Unraveled (Dark Sovereign Book 3)

It’s good to be home. Hotels are the worst. I could have stayed at Myth’s penthouse suite, but after what happened with Leandra and Isaia, a sex club was the last place I wanted to be. Being away from her, unable to touch her, kiss her, slide my cock inside her welcoming cunt is torture enough without being surrounded by kinky fuckery. But I suppose for a glass-is-half-full kind of person it worked out well, since me not being here kept Rome from frequenting the estate, which meant it kept Leandra out of his sights. He knows the best way to fuck with me is through her, even if it’s just for shits and giggles.

God. I’ve become so fucking transparent since falling for my wife—and in my line of business, that’s not a good thing.

I’ve never been so much in my own head before, having my emotions control me. Damn Isaia. Little shit. I’m probably going to hell for not feeling remorse about kicking his ass. And God knows, I don’t regret fucking my wife in front of him, either. I wanted him to see it, how Leandra’s body bends to my will and only mine. How I slam into her pussy, my cock the only dick she’s ever had inside her, and that’s the way it’s going to stay.

This stupid fucking game between us started the night she watched Isaia fuck—the night I found her in the bathtub playing with her pussy, soapsuds clinging to her wet skin, her hard nipples teasing into view as the water rippled around her. I was instantly hard when I saw her, my balls tight and blood rushing to my dick. I couldn’t stop myself from toying with her that night, watching her carry herself to orgasm, then squirting jizz on her cheek. That was the night everything started, and my obsession with her ever since has grown into something that now consumes me.

I’ve seen the way he looks at her. I’ve seen the desire in his eyes. The lust. My brothers and I loved to share, and it fucked with his head when I didn’t want to share her.

Once was enough, and it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but I did it for her—to help her defeat her demons and realize that her desires aren’t the same as the perversions of her parents. I saw something in her that night in the tub. I saw a temptress waiting to be unleashed—a siren who needed to be set free so she could wreak havoc around her. Around me. And by God, I fucking love her chaos just like she loves my madness. It’s that same madness that detonated when I walked into that room to find my brother next to my wife, holding her in his arms, and she looked so peaceful, so at ease…and it turned my vision red. I saw blood and carnage, and I wanted to slam my fist through my brother’s chest and tear his heart out. The jealousy was a bitter, vile taste on my tongue that day. It wreaked havoc in me and tore away at my humanity until there was nothing left but a monster who craved blood.

I wanted to kill him. I’ve never wanted to kill anyone as much as I did my own brother. Like I needed another reason to go to hell.

The leather of my chair creaks as I lean back, staring at the blank wall of my office, trying to sort through my thoughts like thousands of unpacked boxes.

I left because I wanted to give her space, and I needed some reprieve from the fucking guilt that was only pissing me off. I’m a Del Rossa. We don’t feel guilt. We don’t feel remorse. We rule, we dominate, we take. We don’t fucking mope around like lost boys…which is exactly what I did in that goddamn hotel room—getting drunk and acting like a brooding teenager.

I wasn’t planning on coming back today—probably not anytime soon, either—but when the doctor called confirming the appointment, I knew I had to be here. I missed the first ultrasound because my wife was too scared to tell me. There was no chance in hell I’d miss this one too, so I came. And when she walked into that room, and I laid eyes on her, I swear to God my heart fucking stopped. She’s more beautiful than the image of her that remained in my head the entire time I was gone. Her belly has grown, her breasts round and fuller, her body shaping and adapting as my babies grow inside her. It’s the most amazing thing—and apparently, my dick loves it too, because her pregnant body had my cock aching like a motherfucker. It still does, and my balls hate me, too.

I run my thumb along my lower lip, still tasting her cum on my tongue. My eyes roll closed at the memory of her thrusting her hips into my face while I licked up every last drop. The delicate sound of her moans and how it grows louder as her pleasure crests. It was incredible, the confidence she showed in knowing what she wants by fucking my face like it was the last living thing she’d ever do. The way she slid back and forth on my tongue, gripping my hair, forcing me closer, deeper. Her thighs trembled as she climaxed, her pussy gushing as pleasure ripped from her core. She’s nothing short of amazing, and among the trillion cells in my body, there’s not a single one that wants any other woman but my wife. Leandra is all I want. I have to have her all the damn time. I could have her a million times over and over, and it would still not be enough.

I love her to the point of madness. I would spill blood for her, kill and maim for her. What I feel for her is just too damn powerful…which is why everything is so fucked up.

My phone vibrates on my desk, my lawyer’s name flashing on the screen.

I answer, “Is it taken care of?…I don’t give a fuck how much red tape is around this potential epic shit-storm, you need to stop this,” I bark into the phone’s receiver. “I don’t care how you do it. Just get it done. And do not call me again until you do.” I hang up, toss my phone on my desk, and squeeze my fingers on the bridge of my nose. “Fuck!”

“Problems in paradise?” Nicoli strolls in, looking like he just got home from a vacation. My twin brother never lets anything rattle his cage, always acting calm, cool, and collected. It fucking annoys the shit out of me some days…and that someday is today.

I lean back in my chair, tapping an impatient finger on the armrest. “I’m buried up to my eyeballs in shit right now.”

“You got things sorted with Leandra?”

I look out the window. “I’m not sure.”

“How can you not be sure? You either have shit sorted, or you don’t.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Ah, yes. It is.”

“For you, everything is simple.” I pull a hand through my hair. “Too fucking simple.”

He cocks his head to the side, narrowing his eyes as he scrutinizes me. “Have you ever considered that maybe you overcomplicate everything?”

I snort. “What? Am I supposed to take everything in stride like you?”

“Maybe.”

“Someone needs to take shit seriously around here. And since none of you assholes want to step up, I’m the fucker who has to.”

“Bullshit.” He grins at me. “You have to because you’re the firstborn Del Rossa. God, best decision I ever made.”

“What decision?”

“Letting you go out the birth canal first.”

I try not to laugh, but looking at Nicoli makes it impossible not to.

“Asshole,” I mutter.

“Seriously, though.” He lights a cigarette, inhales deeply, then lets the smoke trickle out the side of his mouth for a bit before blowing it out in a plume. “Will you be able to sort shit out with Leandra?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“She still pissed at you for locking her up?”

“No.” I get up, round my desk, and lean against the edge at the front, crossing my arms. “In fact, it seems like she might have gotten over it.”

“What?” He looks at me pointedly. “She’s over it?”

I shrug. “I think so. She, um,” I rub my temple, “she wants to fix things.”

Nicoli’s eyes narrow, suspicion clinging to his top lip. “Don’t trust it.”

“What?”

“It’s a trap.”

I frown. “A trap? How?”

“Women don’t get over shit that fast. They say they do, pretend like everything’s fine, long forgotten and forgiven. Then one day you forget to put the damn toilet seat down, and all that long forgotten and forgiven crap comes back and pummels you to be the lowest piece of shit ever.”

“Oh, my God.” I drag my palms down my face. “Leandra’s not like that.”

“All women are like that.” He puts his cigarette in the ashtray and gets up, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. “You locked her up, for Christ’s sake, after you got her pregnant without her consent.” He drags out the T, putting more emphasis on it. “And then some other shit happened with our dearest younger brother.”

“It’s not—”

“No!” His hand shoots up. “I don’t want details. You tried rearranging our little brother’s face, but that’s as much as I want to know. The less I know, the less Mira will be up my ass wanting information out of me.”

“I wasn’t about to tell you.”

“Theeeen,” he starts pacing, “you disappear for fuck knows how long without as much as a note for your pregnant wife saying where you are, why you left, and most importantly when you’ll be back, because we all know women need a timestamp on everything. Date. Hour. Minute. To the fucking second.”

“Jesus,” I mutter. “What’s up your ass?”

He cranes his head and closes his eyes, breathing out a sigh. “Between the time I walked in here and the part where you said Leandra has supposedly forgiven you, I realized that it’s been too long since I had my dick stuffed in pussy.”

I roll my eyes and brush past him, pouring myself some whiskey. “Go to Myth, then. Or do everyone a favor and fuck Mira. Get it out of your system.”

Everything goes quiet. It’s the kind of silence that can crack bone, and I can practically feel Nicoli’s glare burning holes in my skull.

“If you weren’t my brother, my knife would be lodged in your jugular right now.” And if that doesn’t kill me, the poison laced in his voice will. It’s the one thing that rattles his cage. Mirabella.

I take a big gulp of whiskey, rolling it around with my tongue, letting it linger on my tastebuds before swallowing, feeling it sting as it settles in my stomach. “I fucked up,” I say without turning to face my brother. “I really fucked up, and my wife wants to fix it. So, either she’s incredibly foolish and naive, or I’m just one lucky son of a bitch.” I’m speaking more to myself than I am to Nicoli, then chase my words with more whiskey.

Nicoli comes up behind me and places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “If you’re the one who fucked up, and your wife seems to think it’s fixable,” he squeezes, “then you fucking fix it.”

I slam back the rest of my drink, sucking air through my teeth as the alcohol stings, then pour myself another. “Here’s another little piece of information I’m sure you’ll find amusing as fuck.”

“I can’t wait to hear it.”

I turn to face him as he sits back down, taking the last draw of his cigarette.

“I’m having a daughter.”

Nicoli freezes, his fingers hovering over the ashtray. “Say that again.”

I shake my head, already knowing he’s about to take a piss at me. “The doctor was able to see the sex of one of the babies, and it’s a girl.”

“So, you’re not only going to be a father, but you’re going to have a daughter?”

“Yes.”

“A girl?”

“We’re going in circles.”

“A girl?”

“Nicoli, snap out of it.”

And then he bursts out laughing. And it’s not just a chuckle or a snicker. It’s a full-belly laugh, and by the looks of it, it’s hurting his face.

“Holy shit,” he says through a fit of laughter. “You’re going to have a girl.”

I stare at him, deadpan. “I fail to see the joke in this.”

“Oh, it’s there.” He leans his head back, his laughter rolling in every direction. “See,” he finally gathers himself and sits up straight, “when you have a boy, you only have to worry about one penis. When you have a girl, you have to worry about all the cocks running around town.”

“You’re insane.”

“And you are fucked.” He continues to laugh, and soon my frown turns into a smile and then a snicker. I mean, he’s not wrong. If I don’t want men to even breathe in my wife’s direction, I sure as shit won’t let any teenage boy with a hard-on close to my daughter.

I rub my fingers along my forehead. “I think the universe reckons I haven’t spilled enough blood yet and decided to give me more motivation.”

“I cannot wait to see your face the first time a boy knocks on this door.”

“I’m afraid you won’t get the honor to see my face that day because the little shit won’t get through the damn gates.”

“Oh, man,” Nicoli sighs. “I haven’t laughed this hard in ages.”

“I’m glad my life amuses you, brother.” I sit across from him and watch the jackass as he pulls his shit together, shaking the laughing fit. “On a different, more somber note.”

Nicoli smirks. “More somber than your life right now?”

“Here’s a thought. Go fuck yourself.”

“Okay, fine,” he throws his hands in the air, “let’s pull on our serious faces. What was that phone call about?”

Maximo stomps into my office, his cheeks red from the cold, snow stuck to his jacket. “We might have a potential problem?”

My eyes widen. “Potential problem?”

“A big-ass potential problem.”

His pointed look tells me exactly what, or rather who, this potential problem is.

Nicoli raises a brow. “What’s going on?”

Shit. I wipe a palm down my face. “I wasn’t planning on saying anything about this to anyone,” I say. “But since you’re here, I might as well.”

“What is it?”

“We’ve been trying to deal with a situation that’s a personal matter to me and not official Dark Sovereign business, hence why I wasn’t planning on including anyone else if not necessary.”

Nicoli motions with his arm, growing impatient. “Get on with it already.”

Maximo and I give each other a knowing look, and I shift in my seat. “Federico Dinali.”

“That’s Leandra’s dad. You told me about him. He’s in prison, right? Drugs. Child pornography. Grooming. Overall sick bastard.”

“And about to get parole.” The words burn like acid in my mouth.

“What?” Nicoli scowls. “Parole?”

“Yes,” I reply, rubbing my hand across the armrest, the leather smooth beneath my palm while my blood boils and melts my veins. “That’s the other reason I haven’t been around. I’ve been working with our lawyers to ensure that fucker doesn’t see the outside of that prison wall.”

“And you don’t want Leandra to find out,” Nicoli says.

I tap my fingers on the leather. “She can’t know.”

“We agree on that.” He leans with his elbows on his knees, rubbing his hands together. “Were you able to put a stop to his parole?”

“Not yet.” I look at Maximo. “What’s the potential problem we might have?”

He slips his hands in his jacket pockets, worry lines forming grooves on his forehead, and whenever Maximo worries, I get an ulcer.

“Apparently, Federico has been walking around prison puffing his chest like a motherfucking peacock, bragging about his daughter being married to a Del Rossa.”

“What?” An instant hit of adrenaline rushes through me as I leap to my feet. “How in the name of ever-loving fuck would he know that?”

“That’s not the worst part.”

My eyes almost bulge out of my skull. “How is that not the worst part?”

“According to our guy on the inside, there are whispers about Federico making deals and using the Del Rossa name to strengthen his street credit.”

“Jesus Christ!” I slam both fists into my desk, pens and files clattering on the wood. “This is what I’ve been trying to avoid.”

Nicoli stands. “So, this fucker is already using his daughter’s last name to get ahead.” He turns to face Maximo. “Is our inside guy solid? Can we count on him to tell the truth?’

Maximo nods. “Sam is solid.”

“Who the fuck is Sam?” Nicoli’s brows are curved with question marks.

“A guy whose ass was glued to the seats of one of our casinos.” I rest against the edge of the desk. “We had a target we needed to eliminate, and Sam had debt he needed to pay. It was supposed to be simple, but he got caught and had his ass tossed into jail. So, we offered him protection between those walls in exchange for him being our eyes and ears in the place.”

“Sam?” Nicoli’s lips spread in a thin line like he’s trying to put a face to the name. “Do I know this Sam?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. His cousin works as a waitress at the diner where Leandra used to work. Wendy, I think her name is. Shit,” I blurt, roughing both hands through my hair. “I knew this would happen. I knew if that low-life cunt found out about his daughter’s new last name, he’d be a problem.”

Maximo steps up. “Any word from the lawyers?”

“I spoke to them earlier. They’ve been jumping through fucking hoops trying to find something to make sure this fucker stays locked up, but nothing’s sticking.”

“Anyone on our payroll who can help?” Nicoli asks. “A judge? A psych doctor? Jesus?”

I shake my head. “I’ve called in every favor, but it’s like there’s a giant brick wall waiting around every corner.”

“This is bullshit.” Maximo yanks off his jacket and throws it over the back of the couch. “We have the best lawyers in the goddamn city on this, but they can’t find a way to keep this bastard behind bars?”

“It doesn’t make sense.” Nicoli stares at the wall behind me. “For this guy to be able to find a way around our lawyers, he must have some kick-ass legal representation.”

“Something’s not right,” I mutter. “I can’t help shake the feeling that it’s not this fucker’s lawyers we’re up against.”

“You’re right.”

All three of us look at the door, Rome’s tall frame filling the entryway. “It’s not his lawyer you’re up against. It’s my dad.”