Chapter 39 Transgression
❄︎ Viktor ❄︎
Sweat dripped down my skin, coaxed out from the force of my hits on the punching bag.
Adrian stood off to the side, holding a cigar inches away from his lips as though he’d forgotten it was for smoking. He watched, punch after punch, as my fists connected.
“You should stop before you kill him,” he commented after a few more beats.
I’d heard him, but my rage hadn’t been sated enough. With an uppercut and roundhouse kick, I finally stopped and stepped away from the man trapped inside the punching bag.
“Dead men are no fun.”
I looked up at Adrian, who handed me a bottle of water.
“Breathing, scheming ones are, definitely.” I agreed.
I spared a glance at my watch to check how long I’d been working out. Over two hours, too long to be kissing my fists. Now I was truly concerned about the state of the man, Vincenzo Turo, one of my capos who’d stolen from me.
“Let him out,” I ordered the soldato standing behind the bag.
He deftly walked toward the bag hanging from hooks attached to the ceiling and pulled the thick metal zipper down.
The bloody, battered body of Vincenzo fell out. He wasn’t moving. Not even a wheeze for air.
Adrian sighed, tapping a finger on his temple.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. I knew I’d spoiled the fun by killing the man before Adrian could have his turn.
“No matter,” he said cheerily. “I’ll handle the Marino dog then.”
“No.”
Adrian turned a questioning face at me.
“Don’t touch him. Anyone else.”
With a nod, he left.
I was suddenly grateful for the fact that he knew better than to question me. I hadn’t told him about the deal with Rosalind yet. He would have insisted we send body parts one after the other to hasten her decision.
But I’d done enough by skinning him the first time. Something in my mind didn’t want her to see how truly depraved I could be, not yet.
I don’t want to scare her away. Emotionally.
Turning my back to where my cleaners scrubbed blood off my gym floors and folded the soiled gym bag, I headed up the stairs into the house to shower. The man had lost control of his orifices, and the space stank of death, piss, and something worse.
As soon as I stepped into my room, an image of her bent over in my closet, ass out, flashed in my mind, forever burned into my eyes. I took out what I needed and turned away, shaking my head to dislodge the picture. Damn her for corrupting my space and my thoughts.
I showered, doing everything possible to ignore my raging erection. The last time I’d had a woman was when said woman blindfolded me. Trying something new, she’d said, and the only reason I’m alive to tell the tale is because I didn’t let her tie my limbs.
Four men wielding machetes and carving knives had snuck into the room, but my acute sense of hearing had caught them even through her loud moans as she bounced on my cock.
My mind drifted back to Rosa. The way she’d come apart in my arms in that club, her arousal stoking something primal within me. I’d meant what I said, the first time I had her would be in a space and position comfortable enough for me to thoroughly punish her for her transgressions. Pump, her beauty. Stroke, for planting this seed of obsession in me.
Her supple olive skin, jasmine-scented hair. With a few more pumps of my fist, I came, watching the hot water flush my cum down the drain.
Fuck.
After my shower, I dressed to meet Dominic. I had something I needed to make disappear, and someone to warn him off of.
The memory of his hands fondling and gripping my fiancée’s waist sent tremors through my fingers.
Don’t ask me how I know she’ll agree. I just do. She’s too soft for her own good, too kind and empathetic to let Dante stay in my clutches too long, especially after the souvenir I sent of him. She would do one of two things to get him out, and it sure wouldn’t be to start a war. Like I said, too soft.
During the ride to Dominic’s, I let myself imagine her in a wedding dress, and said dress bunched over her hips after. I felt a smile stretch my face under my fingers as I stared out into the picturesque landscape of NYC.
“We’re here, Don.”
My driver’s thick rumble announced.
The soldato in the passenger seat alighted and rounded the car to open my door. I’d placed one leather-clad foot on the driveway before being bombarded with boobs and Arabian perfume.
“Oh Viktor!” Sabella crooned, wrapping her arms around my neck.
I pulled them off with a polite smile. “Stunning as ever, Sab.”
“So formal. Don’t tell me you’re still mad about that little thing?” she said with a sway of her hip, her brown eyes staring up at mine innocently.
“How could I? It’s not every day I get tied up and almost butchered, now is it? I hold it dear to my heart.”
She bit her lower lip. “We can have another session arranged if you’d like.”
Hell no.
“Of course,” I said tightly.
She’d become infatuated with me after I’d killed all the men that day, her naked body painted in their dark red blood. And she’d tried to still fuck me immediately after. She had taken a job from a rival to set me up, but her cooperation in pointing the person out had spared her life.
After which, she introduced me to her skilled brother, Dominic, and we’d managed a civil business relationship since then.
I walked into the condo with my bodyguards, heading straight for Dominic at the bar, where he always seemed to be.
“Ah, the king himself.” He clapped a hand behind my arm, immediately pouring me a shot.
“Vincenzo Turo. I need you to erase his existence off the internet,” I hissed after downing the strong shot.
“You could have easily sent a message, or one of your men to run this errand. Why are you here yourself?”
He was right, but the buzz under my skin from anxiously awaiting Rosalind’s answer required me to move as much as possible to distract myself, which brings me to the second reason I’m here.
I leveled my gaze on him. “Rosalind Marlow. She’s mine.”
His brows shot up, then he smiled. “Sabella won’t like this.”
“The fuck does that have to do with me?” I had no claims on her, and she had none on me. I hadn’t even touched her for months, since that first time.
“Once she sets her sights on a man, she hardly ever lets go. Until they’re dead or too used up. Boring. I have a feeling you won’t die anytime soon, and you’re nothing close to boring.” He tipped an imaginary hat at me. “Good luck.”
“I won’t need it,” I growled.
“Underground auctions are already in place for when she decides to sell. The big names are twitching in their seats on the wait.”
“She won’t sell,” I said matter-of-factly. She won’t. Because the Grand Marlow will be mine.
Dominic glanced at me but didn’t say a word. I knew what was going through his mind, whether going against my claim and pursuing her was worth my wrath. It wasn’t.
“Also, I’ll need a large shipment of arms. I’ll need…”
My watch chimed with a message, cutting me off.
I looked down at the tag. Rosalind.
Blood rushing in my ears, I read the message over and over.
‘I refuse your proposal.’ – Rosalind
My fingers curled around the glass to raise it to my lips.
It shattered in my grip.
A whisper I vaguely recognized as my own voice pushed past my lips.
“Refuse…?”