She might have left

CHAPTER 4

VINCENZO.

My eyes widened in disbelief as her hands flew to my cheek.

I blinked rapidly, trying to process what had just happened.

No woman had ever dared to stand up to me, let alone get courage to slap me like that.

I turned to my favorite plaything. "You can leave now."

She quickly picked up her panties and hurried out.

"I see you enjoy mixing love with violence," I said, attempting to downplay her actions. The only reason she was still able to breathe in front of me was that I don’t hit women.

"Misogynist monster!" she sneered. "How could you make me watch that lewd display?"

"You wanted the money, so you'll have to learn how to play the game," I replied.

Her nostrils flared as she snapped back, "I quit then. I'm no longer interested. I'm leaving!"

I swiftly moved my hand to the wall, intentionally blocking her path. "You want to leave? You clearly didn’t read the contract my janitor gave you."

"You won't leave my estate until the deal is done. Your mother will continue receiving the best treatment as long as you fulfill your side of the bargain."

Her eyes began to glisten with tears, and she questioned, "What? Are you going to keep me here, away from my friends and family?"

"I know you're the devil!" she spat.

I chuckled darkly. "Is that how you see me?"

"Yes!" she shot back, stepping closer with newfound confidence. "You're just a manipulative maniac!"

I clenched my fists, gritting my teeth. She was really starting to irritate me. How dare she call me the devil? I had saved her from the monster who had treated her so poorly.

He had frozen her cards and nearly ruined her mother's hospital payments at a critical time, yet she still thought I was the villain, all because I wanted her.

"Let me go!" she sobbed. "I am not your prisoner, you psycho!"

"What do you want from me?" 

"I want you willingly!" I shouted, startling her. Instantly, I regretted raising my voice.

At that moment, she looked so fragile. I turned my back, quickly dressing before calling one of the maids to escort her back to her room.

I didn’t want her to feel like a prisoner. I revel in being dominant, but only when a woman gives herself to me willingly. Many might label me a sadist, but in truth, I'm a dominant who loves when they submit to me to please me.

.

.

Thirty minutes passed, yet her presence lingered in my thoughts. I still couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that she had slapped me last night.

None of my girls have ever slapped me before. I caressed my beard, recalling how she had jerked off the chair and lunged at me. 

I usually thought I was in control, but feisty girls always turned me on the most.

The following day, I woke up at two o'clock in the morning from a terrifying nightmare. Well, nothing was new about having a nightmare by that time; it's just that it had been over three years since I last had that kind of nightmare in the middle of the night. I don't usually have such scary nightmares after one or two of my girls would have submitted themselves willingly to me.

I sighed deeply, forcing myself out of bed. I knew I wasn't going to sleep again. Who would have thought that Vincenzo Bianchi would be scared of nightmares when I killed men with my bare hands? My name rings a bell in the city, and everyone knows what I'm capable of. As the first and only son of my father, I inherited the mantle of power from him, despite him still being alive. Over the past few years, my father was the most feared Don in New York City and beyond, but now? It's my turn!

I didn't just blindly follow in his footsteps; I made sure to surpass them. I wasn't just molded to be strong and ruthless; being cold-blooded runs in the Bianchi family, and I just can't help it. Emotions are a weakness in the family, which is one reason why my parents' marriage is an open one.

My dad made his very first kill at thirteen, but I made my first one when I was just six years old. It wasn't necessarily a test phase as usual; I just got pissed at the playground and bullied my bully. However, surpassing my father and grandfathers was always my goal until the Morano crime family attacked my family on the night of my wedding day.

The name Morano wasn't usually heard after they pulled out of being the underboss in the Bianchi crime family, but after they murdered my fiancée, Alessia, in front of the altar, I haven't remained the same. They have also been on the run.

I'm more feared than my father, and they know I won't stop until I take revenge on them.

Alessia wasn't supposed to die that way. She had endured a lot from my family, who had always believed that a ruling mafia boss shouldn't be married—except if it was an open marriage. I was about to break that cycle until the Morano crime family barged into the hall and shot Alessia dead in front of everyone present.

I took out a stick of cigarette and lit it up in the middle of the night. That is the only thing that can console me right now. Since Alessia's death, I haven't been able to forget her. Well, I don't think I will ever forget her. I just have a coping mechanism of calming every girl that looks anything like her and have them take turns submitting to me every night, just at the time I might have the nightmare.

I still remember vividly how I held her body with trembling, gentle hands while I begged her to wake up and say, “I do.”

The Morano? Those bastards! I can't wait to get them and crush their bones with my hands. Seeing people writhe in agony makes me happy, and any Morano—be it a child, a woman—anyone from the Morano bloodline will not escape my wrath when I finally get my hands on them.

Puffing out smoke, I slid through my drawers and took out a rifle.

Maybe I should go have some shooting practice to release the pent-up frustration.

If only she had been obedient and submitted to me, I would be sound asleep right now.

Heaving a deep sigh, I shoved it away. It was just a dream. My chest felt tight, and a bead of sweat trickled down my face as I put the rifle back in the drawer.

Every night, these nightmares reminded me of my deepest insecurities and traumas, forcing me to confront how I had failed as a man, a boss, and Alessia’s husband.

A couple of hours later, it was already six o'clock, and I turned off the lights on my cigarettes and headed for the bathroom. I had a professional meeting with some political heads. I don't just run my family's drug shipments, clubs, or gang operations; my connections also extend into politics. That is the only way the police don't interfere with me in any way.

Afterward, I dressed in my tailored blue Burberry suit. I needed to be very professional and cover up my multitude of tattoos.

As I strutted outside and approached my garage, I paused in front of her room.

Hesitating for a moment, I finally grasped the handle. I wanted to ensure my “guest” was still intact.

Not that I was afraid she might escape; I knew she couldn’t get away from Vincenzo’s estate.

I gently pushed the door open, wearing a poker face. My eyes scanned the room, but there was no sign of her.