My whole body fucking hurts.
I woke to the soft glow of morning seeping through the curtains, a warm embrace of sunlight that gradually dissolved the remnants of sleep.
A fleeting moment of disorientation washed over me as I took in my surroundings—the bedroom, the scent of Vincent lingering in the air.
Turning onto my side, I caught sight of him. Vincent lay beside me, the lines of his face softened in the gentle morning light.
Memories of the night before began to trickle back, the edges of desire and tension blurring into something more intimate.
The realization hit me—last night, in the quiet hours where secrets and vulnerabilities unfolded, we had crossed a line.
A quiet sigh escaped me as I traced the contours of Vincent's features, his presence a tangible reminder of the harsh fucking we had allowed to take place on this very bed.
The room, witness to our unspoken desires, and the quiet exploration of boundaries.
As I shifted, the subtle soreness in my muscles became a reminder of the intimate moments shared between us.
A mix of vulnerability and satisfaction lingered in the air. The weight of our choices settled in the room, both thrilling and unnerving.
Vincent stirred beside me, his eyes meeting mine with a mixture of recognition and a subtle vulnerability that mirrored my own.
The unspoken question lingered in the air—what did last night mean for us?
We navigated the complexities of our connection, our bodies having communicated what words hadn't dared to express.
In the quiet aftermath, as the world outside continued its relentless pace, Vincent and I faced the uncharted territory of a shifted dynamic.
The lines between duty and desire had blurred, leaving us to grapple with the consequences of crossing that intimate threshold.
"Morning" he muttered.
I plaster on a smile, trying to break the awkwardness and tension hanging in the air, "Good morning." I was holding onto the sheets for dear life, the white fabric I was putting a lot of trust in, though it really didn't matter. He saw it all last night.
My back rested against the headboard, Vincent sat up, none of us talking. "So how did you—"
He cut me off, smashing my lips with his. I instantly moan and melt into the kiss. Vincent ripped the sheet off of my body, my tits falling infront of his face. "Morning sex?" I ask when we pull away.
"Fuck yes."
»»————- ★ ————-««
Vincent took the morning sex to another level and fucked me in the shower after we finished our first round. And I practically had to push him off of me.
Horny bastard.
"Elena, Tesoro" I hear my father say as I walk into my childhood home, his voice so proper. "We need to talk."
I walk into his office, the scent of leather and old books hit my nose and for some reason the smell was comforting. Especially since I've been warped into the world of Valentinos.
It's nice to be around my dad.
His desk was covered in pictures of me and him throughout the years, his way of showing he cares. "Are you okay?" He asked as I slumped down on the chair across from his.
My tone is nonchalant, "Yes."
He played with one of his pens, "I came home the other day because my security guards alerted me that a Miss Valentino was on the property but that can't be right. Because you were with Vincent." I frown, trying to figure out where he was going with this.
"Then wha..." I begin but he cuts me off.
"Turns out it was Mrs. Valentino." All the air sucked out of my lungs and I felt anger.
I gulp and frown, saying the name that has not left this mouth in a decade, it almost felt rotten, like vomit. "Christina?" Papa looked at me.
"I didn't hurt her. I figured you'd want to have your fill."
Christina left me when I was 5.
Almost twenty years the woman who called herself 'my mother' left me. She didn't even think twice before she walked out the door, out of my life.
I haven't heard from her since then. She was probably sleeping her way through Europe. She always was a whore.
"Where is she?"
My father smirked, knowing just how much fun I was gonna have torturing her. "She's been asking for you. She's upstairs in that room that locks from the outside."
I immediately stand and head upstairs, not sparing another moment to punch the fuck out of this bitch. "Elena." My father called as I reach the top of the stairs, I spin around, "here" he says and throws a set of keys into the air which I caught.
My footsteps are steady as I head towards the door, the wood door, painted white and I place the key in the hole.
That's what he said.
Shut the fuck up, whore.
I'm not crazy I just talk to a little voice in my head. We've all been there. Right?
No boo. Ur crazy.
I roll my eyes, opening the door and turning the light on, my eyes falling onto a middle aged whore who has nothing. "Christina." I announce.
"Elena," she stood up, rushing over to me as if she was only gone on a Caribbean holiday, when it's been well over 10 years. "Oh my sweet girl." She's shedding tears as if she's happy.
Pushing her off me, "Don't touch me." I bellowed, scrunching my nose at her very scent. Even that disgusted me.
"Oh my girl.. I heard that your father sold you to the Valentinos, are you okay? Do you need me to save you?"
"I don't need to be saved. No by you or anyone." I step into the room, she backed up. Kicking the door closed, my eyes never left hers. "And Dad didn't sell me. I made a choice. For the good of the mafia, something you never ever understood."
"Elena...sweetheart," she tucked a strand of her brown hair behind her ears and stepped closer. "I understand. More than you know."
I chuckled, "all you had to do was pop out a few kids and dress up. Did it really get that hard that you had to leave your daughter?" Shaking my head, I turn and punch the drywall.
"Elena.. I know I'm not perfect but I want to be here for you now."
"No. I don't need you." I pull out a knife from a beam in the drywall. "I need you to leave. To die. Go crawl into a hole."
"Elena I'm not leaving.. I am your mother—"
"You are a stranger." I say, a lump forming in my throat and I swallow trying to push it. "You don't know me—who I am. What's my favourite colour? What age did I hit puberty? Who was my first kill? Who was my first boyfriend? My first heartbreak? What was my first pets name? You don't know me."
Christina broke onto sobs, falling to her knees and cupping my hands "oh my sweet baby I am so sorry for leaving you."
"Don't you dare touch me! I hate you!" I shout
She stood up, Sobbing. "Elena. Please I just want to be in your life."
I shake my head, tears threatening to leave my eyes. "No." I gulp. "You chose to leave. You chose to not know me. Now you never will. I don't care that you left me. Not anymore. I've grown up. I'm getting married to a husband that I don't want. And I will have to have children but I won't be like you and leave them."
She stayed silent, still crying.
"Stop crying. You look pathetic. I'll let dad deal with you."
Fear flashed into her eyes and she grabbed me by my shoulders when I went to walk to the door. "No elena please. Your father will kill me. I'm of not use to him. I've done my part. I've made him children he'll kill me. Please."
She pleaded like a pathetic hooker scrapping for change so she can get treatment for her STD. I even considered helping her. Just so I could kill her myself.
But then I remembered what she would alwyas tell me as a kid.
"Mama, Per favore. Non sono andato nell'ufficio di papà." I told her as Papà took away my bear.
He always took away my bear when I got into trouble.
{Mama, Please. I didn't go in daddy's office}
Dads office was his safe place, he kept everything in there. His whole life. I'm surprised he doesn't have a bed in there. "Imparerai, Elena, che hai rifatto il tuo letto. Adesso sdraiati." Mama said, taking my teddy bear and putting it in a safe in their room, a safe I didn't know the code to.
{You'll learn, Elena, You made your bed. Now lie in it}
I knew it was my mother who went into dads office. She just didn't want to sleep in the guest house because it didn't have heating.
Whenever my mother did something that didn't please my father he would send her to sleep in the guest house until she learned her lesson. The guest house didn't have heating at that time so she hated it.
No amount of blankets could keep her cold heart warm.
"You made your bed Christina. Go ahead and lie in it." Pushing her off of me i walk out and lock the door behind me leaving her banging on the door.