Now Open: Commissions For A Cause

A behind-the-scenes look at Keanu Reeves’s GQ cover

Your hesitation was always misplaced in my presence. There was never a moment I didn't acknowlge you sincerely, even if the pain pulled me deep into the resesses of only right now.

I know I will apologize to you later, when my reason returns and my lungs stop burning.

What part of "I care," didn't you hear the first time?

Man... I love watching people be harmlessly excited about things. Passionate about them. Start beaming and overflowing with chatter and get all animated and delighted. It breaks my heart when I see them take a breath and apologize and keep backtracking and quieting down because I know at some point they were told to control all that joy. I'm constantly like - don't be sorry! Tell me more! Honey go ahead and talk until your throat is raw. I love being in this moment with you and watching you light up. I don't need to even understand what you're talking about. I just like you, and therefore like anything that makes you feel this way. Lemme sit down. Gimme that Ted talk. Keep on glowing.

It didn't take the Camorra High Guard long to arrive in Rome Airport. The flight was booked first class courtesy of the Iris Twins who made the arrangements swiftly and efficiently as was their custom. Sable had trained them well. Two and a half hours later they touched down clearing the runway and being given priority access through express security and customs clearance. Thank God he'd arranged to have Lalienna's international passport processed quickly. Otherwise it would have made the trip through security cumbersome. Not that he cared. Money talks. His money practically screamed the national anthem. Security and Customs Officers made haste to let the Camorra High Guard pass unmolested. Their reputation proceeded them. But the security staff were curious at seeing a new face amongst the men and woman that made the line up of his usual crew. The Prince of Rome wasn't interested in conversation. He was dressed in Versace, dripped in gold bracelets, rings and watch and for an explanation he merely took Lalienna's hand in his own, and kissed her knuckles in front of them. Security staff and their sharp eyes took stock of the ring of the Camorra that graced the young woman's finger. They stopped asking questions immediately; and made sure the High Guard were escorted by airport security to their luxury Italian cars and permitted to leave the international terminal completely unhindered thereafter.

They were saluted when he returned to his mansion. Hector had made the call to the D'Antonio Estate manager to advise that they had returned from their extended stay in London and would now take their usual residence with Mr. D'Antonio in his expansive and extremely luxurious home.

The D'Antonio Estate was nothing short of purely spectacular. It sat on just over twenty thousand square feet of land, was four stories tall, sported sixteen bedrooms, fourteen full sized bathrooms and was furnished in a classical contemporary style. Sporting a grand entrance that flowed into a regal pair of stair cases connecting different floors that had an overall enchanting atmosphere. The living areas were bright, beautiful and airy. The kitchen was massive and dripped in luxury and the dining area overlooked spectacular manicured terrence gardens that could be seen from the sweeping balconies. Study rooms, library, spa and gym. Weapons room, office, service rooms and guest rooms. The breathtaking Italian villa overlooking Calandrelli was one of the most fashionable and sought-after elite estates in the entire city. And  it had been built and owned by the Camorra for almost forty years. It was a gift that Lorenzo imparted on his son, not more than ten minutes drive from his palace where he kept residence with Gianna. Needing impendence and self acquirement, Santino was given the estate as a gift on his eightieth birthday. The estate also featured a live-in chef, an allotment of twelve maids and one butler who doubled as the estate manager. A tender hearted and gentle old man that had served the Camorra for almost as long as Santino had been alive. His name was Panchelli and he instantly fell in love with Lalienna the moment he laid eyes on her!

"Oh signore D'Antonio, hai trovato un diamante! Un diamante completo e puro in Inghilterra! Guardala! Che angelo! I cieli stessi canteranno lodi della sua bellezza! Vieni, signore, subito, prepara subito la stanza migliore per Miss DeMentriento!" (Oh Sir D'Antonio, you have found a diamond! A complete and pure diamond in England! Look at her! What an angel! The heavens themselves will sing praises of her beauty! Come, ladies, immediately, prepare the finest room for Miss DeMentriento at once!)

The old Italian butler clapped his hands briskly and instantly a team of white and blue uniformed women stripped Lalienna of her bags and belongings, taking them from Tony's hands and descended up the stairs in a flutter of happy chirping, singing praises that the master of the house had returned at last and brought back with him the finest new jewel the Camorra has ever seen!

Gianna had filled them in, in her brother's absence, that the Prince of Rome was returning with a new High Guard to compliment Lorenzo's impressive line up of militant power. Lorenzo approved without much preamble. If Gianna had clapped eyes on the girl and believed what she saw and was told, that was good enough for the aging Italian Crime King. He was content to know that his son was finally showing a little initiative and stopping all his hideous whoring. The stains of Marissa Conti would never wash free of the halls of his palace. It was Gianna that stopped Lorenzo ultimately from planning his own son's execution. Though why for, Lorenzo still wasn't entirely certain.

He would bide his time and see how this new flower to his garden of thorns would comport herself under the care of his High Guard.

The Italian Silk Mafia. That is what they were known as on the streets of Italy. And everyone knew them by name and sight. They were professionals. Civilised. Refined. Products of the new renaissance. He hoped for her sake that the ex-Iron Fortuna initiate would live up to his expectations. And tame his wayward son.

Back in his mansion, Santino and his crew were already making themselves at home. They all had their own private rooms in the estate and needed no permission to attend them. They had lived in this mansion for years at a time and were fully accustomed to its spectacular beauty.  Santino was gracious and extremely inviting. He demanded the team not ever stand on ceremony or ask permission of anything. The house was theirs as much as it was his and he insisted on nothing if not their complete and absolute enjoyment at all times. If they were hungry, they knew where the kitchen, pantry and larder were. The chef prepared three solid meals a day for both Camorra staff and domestic servants and even the servants were permitted to do as they pleased when they pleased...within reason of course. They had their own private wing of the house where the maids retreated after daily duties. They rose at 5AM and retired at 8PM Monday to Saturday. And they were always given Sunday's off duty and permitted to host their own families and friends in the estate so long as they did not interfere with their working arrangements or leisure activities of Mr. D'Antonio or his High Guard.

They always wore uniform in blue and white to clearly mark them as domestic assistants. They proudly wore brass name badges emblazoned with the Camorra family crest. The maids were a variety of ages. Some as young as 17. They were not wealthy women by any stretch of the imagination. Their backgrounds were mostly completely impoverished and wretched which was why Santino petitioned them into the care of his estate. So they would not starve on the streets. When they were not attending to their domestic duties of cleaning and washing and running the household, they were given hours upon hours of spectacular education. All paid for by Santino in hopes of the girls growing up to be safe and happy. Marrying into money, hopefully, where they would be kept in luxury and retire from the life of servitude he gave them. Though it was not a difficult or dangerous life. Rome was a beautiful city with thousands of years worth of history, culture, art and refinements.

They were happy girls! They had food and clothes and jewels and music. Mr. D'Antonio protected them as if they were his daughters. (or so they imagined, for they rather swooned over him and his classical handsome elegance. They knew he came from an old mafia crime family, but they did not ask questions and were just grateful to be given such a fortuitous turn where otherwise their lives would have seen them staving in the gutters or working as whores.)

It was almost 2AM now but the news of the Camorra High Guard's return to the estate drove them all from their beds in a frantic bustle of happy excitement. Santino immediately thanked Panchelli and the girls for their diligence, apologising profusely about the shockingly late hour of their arrival and insisting they all return to their beds and have tomorrow off in celebration for his return. Panchelli tried to argue that he lived and breathed to serve his master, and Santino acknowledged the man's passionate imploring but absolutely insisted he returns to his rooms and rest. For Santino and the guards were fully independent and self-sufficient men and women who knew very well how to run a household without a team of domestic staff. They could cook and clean and make beds for themselves. They didn't need help. If anything, their work in London had left the team entirely drained and now that they were home again they were grateful to just be left in peace to unpack their belongings in their private bedrooms and retire to their own decompressing pleasures.

Panchelli, seeing that this was definitely true, apologised a thousand times, kissed Santino and Lalienna and each of the other guards in turn before calling off his maids and retiring again to the servants quarters to rest.

Santino was immediately better. Happy, boisterous! The demons that had tormented him of the past few months in London had completely vanished. Now he was absorbed with excitement as new invigorated focus because he had his dancer, his Spanish flower here in his home in Rome and he could hardly believe his good fortune! This was real! Really real! It was incredible! He was overjoyed. He welcomed her to his estate, personally showed her to her rooms, he stayed with her happily letting her unpack and make herself at home.

He brought her wine and cheeses and bread and salami. He showered her with praises, with romance and love and adoration and everything was as if this whole horrific mess had never happened to begin with.

The guards all retreated contentedly to their own amusements in the mansion. Ares sought to play her videogames. Tony and Curtis drank and played cards until they were tired and went to bed. Hector smoked and read a book on the balcony. Christov and Marcus decided to hit the spa bath to unwind as it looked over the glittering Italian city.

They were home. Finally home.

No one had died. No one had been mutilated or abused beyond recognition.

Well... none save for Lalienna, who wore Santino's initial upon her neck. Where once a love bite had been.

And the only death was the loss of her child. But only Hector and Christov knew the truth about that. To the rest of the guard, it appeared as though the young woman was merely recovering from the pained aftershock that came from a difficult argument with her lover over one night's indiscretion.

They prayed amongst themselves that Lalienna would never do it again. For they knew, deep down that for all their bluster and fiery words... Santino was still their employer and if he rose his hand and put a hit out on her lover, they would be forced to obey. He signed off their pay checks every month and made sure they were kept in immaculate luxury. As much as Santino gave, he would take away. They were still organized criminals. They were still assassins, hit men, gang members. They had clout, they had reputation, power and money. But they still had a city to run. There were still weapons trading, whore houses, drug rings and war offerings that had to take place in the background. Blood for blood. And eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. Rome paid their coffers for protection. Against family feuds, home invasions, theft and property destruction. They still made deals to rough people up. To confront and intimidate. To protect their boarders and keep the streets safe from other gangs that might get a little antsy about who really had the bigger pair of balls around here.

But none of that mattered right now.

For at last, before the sunrise, Santino brought Lalienna back to his master bedroom. And it was nothing like the luxury that he had imported for him in the Continental London. It was better. More opulent. It spoke of power and refinement and was entirely masculine and extremely tastefully elegant. His linen was still two thousand thread count luxury Egyptian cotton... in black. Because he loved the contrast of pale skin on ebony linen.

And he was still passionate and romantic and adoring to a fault. Sensual. Erotic. He wanted her. He wanted to taste her, touch her. But he was afraid. She was afraid. They had had their first-ever really big disagreement in their short relationship. So much had happened so quickly. He had rushed things. He had moved too fast. He scared the girl. Like he had on that first Wednesday evening when his lust took control and he had bled and mounted her there on that hotel room dining table. That almost killed him that night.

And now, having almost lost his mind in grief and anger over her fleeting, drunk affair... He vowed to himself. Never again.

He spoke to her for hours. Apologising, telling her his thoughts and feelings as they lay in bed together. Naked, because he needed to touch her skin even though he didn't dare to make love to her in this condition. He told her how sorry he was for the ten-thousandth time that morning. And explained and justified himself out of shame and guilt. That he was angry at the White Women still for having cast her out. That he went wild knowing that she would pick one of those creatures to love her whilst he was away. He begged her... begged her. If she ever grew restless or bored again and needed any sort of sexual release... That she calls him. In his grief, he even went so far as to say he preferred she make love to Ares, whom he loved and trusted completely, than some stranger off the streets or some woman from The White Tower.

"Never again amore mio... please... You will put me in my grave if you do it. I am still a young man my love, only 31 but I tell you, what we've been through together this past month has aged me easily at least twenty years. I feel so old inside. So ready to meet my maker. I shouldn't feel this way. You shouldn't feel this way. I don't want to be the cause of your suffering, Lalienna. From the moment I set eyes on you, I knew deep in my soul that you needed to be loved, nurtured, protected. Hector, Christov, Marcus, Curtis, Tony, Ares... all of them had scathing words for me and a thousand admonishments about how poorly I treated you. How you suffered and bled and cried. And I was wrong for shutting you out, shutting you down the way I did. I was suffering. I pray, think about it from my perspective: How would you have felt if you were thousands of kilometres away from home, working to make a life for me outside of England and then you find out, by accident, through a photo that your boyfriend was home fucking another woman in your bed? Would you not lose your mind in grief? Would you not fire and rage and want to kill her and me too where I stand? You would mi amore. You would, bella mia. You would and you would and there's no two-ways about it. I know you, Lalienna. I know your heart. Your mind. I know we've not been going steady long but I trust you. I would give my life to protect you if that's what it took. All your family now would. Without questions. Because we are family and...." He wanted to say it... to propose.

No... instead, he got out of the bed and cleared the distance to his dressing table where the black box that held the keys to Lalienna's new house and car in Vienna rested.

He came back and gave it to her. It was not a diamond engagement ring, but he got down on one knee all the same.

"This is what I was working on for you whilst I was away." He said at last... She didn't seem to be able to comprehend the magnitude of the gifts he was giving her. He insisted they were of no consequence, no value. What he was trying to give her...more than anything... was freedom. Freedom from suffering. Freedom from the Underworld. The Table. The servitude. The enslavement. But he would not free her heart. No matter what she said he stood firm on the idea that she belonged to him.

So he gave her the keys to the house and car in their velvet-lined box. And he showed her the papers, the photos on his phone. He told her about how the people in Vienna were friends that would love and protect her just in case she needed to get away and leave the life from the criminal underworld behind. She would never be free of the Table. Never be free of him. But she could start a life outside of London now. She could be independent and powerful and not need to depend on the White Women or Judeth ever again.

The moment he said Judeth's name she grew sad again. Her happiness diminished.

"Papi.... I can't leave my black swan behind.... My mother... She's the only one I've ever known that cared for me the way Rosalina never did. The way Marquis never did. You saw him. He didn't want me. He never wanted me.... I've never been wanted for anything..." She started to cry again. Tears and tears and tears and screams of anguish and he held her through it all. He weathered the storms of her grief and stayed firm as her anchor, choking back his own tears because he could not bear to see her suffering so raw... so exposed.

"Family amore mio. We can't choose them. They choose us. We can't escape them any more than we can try to push away the skies or burn the seas. But you can rest now darling, baby girl. You have me. And I will never leave you no matter how irrational and insane I get. Just... kiss me... tell me you want me... Slap me if you need to... shoot me with a pistol, cut me with a blade... I don't care what you do to me, Lalienna but I beg you, don't stop loving me. I don't think I can exist in this world without you."

He kissed her again. And it was magnificent. Erotic. Their shared suffering and joy, swinging emotions like a pendulum between them served as the most potent aphrodisiac to his frayed nerves. He wanted to make love to her. He begged her gently,

"Please...amore mio...I've been so lost without you. I need to feel you... I need to be inside you to know I'm real...I want this intimacy between us. More than flesh and blood. I want your heart... I need your soul to temper me. I admit it. I wronged you. And when you are strong again I will take to you to the finest laser clinician in all of Rome and I will have that horrible scar on your neck removed forever. Because we don't need reminders of our sins. We need to heal together. Heal me... Let me be inside you...." He was begging... the tears came and he could not stop them he was so raw and broken down.

He didn't know the truth. Of course not. Hector didn't say a word, Christov neither. He didn't know he had just lost a child.

But if he did.... he probably would have died with it.

Tears formed in her jade eyes, lip quivering slightly. She held back a sob, taking a breath.

“You…you never wanted me?” It felt as though her heart was breaking. Literally. The strings of her cardiac muscles were snapping, leaving her in the worst pain she’s ever felt… and she’s felt a lot of shit. She’s been through the worst, through hell. But this…this was worse. She couldn’t catch her breath. Her lungs wouldn’t produce the oxygen needed to stay alive. God, make it stop. Stop it! She couldn’t handle it. She clutched her heart, squeezing the fabric of her shirt in her fists. Her eyes broke. They relayed how she felt. So so so so ruined. So torn. So…worthless. Thrown away.

————

@f0rtis-fortuna-adiuvat // here is your angst. Do with it what you will. ;) have fun, my angel of sadness.

You’re friends with f0rtis-fortuna-aduviat right? Where are they? And are them and that Lalienna DeMentriento blog a shipped HC? They charactarize as such.

Hi there Reader!

Thank you for your question. To the best of my understanding our fellow writer Fortis is currently on extended leave and will remain offline for an indefinite period of time.

Fortis and Lalienna are two individual authors who collaborate together frequently as John Wick and progressive lady assassin Lalienna DeMentriento. I'm not familiar with the term 'HC' ship, but if it stands for (and I'm guessing here) 'Hetro Couple', then yes, you're right. On occasion John and Lalienna have been written to engage in heated physical exchanges. ☺️

If you're currently looking for a writer to take on the role of Mr. Wick, Lalienna's author or myself may be available. Please feel free to send an Ask request for more info.

All the best,

L.G. Spider

😁✌️

Star Wars art from Fantasy Flight.

Located from the Timeline Gallery for Facebook Darth Maul

If you are able to identify the artist from the illustration signature, please advise so I may provide appropriate credit.

| There's something about the end of Autumn. About coming home to the scent of sandalwood and cinnamon. There's gentle music in the background and the air is crisp and cool. The sunlight fades faster in the evenings. The nights linger longer like the kiss of a loved one. And walks down the leaf littered path remind me of you. |

“Don’t think I wouldn‘t dare...”

John Wick (2014)

Any updates on when we can expect the next chapter to Saiyuki Shambala? Thank you! <3

Thank you for your patience, friend. Saiyuki: Shambala is due to resume shortly. Chapter 4 is currently in the editing phase. An updated link will be posted on this blog once the chapter becomes available to the public. Thank you for your support! <3

Wait...

Just wait a bit...

Cool down.

Cool off.

He'd set down the phone on the sofa beside him. Reluctant to throw it in his temper. He'd burned through quite a few new phones in his aggression. These devices weren't cheap. Product warranty wouldn't cover willful and malicious damage. He's information was always hosted on private central servers. There was no fear of losing important information and even so he never kept anything important enough on the phone that could be considered incriminating. He'd learned discretion. Not trusting securities breeches that happened with anything that was connected online, to the internet. For all intents and purposes the contents of his phone simply looked like a wealthy Italian business man that dabbled in a considerable amount of foreign trade and international exchange. Stocks, land, financial lending. Art trade. Designer goods and products. Car import and export. The world didn't have to know the truth. That he was the son of Rome's most powerful organized Crime Lord. Footwear. Women's designer luxury shoes. He had a lot of that on his phone. He enjoyed buying footwear for Lalienna. Her tiny frame and dainty feet drove him wild. He could spend hours alone just worshiping her heels, sucking, licking, massaging her feet until she relaxed... until she came. He'd come with her. Incredible. He'd not even touched himself but the act of attending her feet, it was.... mind blowing. Those releases of tension and pressure had been amongst his favorite. The way she made him feel.

Now he watched her, as she kneeled on the floor, black lace hugging her curves and his white Pierre Cardin dress shirt. Fuck! She looked incredible wearing his clothes. Sleeves rolled, those fucking collarbones, the swell of her cleavage. Those eyes... she could get him off with those eyes alone. Her hair was wet. Combed neatly away from her face. He forgot what he was angry about. His cock throbbed painfully between his legs, reminding him he was a man and she was a woman. A potent, powerful women. The instinct to breed was... impulsive. His caress found her cheek, her jaw line. So warm. Droplets of her hair fell against her ear, across his fingertips. She was so sensual. She stole his breath. Those lips.... those eyes...

"Jesucristo, eres jodidamente hermosa." (Jesus Christ you're fucking beautiful.) He breathed.

"What have I done in my life to deserve someone as gorgeous as you, amore mio?" He took her in his arms, raising her gently from the floor. It didn't feel right, having her on his knees to him. Though the position was suggestive and he would have paid tremendous amounts of money just to have her suck down his length the way she did when she was between his thighs. This line of thoughts wasn't helping. She was warm and heavy against his thighs. He embraced her, hugging her to him. She'd seen the tension in his face and misread it for something else. He comforted her. Breathing her in. Placing his nose against her neck and just inhaling deeply. As if he could smell, like a dog, the intrinsic  olfactory patterns that made up her genetic makeup and decode her as his...property. No. She wasn't property. Not like this. Not when she held him, talked to him. Loved him the way she did. And he knew it, that it was true. It wasn't about the money, the prestige, the power. It was the feeling he got when she was in his arms. That he could take on the world and nothing could stop him because he was doing it for her.

His lover... his warrior... his dancer.... Mistress.

"I'm so owned by you..." He whispered into her shoulder. Smiling against the fabric. His rusty curls falling across her skin as he caressed her hips and back.

"There's nothing I wouldn't do to keep you with me... Safe... Forever... Contra el mundo, Lalienna." ( Against the world.)

His kiss found the hollow of her throat. He'd missed her. Missed being inside her. Missed her company. He needed it. Craved it, constantly. He was so obsessed. He looked at her now, his docile, loving green eyes absorbing her warmth.

"But your mother....tesoro... Your fucking mother... Vaffanculo!" (Fuck me!) He laughed, taking hold her delicate hand from his shoulder and bringing her fingers to his lips. He kissed her... The ring of the Camorra that Gianna had given her. He lapped at it. Hotly. Like a dog's kiss.

"I called her, like you told me to. And she had words for me, alright. Do you know she called me a slave trader? And a peasant? Me... My family owns this city, my father speaks for all of Italy on The High Table and she called me a fucking peasant. Me!" He said, indignant. The rage starting to burn through him again as he gestured to the luxury of the office that surrounded them. The sofa they sat on alone was made of finest Italian kid leather and valued well into the five digit figures.

Lalienna's brows furrowed in concern. She knew Judeth well. Her diplomacy and temper were often as sharp and direct as a knife blade. It didn't surprise her in the least to learn that her lover had receiving a hefty verbal beating from her adoptive mother. It was all so much, so soon. Uprooting her from one country where she barely had the time to find herself and now put her in another strange gilded cage with other dangerous and vicious birds. Even if they were intrinsically beautiful. She tried to diffuse the  gathering heat in his eyes, pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek.

"She's just being protective, Papi. We left London so quickly. We didn't even call her to say good bye. Of course she was going to be pissed. How would you feel if someone eloped with your daughter?"

Her reasoning was sound. She was young yes, but not without intelligence and the ability to rationalize and reflect clearly. She was much more focused at twenty-one that he had ever been. Mature. That was impressive. He nodded, sighing and leaning back against the leather, taking her with him to rest against his chest. She felt good. Heavy, female. He felt complete. He didn't give a wild fuck about Judeth or her English whores. They could all burn as far as he was concerned. He was still seething internally from the beating she'd given him. He tsked angrily.

"She wants me to test your employment for the Camorra by giving you a probationary period of three months service. That means she controls your finances and upkeep under The Continental London; keeps you neutral, employed as a contractor. She won't hand me your accounts. And she intends to make my father sign a contract to the same tune. She's.... smart. I'll give her that. She wants to control you, even though you're not Iron Fortuna anymore. Independents with Continental memberships are valuable," He didn't add expendable. She didn't need to hear that right now. "I told her there would be no probation, that I would commit you fully to my care and absorb the cost of your upkeep. You'd be paid a monthly salary that would exclude boarding costs for the estate just like the rest of the High Guard. She's like a dog with a bone... the bitch won't let go."

"Papi!" His dancer complained. She didn't like the insult. Again he clicked his tongue, frustrated. She'd likely already contacted Lorenzo. He'd speak to his father later about this mess.

"Bambina mi dispiace." (Sorry baby girl.) He returned kissing her cheeks. "Business... It's boring. More than you can handle right now. Hey... you look incredible in my clothes.... That shirt suits you..." He tugged at the buttons, one after the other. Revealing a little more of her cleavage. Distracted again by her flesh. His free hand found the swell of her rear and squeezed it. Making her smile. He smiled in return.

"How are you feeling, tesoro? We missed you at breakfast.... again at lunch. Ares' been a good girl and taking care of you eh? She said you were playing video games with her huh? She's good. Very good. What she can't say with her mouth she says with her hands. Games are good. They focus and enrich the mind. You should get her drunk and try play something from the Tekken series with her. That's worth paying for. She always picks Marshall Law because he reminds her of Bruce Lee. She lacks technique. If I want to own her I pick Nina Williams. If I want to tease her I pick Kuma, the bear. You should see how she loses her shit! It's very funny to watch." He brightened considerably now. This was fun, talking about something so innocent.

"Oh, I miss playing Final Fantasy. They are long games but the Japanese have such rich stories and worlds. I don't have the time anymore, but I used to love it. Too much work. Too many other distractions. You're far better than a game... I get to complete sensory overload without having to pick up a controller. Mmmh?" He nipped her ear and listened as she recounted her morning playing Halo again with Ares.

"It was fun, Papi! I really like Ares. She's sweet and tender. She looked after me... I'm sorry for not coming down to eat. Are you mad?"

"Not mad, amore... just.. A little put off. You know me darling, I'm Italian. This is Rome now, not England. There are few if any formalities that will be placed upon you, but sharing meals with your family is amongst one of the most important things you can attend. Sharing food is the way Italians show their love. It marks the history and culture of the region, the depth of our devotion to one another. Even if no one says a word at the table, at least we're together. Grateful, thankful of each other. It's a prayer. Eating with one another. Being with them. I understand, you've been through a lot, we both have. We both need time to adjust. London has not been kind to us. It's been especially unkind to you, amore, so you'll forgive me if I arch up over the White Women. I mean your mother no disrespect but she's fucking with the wrong wolf if she thinks she can push me around in my own house. Bah! Don't worry about that." He shook his head and pushed the thought away. Judeth.... she fucking irritated him something awful. He was smarting from the burn of her voice. In his rage he imagined dispatching his men and just... having her brutalized... raped... again. By Italians. So she could feel the depth of his hold. She had nothing to turn against him. Clutching at straws. This thing about controlling her contract was a farce. He'd wipe his balls with it. It wasn't worth further acknowledgement. So what!

"I'll let you off today. If you don't feel like sitting at table with us for the next few days while you bleed and rest, I'll forgive you without offense. But come next week, I expect you to do your duty and eat with us. We're the High Guard, amore. It's important we spend this time together. I'm going to rest the crew for a week to adjust back to Roman life but then we return to field. We have shit to get done and The High Table doesn't conform to our ideas of relaxation. They're a machine. Faceless Gods and my father is one of them. He says jump, we ask how high. That simple. We want to live in peace and luxury, we want to sleep at night with each other's bodies around us, without the fear of being shot in the head, then we do what we're told.... For now.

He let the ominous slip. Let it hang in the air. Then patted her rump adoringly.

"You look unsettled baby girl.. Uncomfortable. A little stung out. Are you high? Ares keeping you loaded? Hm?" He smiled at her darkly. Not entirely minding the idea of having his lover stoned.

"Look, when you're working I need you to keep clean. No drugs. No dope, no booze. You need to stay sharp on the field when you're dispatched. But you've got down time now babe. You're allowed to spread your wings a little. Talk to Curtis if you want something to take the edge off. Him and Hector may have a few lines of Columbian blow that might make you feel good. Mind you, you they won't give you more than a quarter gram. If you've never touched it before, it could have an adverse affect. And I don't want to rush you to hospital over a bad trip. Okay? They'll take care of you..." He thought he'd let it slip now.

"Christov and Hector seem to be guarding something intimate about you. Like they know something I don't. I'm probably imagining it. You've had a rather deep impression on them. All of them these past few months. I know you two and Ares are tight together. Curtis, Marcus and Tony may not be so clingy, but they're for you babe.... always for you. You saw them in London. Your personal attack squad. They would have gunned me down in cold blood if I didn't yield. That's my boys!" He smiled warmly, his eyes glittering in mirth. He loved his crew. His Italian Silk Mafia.

"Amore... I think... if you're feeling up to it... you should speak to Chris, about getting a new tattoo. Our tattoo. The Camorra crown... somewhere on your body. You've seen mine, I have it on my back. Gianna has hers on her hip, the others wear theirs on different places one their bodies. It doesn't have to be large. But it has to be there. I want it there. It's a sign of our brotherhood. Our creed. It marks us as a unit. Together. ... And... skin art is sexy. I think you'd look good with a tattoo... Something I can run my tongue over when we fuck... And I wanna.... fuck..."  Now his lips found her throat again... Feeling the pulsing vein under his tongue. His hands rolled over her hips... caressed her breasts. Were they sensitive? Some women complained that their brests ached during their cycle. This was the first time in the months he'd loved this woman that he'd been present for hers. He wanted to ask her intimate questions. He'd been away in Austria missing the opportunity to probe her. Now he did. Gentle, lovingly.

"How does that feel? When I touch you like this?" His warm palm cupped her breast over his shirt, rolling against her nipple.

"Hurt?" She bit her lower lip. Not pulling away from the contact but not quite leaning into it either. So he respected her reluctance and let go of her breast.

"Do you want to be loved? During your cycle?" Oh! That was direct. The words sensual, like silk, whispered in his dulcet baritone against her earlobe. He found it erotic. Switched back to Italian she could understand.  

"Non c'è pressione, nessuna aspettativa tra di noi. Quando mi vuoi, sono qui per servirti. Sai che ho sempre fame. Voglio sempre ... amore ... sesso ... con te." (There's no pressure, no expectations between us. When you want me, I'm here to serve you. You know I'm always hungry. I always want...love... sex... with you.)

"It might make you feel good. Orgasm releases hormones that fight pain. Endorphins. Better than any artificial high. I like it when you're stung out on a good fuck rather than stoned on pills. " His lips found her throat again... hot... a deep, sensual roll of his tongue before he pulled away with a groan. Meeting her eyes with his. Sinful.

"You know where my bed is now. If not mine... yours... If not yours... Then any other surface you desire. The windows, the spa, the walls. In the bath... against the shower... In front of Ares on the hood of a car for all I care... Anything... anything to make you cum for me... Mistress." He smirked. Content, Italian charm as he licked his lower lip, catching the swell between his teeth. That's it... he wanted her to be uncomfortable. On edge. If he could keep her horny she'd come to him of her own accord. He wouldn't have to push, to egg or her on or seek her out. He always got what he wanted. From the day he met her he made her do what he wanted. And it felt good. Really good. He swelled under the rush of power that flooded his veins and made his balls throb. Because she was that kind of girl... She did that to him. Made him feel incredible.

 "Go on bella... Go get some rest. You're beautiful, but you look fucked. Not the way I want you to be. You're tired. Make sure Ares brings you something to eat. She didn't bring you a plate and hasn't eaten herself she's so worried about you. That's not good baby, I don't like my girls hungry. I can deal with almost anything but self harm and eating disorders scare the fuck out of me. When a girl stops eating, I panic. It's not natural. Even if it's just biscotti and cafe, you need something. You can't survive on water alone. Understand? I'll have one of the maids prepare some plates and bring them up to your rooms if you don't want to join me for dinner. We eat at 7 usually. Our chef is incredible. But on Sunday I'll cook for you personally. I love cooking for my family. We might even invite Gianna over, if she's not too busy hitting people with her enormous cock."

That got a laugh from his dancer. He was happy. He pulled her off his lap gently and stood up, crossing the room to open the door for her. "Go on, bella... go. Papi has work to do for you. The sooner I can finish the sooner I can relax with everyone else. Why don't you get the boys, or Ares to tour you around the house and gardens? You won't get bored here. There's a beautiful library with a window seat. You can sleep in the Roman sunlight, like a cat. Just be mindful of the boys. They're big dogs and they like to chase pretty things. You'll know where to find me if you need me. I'm usually always here in the office or upstairs in the study. Ask the maids for anything you might need. If you want to go for a drive around town, you're welcome to it. But let the boys take you first. I'll need to organize an Italian license for you and then we can talk about getting you your own car. Or picking something from the garage. Marcus is our resident rev head. He'll tell you the difference between Maserati and Audi.

"You spoil me Papi! You already bought me a car in Austria!" She chirped brightly, clinging to his neck and kissing his cheek. He hugged her back, completely removing the distance between them, he held her. Warm. Tender. Pressing her to his chest. Cheeky, he teased her.

"It's only because I want to get into your garage..."

Tears formed in her jade eyes, lip quivering slightly. She held back a sob, taking a breath.

“You…you never wanted me?” It felt as though her heart was breaking. Literally. The strings of her cardiac muscles were snapping, leaving her in the worst pain she’s ever felt… and she’s felt a lot of shit. She’s been through the worst, through hell. But this…this was worse. She couldn’t catch her breath. Her lungs wouldn’t produce the oxygen needed to stay alive. God, make it stop. Stop it! She couldn’t handle it. She clutched her heart, squeezing the fabric of her shirt in her fists. Her eyes broke. They relayed how she felt. So so so so ruined. So torn. So…worthless. Thrown away.

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@f0rtis-fortuna-adiuvat // here is your angst. Do with it what you will. ;) have fun, my angel of sadness.