Page 15 of Immoral

Well, now he's going to know that I own Cara.

My chest tightens at the thought. Sick satisfaction mixes with guilt for what I'm about to do.

I pull out my phone and turn it on. I connect to the plane's Wi-Fi then pull up my bank account. I wire twenty million dollars to Luca's personal account. I rationalize it by reminding myself I had to do it. There's no way I won't blow my guy's cover if I don't. It needs to be clear in all crime families' eyes who owns Cara.

The truth is, I'd have paid Luca more than twenty million to save my tesoro from that situation. He's my cousin from Italy. No one in the States knows this except Papà, my brothers, and Tully and his sons. He arrived here as a kid and only has an accent if he needs to use it.

Over the years, he's learned more secrets about the Abruzzos than I can count. When I learned what Uberto did to Cara, Luca was the only person I could think of who could get the job done and also be discreet. But I knew my window of time was small before my family figured out what was happening.

My gut churns faster, thinking about my tesoro, naked and on the stage for all those pigs to fantasize about her being theirs.

Now, they'll know who she belongs to,I think with a warped sense of satisfaction.

My family may stay out of the human trafficking business, but no matter what your family is involved in, there are rules all crime families adhere to.

Rule number one:Don't go after women and children.

I squeeze and release my fist, thinking about how the Abruzzos disobeyed that when they kidnapped my sister.

Rule number two:If a man buys a woman, she's his property. No one better lay a finger on her.

My anger doesn't dissolve as I think about how we shot up the underground sex club to rescue Brenna from Giulio Abruzzo. The only reason no one came after my family is because we didn't leave any witnesses. Also, Declan O'Malley hacked into the security footage and deleted it. Since Brenna reunited with Finn O'Malley, there are rumors, but so far, no one has attempted to take us out.

My gut twists from the thought of me owning Cara. I don't condone any part of a human being owning another. It's always disgusted me. Yet, I can't deny the gratification filling my soul from sending the money over to pay for her.

I close my eyes and rest my head against the back of the seat, grasping my tumbler tighter. Ever since I was a child, I felt semi-crazy. I knew I wasn't like other kids in my class. Something about Cara always made the wickedness in me expand. I've often wondered if it's a big reason I'm obsessed with her. Women pretend to understand me, but it never takes long to see the fear in their expressions when they learn the devil is inside me.

It's not that my actions haven't ever shocked Cara, but not once did she look at me in fear. She grew up in a wealthy non-crime family. She's not from my world, yet she slid right into it without any hesitation. There's never been any drama from her about what I do. And she's the only woman who can truly see through the persona I show most of the world.

Fuck.My current moment of truth isn't new. It swirled around me the last few years, only to turn into a hurricane over the last few months. I take another sip. It's probably the reason I ran from her all those times.

Cara would always say, "I see you, Gianni. The real you." Then she'd curl up to me and fall asleep, as if it somehow gave her a sense of peace that she knew I was such a cruel bastard.

What drove me more insane was she wasn't slinging bullshit. Cara understood the depth of my sordidness almost as well as I did. She accepted every ounce of it. In fact, all she ever did was show me she'd stand by me and continue to love me, yet I had to push her away.

For the last few years, I've been paying for my mistakes. She cut off all contact with me when she was in Europe. I flew over there, begging her to give me another shot. No apology or promise would change her mind. When I finally went home, I tried to forget about her, but it was impossible.

She consumed all my thoughts. Every woman I met, I compared to her, then tried to pretend they were her. But no one could stop the bad feeling in my chest from expanding. The more I tried to erase it, the worse it became.

I didn't know she was dating Uberto until she got back to New York, nor did I even know she was in town. Seeing her again only made my endless infatuation increase. And her determination to not allow me back into her life made every ounce of my insanity come to life.

The ability to hold my temper and analyze a situation before I acted flew out the window. I pissed my papà off too many times to count. It's created a rift between us. The trust he once had in me has diminished.

Dante has also questioned my decisions. He's a few minutes older than me, which means he's next in line to take over the family. I've always had his full trust until now. We've always seen eye to eye, but lately, I'm unhinged and unable to control myself. It's like the interest the Abruzzos had in Cara opened Pandora's box, which held all my self-control.

I glance at my phone. The flight time is estimated to be another four and a half hours. I pull up the internet and do a search. I type:real diamond collars with leashes near Kelowna.

It pains me to pay for jewels when my family has built an entire operation around them, but my itch is growing. I scroll through images and stop. A perfect platinum collar with twelve diamonds, each several carats apiece, beams back at me. I click on it, read the description, then scroll through all the photos. It only excites me more. The leash can be detached so it looks like an expensive choker. It's a statement piece that'll get the point across to Cara.

She's mine.

Forever.

It's so perfect, my cock strains against my zipper. I can imagine Cara in it, kneeling and then begging me.

I click to purchase it, but there aren't any same-day shipping options. I call the jeweler.

An older sounding man answers. "Greetings. What can I do for you?"

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