The Suicide Run to the Conti Estate

Mantovani's P.O.V

At nine on the dot the convoy came out: three black SUVs, dark windows, armed drivers. Candice and Sanna were in the middle car with me. Mom- Sanna’s wife was sitting up front with whatever classical she had picked on humming along with. Candice was sitting next me, and then her thighs were pressed together, and that white dress seemed to be getting higher each time we felt a bump. I stared at the window, and counted olive trees like beads of a rosary.

She smelled of orange blossoms and something warmer, something that made my mouth water and my stomach knot at the same time. I hated it. I detested the fact that I was conscious of her, even so that every breath she drew made me feel as though I were being scratched by fingers.

Sanna fussed in the passenger seat. "You two should talk. We have three hours."

Candice made a little courteous laugh. "I'm fine watching the scenery."

“The scenery is the same as it was yesterday,”  Sanna said. "Talk."

I felt her glance at me. I didn't return it.

“Mantovani," she attempted with a low voice. "Are you angry with me?"

The question struck more like it was supposed to. Angry? I was angry, and scared, and hungry. I was all the ugly that my father had trained me to be, and she was the only thing I was meant to shield against it.

"No," I said. The one word was stroking my throat.

She waited. She went back to the window when I could give her nothing. I caught a glimpse of herself: the lips tight, the pain flickering through her face, and she turned away. I felt my way with guilt, it cut like a broken glass.

Sanna sighed theatrically. "You children are exhausting."

Her mom was laughing as if it was a cocktail party and I wanted to punch something.

An hour after that Sanna and Mom were asleep. The head of Candice was bobbing back and forth; I did not know whether it was motion sickness or fatigue. And at last it came on my shoulder. Light. Warm. Trusting.

I froze. Every muscle locked. Her hair was spilling down my arm and was soft and fragranced. I was able to feel the lightness of her breast against my bicep with two layers of thin cotton. My pulse thrummed in my ears.

I moved gradually, cautiously so that her head was in a more comfortable position. She uttered something, nearly a sigh, and dug still nearer. The monster within me growled, low and hungry.

I looked through the window and named all the capos of the lot that my father was in charge of till the desire to slip my hand under that dress and see how wet she was overcame, barely.

Candice's P.O.V

I wasn't really asleep. I only had to find an excuse to rub him.

As my cheek touched his shoulder I could feel him stiffen. Then, so tenderly as I could have sworn it, he manipulated me so that I should not have a crick in my neck. His arm crooked, near, but not round me, so that I could feel the heat of his flesh.

I kept my breathing even. Although my heart was beating so fast and hard in my chest that i was sure he could hear.

He reeked of cedar and gun-oil and something darker. Dangerous things. I would have liked to squeeze my nose against his throat and inhale him until I passed out.

When his finger touched my bare knee, unintentionally, brushing against the blanket Mom had thrown over me. The touch burned like a brand. I curbed my teeth in order not to shudder.

I was in danger of cracking my eyes open. He was gazing directly forward with his jaw so clenched that I could feel the muscle twitching. His hand was trembling half an inch above my thigh. He wanted to touch me and I wanted him to. I would experience it like you do thunder before the storm.

I moved, feigning slumber, so that the dress crept upwards, and my legs were separated sufficiently. The inside of my thighs was being cooled by cool air. I could feel his inhaling that was nearly silent.

The car hit a pothole. His hand came down on my naked flesh to support me, burning, coarse, flawless. He made no movement during three heartbeats. His thumb followed on, one slow stroke above my knee above the sensitive place.

I was not able to sleep by the jolt of heat that went through my legs. A tiny sound escaped me.

His hand had melted away as though I had burnt it.

I opened my eyes fully. Now he was looking at me with his dark eyes, nearly black, and his pupils were blown wide. There was something wild and scared within them.

“Sorry” I grumbled 

I did not feign to be confused. I put my palm hand on the seat between us. An invitation. A question.

His fingers twitched. I had nearly imagined that he would take it.

Then Sanna snored in sleep, and the spell broke. Mantovani pulled his head back, and clasped his arms across the chest as if they were cuffs.

The remainder of the pull was torture.

Mantovani's P.O.V

The villa of Conti was a white stone crown covering a hill. Marble and fountains and armed men who received us with a nod of respect, rather than with cold glares as I had been accustomed to. On the front steps, Conti himself, with fiancee dangling off his arm like a piece of costly jewelleries.

He embraced Mom, slapped Sanna on the back and turned to me with that carefree smile so many people loved. "Little brother." He had hauled me in a brutal embrace. "Missed you."

I endured it.

His gaze bore off me to Candice. There was something grateful, so quick it passed away, I might have imagined. My fists curled.

“Candice,” he said, putting his hand on her hand and kissing her knuckles. "Welcome to the family."

Her smile was little and shy. "Thank you."

The fiancee called Bianca looked at Candice in a manner that saw glass cut, and pulled her arm through Conti once more. Lunch is served on the terrace, I announced, and was already driving him out.

I saw the stiffening of Candice shoulders. Something jealous and fierce stirred aroused within me.

This was going to be a hell of a weekend.

Candice stepped in next me as we walked in. Too close to the point of touching my arm.

“Thanks to you” said she, to the shoulder.

I couldn't look at her. Had I, I would haul her into the darkest room I could and discover how sweet she did be when pleading.

"Don't," I said.

She stopped walking. "Don't what?"

“Don't be kind.” he paused  “Don't be beautiful…do not make me desire you even more than I do.”

"Just... don't."

I walked away and left her in the marble hall, with her heart racing, hoping that distance would be kind to all.

It wouldn't.