Scorned Obsession (Scorned Fate)

“No!” A scream ripped out from behind me. Bianca. Shit. I was still absorbing Gian’s news when she flew past me, but I hooked her around the waist and held her back.

“It’s you!” she cried. “How dare you hurt my family again!”

“I didn’t do this!” Gian shouted. “Can we please go inside?”

“Baby, please. Let me sort this out.”

She struggled in my arms for a few seconds before my pleas registered with her. My mind went a little crazy that she was wearing a robe in front of my men and Gian. But it rapidly became a secondary concern. She’d just come to grips with yesterday’s events. And now this? I swallowed the roar of frustration. The hits just kept coming. How soon before she realized I was more trouble than I was worth and forced me to return her to the De Luccis?

Darker, malignant thoughts lurked on the fringes of my mind. Of chaining Bianca to the bed. Of making sure she would never leave me. It was the depravity in my blood. I was becoming him.

Bianca was mine.

“I need to talk to Renz. I need to talk to my family, Sandro.” She glared at me, but I continued to battle with myself. “You said it. Raffa has lost the loyalty of the Rossis. You’re in charge now.”

“Let’s talk in the study without her,” Gian told me.

We moved just inside the entrance. That was as far as I was willing to let my cousin into the house.

“Whatever you have to say, you can say it right here. And the study is still bloody in case you’ve forgotten.” It wasn’t, but it still reeked of the consequences of my murderous rage. “I need to call Dom and tell him it wasn’t us.”

“What? Do we know that, though?” Gian said. “Tommy seemed hell-bent on retaliation against the De Luccis about the club.”

“He’s not that reckless,” I told him. “I don’t know where Tommy is, but maybe you do, Gian?”

“How dare you insinuate I’d harm one of our own,” Gian snapped. “You’ll do anything to protect your wife. Are you forgetting the oath you took, Sandro?”

“I took many oaths that day, including my wedding vows, which, if you remember, I said after the made-man ceremony.”

Gian’s mouth curled into a derisive snarl.

“Call Dom.” Bianca’s tremulous voice broke our staredown. There was a pleading in every single line of her face, not to mention her eyes that would make me do anything she asked at this instant.

I gave a brief nod. “Wait here. Sticks.” I exchanged a look with him that said “guard my wife.” I walked into the study. Sloane was coming tomorrow to do a thorough scrubbing. But I wondered if this house had served its purpose. No way did I want Bianca to remember what happened in this room each time she had to cross its threshold. I headed to the wall safe and opened it, reaching for a phone I hadn’t used since I married Bianca.

The call was going to be brief.

I powered up the device and swiped Dom’s number.

“Rossi,” he growled.

“It wasn’t us.”

“That speculation has come up.”

“Mutual enemies?”

“Or just yours.”

“Fuck you, Dom.”

The derisive chuckle grated, but I detected exhaustion and frustration in it too.

I asked, “Anyone hurt?”

“No.” He gave me a gist of the damage before he said, “We have Tommy Scavo. Straightforward exchange.Tommy for Bianca.”

“And if I say no?”

“That’s the price. Otherwise, I have nothing else to say to you.” He ended the call.

He didn’t even ask to talk to Bianca. Negotiations were over.

I wanted to smash the phone, but I powered it off and secured it back in the safe.

I wasn’t giving her back. They could see her, but only when I was at her side and they accepted me as her fucking husband. I felt cornered. I needed time to weigh my options, but the searing possessiveness for my wife was blinding me to every option except one.

Keep her.

“Did you get a hold of Dom?” Bianca asked when I returned to the foyer.

“I did.”

At the disbelieving look on her face, I ground my molars together and debated what to tell her.

“And?” she clipped.

“No one was hurt. It happened right after the closing time. It’s just property damage, but just like the club, it might take weeks of repair.” I spoke in an even calm tone like it was just another day in Rossi land. “They do have Tommy.”

“Why didn’t you let me speak to Dom!” Bianca cried at the same time Gian asked, “And?”

“I kept it short,” I said. “All that matters is that no one was hurt. And Dom confirmed they have Tommy. He didn’t ask to talk to you.”

Bianca was having a hard time regulating her breathing. A flush pinkened her cheeks in a sure sign of her temper.

“I didn’t ask for details.” I kept Dom’s exchange condition to myself for now. “They considered a third-party was involved.”

“We were thinking the same thing,” Bianca said.

“You guys had a productive conversation while I was gone?” My mouth hitched at a corner.

“Are you finding this funny?” Bianca snapped.

“No, but it sure beats freaking out over it. The De Luccis are not going to harm Tommy beyond what’s accepted interrogation. Leaving a trail of bodies isn’t their MO.”

Mine wasn’t either. Yesterday was an exception.

“Well, maybe you could ask them about my poker game and our soldier in jail,” Gian asked.

I shot him an irritated glance. “We take care of our business with Toronto first.”

“And Tommy?” Bianca asked.

“He can hang on a bit.”

“But why?” The tone in her voice suggested she was fast losing patience, and it scored another welt on my conscience that I was keeping Dom’s bargaining chip from her.

But I didn’t have to worry because Gian answered for me. “Tommy was careless. Let him learn his lesson.”

Bianca glared at Gian and then at me. “I’m going to check on the frittata.”

“Looks like I’ll be accompanying you to see the Toronto Albanians, after all,” Gian said smugly.

I barely set foot in the kitchen when Bianca attacked me with, “Is he gone?”

“Gian? Yeah.”

“This fighting in front of other people is harder than I thought,” she fumed. “I don’t know how Mom put up with Dad when all I want to do is punch that smirk off your face.”

I snagged her around the waist and dragged her against me. “Thank you, baby. But you don’t have to hold back every single time.” I cocked a grin. “If you think I deserve it.” I looked past her. “That frittata looks good. Sure smells good.”

“Ugh.” She put her arms between us and squirmed out of my embrace. Her tits brushed against my abs and the softness made my dick jump.

I was fired up.

She was fired up.

Which reminded me about her attire, and I injected all seriousness on my face. “I don’t want you showing up in a robe in front of my men with barely anything underneath it. I would have stabbed Gian in the eye if he so much as leered at you.” He would have too, if we didn’t have this huge problem of Tommy missing, the Jabbin’ Java incident, and the Albanians. Not to mention my rift with Raffa.

“Are we seriously talking about your jealousy right now?” As if to stress how ridiculous she thought I was, she threw her hands on her hips.

I was secretly delighted she didn’t flinch when I mentioned stabbing Gian in the eye.

“Yes.” I crowded her against the counter. She didn’t back down. I yanked her forward with one hand so she was plastered against me again, and with the other, stroked between her legs. I could feel her heat through her shorts. She wasn’t wearing panties.

Fucking fuck.

She closed her eyes and gave an involuntary moan.

“That’s it, baby,” I grunted.

Her eyes popped open, outraged, but I also discerned need. “No!”

I raised a brow. “Are you saying no to an orgasm?”

She was breathing hard, her lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m mad at you.”

“Because I won’t let you see your family?”

“Yes!”

“Soon.”

“Why not now? As in…tonight!”

I let her go and stood back. “No. I’m not giving you back.”

She looked outraged. “I’m not a thing to give back!”

“That’s not…” I scraped a hand over my face. How could I tell her I didn’t trust she would return to me? That when she saw her family, she would be relieved to be shielded from the violence in my world. How I was terrified once she returned to the De Luccis, they would make her disappear again. Just the thought of that made me feral. I glared at her and grabbed the top of her shoulders where she wasn’t bruised. “You’re mine, Bianca.”

Her mouth parted and her eyes flashed. “Really? You wouldn’t even fuck me. Oh, wait. You want me to accept every part of you first. Guess what? I already do.”

“You don’t know everything,” I said quietly. My hands fell from her shoulders and I twisted around, grappling for words to explain the past only a few people knew.

“What?”

I rubbed a finger across the top of my mouth. “I’m not only a bastard son, Bianca.”

I felt her step closer. “Never call yourself that. You’re a Rossi.”

“And I wish I wasn’t.”

I faced her and gritted out my confession, “My mother didn’t die in childbirth.”

Her eyes widened. “What? She’s alive?”

Oh, baby, my life was more fucked up than that. “Carmelo took a fancy to a beautiful exchange student from Turkey. Kidnapped her. Kept her hostage in the basement of the Rossi mansion.”

Bianca’s face grew stricken and her eyes filled with tears.

“Are you revolted yet?” I asked, the ugliness in my blood seeping through my words. “Do you see where this is going?”

“I’m disgusted at your father, not you,” she whispered.

“You’re not?” A derisive smile curved my mouth. “When Gian told us the news about Jabbin’ Java, the logical thing to do was make plans to return you to your family, but everything inside me rejected that idea. You know what went through my mind?” I loomed over her, tapped my temple, jabbing it repeatedly the way psychos do when the voices in their head drove them off a cliff. “I wanted to chain you to my bed. I don’t want to let you go. How am I different from Carmelo?”

Bianca met my gaze straight on. “Sandro, you are not your father.”

I closed my eyes briefly, drilling the heel of my right hand against an eye socket. Am I not?

Soft hands picked mine up and held them against her beloved face. I would know its shape anywhere, even with my eyes closed.

“Look at me, please,” Bianca whispered.

I opened my eyes and she repeated, “You are not your father.”

All restraint shattered.

Our mouths crashed against each other. My tongue dove between her lips and it was as if I depended on her for oxygen. As if she was my salvation from the unraveling storm I had unleashed with my confession. Teeth scraped, tongues tangled, and I explored deeper and deeper. She tasted of mint and carnal promise. I backed her against the breakfast table and lifted her on top of it.

Her robe fell open and her nipples’ outline against a thin tank top drove me wild. I latched on to her neck. Unlike in the shower, where seeing her naked didn’t spark an ounce of lust, this time, feeling her nipple against my palm drew a groan as if I were in pain.

“I can’t be gentle,” I snarled.

“Don’t be,” she panted. “Show me who you are.”

I ripped her tank top, exposing her breasts, and I bowed down to take a mouthful while I squeezed the other one. But the lure of her cunt drew me lower. I grazed my teeth over her belly, straight to the scent I couldn’t resist. I leaned back and looked at her pussy. Her pink pretty pussy that was all mine.

All fucking mine.

I dove straight in. She cried out, her knees caging my head, her hands in my hair yanking me closer while she pushed her hips up to meet me. So fucking responsive.

I ate and feasted, ravaging her tender flesh, licking, nipping. I tongued her clit. Lapped around it and sucked. She moaned and sobbed, and I continued drawing her cries. Felt her swell on my tongue. I could never get enough. I inserted a finger, and then two. Fuck, she was too tight. I would hurt her if I simply shoved inside her, which was what my body was gearing to do. My hand went to my shorts. I palmed my erection.

Throughout this delirium of need and want, I paused. I stared at my fingers inside her pussy and tried to add a third. She squirmed and her breathing hitched. I withdrew them all. She was too small. I was going to hurt her, especially with how rabid I was feeling.

“Sandro?” She propped up on her elbows, brows furrowing.

My eyes scorched over her. All laid out and open. It was so easy. Make her mine. But this place. It was wrong. I exhaled a breath and scooped her from the breakfast table and left the kitchen.

“What happened?” she asked as I went up the stairs.

“I’m not about to fuck you on that table.”

“Why?”

“I can’t be gentle.”

“Well, I was enjoying feral Sandro.”

I groaned against the top of her head, “Don’t, baby. It’s not gonna happen, all right? Not like this.”

I entered our bedroom, still carrying her, and gently laid her on the bed. She sat up and swung her legs around to sit back on her heels, eyeing me as I stared at her. She was specifically eyeing my erection, which was hidden beneath my T-shirt.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I snapped.

“Sandro, I’m not a virgin. You’re not going to hurt me,” she mumbled.

“You sure about that?” I lifted my shirt and exposed my cock. She gaped, eyes wide, hand slapping over her mouth. I wanted to laugh, but I was also worried.

“I’m going to rip you apart.” I dropped my shirt.

“Uhm…maybe go slow?” she squeaked and then had to bite her lower lip.

I made a guttural sound before shooting her a pained smile and climbing into bed beside her. “Come here. Ain’t happening.”

“Sandro.”

“Quiet, baby.” I gathered her in my arms.

“Are you doing this because you don’t want to be like…”

I stiffened.

“…him,” she finished.

There was no other way to describe what was rampaging inside me. All sorts of fucked up for sure. I was exhausted yet charged and liberated because I finally confessed the darkest secrets of my family.

“I’m only going to talk about this once. But in putting you first and not hurting you, I can unequivocally say I’m not him.” I breathed through my nose and pushed through before I changed my mind about telling her about the vile acts of the man who raised me. “He’s a monster who repeatedly raped my mother to give him a child. The only thing I’m thankful for is my existence ended her tortured one.”

“Sandro…” Tears spilled from her eyes and she reached for me and cupped my jaw. “I’m sorry about your mother. What⁠—”

“She tried to escape with me. One of the soldiers felt sorry for her and helped her, but they were caught. Carmelo had them both executed.”

She sobbed silently. I hugged her close. “Finally telling you is a relief. Don’t feel sorry for me. I went after the men who killed my mother. They died painful deaths. Pity I couldn’t do the same to Carmelo.”

“Your poor mother.” I made out her garbled words against my chest. The wetness of her tears soaked through my T-shirt. I hadn’t thought about my mother in a long while. I’d never known about her real fate until I was twenty-four. That was when I included rapists on my hit list. That was why what happened to Bianca when she lost her virginity added to that purpose. That was why I murdered Warren Winslow.

“When did you find out the truth?” she asked more clearly.

“After Russia. At Carmelo’s funeral. Raffa had known all along.”

“Did you find out more about your mother? Her family?”

“They got scared and somehow they went into hiding, left Turkey and moved to an oblast in Russia. I went looking for them there and I fucking guarantee you Carmelo had me thrown in prison because I was snooping. Raffa admitted as much because he negotiated my release. He told me the truth about my mother and said I would only cause other people to get killed if I didn’t leave it alone.”

I lost one year of my life in Russia.

Her sobs subsided into occasional hiccups. “I shouldn’t be able to wrap my mind around it, but I can. After Raffa’s insane actions yesterday, nothing surprises me anymore.” She pulled away slightly so she could look me in the eye. “You are not them, Sandro.” Her conviction was fierce.

She had no idea how her belief in me was everything.

“I will never hold the circumstances of your birth against you,” she added softly.

“I know you won’t.” I pulled her close again and kissed the top of her head. “That’s all that matters to me. But understand, I’m never letting you go.”

“I still want to see my family.”

Dom’s words came back to haunt me. Tommy for Bianca.

One problem at a time. “Let me get tomorrow sorted out first, then we’ll talk.”