Scorned Obsession (Scorned Fate)

We were at a dessert bar at one a.m. Sera had an appetite for their chocolate cake jars and one didn’t deny a pregnant woman their cravings. As for me, I had champagne and a raspberry tart. Ivy gave us a mischievous idea to take home jars to our husbands while Sloane rolled her eyes as the only single one in our group.

We were one of the few tables left and I made a mental note to leave a hefty tip.

“We’ll take you home,” Divina told Sloane. “I don’t want you taking the subway dressed like that.”

“It’s a Friday night. I’m going to blend in,” she told her. “You’re used to getting chauffeured around and forget how it is.”

I hadn’t used the subway in years either. I wasn’t fond of it during rush hour, but it beats New York traffic when you needed to be somewhere in time. The security around the De Luccis had tightened ever since Sera married into the family and it had never relented. I didn’t see that easing soon, especially now that I was married to Sandro.

I glanced at our bodyguards seated at the corner of the bar. They seemed to have agreed with my request not to inform Sandro about the incident with the asshole on the dance floor. After what happened, we transferred to the second floor, which seemed to have a younger crowd, and we enjoyed the scene without incident.

“How’s your foot?” Ivy asked.

“It’ll be better by tomorrow. It just got tweaked slightly,” I answered.

“I could have taught him a lesson,” she replied.

“He got the message.” I finished my tart. I had a pleasant buzz from the champagne.

“Something’s off.” Ivy leaned closer. “Did you notice how Trevor never reacted to the dance-floor incident?”

“He was letting Miller and Al handle it?” I replied, although I shot our bodyguards a longer glance. “I mean, he’s got his hands full with the two of you. Besides, he didn’t want to step on any toes.” Then I laughed. “Pun not intended.”

“Hmm…” Sera said.

“What?”

“Our husbands are surprisingly absent,” Sera told Ivy. “They usually show up at the end of girls’ night and they’re not responding to our texts.”

I slid out my phone and checked for Sandro’s location. It was still grayed out, which meant he turned his phone off. This was nothing new when he was going into a meeting.

“What do you mean? Your guys show up for girls’ night?” Sloane asked. “It’s supposed to be a girls’ night. They can’t stay away from you even for one night?”

Sera and Ivy exchanged a knowing look while I snorted, “Put that way, it sounds like a red flag.”

“A big red flag.” Sloane nodded. “Right, Divina?”

Divina shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. I wish Tommy was more needy like that.”

“Well, it appears he and Sandro aren’t as clingy as my brothers,” I grumbled, realizing I wanted Sandro to be like that because what the hell, he used to stalk me.

“They have a lot on their minds right now,” Sera offered in an effort to make us feel better.

“You don’t want Sandro to be any more intense with you.” Divina shot me a pointed look reminding me about the Raffa Eight as we like to call the eight men Sandro mercilessly annihilated. A shudder rippled through me. I shut out that day, but whatever my mind went through, I coped. It was me or them. In my dreams or nightmares, it had progressed from horror to dark comedy. Gold Tooth’s exploding head became a bursting watermelon, and then Sandro would appear and ask me to make frittata. I think in one of my dreams, Sandro fucked me in that room full of butchered watermelon bits with Raffa and Griselda watching. After I orgasmed, I would always end up saying, “There. Happy now? You could have spared their lives.”

The dream always cut there. I didn’t know what I was becoming, but my brain chemistry was altering to accept a darker side. A darkness that was needed to become my husband’s queen.

“See,” Ivy said. “But then, it doesn’t explain why our guys are not answering our texts.”

“I know,” Sera said, and a yawn escaped her. “It’s time for this pregnant woman to call it a night.”

“Or morning,” I quipped.

We said our goodbyes on the sidewalk since our vehicles were parked on opposite ends of the block.

“This was fun,” I told Sera. “Thanks for organizing. We needed this.” The we included Sloane and Divina.

“Anytime.”

I shifted my hold on the bag of cake jars, praying the seams of the paper bag wouldn’t give way.

“Why do you have so many cake jars?” Sera peeked into the bag. “I count eight. You know they’re better when fresh, right? You don’t live too far from here and could pick up more any time.”

“For our guards,” I replied. “Because we live in a condo and Sandro doesn’t want them staying inside with me when he’s not there. The poor guys are hanging outside and in the lobby.”

“They’d probably appreciate a hot dog more than cake,” Sera said.

“Ugh, I know, but this is still sustenance. And they have these fancy spoons.”

“Oh, they’ll devour anything,” Divina replied.

I hugged my sisters-in-law goodbye. I couldn’t have asked for better ones. This outing was exactly what I needed, and it restored a pep to my spirit.

Miller and Al were taking me home first, followed by Divina, and finally Sloane, who still insisted on taking the subway, but Divina overruled her.

“Did you guys like the desserts?” I asked Miller and Al.

“They’re not bad.” It was Miller who answered. “They were too light. I barely tasted anything. Now, I’m craving a donut.”

I looked at my bag of cake jars again, remembering what Sera said. Whatever. The men were getting cake jars.

“Let’s go pick up a box from the bodega after we drop off the ladies,” Al said.

My chest shook with silent laughter, but I was looking forward to going home.

“Did you guys hear from Sandro?” I asked.

“No,” Miller said. “But Sticks said he’s back at the condo.”

“What?” I checked my phone again. His dot was still invisible to me. And he hadn’t responded to my texts.

“What’s up with guys not responding to texts tonight?” I mused.

“Not my Tommy,” Divina said. “He says he misses my sexy ass.”

“Oooh, your hubby getting frisky?” Sloane teased, looking over to where Divina was texting.

“Hmm…maybe this night apart was good,” she answered.

“It is,” Al said. “You don’t want your man too complacent having the little wife at home.”

“Is that what your girlfriend does to you, Al?” Divina asked.

“Yeah, she drives me nuts. I have to iron my own clothes and come home to microwave dinners now because she’s too busy with her different book clubs.”

“Then you have to make yourself more interesting than a book club,” Sloane said.

“You givin’ me relationship advice, woman, when you have no man?”

“Well, you’re giving them advice when your woman finds a book more pleasant company than you,” she retorted.

“Shots fired,” Miller crowed.

Al swatted him upside the head. “Shut up, you punk.” Then he sighed. “Yeah, this book thing just started, but what I’m sayin’ is, I miss her.”

“Then do something, Al. Don’t get complacent.” I used his words against him.

We traded advice and barbs all the way to Lenox Hill and I forgot about Sandro not texting me back.

When they dropped me off in front of the condo, I spotted Rossi soldiers hovering by the entrance. One of them was on his phone, probably a handoff from Al.

I gave them a nod and handed two of the desserts to him. Then, when I entered the lobby, I handed one to another soldier and the night guard, whose face lit up with a smile.

I didn’t care what Miller or Al said. Normal folks love cake. That left four for me and Sandro. I grinned secretively. I had plans.

I hopped into the elevator and punched the button for the top floor. Our condo was one of the six on that floor. Our unit was the furthest from the elevator. The hallway was narrow and it definitely wouldn’t be conducive for any bodyguard to hang around and not cause suspicions with the other tenants.

My feet hastened down the corridor. I was excited to see Sandro. I realized because it was me coming home to him instead of the other way around. There was an epiphany lurking in the recesses of my mind, but I wasn’t quite making the connection. I touched my keycard to the reader and opened the door.

Most of the lights were dimmed and the one in the kitchen was off.

The only ambient light came from the living room lampshade. It was a three-bedroom condo with a galley kitchen. A table that could seat six was in front of it. The kitchen area was open to the living room. And then finally, French doors led to a balcony. I could see Sandro’s outline standing outside, looking at the New York skyline.

“Sandro?” I called, lowering my bag and the cake jars on the dining table. He slowly turned around and walked inside. His face was expressionless.

I stuttered a step and my tweaked ankle screamed at me.

His face grew more remote.

Why did it feel like he was a predator and I was prey? I mean, that was usually the case, but this was different. It was almost as if he was pissed at something.

“Did you have a good time?” he asked.

Why did this probing question make me feel guilty? Not because I had a good time, but because I instructed the guys not to say anything about the dance-floor incident.

Well, duh, because it was simply guilt and I was projecting.

“Yes.”

He gave a brief nod, before tipping his chin. “What’s wrong with your foot?”

My face drained. He knows.

Still, my self-preservation was nowhere in sight. “What? I stumbled over the rug.”

“Walk to me.”

I didn’t move. We stared at each other for long seconds. It was like a game of chicken, but I knew Sandro would win all day long.

“Who told you?”

He raised a brow. “I want to hear it from you.”

“One question first.”

He didn’t acknowledge in movement or in words, waiting for my question.

“Is the man alive?” I asked cautiously.

That was when Sandro came unstuck and stalked toward me.

Retreat. Retreat.

I didn’t budge.

My pussy clenched and warmth flooded between my thighs. I was digging this version of Sandro.

He clasped my shoulders, lowering his head, he gritted, “He. Is.”

A breath of relief swooshed through me, but his nearness was too overpowering. I had to back away.

He let go of me and crossed his arms, but he was waiting for me to do the talking.

“He was a typical jerk who didn’t take no for an answer.”

“He shouldn’t have put his hands on you.”

“Agreed. But it happened. I took care of it.”

“You did.”

“Besides, Miller and Al were there.” I exhaled an annoyed sound. “I can’t believe they ratted me out after they promised they wouldn’t.”

Sandro uncrossed his arms and closed the distance between us. My back hit the dining table and he pressed his body against mine.

“One thing we need to get straight—you do not hide incidents like this from me. I will find out one way or another. Are we clear, baby?”

I huffed and lowered my head. He put his finger under my chin and forced me to look at him.

“Are we clear?” he repeated quietly, but the controlled feralness vibrating from his body came out loud and clear.

“You still haven’t told me how you found out.”

“I was there.”

My jaw dropped. “What?”

With a heated look, he brushed my lower lip.

“I wasn’t in Atlantic City. I was on the third floor. I saw the entire thing.”

Oh my God. “But how did you get to the guy⁠—”

“Dom was with me. There was a basement in the club, and that’s where we took Zachary Hellman.”

Everything was overwhelming me. I couldn’t breathe. I wanted what Sera and Ivy had, didn’t I? The overprotective, unhinged husband who couldn’t bear to be away from me when I was having a girls’ night out. Give me all the red flags, and dear heaven, it was making me want to climb his body.

“And…how did you find out this information?”

“Trevor.”

I narrowed my eyes. “He played us. He knew all along what was happening.” But it was Trevor. He’d worked covert ops and mastered the poker face.

I crossed my arms. “So, what happened in there? You say he’s alive. Is he breathing through a tube now, or is his jaw broken?”

“I gave him a choice. One game of Russian roulette, I take his finger or another part of his body, or…my fists.”

Goose bumps dotted my skin with the matter-of-fact way Sandro delivered the statement. It was his job. He’d gone through this scenario so many times and frequently it didn’t end with his targets breathing. But I also recalled Sandro’s words from my captivity.

My bullets, my blades, and my fists are meant for everyone else. Never you.

“Don’t keep me in suspense.”

“He’s got a few bruised ribs, maybe broken, I don’t know.” His eyes gleamed. “He probably couldn’t see clearly from an eye. I broke the fingers on his left hand.”

“What if he goes to the cops?” I whispered. “Sandro, you can’t just beat up people this way. I took care of it.”

“And I take care of you,” he growled. “And no, he won’t go to the cops. I told him he wouldn’t want to mess with us. He knows we know where he lives. He’s got a pregnant wife and a two-year-old son. We have video footage of him harassing you. His father-in-law is a partner in the financial firm he’s working at. Can you imagine him losing his cushy job if his sleaziness comes to light? The wife might throw him out on his ass and clean him out in the divorce.”

“Oh my God.” I was caught between feeling outrage for the man’s family and awe at the calculating way my husband dealt with anyone who messed with me. No doubt if this Zachary guy was a mobster, he would have suffered the same fate as Gold Tooth and his cohorts.

“So don’t worry about how I handle scum who try to mess with you,” he said, coming closer again to me. “You should worry about yourself.”

My mouth went dry. “What do you mean? You said I was safe.”

His head lowered. “Not from me.”

My eyes widened.

“I’ve got this caged aggression in me, baby,” he growled.

“What aggression?” My breathing stuttered.

His mouth was millimeters from mine. The darkness in his eyes made me hot, and my nipples got sensitive under the fabric of my dress.

“Someone touched you and he’s still breathing.”

“That’s progress.”

“You’re keeping incidents like this from me.”

“Self-preservation.”

“Whose?”

“Everyone’s,” I whispered. I put a hand on his chest. He was hard and warm and his heart beat under my palm. I let out a shaky breath. “Let’s get rid of that aggression.”

“I can’t be gentle.” He bit my lower lip, and I yelped. He licked it and gave me a taste of copper.

“I never want you to be.”

The words scarcely left my lips when his hands went under my arms. He kicked the chairs out of the way, set my ass on the table, and moved between my legs. His erection was hard against my pussy and arousal flooded my core.

His mouth came down on mine. The desperation in his kiss spurred me to return his kisses in the same fervent way his tongue tangled with mine. The way his mouth couldn’t get deep enough. His fingers bunched the neckline of my dress and he ripped it to my waist, baring my breasts.

“You’re not wearing a bra underneath this?” he rasped.

“The dress has a built-in.”

He didn’t say anything else and dove for a nipple. I cried out at the assault, not knowing where all the sensations were coming from. He was devouring my breasts just as he pushed aside my panties and sank two fingers inside me without preparation. The brutal invasion stung, but I was so damn wet, the pumping of his fingers brought me to the edge.

“Almost there,” I moaned. I gripped his head and pushed him lower.

“I can smell your arousal,” was his savage reply.

“Sandro, dammit.” My heels dug into his shoulders, but as he dragged my ass closer to the edge of the table, he buried his head between my thighs.

His nose probed my pussy. He pushed the panties aside and his tongue dipped in. Up, down, nudging, biting, still keeping me from coming.

My hips squirmed. “Sandro…”

He stopped, looked up at me, and with his thumb, kept pressure on my clit. “Never keep things from me again.”

“I won’t. But…”

“Non-negotiable, Bianca.”

I couldn’t answer him, but his answer was to resume edging me. “Sandro,” I whined. “Get me there.”

“Do we have a deal?” His tone was guttural. It was costing him as much as me.

“Yes.” I would take the orgasm for now and talk about the details later.

He ripped my panties off and ate my pussy like a starved man. I exploded right there, wetness and heat like I’d never experienced before.

Oh my God, did I pee?

But he was like a maddened animal, ravenous. All inhibitions vanished, and I was an animal like he was. I took my pleasure. I cried out again and screamed. I realized I’d been screaming for a while.

Sandro stood back. I heard the clink of his belt and the lowering of the zipper. Then he yanked me to a sitting position and impaled me on his cock. I gripped his shoulders, muffling my surprise. It was the first time he was fully seated in one stroke.

He stretched me to the limits just on the dividing line between ecstasy and pain. He lifted me by the ass and savagely slammed me down again.

I could only gasp and cling to him as he mercilessly fucked me.

No gentleness.

No asking if I was okay.

He was only after one thing.

Outright possession.

Outright domination.

And my body responded by clenching around him in another blinding orgasm.

“Fuck,” he said roughly. “I can feel your cunt squeezing the life outta me.”

“Don’t stop,” I begged. I could feel another rip-roaring release coming. It built and built. Sandro staggered to the wall and propped me against it, driving harder into me. I was going to feel this tomorrow and I couldn’t care less. In all our times making love, he’d never taken me this way that was solely for his pleasure. If Sandro stripped to the core was a kink, I was all over it.

Without second-guessing, just the need to sate his basic instinct.

“More, Sandro,” I begged again. My nails dug into his shoulder. He stripped me bare too and it was liberating. This was the way I pictured him taking me.

Pure passion and madness.

He hardened to steel, and possibly larger, hinting of his oncoming release. Three more hammering thrusts, and then he stilled and grunted into my shoulder. Heavy pants gusted beside my face. After a second, he started rocking into me more slowly, pressing kisses to my face, my neck, trailing up behind my ear.

He slowly let go of my legs.

My heels must have been digging into him.

We forgot everything else except becoming consumed in each other. I caressed his face while he dropped his forehead to mine.

“You okay?” he asked.

My mouth curved. “Never been more okay.”

A corner of his mouth tipped up. “You liked that?”

“Very much.”

He pressed his mouth to my forehead. “Got it.”

Then he swept me into his arms. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”