Sold by Clarissa Wild
Marcello
I finally gotthe weapons I need from the Polish, and we’re about to head out to receive the shipment that’s coming in. At least it will be one less thing to worry about.
It’s hard to keep my focus on work, though.
Because of her.
Harper. My prize, my weakness. My kitten.
The more I have of her, the more I want. The need keeps growing instead of being satisfied.
She lives in my head where she sure as fuck doesn’t belong, and every time I close my eyes, there she is again. So many flashes of memory—all of them starring her and each of them as irresistible as the last. They’re like a slideshow in my mind’s eye.
The sound of her whimpers as I pushed her nightgown off her shoulders …
The way her face looked in the moonlight pouring through the window …
My palm meeting the soft skin of her ass, and her fucking loving it.
How it felt to shove myself past those pretty little lips and fucking her until they were swollen and she swallowed my cum.
Having her submit to me.
I step out of the shower and look at myself in the mirror.
Outwardly, I haven’t changed. But inside, I’m a raging inferno with no end in sight. A destructive force that will burn down the whole fucking world to ensure my empire grows into the most powerful there is.
I dress quickly in the dark pre-dawn hours. The house is silent and still around me as I head downstairs I have one stop to make before heading to the docks to check my shipment. Now that we have the guns we need, we should have no problem defending it.
But first … Igor needs to pay for the attack on my warehouse.
That poor soldier whose face was burned deserves revenge. And someone is going to pay me for those lost supplies, and that someone is a Russian Don.
Walking toward the front door of the bathhouse, I’m joined by Claudio.
“Are the men ready?” I ask.
“Yes,” he replies, his head held high like he’s ready to draw guns any moment.
“Let’s get this day over with,” I mutter as we step out of the house and climb into the armored car.
We head to the bathhouse because it’s where Igor can be found early in the morning. The man is stupid for having such a predictable routine. But it makes it easy for me to end him and his men.
I’m checking my emails when Claudio says, “Fuck, look.”
My head snaps up and I look at where he’s pointing.
We’ve come to a stop in front of the building where I met with Igor a week and a half ago.
It’s empty.
Gone are the signs declaring it a Russian bathhouse open to the public. The sidewalk in front of it is dirty and trash-strewn as if it has been unoccupied for a long time.
What the fuck?
It’s like no one was ever even here.
There’s not a single trace of human existence to tie Igor and his Bratva to this place.
The unease builds. I turn my attention to Claudio, who gives me a look filled with apprehension. “This is not good,” he says.
I don’t bother to answer. Of course, this isn’t fucking good. Igor vanishing and scrubbing this place clear of his ever having been here is not a good sign. When people in my business vanish, they’re either dead … or they are about to come fuck up your world. And it’s definitely the latter, seeing as the fucker torched my warehouse.
“Fuck,” I growl under my breath. Then as the anger surges through me, I find myself roaring it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
“How do you want to handle this?” Claudio asks.
I close my eyes and rub my temple, then take a deep, slow breath before I respond. C
“Put out the call,” I order. “Find out where the fucker is hiding.”
Claudio nods and begins to make calls.
Soon, we get the call from Ricardo that the ship has docked. We need to be in position within the hour so we head over to the docks.
During the drive, I think of Harper, of those bright eyes flashing with fire in equal parts of submission and defiance.
I long to see her. Because even right now … even here, on the brink of all hell breaking loose …
I miss her.
“Boss?” says our driver. “We’re here.”
I look out the window at the docks. Cranes groan into action with warehouses ready to be filled and men milling about like worker ants. In the distance, the waves lap against the cold concrete. .
“Park right there,” I instruct. I jab a finger toward a shadowy corner with direct street access. If something happens, I want to know there’s an escape route waiting. “Don’t turn the engine off. Stay in the car.”
“Yes, sir.” He pulls over where I directed and brings the car to a stop.
As I get out of the vehicle, Giovanni and Marcus comes toward us.
“Morning, boss,” Giovanni says, rubbing his hands together from the chill hanging in the air. “Big day, eh?”
“Yes. Let’s get everything done,” I mutter. My eyes search the distance, like they always do like I was trained to do. But my thoughts are far from here.
“Is everyone ready?” I ask.
“Yes, sir,” Giovanni assures me.” “Got all the weak points assessed already; you ain’t gotta worry about a thing.”
I follow him as we do a circuit of the dock where our ship will soon be off-loaded. Giovanni points out each of the three-men crews he’s dispersed to various strategic locations.
When we’ve finished and are near the car again, I spot a sign: Dock 47. I frown.
“This is Dock 47,” I say, pointing at the placard.
Giovanni looks and shrugs. “Yeah?”
“We were supposed to offload at Dock 23.”
He shrugs again. “They moved us. I don’t know why. Port supervisor told Ricardo, then Ricardo told me. You know how it goes with these grease monkeys down at the port, boss. They’re idiots.”
My nostrils flare as anger begins to simmer in my chest. “Why the fuck wasn’t I informed of this?”
He shrugs for a third time, which is really starting to piss me off. “Didn’t seem like a big deal. A dock is a dock, right?”
His casual manner irritates the fuck out of me. I step right up to him. “Do you want to fucking die today?”
Fear flashes over his face. “No, sir… Sorry, sir,” he stammers. “I’m sorry for not letting you know.”
“I don’t give second chances. Don’t fuck up again,” I warn him with a look promising pain and death.
Suddenly, a shot rings through the air. A bullet slams into Giovanni’s shoulder before he can even reach for his weapon.
I yank my gun from behind me and fire a shot in the direction the bullet came from.
All around me is the keening whine and rat-a-tat-tat of automatic gunfire.
We’re caught out in the open. It’s a concrete wasteland, and I’m standing fifty feet away from anything that could protect me from whoever the fuck is daring to shoot in our direction.
I have to run, to move, to get the fuck out of the way and figure out a plan to fight back.
Just then, a bullet buries itself in the concrete six inches shy of my left foot. Claudio roars, and we dart into action.
“Run!” I yell to Claudio. “Find cover!”
I turn toward the car, dig my toes into the ground, and sprint as fast as I can, keeping my head low. Claudio is next to me, returning fire.
My men fight back, and soon the dock becomes nothing more than a war zone. Bullet fly. Bodies drop. Death feasts on the fallen men, both mine and the enemy.
Somehow, Claudio and I make it to the car unscathed. The driver is dead where he’s slumped over the steering wheel, courtesy of a bullet that pierced the windshield and then his forehead.
My consigliere and I take up positions and begin returning fire. All I can hear is the clack of spent bullets hitting the ground and the deadly hiss of enemy fire. It’s fucking chaos. The groans of wounded men rise up from their vantage points all around the concrete courtyard.
My gun makes a chkk-chkk sound. Out of bullets and I quickly reload it.
A bullet flies past my head and grazes my temple. The pain erupts, but I was lucky. An inch to the left, and I’d be a dead man instead.
“Marcello!” Claudio bellows in my ear. “We need to get out of here! Fall back!”
“No!” I tell him. I will not abandon my men or my shipment. I am the don, not some fucking coward. I will fight to the death if that’s what’s needed.
Standing our ground, we take the enemy out one after the other, and only when the last gunshot rings through the air do I leave the safety the car offered and stalk toward the bodies. Staring down at the fallen enemy, I recognize Igor’s men.
The fucker made a big mistake coming after me. I will end him and the Bratva.
I begin to shout orders, instructing half of my men to clear out the wounded and dead and the other half to offload the shipment. I send one to keep watch for when emergency services arrive, so we’ll have time to get out of here.
As we rush to get everything done in record time, anger rages in my chest, and my thirst for Igor’s blood grows.
My body is trembling with adrenaline by the time our cars peel away from the docks with screeching tires. As Claudio drives us home, I stare out of the window, planning my retaliation.
Arriving home, I stalk inside the house, and storm to my office, leaving a silent Claudio in my wake. After I slam the door behind me, I stand still for a moment, fists clenched at my side as I try to regain control over the destructive emotions whirling in my chest.
Suddenly, I flip the desk with a wordless roar. It crashes to the ground, sending papers flying everywhere.
Seizing hold of the glass tumbler full of whiskey on the bar cart, I fling it at the wall. It explodes, shards of glass scattering onto the carpet.
Slumping down on my chair, flashes of revenge fill my mind. I don’t know how long I sit there. My eyes are closed, though I see red behind my eyelids. I don’t move again until my breath has calmed and the last of my furious energy has dissipated.
Climbing to my feet, I stalk out of the office. It’s like I’m being drawn by some invisible force. I know immediately where it is taking me—this powerful, unspoken need that lives deep in my chest.
Harper.
I don’t hate her. I need her. I crave her. Her fire, her innocence, her purity, her darkness that mirrors my own… she’s fits me perfectly.
I let myself care for her. Fall for her. Feel for her.
“No,” I hiss and I bring myself to a sudden stop in the hallway. “She’s a distraction. Property. Nothing more than that.”
I keep repeating the words as I turn and walk away.
Even though deep down, I know I’m lying to myself.
