She’s Mine

VINCENZO'S POV

I locked the door behind me, keeping her trapped in there. Without a glance back, I stepped until I was outside my mansion, the chilly evening wind cooling the heat simmering beneath my skin.

My palm itched. My brief moment with Aurelia had riled me up, and I needed something to take the edge off.

I pulled my phone out from my pocket and dialled Matteo.

"Meet me at The Den," I told him, then hung up.

My men at the entrance immediately fell into step behind me.

The Den wasn't far from the estate. It was a small building with gray concrete walls and a large metal door. Like its name implied, it was where preys were torn apart. Preys who failed me, betrayed my loyalty, or made a mockery of the Vittori name.

No one who entered The Den got out alive. Their fate was mine to decide, and I never second-guessed it.

The heavy metal door groaned open, and the stench of blood, urine, and sweat made my nose twitch. Someone flipped the light switch, eliminating the darkness with a dim yellow light.

The Den was bare, with nothing but torture tools hanging on the walls, chains dangled from the ceiling like butcher hooks, and a very uncomfortable chair.

A man was seated at the centre of the room, limbs chained at a painful angle. His swollen face made him barely recognizable, with splotches of blood and sweat coating his skin.

He was unconscious, clueless to what I was about to do to him.

I motioned with a flick of my fingers, and a willing participant rushed with a bucket of water and doused it on the filthy pig. He awakened abruptly, gasping for air as his chest heaved like a drowning man breaking the surface.

His swollen eyes met mine, and he froze. His body trembled so violently that his chains rattled.

The corner of my lip tilted.

His terror fueled me.

"Per favore, Signor Vincenzo... perdonami o lasciami morire!" Please forgive me or let me die!

He pleaded between ragged breaths, blood and spit soaring out of his mouth. Pathetic tears pooled in his swollen eyes, streaming down his battered face.

Disgust curled in my gut, hot and sharp. A muscle in my jaw ticked as my teeth ground against each other.

I hated vain begging.

"You know how much I despise it when Maiale (pigs) beg," I bit out, my voice edged with ice. I leaned forward, and he shrunk, trying to escape me.

As if he could escape me.

"You shouldn't have stolen from me, idiota," I hissed as I struck the gun against his forehead, the impact snapping his head to the side. Blood trickled from the fresh gash. "You even got one of my men killed... and you have the fucking guts to beg."

Matteo materialized beside me, his posture casual with a hand buried in his pocket. He took a drag of his cigarrette, lit another, and handed it to me. I inhaled it in, nicotine burning my throat and igniting my nerves.

I turned back to the pig and gripped his jaw with an iron grip, keeping his bloodshot eyes trained on me. His body trembled under my touch.

I exhaled, tapping the ash off the cigarette, then without hesitation, pressed the glowing ember straight into his right eye.

A guttural, wrenching scream tore from his throat, echoing through the concrete walls.

I held his jaw tight, pressing the cigarette harder until I got my fill.

Her face suddenly flooded my mind, and a cruel smirk curved my lips—Aurelia

That stupid woman.

I took out the cigarrete, leaving behind a scorched bloodied eye, then struck his jaw with the butt of the gun. His screams were weaker now— he probably damaged his vocal cords.

The weight of the gun still held the warmth of her touch. The memory of Aurelia gripping it desperately replayed in my mind.

I scoffed. She must have held it like her life depended on it.

Auctioning her hadn't been sheer luck— it was planned perfectly. A friend had given me the information; Dario's daughter was working in some rundown bar in Idaho.

That Far from home. Alone. Vulnerable. It hadn't taken much to stalk her and set the pieces in motion.

She was always meant to be mine.

The plan was simple. Use her to get to her pig of a father, kill them both, take his empire and reconstruct it as mine. But she already proved to be a thorn. She knew my reputation, no doubt—and yet, she'd challenged me. I would've killed her for it. But something about her defiance and sheer idiocy kept me entertained.

She was something.

And just when I thought she couldn't surprise me more, she pulled the gun on herself, pressing the barrel into her skull, ready to blow her brains out. Staring into those amber eyes, I saw neither fear nor defeat.

I'd seen the strongest of men crumbling in the face of death, begging, weeping, and offering up their dignity for a sliver of mercy. But Aurelia? She hadn't feared death. She had grabbed it by the horns and plunged it deep into her heart.

Even after keeping her locked, chained, and starved, her defiance hadn't even faltered.

She was a tough one to break, that woman... but I would break her.

Matteo tapped my shoulder, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"You seem riled up," he said, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "I see she didn't succeed in blowing your brains out."

He mentioned her like he knew she was teetering at the walls of my mind.

He glanced at the man, who was already losing consciousness and called for another bucket. I took a step back just in time to avoid the splash as it drenched the half-dead man. He gasped awake, but it was obvious he had little life left in him.

"She tried to blow hers instead," I responded.

Matteo's brows shot up. "No shit." then he chuckled. "Didn't think she'd take that route... she's full of surprises."

He patted the man on the cheek and helped light my cigarette.

Matteo wasn't only my right-hand man—he was my only living blood. Our relationship went far beyond just business. I trusted him with my life, and he trusted me with his. While everyone respected me out of fear and only kept my relationship at arm's length, Matteo knew me more than anyone.

"She's nothing like her coward father," he said and handed his cigarrete to the pig.

He flinched, and Matteo laughed. "Relax. Take one last puff before you meet the gates of hell."

When the man didn't respond, Matteo shrugged, turned back to me, and grinned. "I like her."

Something twisted in my chest. Possessive and aggravated.

I narrowed my eyes. "She's my prisoner, bastardo."

Matteo raised his hand in mock surrender.

Clearly, Matteo had been swept by her already. And he'd only met her once.

She was a beauty, no doubt.

Dark, long, wavy hair framed her small face, wild and seductive. Despite the poor treatment, her skin remained untainted and smooth to the touch. But it was her eyes that were bewitching. They were a golden amber, so full of life even when she didn't want to live anymore.

Her small upturned nose, full, blood-red, luscious lips—tempting. Her body was sculpted to perfection, with a narrow waist, wide hips, and long legs.

She had the look of a temptress. A woman made for sin.

I almost felt empathy for making a beauty like her suffer. But she'd pay for being borne from her father. I shook her out of my thoughts. I didn't like how often she had begun occupying them.

I was getting bored.

"Give me a loaded gun," I said to no one in particular.

A gun was handed to me immediately as I shoved the other gun into my pants pocket. I pointed the loaded gun between the man's eyes. He was too far gone even to register what was about to happen.

A loud bang echoed.

Blood and brain matter splattered across the concrete.

"Clean this mess," I ordered as I walked out of the building. Matteo fell into beside me.

I handed the loaded gun to the first man.

"Did you handle things with Dante from the Soprano family?" I said, "How's the agreement with the drug shipment?"

Matteo ran a hand through his hair. "He's almost ready to oblige. He just needs to be assured he can trust us."

"Dante prioritizes a deep relationship with his partners over business," Matteo added. "He likes to feel like we're one big family."

I rubbed my jaw in thought.

"Invite him tomorrow for a game night with a couple of other dons. We can get to know each other better."

Matteo nodded. "Right... On it."

My mind drifted back to Aurelia.

A wicked thought crossed my mind, and the corners of my lips tilted slightly. Since she had infiltrated my thoughts, I might as well find a way to meld her into my activities.

"What's on your mind?" Matteo cut in, "You have that devious look in your eyes when you come up with something menacing."

Sometimes, I hated how much Matteo could read me.

"I want Aurelia to be there tomorrow," I answered. "I'd love to play games with her."

The thought of it made warmth surge to my groin.

Matteo smiled softly, but there was a disapproving look in his eyes. He pointed his cigarrete at me as he spoke.

"Take it easy on her, Fratello (brother), or I might just get her away from you myself."

He might've meant it as a joke, but he was still indirectly voicing out his thoughts.

Matteo had a soft spot despite having the deranged qualities of a mafia psychopath. He was more empathic, especially towards women.

My gaze darkened as I said calmly, "Then I'll kill you... Fratello."

He laughed, but he knew not to joke with me. Matteo knew me better than anyone else. He knew when to test the waters and when to step the hell back.

If there was one thing I never joked about, It was my possessions.

And Aurelia?

She was mine.