LOGINThirty Minutes Before “The casino is still running as smoothly as I remembered?” “I have it under control.” His uncle laughed and nodded his head, the toothpick in his mouth rolling lazily from one corner of his mouth to the other. The man was a sly fucker. “That I see.” Cesare rose from his chair, buttoning his suit jacket as he rounded the desk. This was the office in the casino. There was an office in every club and casino they owned. They had managers who took care of them, Dons in New York and other states where their businesses were located. It was a small room that housed luxurious furniture and equipment, and the desk was an authentic mahogany that probably cost thousands, enough to tell him where his money was going. He cleared his throat and sat on the desk in front of his uncle, who was sitting on the plush leather sofa. A leather he knew cost thousands after watching his uncle bounce on it when they came in. They were too soft. Too flexible. After
“You know you can sit down, Giulio. I love you too much to make you run around.” Eliana patted her bodyguard’s chest, and the man sniffed once before sneezing. She chuckled and stepped back from him. “I’m sorry. I just can’t help it.” “Should I switch off the oven? I think whatever is in there is burning.” The bodyguard drawled, then sneezed again. “Miss, I think you should turn off that oven.” Eliana wandered aimlessly around the kitchen, the countertop filled with flour, syrup, and butter scattered carelessly. She swiped some of the butter from the top, picking a rag from the side to clean her hands. “Don’t be ludicrous. It’s just—” She paused. “What’s that smell?” Her eyes drifted around the counter, and she sniffed the top, trying to find the acrid smell wafting around. Then she heard her bodyguard say something like: “Miss, it’s the oven. It’s…shi!t.”
The laughter of Eliana’s friends echoed through the walls of the house, bright and carefree, spilling from the theatre room and weaving through the cold, quiet walls. After the birthday party she had complained to Cesare about missing, he decided to let her invite her friends over. They had been in there for hours now—watching movies, chatting, and taking photos. When the clock edged past lunchtime, Cesare instructed the housekeeper to call her down for lunch. He couldn’t have her forgetting to eat. Eliana was forgetful. A few minutes later, he strode down the stairs, his phone pressed against his ear as he conversed on the line. His voice was low as he listened to the person speaking. Then he heard it. A melodic, soft, sweet laughter. Cheerful. Full of life. He continued walking down the stairs, but the sound became louder and closer this time. He knew that sweet voice. Like he knew the sound of his own. But he wanted to see her face as she laughed. He lifted his gaze toward
Cesare arrived at the discreet run-down bar and entered and sat down at the back. He didn’t want to use any of his restaurants or clubs and casinos. It was all in the Family. Eyes and ears were wide open to listen and see and whisper to their contacts. There were too many moles in the Camorra, something he needed to work on when he got on that seat. He relaxed back on the plastic chair, the stench from the rickety table wafting up to him. It stunk of dried alcohol and piss. Sure someone had vomited on it too. Cesare exhaled, bringing out his phone from his pocket. He had sent the location of this place to the lawyer after the call. Nighttime was getting close and the lights from the bar were dim, adding to the shadows where he sat. No one would identify him. While he scrolled through his photos, the pictures of Eliana in different casual moments and poses stared back at him. Some with smiles, some with scowls, and some of her napping, laying on the floor… “Cesare Accardi?”
“Give me the reports.” Cesare sat down in his chair inside his home office. It had been three days since he returned and punished Eliana. Since then, he had gone through countless calls with his father’s doctor, listening to updates about his father’s deteriorating health. Things needed to move fast. The moment his father died, he needed to be prepared. So once he was gone, Cesare would be appointed as the new Capo dei Capi. His uncles and the other Capos from different states and Dons would have no say in the matter. Being the son of the Capo didn’t automatically grant him the mantle. That was exactly why he needed to prove himself. He needed to show them he had the capability to rule the Camorra. “Boston routes for our arms shipment have been closed, Capo—” “Wait.” Cesare raised his hand, palm facing upward. His brows furrowed. “You mean to say the port has been closed? Who the fuck dared to do that?” His underboss swallowed, shifting slightly on his feet as he
“I love your breasts, Eliana.” Cesare’s voice floated through the haze and Eliana’s throat bobbed, her hands still behind her back, hair sticking to her face. Her body ached, her knees begging to be released from the suffering they were in. “They’re just the perfect size for squeezing. They fit into my hands so well.” He pinched her nipple and she moaned, spittle dribbling from her lips to the side of her face. “Such tits.” There was nothing she was going to say to plead her way out of this punishment. Cesare was in control. She was a horny mess, her shorts soaked, since she hadn’t worn underwear to bed. If he saw that, he was going to use it against her and punish her more. She’d been sucking his dick for what felt like forever. Her jaw throbbed, the tip of her tongue was sore, and she had bitten it more times than she could count and swallowed blood while doing it. She didn’t want to cry—it didn’t touch him. He felt nothing and there was no need—but right now she would cry







