Episode 9

Gabriel

"What the hell do you want with the nanny?" I demand, gripping him by the neck.

His grin widens, making my bad mood turn worse.

"Jealous, my friend?"

"Just answer my question," I hiss.

He shrugs. "Nothing, just flirting. The girl is beautiful."

"Stay away from her."

"Oh, crap. Sorry, I didn't know you and she..."

"Her and I nothing," I cut him off. "She's a spoiled brat who still hasn't learned to respect her betters."

With a few deft movements, Dante makes me release him.

"So, the girl is available... Interesting."

"What do you mean by interesting?"

He smiles again. "You know my grandmother wants me to marry a nice Italian girl, and Sophia seems perfect. She even likes the kids. And you know, my friend, I want my own family as soon as possible."

"You can't have her," I mutter.

"Or can I?"

"You can't," I insist.

He starts walking towards the door. "Well, my friend, just remember that the 'Ndrangheta is rendering you a service, and she could be part of what we ask for in return," he says before leaving my house.

Damned fool.

He won't have her. Plus, if she leaves, who the hell is going to care for Kate's daughter? I don't have time to worry about that. I've got enough problems as it is.

I head upstairs to have some words with that spoiled brat. She mustn't get close to anyone without my permission, especially not a member of another mafia, even if he's my friend.

Especially if he's my friend.

I slam the door open, expecting to find her tending to Kate's daughter, but she's asleep on one of the couches with the baby on her chest. An empty bottle lies on the carpet, and the nanny's hand rests on the baby's back as if, even in sleep, her body knows what it needs to do.

Her body.

She is a damn beauty, every part of her. The shirt she's wearing has ridden up, and I can see her flat abdomen, navel, and three moles in a triangle above her rib. She's in shorts, and her long legs are visible. The baby covers her breasts, but I could feel them with my hand earlier.

It was damn delightful.

I remember how she reacted to my treatment, and I can't help but wonder if she likes roughness in sex like me. My mind and my body want to dominate the little wildcat with a doll's face, subdue her and make her beg for more. Make her climax so many times she loses consciousness and understands that she must fear and respect her Capo. Not defy me unless she wants her mouth subjected to the roughness of my movements while she kneels on the hard floor.

Damn it, I'd like to do that.

But I won't give my father the satisfaction. Besides, she might be in cahoots with him and get pregnant on purpose to force me into marriage again. And I will not give up my freedom. Nor will I have another heir.

No matter how appealing the bait my father is using.

Damned old man.

I lean in to get a closer look at her lips, parted slightly, tempting me to taste and claim them as my own. And that's when I smell a scent I hadn't recognized on her before. Her scent is mixed with the baby's. And although her scent should seem innocent to me, everything about her tempts me in a way I never thought possible.

Kate's daughter, as if she could hear my sinful thoughts, looks me right in the eyes. The girl has my eyes. I thought she looked just like her mother, but she has something of mine too.

She makes an annoyed sound, as if protecting her unconscious nanny, and in doing so reminds me of her mother and her irritating, cantankerous voice. Yet, I'm still surprised she resembles me at all. I know I played a part in her creation, but it still takes me effort to believe it.

She's my daughter.

Shit. What am I going to do with a daughter now?

I guess I'll have to double the security of the house. My enemies must assume that I have affection for my firstborn, even though I don't, and they might want to attack what they imagine to be my weak spot.

Sophia sighs, and I'm reminded of the moans that escaped her throat earlier, conveying total submission until she knew who I was.

She must hate me.

But that's for the best, so she'll stay as far away from me as possible and I can do the same with her.

I take out my phone and call one of the Clubs under Camorra control.

"Sir?"

"Send me a whore with dark, curly hair to my house in twenty minutes," I add, looking at the girl on the couch. Tonight I have a craving for taking a woman and pulling on her curls.

"Yes, sir," he replies before I end the call.

*****

The woman beneath me screams like a bitch in heat as I fuck her ass with violence and desperation. Tired of her exaggerated cries, I shove my belt in her mouth, silencing her, but she starts to growl like an animal cornered.

How exasperating.

Bored, I grab her hair, pull out and push her to the floor, keeping her on her knees.

"Do your job," I demand, holding her head.

At least like this, I'll keep her grotesque, operated mouth busy. Her lips are so filled I wouldn't be surprised if they burst at any moment. Yet, I know there are men who like women like this, and it's good for business. The problem is this woman doesn't turn me on.

I close my eyes and think of the nanny's half-open lips, her even breathing, and her beautiful skin. I recall our encounter in the kitchen and how she wiggled her ass against me, tempting me, not that it was necessary – I was aroused from the moment I touched her, smelled her, heard her moans. And maybe even from the moment I saw her dance in my kitchen.

I climax in the whore's mouth, feeling relieved.

"You have five minutes to get out of my house," I tell her before leaving the room naked.

I need some air; the whore's stinky perfume has given me a headache. However, I can't take another step when I close the door behind me.

Sophia is sitting against the wall by the door, her head leaning back. Her eyes are closed, and her hands grip her thighs in desperation.

"Sophia?"

Her eyes open, and I see a feverish, needy glint in them. I'm aroused again just seeing her hungry look and flushed cheeks.

"Damn it, Sophia," I growl in frustration.

This woman is my damnation.

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