

We arrive at my penthouse, and I exit the vehicle as I begin contemplating what to wear tonight. I know Natalia will be dressed in the sexiest outfit money can buy. Nat is attempting to attract men, while I am not. Although, even if I can’t do anything with a man, it’s nice to be noticed. I go into my apartment and shower quickly. Nat is supposed to be here in an hour, and that girl is always early. Her motto is, ‘If you’re not early, you’re late.’

Stepping out of the shower, I towel dry my hair before wrapping a towel around myself. Going into my walk-in closet, I begin perusing my choices. I eventually settle on my black Valentino dress. I’ve never gotten the opportunity to wear it, but it’s beautiful. It’s tight, short, the hem coming to the middle of my thigh, with silver diamond cut-outs around the waist. Just as I’m strapping on my matching Louboutin’s, my intercom buzzes letting me know my friend is here. I grab my clutch and head to the door. Nat smiles at me brightly, “You look delicious, babe.”

I shake my head and laugh, “You look great, too.”

She’s also wearing black, but her skirt is much shorter than mine, and her shirt shows more cleavage than my father would ever allow. For a moment, I wonder if Enzo will have the same rules. Probably. Daddy dearest always says a mafia princess is held to higher standards. Dressing like a whore will not be tolerated, Giada. I quickly push both from my head, determined to have a good time tonight. In four weeks, I’ll be Mrs. Bianchi, and I doubt I’ll have the freedom I currently have. I laugh to myself. Freedom. My life is anything but.

Nat cups my cheeks affectionately, “Don’t think about either of them tonight. This is our night for fun. Besides, I haven’t given up on getting you out of this mess.”

I laugh, “There is no way out. Unless you’ve changed your mind about us Thelma and Louising it.”

She snorts loudly, “Come on, Principessa.”

Nat loops her arm into mine as we step into the elevator in my penthouse. I have no doubt, if I asked her to try to hide me, she would, even though her death would be the result. Probably mine too.

Of course, Javier is waiting for me when we step outside into the cool evening air. It’s been unseasonably warm for New York in November but not tonight. It doesn’t matter how many days of sunshine we have, it’s never enough. I’m never ready for winter. I shiver as we get into the vehicle and Nat laughs, “I swear you have icicles in your veins, girlfriend. It’s sixty degrees, it’s not even cold.”

I roll my eyes at her, “I know. I hate it here. I want to move somewhere warm, like Hawaii.”

She buckles her seatbelt and laughs, “I was thinking Florida.”

Shaking my head, I disagree, “No. That’s where all the crazies are.”

Arching an eyebrow, she says, “Excuse me, that’s where I’m from originally. What’s wrong with Florida people?”

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