Test Me And Bleed

BRAM POV

I stared at the Don’s heir sprawled on the bed, barking orders like he still ran the world from a mattress.

I didn’t respond. Just handed him the tablet and turned away.

“The fuck is this?” he snapped, holding it up like it was foreign tech.

Wild. Reckless. No sense of boundaries. If I didn’t owe Marc Moretti, I would’ve walked away the moment I saw this trainwreck in silk sheets. But I had a debt—and I needed access. The truth I was chasing sat somewhere in this house, and Renzo Moretti might unknowingly lead me to it.

“You’ll regret this, Bram,” he spat.

I didn’t blink. Just typed.

Ping.

He looked down at the screen.

Me: I hate noise. Don’t provoke me. I’m not your parent.

His eyes widened as he read. He swung his legs off the bed like he planned to charge at me—only to crumple halfway up.

“Fuck,” he groaned, catching himself against the mattress.

“Can’t you help me, you—what the hell?” he snapped, glaring like I was the reason gravity existed.

Another message.

Me: I’m your bodyguard, not your babysitter.

He scoffed, loud and exaggerated. “Are you mute or something?”

Silence. I didn’t give him the dignity of a nod.

His laugh was sharp, sudden, like he’d cracked the world’s most unhinged joke. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Dad really hired a mute man to watch me. Jesus Christ, this family is insane.”

He collapsed back into the pillows, arms splayed, eyes on the ceiling. I checked the perimeter of the room, eyes scanning for weaknesses in the layout. Escape routes. Blind spots. I was trained to see threats. He was trained to make them.

This was my last job.

It had to be.

I was too tired, too full of ghosts, to keep doing this. Babysitting a spoiled mafia prince with a death wish wasn’t exactly how I saw my final assignment going.

The door opened.

The doctor walked in, holding a tray with meds. Renzo lit up like she was dessert.

“Hey, sexy doc. You’re back.”

She gave him a tight smile, clearly over his bullshit. I saw the eye-roll before she caught herself.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, voice crisp.

He licked his lips. “I’d feel a lot better if you gave me a blowjob. Or let me fuck you.”

She approached, and I watched her features shift—disbelief, frustration, something else.

Before I could step in, he reached up and undid the first button of her blouse.

“Renzo,” she warned.

He didn’t stop.

In seconds, her shirt was undone, and he was already mouthing her breasts like he had no concept of shame. She gasped, then moaned—a high, desperate sound like she’d been waiting for this moment.

I didn’t move.

Didn’t flinch.

Her hand slipped to his waistband, tugging his belt free, fingers wrapping around his cock like this was normal. Like this was routine. She stroked him slow and firm, and he let out a growl.

They were both insane.

He grinned wickedly. “I knew you were a bitch under all that professionalism. Come ride daddy. Come on, take it.”

She climbed onto the bed.

I stood there, watching them, listening to every moan, every breathless curse.

I didn’t interfere..

This wasn’t my job. .

I’ve seen a lot of things. Men slit open in alleys. A father begged his killer to spare his son. A woman drowned in her own blood while her lover watched.This is nothing compared to what I’ve watched.

The doctor’s moans filled the room, echoing off the walls like some twisted lullaby. Renzo’s hand fisted her hair as he moved her over him, like he owned her, like he owned the world. He didn’t. Not even his own body right now.

My arms crossed, back against the wall. Still. Silent.

I didn’t look away. I didn’t react. Let him put on his show. Let them both think I was just a shadow in the corner. That’s what people like them did—they mistook silence for weakness.

The doctor was close to losing her damn mind on top of him, breasts bouncing, his filthy mouth dragging another moan out of her every five seconds. She had her nails raking down his chest now, and Renzo? He looked smug as hell, panting and laughing like a spoiled prince in a brothel.

He was testing me. I knew it the second his eyes flicked toward me mid-thrust, watching for a flinch, a blink—anything.

I gave him nothing.

He was trying to make me talk. Little did he know I don’t give a fuck about what he’s doing.

He was failing.

She cried out as she came, and he held her hips down, dragging another sound from her like he enjoyed owning every noise in her throat. When he finished, he didn’t even kiss her. Just shoved her off, tucked himself back in, and lit a cigarette like she hadn’t just given herself up in front of a stranger.

The doctor wiped herself off with a tissue like this was just another Tuesday, rebuttoned her shirt, and walked past me without a word. Eyes down.

Shame always walked out quieter than it came in.

Renzo took a long drag from the cigarette, exhaled, and smirked at me.

“You ever get laid, Bram?” he asked, voice still hoarse from fucking.

I didn’t answer.

He chuckled. “Figures. You look like the type who jerks off to his own reflection.”

He didn’t know it, but I’d killed men for less.

I walked over to him, slow and deliberate, boots heavy on the floor. His smirk twitched.

“You threatening me, mute boy?” he asked, swallowing the slightest hint of nerves.

I stopped right at the edge of his bed, leaned in just enough for him to feel the weight of my presence. The smoke from his cigarette curled between us, bitter and thick. I took the tab from the table, typed slowly, and shoved it into his chest.

Me: If I wanted you dead, Renzo, you wouldn’t have woken up at all.

His mouth opened, then shut. Finally,

He laid back down, but this time, he didn’t speak. Didn’t touch his cigarette again. Just stared up at the ceiling, maybe wondering what kind of man his father had brought into his life.

Smart.

Because I wasn’t a man who played games.

And I wasn’t here to be seduced by spoiled heirs with blood on their names and bullets in their skin.

I was here to protect him and do my fucking damn job.