Page 95 of Nico (Belles & Mobsters 2)

I would make her love me and need me, because fuck if I would go at it alone now. She already desired me but it wasn’t enough. I wanted itall.

The last time I took her body, I knew she was exhausted, yet I couldn’t get enough of her. She was half-asleep and even in her sleep her body responded to my touch. She opened her legs in invitation, and though I knew I should let her sleep, I selfishly took her again. And again.

I had taken Bianca numerous times over the course of the night. Instead of this obsession with her easing, it intensified. I knew it would be good with her, but this was… Fuck, I didn’t have a word for it. Electric.

Bianca was an amazing woman. A dream come true. She was strong, passionate about the people she loved, and compassionate. I never wanted to have a wife and children, but now… it was all I needed. She was my life. I admired her love for her children, her quiet strength and how she fought like a lioness for the people she loved. She’d never take a defeat when it came to her children. She’d burn this world down to keep them safe. Just as I would to keep her safe. She was my other half. As cliché as it sounded, she completed me.

Bianca’s body stirred next to me, and I looked at her sleepy face, eyebrows scrunching in her sleep. She murmured something about body heat and tucked herself deeper into me.

This is where she belongs.

As I watched her now, a throb ached in my chest and I knew I’d burn down this world to keep her and the twins safe. This woman was weaving herself into every fiber of me. It probably started the first time I saw her all those years ago.

It didn’t bode well for me, but I didn’t fucking care.

This next move would be the final chess piece in my revenge. I reached for my cell phone that sat on my nightstand.

The unread text waited for me. It was from Alexei Nikolaev. He was the key in ensuring Bianca’s mother was safe when Benito found out that Bianca was his daughter.

I read his message.

Bene. Good.

Things were in place, one last move.

I pulled the sheet over Bianca’s breast. Wrapping my hand around her, keeping the sheet firmly against her chest, I snapped a selfie, then examined the picture.

Bianca’s sleeping face on my chest, against the wolf tattoo, my forearm against her chest, the black sheet between her skin and my arm, clearly indicated she was naked and what had just happened.

I knew this next move would stir a shitstorm. I didn’t care about it, but I cared about Bianca. I had tripled the security around the compound, the Carters, and her old house. It still didn’t ease the guilt. Yet, how could I break my promise to my little sister? It was simple; I couldn’t.

Striding down Fifth Avenue in New York City, I approached the polished glass front of my sister’s gallery. Seeing it made me swell with pride. Nicoletta accomplished all this all on her own. Her eye and love of art made her one of the most popular art dealers in the world.

The best part was that she had stayed away from the underworld and all its dirty deeds. I just wished she’d stay with me at the manor instead of with our parents. Our father was a scumbag and our mother, though I loved her, tended to turn a blind eye to his misdeeds and drown her sorrows in alcohol.

I pressed the intercom button but got no response. It should have been my cue that something was horribly wrong. I punched in my code and entered the gallery. It was empty, not a security guard in sight.

I rushed through the front part of the gallery, and the moment I entered the atrium, I saw her. It felt like my heart stopped beating at that very moment. Nicoletta’s body lay sprawled on the floor, her clothes in shreds hanging off her. Blood pooled around her, soaking her hair and her skin.

“Nicoletta,” I choked out, lowering myself onto my knees while glancing around, but instinctively I knew nobody was around. They left her to die.

I gently lifted her upper torso, my eyes scanning the wounds. Jesus Christ! There wasn’t a part of her body that wasn’t marked. Blood, cuts, and bruises smeared her inner thighs, her ribs looked broken. Anger and sorrow burned through me like inferno, setting blazing fire in my chest and making it hard to breathe. I could barely detect the pulse.

Reaching for my phone, I dialed Leonardo. He answered on the first ring.

“Nicoletta is hurt. Need a car.” I hung up and pressed my forehead against my sister’s. She was too cold.

“Just stay with me,” I whispered.

Her eyes fluttered open, bruised and broken. Something died inside me seeing that shattered look in her gray eyes. A soft, barely audible whimper left her lips.

“Shhh, I’m here,” I murmured, my chest hurting like a motherfucker. “I’m here,” I repeated, my throat constricting. Nothing had ever hurt as much as this.

“N-Nico.”

“I’m here, sister.” I hadn’t cried since I was five, but my eyes stung right and my chest hurt.

“B-Benito,” she rasped and ice shot through my chest. “D-dad gave him perm-” She was too weak to finish the sentence but violent fury made me see red. “Too many men.”

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