Page 59 of Murder & Mayhem

His lip curls up in a snarl, his eyes ablaze with desire, but he doesn’t reach for himself again. I grab a hold of his shoulder, spinning him to face the glass wall. He gets his arms up just in time, bracing himself with his forearms against the glass as I crowd him from behind.

It’s dark out, and with the lights on in the kitchen, anyone who is out for a late-night stroll on the beach can most definitely see us, but who gives a fuck. All I can think about is my desperate need to lose myself. I fist my dick as I swipe the cold lube through his ass cheeks, circling his puckered hole before pushing a finger inside.

Groaning, he pushes back against me, eager for more, and after a few pumps, I insert another finger. My hand slides up and down my cock in rhythm with the way I’m fingering him until we’re both panting, our breaths steaming up the window.

“Dante,” he growls. His hands are clenched into tight fists against the window, and the tense set of his biceps gives away the strain of holding back from touching himself.

Using the last of the lube to coat my throbbing cock, I push into him, grunting with effort as, inch by inch, I seat myself fully. Once he’s had sufficient time to adjust, I pull all the way out before slamming in, setting a fast rhythm that soon has the chaotic mess of emotions within me waning and a tingle starting at the bottom of my spine. Knowing I’m close, I reach around and fist Lor, enjoying his hiss of pleasure as I pump him in time to my frantic thrusts, and it’s not long until we’re both coming.

Resting my forehead on his shoulder, I catch my breath, enjoying this moment of contentment that I so rarely get to soak in. After a moment, he clears his throat, speaking up. “I know she’s important to you, but she means something to me, too. I’m not giving her up.”

He’s still pressed against the window, but I lift my head, meeting his gaze in the reflection provided by the glass. I can see the determination in his eyes. This isn’t something he’s going to back down on… but now that I’ve decided she’s mine, I’m unsure if I can share her withanyone, even Lor.

I don’t say anything as I pull away and begin redressing, but Lor stops me with his hand on my arm. “Talk to me. What am I missing?”

“I overheard my father in his office, the day he showed me the photos of us.” I’d told Lor about my meeting at the time, but I’d conveniently left out the bit about Sawyer. He didn’t need to know then. Obviously, he’d have found out about her eventually, but I’d planned to make her unequivocally mine first. “He mentioned killing a club whore.”

“And you thought it might be her?”

Shrugging, I buckle my pants, forgoing a shirt as I move to wash my hands before pouring two tumblers of whiskey. “Yeah. Sam had been harassing her at the club the week before.”

“On your father's orders?”

When I turn to face him, he’s dressed similarly in just his suit pants, our shirts and ties lying abandoned on the floor. My eyes run over his torso, noting his chiseled abs and firm pecs. His large biceps flex, giving away his irritation over our conversation and spiking a fresh flame of anger. It’s smaller than it was before, easily blown out. I’m going to need him to keep her safe from my father. “I think so. Or he at least reported back my confrontation with him.”

Sighing, Lor runs his hand through his blond hair, pushing the strands that had fallen forward out of his face. Holding out the whiskey glass, he takes it from me, and we move to the living area, getting comfy.

“He wouldn’t give a shit if I was just fucking a club whore, but to cause a scene with an Antonelli—and one of his underlings no less? It would seem that didn’t sit well with him.”

“So he thought killing her was the answer.”

“Isn’t it always when it comes to my father?”

Lor purses his lips while he stares into his glass. “He’ll know by now that it was a failure and that she’s in the wind.”

“Which is why I’m marrying her.”

I’m not sure if it’s my words or the non-negotiable tone in which they are said, but Lor spears me with a penetrating glower.

“There’s no way your father will agree to that. Nor will I, for that matter.”

“Well, we are going to see him tomorrow, so I guess we’ll find out then.”

***

I spent the rest of the night arguing with Lor about Sawyer, tomorrow, and my plans for her, until I just had to get away from him. Nothing he says or does will change my mind. He should know that. When I finally did get to bed, all I could think about was the vixen down the hall who would soon be all mine. Just the way I wanted. It won’t be long until I have her tied to my bed, screaming my name every night for the rest of eternity.

It’s late—or early, depending on how you look at it—when I give up on sleep. Wearing only my boxers, I pad down the hall in my bare feet. Silently, I push open the door to Sawyer's room and enter. Ensuring I don’t make a sound, I walk over to an armchair in the corner of the room and lower myself into it. It has been deliberately positioned to face the bed, and I sit, cataloging every minute detail of her face that I can make out in the darkness. Her red hair is spread out on the pillow around her, and I recall the way it shone under the kitchen lights. The shock that shook my body and obliterated my train of thought when I walked into that kitchen and saw her sitting there—with her copper hair and striking blue eyes. It took longer than it should to put the pieces together and realize she and Red were the same person, and it only solidified my belief that this woman was made to be mine.

The fact that she felt she had to hide beneath her wig and contacts does raise a few questions. Was it just a case of wanting to keep her work and personal life separate? Did she remember me from eight years ago and worry I’d follow through on my promise if she were caught in one of our clubs? I’m not sure, and it doesn’t matter now that she has revealed her true self.

As I stare at her, my mind goes back over today's events. While I am the primary executioner for our family, there are a small number of men who work for me. Who do the jobs I don’t want to. Unbeknownst to my father, these men are loyal tome. I’ve worked day in and day out with them for nearly ten years now. After I overheard my father in his office, I put a tail on Santos, knowing he’d be the one to kill her. My father wouldn’t outsource it to one of my men and risk word getting back to me.

When I got intel that he had gone to the Belle Donne early this morning, I knew today was the day. He never frequents Belle Donne. Like most of my father’s closest confidants and advisors, he prefers our exclusive club—Paradiso é Inferno—where consent isn’t an option and nothing is off the table. So, I hauled ass over there just in time, sneaking inside seconds before Sawyer showed up. Just the thought of what could have happened if I’d been any later has my chest constricting in an unusual way that makes it difficult to breathe. I focus back on the sleeping beauty in front of me, watching as her eyelids flutter and her lips part, as though she’s dreaming.

It’s become an addiction—watching her. One I’m in no hurry to overcome, and since I plan on making her mine for the rest of time, I don’t see that I need to. Her reluctance was something I expected, but it won’t stop me from going through with my plans. She might not understand my reasoning right now, but one day she will. I meant it when I said she was mine, and I don’t just mean it in a possessive way. I mean that she’s mine to protect, mine to take care of, mine to… I’d say love, but I’m not capable of that. She’s just mine, in every way that I can offer. I’ve spent the last eight years trying to forget about her, trying to unsee her cerulean blue eyes, except the second she ran into me in the club, everything changed—I just hadn’t known it then. These last few weeks, I’ve found myself more and more frequently seeking her out. Running to her when I needed grounding, when I felt myself slipping. Lor is the only one who has been able to tether me to reality before; the only one who has been able to stop me from completely losing myself and ending up like my father. But Sawyer does that for me, too, without even realizing it. It’s the reason I decided I couldn’t let her go. The reason why, when I overheard my father discussing her assassination, I intervened. The twinge of pain in my chest when I heard that conversation was enough to have me gasping, which was all the confirmation I needed that not only could I not let this woman die, but I had to ensure she was in my life—permanently. Nothing says that better than an Antonelli marriage, where‘til death do us partis taken very fucking literally.

Besides, it’s my fault that she ended up in my father’s line of sight. My frequent presence at the club must have raised more questions than I anticipated, and evidently, my father caught wind of it—of her. I’m my father’s not-so-secret weapon, and as such, there’s no way he would allow some girl—never mind a club girl—to stand in his way. But if I marry her, he will have no choice but to leave her alone. Anyway, he was the one that said it was time I was married.

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