Hey ya'll, Paula Deen here. *throws twenty sticks of butter at you*
JUST WANTED TO SAY THANK YOU FOR READING THIS FAR, AND LET EVERYONE KNOW THAT I ACCIDENTLY DESCRIBED WHAT "DEEP THROATING" WAS ON ONE OF MY LESS "MATURE" BOOK GROUPS ON FACEBOOK. IT WAS PRETTY FUNNY FOR ME. LMFAO
ANYWAY...
I listened to Lady Gaga throughout this chapter?!?! LMFAO. And I'm also obsessed with this song by Flyleaf, called "All Around Me." It's in the Youtube video to the right. You MUST listen to it with this chapter.
"I can feel you all around me/Thickening the air I'm breathing/Holding on to what I'm feeling/Savoring this heart that's healing."
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Ferro-Valentino La Morte (if that was even his real name) was a lying, poisonous bastard. He was a manipulator and two-faced. He was the leader of a criminal organization that sold women…
Yet… in the midst of despising him with a burning passion and recognizing that he was a cruel, heartless person, something had exploded between the two of us. Something passionate. Raw. No, it was a moment of weakness, that’s what it was. Ferro had sunk his venomous fangs into my skin and infected me, made me feel things for him I did not want to feel...
His stubble scraping against my skin, lips full and gliding aggressively and hungrily against mine, my soft feminine thighs tightening with need around his hard muscled waist. Long skilled fingers sliding over my skin, gripping me tightly, sliding under the flimsy material of my outfit. The outfit I was forced to put on, at gunpoint. The flimsy, revealing lingerie outfit, which everyone and their mother had officially seen me in. The outfit I wanted off, regardless of my circumstances and my judgment, the moment Ferro-Valentino La Morte threw me down into the pillows and straddled me…
He was ruining me.
It couldn’t happen again.
We couldn’t happen again.
I was falling for a criminal.
I couldn’t do this to myself. I couldn’t. I was stronger than this. I had whacked the man with plates, dominated him in the shower, slapped him physically and with words across the face, and all he did was straddle my waist to cloud my judgment.
He was toxic.
I wanted to leave. I wanted to leave now, get out of that place. Run far away from this Mafia man, but I couldn’t, because I knew I was trapped inside of that club until he let me go. I couldn’t just escape because guards, who would either kill me or capture me if I tried to escape, probably surrounded the perimeter of the club. This wasn’t the kind of business that could be let out into the open.
I was attracted to Ferro more than I had been attracted to anyone in my life, regardless of his position. I hated that I felt that way, but I couldn’t help it. Nothing else in the world mattered to me the moment I saw Ferro in that room. Even when I was crushed, disappointed, betrayed, and saw him as a sex trafficker, I still wanted him in my life, I still wanted him in my bed…
This was a disaster waiting to happen.
Consumed by my thoughts, I barely felt Ferro grab me by the hand, or my feet walk out of the room. My dark haired neighbor kept me close to his side as we entered another private room. Men in suits nodded at him, stepped to the side, and stared at me in confusion. I blinked at them slowly. Everything felt frozen and I was detached from everything.
Ferro was their ruler, and to his people, and maybe even Ferro himself, I was just a sl*t. By just entering that club, I was stripped of my individuality. I wasn’t a person. I was a plaything.
For once, I began to think of an escape first, shoving my inexplicable and almost supernaturally developed, emotions to the side. When Ferro was distracted, I would slip out of the club. I didn’t know where I would go, but I knew I wasn’t leaving without Samantha.
I needed to dislodge my voice the center of my throat and speak up, tell Ferro what had happened to Samantha. But I was afraid. I was afraid that mobster version of Ferro coming out to play, telling me that I would never see my friend again, just like Fico had. Enough, I told myself. I needed to speak up, and be firm...
“Once upon a time, this banker I was doing business with said I 'kind of resemble' a pirate,” we overheard Fico telling the crowd of people around him. “He said it was just a “joke”. Har-har. Didn’t think it was so funny when I hammered nails into his knees. Best part is, after the jackass regained consciousness, I said to the him, ‘Well, at least I’m not going to hobble like one’!”
The men snickered around him.
Good Lord…
Ben, Ferro, and I broke free from a hoard of people, entering another private room that was similar to the other one we had been in. Except, this one was well lit and there were more places to sit.
Fico, who was sitting at the center of the room, spotted the three of us almost immediately. As we walked towards him, his exposed silver eye was trained on me, and the irritation locked into those sharp features seemed to deepen. Without saying a word, the crab ass had successfully communicated his disapproval that I was still alive. Go figured. But hey, he was shot. I would have been a little crabby too, if I was shot.
Eye Patch’s black dress shirt was halfway off, exposing the gory wound being dressed on his shoulder, and revealing a well-built body, rippling with muscles. I could now see prominent snake tattoo, which began from the outside of his left wrist, weaving up his bicep, across his chest, and finally ending at ear. His skin was tanned but stained red with blood, and this new look didn’t really help the fact that he reminded me of a pirate…
“You seem… alert,” Ferro said, showing a lot less consideration for the man’s well being, than he had shown when Ben told us Fico was shot. “Ben said you were hit pretty bad.” He smirked. “I was expecting you to faint from all the blood, or something, and be unconscious.”
“Yeah, I hate being such a kitten,” he spat sarcastically. “I even fainted a few times during the blow job I was getting earlier. You see, Benny over there obviously exaggerated. It’s not his fault he’s huge throbbing p*ssy.” That made his audience of suited men burst into laughter again. Ben full on scowled at the guy. “He thinks a needle pricking someone’s skin is equivalent to getting a leg amputated and thrown off the Grand Canyon. No, I was not hit bad. It went clean through, didn’t do any real damage. Terrible aim, if it was a kill shot. In fact, it was like they didn’t even know how to hold a fucking gun—CAZZO!”
The woman dressing Fico’s wound, who had a standard veil and a mask on, flinched back as the Mafia man barked out an Italian curse at her. She muttered what I expected to be an apology into his ear. But the “apology” seemed to only flare his temper, and for whatever reason, his eye briefly became fixated on me.
What the hell are you looking at? I didn’t ask him out loud, but it would have been nasty.
Fico looked away.
I frown dipped between my eyebrows, my attention shifting back to the woman aiding Fico’s wounds. She had a kimino robe, like mine, but the hood was up, and when I looked her way, this time she lifted her gaze up as well.
I locked onto a set of blue eyes.
She stuck her tongue out, pulling it quickly back in.
Samantha?
I hid the relieved smile on my face in a quick cough.
“Care to explain what happened?” Ferro asked again. Getting lost in my thoughts again, I my gaze shot down to my heels. Samantha was the one touching Fico? Why had he looked at me like that? Was he taunting me about her? How the hell was I going to get both of Sam and I out of there?
Fico unclenched his jaw, stretched his long legs out a little, and then cracked his head sharply to the side.
“Well, the hit was real f*cking sloppy,” he began, licking his upper lip a little. Sam, who had finished dressing his wound, slid a sponge down his muscular chest like a cat stretching it’s arms, cleaning off the stained marks on his skin.
Fico became distracted for a moment, his fiery grey eye following her hand as if it was a dirty rodent.
“I was getting sucked off real good in one of the back rooms,” he entered back into the conversation, “thanks to one of Orlando’s delicious A+ girls”—he gave an “ok” symbol to a spot in the room behind us, and Ferro and I turned around, spotting Orlando who had just entered the room—“and then, all of the sudden, I heard some whiny bitch making a fuss outside, some sort of disagreement. You know me; I hear things from miles away and I get nosy. I heard your name, I got curious. I went outside, right as one of the whiny new guys, Michael, goes batshit crazy, and starts emptying shots into Skinny Tony and Alonzo. Caught me of guard and managed to get me in the shoulder. Probably meant to kill me, but clearly missed anything serious because he had the shittiest aim known to mankind.”
“A new guy?” Ferro crossed his thick arms over his chest, glancing at the numerous mobsters around the room. They all seemed to visibly cower against Ferro’s glare. He returned his attention to Fico. “Did you shoot this bastard down, or did someone else?”
Fico paused for a moment, flinching a little as Samantha placed her hand on his good shoulder. What the hell is she doing? Suddenly, her blue eyes lifted up again, and something clicked inside of me. Was Samantha the shooter?
“Shot him right between the eyes,” Fico answered without hesitation, holding my gaze for a fraction of a second. “Nobody shoots at me, or any of the boys, and lives to see another day. Blood for blood. No matter what the circumstances, I always get a hard on after I blow a traitor’s brain to the wall.”
“Nobody betrays the Family,” Ferro agreed, his expression darkening.
“Who do you think he worked for?” Orlando asked, coming up behind Ferro and I. He wore a bold white suit, with a blue undershirt, and his dark hair was combed back away from his face. “Whoever it was, he fucked up my club good, and I plan on making the guy who brought him here, pay. Nobody f*cks with my friends, eh?” He clasped his hand on Ferro’s shoulder and briefly looked down at me. A faint amount of recognition lit his eyes, but he didn’t say anything about it.
Fico shrugged. “If you ask me, Boss, no newbies can be trusted for a while. No outsiders. Others could be behind what happened tonight.”
“You know how pissy the families in the south getting,” Ben said, jumping into the conversation, “It was probably Ivano’s doing…”
“I bet one of the wh*res were involved!” a man shouted.
Orlando scoffed, addressing the man with, “That’s just absurd, none of my girls would behave like that.”
“I want background checks on everyone who works here,” Ferro said.
As the conversation deepened between the men, and Ferro became absorbed into a loud debate, I stared to melt back into the throng of members and make my way carefully out of the room.
Samantha, noticing me leaving, bent to Fico’s ear, and he flagged down Ferro with a quick motion of his hand. “Boss, can we clear the room?” he asked, visibly irritated. “Now,” he added more urgently, between gritted teeth. “The redhead stays.”
I noticed Ferro’s skin pale slightly.
“EVERYONE OUT!” he barked out, and I jerked a little as he took me roughly by the arm. His eyes remained trained on Fico as people brushed past us. When Ferro noticed Samantha, concealed by her veil and mask, was still standing at Fico’s side, he inclined his head towards the door. “I said get out, woman.”
“I see you still haven’t removed that stick from your ass too, Ferro,” Samantha said, and in one quick movement, took off her veil and mask.
Ferro looked stunned for a moment, and then fired back, “You know Fico and I, just love those sticks up our asses.”
Fico rolled his eye. Or did he?
“I killed the men outside, and I shot Fico. And you better believe I’ll shoot him again.” She made the gun in her right hand, which had been completely hidden from view, more visible, by shoving it into Fico’s neck. “Slide your gun to me and and empty your pockets, Ferro. I’m leaving, and I’m taking my friend with me. Scarlett, step away from him. We’re in a room with the two deadliest men on the Easy Coast.”
What?! Dumbstruck, I took a slow step to my right--
“She’s not going anywhere,” Ferro said, securing me by the arm. His eyes were wild and possessive, terrifying me. “Fico, did you honestly let her steal your gun and f*ck you over like this, just to get to her friend? An American woman, at that--?”
“From my angle, you're the one f*cking me over the most,” Fico said. "You've been keeping something from me, something big. I know you have."
Ferro laughed as if that was the most ridiculous statement ever. "What have I been keeping from you?"
"It's written all over your face, Dante." He arched a dark brow. "Red’s been giving you head. For a while, I bet. What are the odds, that I picked up your closet sl*t, who knows my closet sl*t, from the furniture store?" He smirked in a nasty way. "Must have been given to you by someone special, if you're so protective over her. What Family contacted you and gave her to you in exchange for information about me, huh? Trying to pull a fast one on me, old friend? I'm not ret#rded, I know you've been trying to wipe me out. Or...maybe she's just"
"You're losing it, Fico," Ferro said.
"I lost it a long time ago. You're the one who is going to lose something, if you don't tell me who the f*ck she really is. You've screwed up, Ferro. You let a stranger in and you've told her too much.Omertà. I bet you don't even know her god damn last name."
Seeing that he was deep in thought, I lunged at Ferro's waist, slipped my hands beneath his suit jacket, and aimed his own gun at his head. “That's enough, you Italian sausage sandwiches,” I snapped, shoving away from Ferro. “Ferro, empty your pockets and get on your knees.”
Ferro looked at me as if I had seven heads and a beard, that put Dumbledore and Gandalf to shame.
“I said,” I ground out, stepping towards him. “Empty. Your. Pockets. And. Get. On. Your. Knees.”
Ferro slowly took out his wallet, his cellphone, a pack of gum, and a condom pack onto the ground before dropping his knees and glaring up at me.
“Aw, my favorites flavor? You shouldn’t have, Ferret,” I said, bending down and grabbing the gum. I slide a piece into my mouth, smiling victoriously.
“Scarlett, you’re my idol,” Sam praised.
“You see, Boss,” Fico said, now surprisingly less aggravated than Ferro. “When an fuming woman, such as Samantha, grabs you by the balls and says she wants to shoot at your d!ck like it’s a plastic plate lined up at a carnival game, you do as she says, because angry women with a gun are terrifying and reckless as f*ck. That’s just facts.” He sighed. “Now that you can relate the situation I’ve been in with Sammy here, let’s do as the little angry women say, before their v#g’s bleeds out anymore than they already are, and we all drown in a horrible and revolting death—“
“I swear to God, Fico, I’m going to blow out your eye and finger f*ck the eye socket, if you don’t stop running your mouth!” Samantha barked out.
Tightening his lips, Fico gave Ferro a look that read: See what I mean?
“Scarlett,” Ferro said, fire erupting in those dark eyes. I kept the gun aimed right at the center of his forehead. “You’re getting into something you don’t want to get into. I’m warning you, do not follow Samantha’s lead—“
“I would never keep you captive. I had nothing to do with you coming here. You’ve done nothing wrong that we would have to keep you. I care about you, Scarlett. You know that I wouldn't hurt you, we're just from two different worlds. You don't understand--"
"I've been in your place, Scarlett and I know Ferro's kind a lot better than you do," Samantha said, cutting Neighbor from Hell off. "He's playing you. For now, you have your freedom, but he'll take it away from you and he'll manipulate your emotions. He'll ruin you. Listen to me, Scarlett. Now is your chance to really start over. We can start over. Together."
"L3sbian," Fico coughed into his hand.
“When I say don’t talk,” Sam said, pulling sharply at Fico’s thick black hair, bringing his head back against the back of the couch, so that he was looking up at her, “I mean, don’t talk.” She returned her attention to Ferro. “Scarlett and I are getting out of here, Ferro. Fico is not keeping me here again, nor is he keeping my friend, and I don’t know if you plan on doing the same thing to Scarlett, but we’re not staying long enough for me to let you to explain yourself.”
“You’ll have to shoot me before I let either of you out of here now,” Ferro replied. “And shooting me wouldn’t be the best idea with twenty plus armed men right out the door, don’t you think?”
Well, this was certainly not going to end well.
“That’s what I thought, Sam.” Ferro chuckled deeply, but that laughter faded as his dark gaze fell on me. “Don’t tell me you’re honestly friends with her, Scarlett, and that you think this is going to work out.” When I didn’t reply, his voice dropped to a lower, huskier level. “Put the gun down, baby.”
Baby, put the phone down.
“Seriously, why is everyone so f*cking surprised that I have friend?” Samantha asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“I could provide a bulleted list and organize the worst traits you have with different colored high lighters, if you’d like,” Fico said.
“How about I make you a bulleted d!ck with this gun?” She then slammed the butt of her gun his injured shoulder. Ferro let out a short howl in pain, and tried to lunge for her, but she gripped him hard by the hair again, pulling his head back at a sharp angle. “I don’t think so, cucciolo,” she said, and the look he gave her could have spoiled milk.
Ferro’s nostrils flared, reminding me of a bull about to sprint forward. But his eyes drifted to the gun in my hands, and he thought better than to do something so stupid. That black gaze slid down the barrel of the gaze to my face, his black gaze so piercing, peeled away layers of my skin and saw right through me. My thoughts went back to Ferro’s belt, and the fact that he was able to kill without a bat of his eyelashes, a bead of sweat slide down my spine.
“Call Scarlett and I a taxi, Ferro,” Samantha demanded, her gaze hard set and her trigger finger unwavering as it dug into Fico’s neck. “If I have to say it again, I’m emptying a bullet into Pirate’s gut. Then his skull.”
What Ferro and I shared wasn’t a kiss. It was something more, something primal. His mouth had claimed mine, not a gentle or romantic act. It was rough and hungry, but it had yet to have a name. Not a need…not lust, something much more cynical. That kiss, whatever it was, was ravenous and monstrous, and devoured a piece of me, letting it slide slowly and teasingly down it’s throat and into it’s gut, where it would remain forever…
“You can’t run from me, tigrotta,” Ferro whispered at a volume that only I could hear, cautiously bending down to retrieve his phone. That deep, smooth voice of his involuntarily gave me chills, and every noise in and outside the room became muted. “Anywhere you go,” he added steadily, unhurriedly, “I’ll find you.”
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