Brutal Power: An Arranged Marriage Mafia Romance (Bianco Crime Family)

I hear about the shooting from Simon that afternoon. I want to rush over to Brody’s office but he tells me to stay home since he’s still at his mother’s place taking care of everyone and cleaning up the mess. I hate waiting around and end up going over anyway.

“I’m so happy everyone’s okay,” I say to him when I jump out of the car and rush over. I throw my arms around him and hug him tight, burying my face in his neck. “God, it scared the shit out of me when Simon told me there was a shooting.”

“We got lucky.” Brody’s tone is flat and lifeless. “Santoro didn’t want anyone dead. Just my truck.”

“Your poor truck.” I pull back and stare into his face. “You’re sure nobody’s hurt?”

“Just some scared people and a few minor bruises from diving to the ground. I’ve been trying to make sure everyone’s getting what they need since it happened.” His eyes move to the house and I can tell he wants to get back inside.

“Come on then. I’ll do what I can.”

He hesitates then leans forward and kisses my cheek. “Would you sit with my mom?”

I raise my eyebrows. “Of course. That’s all you need?”

“She’s taking it hard. Hell, she’s taking everything hard right now.”

“Then I’ll talk to her and see if I can take her mind off things.”

He nods and there’s a flicker of emotion, just the barest hint of sadness, but he quickly buries it and leads me inside.

There are a few people in the living room that I don’t know. Brody introduces me to them and I realize they must be the petitioners that had been in the yard when the shooting happened. Brody takes an older man back into the office with him and closes up, leaving the others to wait around, and I head into the kitchen where his mother’s sitting at the table with coffee and the newspaper. She’s staring at the wall, the mug held to her lips.

“Hello, Orla,” I say and sit across from her. “Busy day already, I hear.”

She blinks at me and a little smile breaks across the smooth surface of her otherwise blank face. “Elena, I didn’t know you were coming over.”

“I had to check on everyone when I heard what happened.”

“Oh, dear, that’s sweet of you, but I’m fine. Molly’s going to be here soon.”

“Then I’ll stick around for a while and see what I can do to help out.”

Orla gets up and starts to bustle around the kitchen, talking about some of the people who had been outside, like old Mrs. Grady, a widow that has been a member of the organization for many years. “They own a very good restaurant a few blocks over, a lovely place. She was here to ask Brody for help keeping her rent from rising too much. She’s afraid she’ll lose the location.”

“I’m sure he can help with that.” When she starts doing the dishes, I take over and insist she sit down. “How are you doing though? Are you holding up okay?”

“The shooting has me rattled,” she admits with a little uncomfortable laugh. “In all my years, this has never happened before. That’s a small miracle, right? But Brody’s dad always tried to stay out of conflicts. He was a good man.” She stares away from me, back toward the windows, and I get another glimpse of the deep sadness inside of her.

“You know, the last time I saw you, I meant to ask for some funny childhood stories about Brody. Do you have any?”

She lights up slightly. “I have about ten dozen. That boy was trouble.”

“Seriously? Brody? He seems so reserved.”

Orla snorts and drinks her coffee. “He was a terror, Elena, the most emotional boy I’ve ever met in my life. Threw tantrums that lasted for days and spanned the entire neighborhood.” She tells me about the time he ran away from home and ended up hiding in an abandoned machine shop ten blocks away before someone from the organization found him. And about the time he struck out at Little League and charged the mound because he thought the pitcher was being an asshole about it. And about a dozen more spats, fights, outbursts, and other hilarious incidents from when he was little.

“When did he change?” I ask, drying my hands and sitting across from her. “I’m having a really hard time picturing your son as this loud and emotional young kid.”

“Oh, dear, let me think. It must’ve been when he became a teenager, maybe a little earlier. He got so moody, and he was working with Malachy all the time—that was my husband’s name—and I think his father really rubbed off on him.”

I chew my lip and glance back toward the office, wondering if that deeply emotional person is still hidden inside of Brody. “That must have been hard.”

“I don’t know. It was easier in some ways. He really was a tough kid. But you’re right, when he mellowed out and started holding everything inside, I really wondered if I’d lost something, you know? But, well, his siblings all came, and we had a full house, so it was hard to really feel sad that Brody wasn’t pitching fits anymore.”

I ask her more questions about her husband, about her kids, and I get a pretty nice picture of a relatively happy family. They worked hard, and their father was probably pretty hard on them, but they loved each other and took care of each other, and they grew their organization as a unit. I sense Orla was more involved in that side of their life more when she was younger, but things must’ve changed after her husband died.

Brody fetches me after Molly shows up and takes over. But as I’m walking away, Orla gives me a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek, and she even cracks a smile. “Thanks for making me relive all those good old memories,” she says.

Brody closes his office door and turns on me, a strange look in his eyes. “What were you two talking about?” he asks and sits down beside me on the couch. As soon as he’s close, his knee touches mine, and his fingers absently stroke my thigh.

“Just childhood stories about you. Apparently, you were a nightmare.”

He grunts and looks away, his face showing nothing. “I was a kid. Things were different.”

“It’s okay, you know. You can feel things. You don’t have to swallow it all the time.” I lean toward him and touch his cheek. “Like right now.”

“I’m fine. I’m not the one who was out there.” Except he won’t meet my gaze, and I know he’s lying.

“Brody, people shot up your truck and it was parked in your mother’s driveway. Come on, don’t tell me like that means nothing. After the attack on the oasis, I was a mess for weeks.”

He shakes his head. “This isn’t like that.”

“Yes, it totally is. I mean, not on the same scale, but people came to your home and violated it. Don’t pretend like you’re fine.”

“But I am fine.” He pushes my leg away and gets off the couch, stalking across the room. “Why do you insist on looking for feelings that aren’t there?”

“You need to process, that’s all I’m saying.”

He turns on me, looking both helpless and angry. “No, baby, you need to process. I’m steady. I’m in control.”

I walk to him. He doesn’t move as I wrap my arms around him and hug him tight. He hesitates before holding me against his body, and maybe he’s right, maybe he isn’t bothered by what happened, but his heart’s beating fast and he’s breathing nice and deep, and I think he’s suffering more than he’s letting on. I get on my toes and kiss his neck, because I want to help him. I want to take some of his burden, even if he doesn’t know he’s dealing with it.

“You don’t have to handle it alone,” I whisper.

“And you don’t have to fix everything.”

I smile and brush my lips against his. “Maybe I like fixing things. Maybe that’s why I like you.”

“You think I’m broken?”

“I think you’re trying very hard to keep everything bottled up.” I kiss his chin. “I think it’s okay to let loose.”

“You want me to let loose?” His voice goes low and husky. One hand cups my ass and a thrill runs into my stomach. That’s not really what I meant—but now that I’m pressed against him and he’s touching me, it’s a very tempting alternative.

He cups my chin and kisses me.

I sink into his touch. Every time we do this, it’s like tasting him for the first time and I can’t help the sudden swell of excitement that fills my core. It’s magic, this sensation, it’s more than just desire and lust, it’s like I’m coming awake for the very first time and lifting my head up to see the stars and the sky, and it’s Brody’s hands on my body, his tongue on my tongue, his taste flooding my mind like pure, perfect drugs.

I grind into him. I can’t help myself. He lets out a low grunt and holds me still, leaning back to study my face. “You realize my mother’s outside that door?”

“Go lock it.”

He looks torn, but it’s the first flash of emotion I’ve gotten from him all day. “We shouldn’t. Someone might need me.”

“I need you right now, Brody. Go lock the door.”

His jaw works, then he stands and knocks me off. I think he’s about to storm out, but instead he clicks the button on the knob and turns to me.

I take off my shirt. His eyes move down to my breasts and I unhook my bra, letting him stare, my body trembling the whole time. I love the way he licks his lips as I unbutton my pants and shimmy out of them until I’m standing in front of him in just a pair of panties and nothing else. He takes a step closer and he’s breathing fast, and the way he’s looking at me like I’m heaven and he doesn’t know if he belongs is both breaking my heart and making me want him badly.

“How badly do you need me?” he asks, his voice gruff.

I walk to him slowly, letting him look at my body as I approach. “I don’t know when it happened, but now I wake up every morning looking for you.” I stand in front of him. He closes the distance between us, one hand on the small of my back, the other gently teasing my breasts, playing with a nipple, squeezing softly. It’s like he doesn’t notice that he’s doing it. Like his hands can’t help but touch me. I shiver as pleasure floods my spine.

“I feel the same way,” he whispers and kisses my neck. He stoops and latches his lips around one nipple, sucking hard. I release a moan but stifle it, trying to be quiet.

“You don’t always have to be in charge, you know,” I say as I lace my fingers in his hair. “When you’re the boss of your family, everything’s your responsibility. But when you’re my husband? When we’re alone together? You can let some of it go.”

“It’s not easy for me,” he says, trailing kisses up my chest, his hand moving down to slide between my legs. I bite my lip to keep from moaning. It feels so fucking good and I’m absolutely drenched right now. “Even when we’re alone, I have a thousand voices in my head, all fighting for my attention.”

“Then let me quiet them.” I push him back slightly and drop to my knees.

“Elena,” he says as I unbuckle his belt. He doesn’t resist as I take off his pants, tugging them down, followed by his boxer-briefs. I take his thick, hard cock in one hand and stroke him, staring up into his eyes.

“Relax,” I say and sit up straight until the tip of his cock is on my tongue. I lick him nice and slow. “It’s just me and you right now.”

“God, you’re so fucking sexy,” he says, running a hand into my hair.

I take him into my mouth and grip his ass. I’m in control right now, even though I’m the one on my knees, and I set the pace. I suck him slow, not giving in when he grips my hair harder, licking and kissing and teasing his cock, practically worshipping him.

“I find you so fucking sexy too,” I whisper as I stroke him. “I’m so wet right now from sucking your cock. I love the way you taste and all those dirty little moans you make. When I’m on my knees and your dick is in my mouth, I’m the only person you care about in the world, and I love it.”

“Baby,” he moans as I take him deep into my mouth, into my throat, and pull back. I suck him fast, letting spit roll down his shaft, moaning as I do it. He gasps and I lose myself, going deep and pulling back, taking control of him. I put a hand between my legs, spreading my knees wider, and stroke my own pussy while I take him in and out of my mouth.

Pleasure blooms into my skull and I’m moaning too as I suck him.

“Elena,” he says, gasping. “If you keep doing that, I’m going to come.”

“You want me to stop?” I pull back, stroking him slowly with both hands.

“I don’t want to come in your mouth,” he says, bending down to kiss me. “I want to come between your legs.”

I gasp as he pulls me to my feet. So much for being in control. He drags me to the couch and pulls me into his lap as he sits down and rips my panties aside. I shimmy and my back arches as his tip presses against my soaking pussy, and he slides inside of me like it’s absolutely nothing.

“Oh my god,” I whisper as I begin to glide up and down. He’s so thick and long, and fuck, he fills me to the brim. I’ve never felt this full before in my life. “You feel so good.”

“You’re goddamn tight,” he whispers, his breath hot on my ear. “You keep riding me like that and I’m going to fill you to the fucking brim, baby.”

I go faster, unable to help myself. He licks my nipples and sucks them as he holds onto my hips. I’m panting, trying not to be too loud, but it’s not easy when I’m getting fucked like I’ve never been fucked before. His growls, his groans, the way he looks at me, the way his hands move along my hips like he can’t get enough, it fucking kills me.

“Tell me you like this,” I say, biting his lip.

“I love it. Every single inch of your lovely, wet pussy. I love your lips, and your eyes, and the way you breathe, and your delicious little nipples, and this incredible fucking ass. I love every inch of you, baby, and it’s been goddamn torture not fucking you every single day.”

“Then don’t torture yourself anymore.”

He grunts as he pulls me off him and shoves me down onto the couch, pinning me down and putting my hands above my head. He kisses me, holding me there, controlling me, his massive weight and ripped muscles flexing as he slips my panties off the rest of the way then shoves my legs wide as he licks my clit. I pull his hair, back arching.

“Fuck me,” I beg. “Don’t make me come like that.”

“Tell me you like this,” he says, staring at me with a grin.

“Asshole. I love it. Now fuck me.”

He glides inside of me and my brain goes straight to heaven. My back arches, and he’s licking my nipples as he starts to fill me up again, thrusting deep and slow.

“God, you’re incredible,” he says.

I move my hips against him and we’re in rhythm. The world drops away and it’s only me and him grinding into each other, fucking like there’s no tomorrow. I pant and gasp, and he bites my lips, and I can barely think as he leans forward and whispers in my ear.

“You want me to feel something for you, baby?” He bites my lower lip as I glide up and down his hard dick.

“Yes,” I answer, and I feel so vulnerable and so fucking good as he grips my ass and thrusts deep inside of me, holding me down on him as he fills me and kisses my lips.

“Then work for it, baby.”

We fuck, pure and raw and lovely, and I don’t last much longer before I explode on him. He groans, and maybe it’s the noises I’m making, or the way my cheeks flush red, but he finishes the instant I’m done, stiffening and growling as he unloads between my legs.

“I’m a sweaty mess,” I say, grinning like a moron as he wraps his arms around me. “And we weren’t quiet.”

“Quite enough.” He kisses my neck. “This room’s soundproofed. You could probably scream if you wanted and nobody would hear. Perks of being the boss.”

I slap him lightly. “You could’ve told me that from the start.”

“I want to see you struggling to keep quiet.” He smirks and pats my ass. His cock is still slightly hard and twitching with every beat of his heart. “I guess I’m sadistic.”

“Bastard.” I curl into him and sync my breath to his.