Ruthless Mafia 9

She edged herself close to the door away from him. “You’re disgusting.”
“Ah, you’re thinking of fucking.”
“Not even remotely,” she lied. She’d thought of nothing else since she’d seen the video of him pounding into the
stripper with reckless abandon torn between anger at him being with someone so crudely and curiosity at how it would
feel to be the woman in the video whose screams were undoubtedly real. “I want to go home.”
“You wanted a date. We’re having a date.”
“I didn’t want a date with you.”
“Oh, don’t be coy. Did you really believe you could do anything, and I wouldn’t find out?”
“Yes.”
“Silly fool.” He lifted his phone from the inside of his jacket pocket and dialed out. “You can leave the apartment, but I
want you right outside the door and ensuring little Sidonia doesn’t come looking for her friend.” He ended the call
without any further words but was typing a message off, smirking when his phone pinged with a response.
Curiosity got the better of her, “Why do you look so smug?”
“The girl from Sunday evening was enjoying the fruits of her labors in a hotel with her girlfriends. Her compensation
benefits are being revoked. My security team will be quite disappointed since she’s very flexible.”
“What do you mean being revoked? You’re firing her?” A thought popped into her head, “Ew. Wait. You all take turns with her?”
“Not me. I never get sloppy seconds sweetheart. I’m the boss. I go first and never twice.”
“You’re disgusting.”
He simply laughed at her and then pulled her sideways along the bench and draped his arm around her shoulder, leaning
his head into hers and whispered in her ear, “I might be disgusting but someday soon you will want nothing more than
my disgusting, filthy, sick, twisted and deviant mind doing the thing it does so well while I have you in our bed screaming
at me to do more.”
“Never.”
“That’s a very long time, amoré,” he nuzzled her ear. “When you were singing in the church on Sunday morning, I had
visions of you on your knees in a white gown looking up at me while I came all over your face.”
Her hand reached to smack his face, but he caught it before she connected. Her chest was heaving with rage at his words, and he mocked her by kissing her knuckles.
“I’m going to do it all, Zorah. I’m going to come in your mouth, down your throat, on your face, your breasts, your belly,
deep in your cunt I know is going to be tighter than tight, and maybe even in your ass.”
Her face was flushed with rage at his filth. “I hate you.”
“You will love me, or at least my big cock.” He wiggled his eyebrows, “did you freeze frame the video to see how well
hung I am?”
“I did not.”
“I think you watched it on repeat. Tell me sweet, innocent fiancée of mine, did you finger yourself while watching me
fuck?”
“No. You might be the most repulsive creature I’ve ever endured the misfortune of meeting. I’ve been in your presence
twice now and each time is worse than the last.”
“Just think. Four more sleeps until we’re married, and I’ll be yours until death do us part.”
She looked away from him as tears filled her eyes. “I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this.”
“Two million dollars.”
“What?”
“Two million dollars is the going rate for a hit conducted by the Lucchesi family. Your grandfather was given a discount
because he came from the same town my grandfather is from in Sicily. There aren’t many girls born in the town and to
have someone with the Grasso surname, well it was enticing for my grandfather to align our lineages.”
“My name is not Grasso.”
He scoffed, “you do not even know your own heritage. Your grandfather’s surname was indeed Grasso. It was changed
when he came to America because of the negative connotations to a certain family in the region, namely mine. Your
grandfather took his wife’s name, Esposito, which is how you and your mother are both carrying this name.” He smirked,
“and your uncle, well, since both names made him uncomfortable, he took your great-grandmother’s maiden name for
himself.”
She refused to acknowledge the comments. She pressed her lips together.
“He’s a right twat, isn’t he?”
She widened her eyes at the comment. “Excuse me?”
“Your uncle. I’ve been forced to deal with him a handful of times over the years. He thinks his shit doesn’t stink. I’ve
often wondered if he were more eunuch than priest. He’s very uptight.”
“He was left to take care of his sister and niece, and it almost cost him his priesthood. If it weren’t for the sisters of the
church taking us in with them.”
“He made no sacrifice for you or your mother. He heaped on piles of guilt to your poor mother, dumped you both with
the nuns and hated the fact you were both front and center each week reminding him of all he would never have. It makes his blood boil he’s never known anything other than his own fist when his sister fucked around.”
“Do not speak of my mother.”
“Your mother is a perfect example of what happens to doormats when left to men with heavy boots.”
“As am I now, I suppose,” she met his gaze once again.
“As I said, my grandfather gave yours a discount to rid the world of the man who was threatening to release sex tapes of
your mother and who convinced her to attempt suicide. Instead of the standard fare, my grandfather felt reuniting the
bloodlines of Grasso with Lucchesi was a great payment, in addition to some cold hard cash. If you can come up with the
money now, I’ll set you free.”
“I don’t have two million dollars.”
“Then your virgin pussy will have to do.”
“I hate you.”
“All you need to do is give us a baby, Zorah. You birth a genetic link to the old country for my grandfather to appease his
mind and I’ll let you live the rest of your days thumping on those bibles you like to stand upon while screeching your
hymns.”
“A baby? You want me to have your baby and then what? Hand it over?”
“No. A child needs two parents. All you need to do though is give us one child and then your debt is paid. We remain
married and I’ll go back to living my life and you can go back to being Saint Zorah singing in church.”
“You’ll go back to having lovers you mean, and I’ll be stuck at home tending to your child while you get to live the high
life? As if. I’d sooner die.”
“I warned you about speaking of your own death,” he gripped her by the chin and yanked her face closer to his. “Time
for a punishment.”