She's Always Available

CATALINA'S PERSPECTIVE

The water rippled around me, warm and laced with rose oil. Steam clung to the edges of the porcelain tub, curling in delicate trails along my skin.

I leaned back, sinking lower until the water kissed just beneath my chin. My knees peeked through the surface, pussy still tingling from earlier, bruises blooming where his fingers had held too tight.

I hissed as I shifted slightly, the soreness flaring, sharp and immediate.

He’d left me like that.

Undone.

Again.

My hand drifted slowly beneath the surface, fingers brushing along the marks he left, tender, raw. I let my head fall back against the edge of the tub, eyes fluttering shut.

I didn’t think of him. I didn’t pretend.

I just moved. Slowly. Intimately. My hand slid lower, between my thighs, finding the ache he hadn't touched.

The ache he never cared to ease.

Once I reached it, I started rubbing my nub, slowly, gently. Feeling every sensation that he left hanging. I exhaled softly, my other hand gripping the edge of the tub for balance as my hips lifted just slightly above the water.

I took my time.

I slid two fingers inside me, scissoring. My hips grinding against my fingers as I reached my depths.

"Ahh!" moans as the sensation built up. Letting the warmth curl inside me, letting the pressure build where he’d left nothing but emptiness.

No rush..

Only the quiet slosh of water licking at my thighs, the sharp sting blooming across bruised skin, and then.

“Ah..” The breath slipped out unbidden, caught between a gasp and a plea as my fingers curled just right.

“Oh, god…” I choked it out, my hips twitching, chasing that edge. Every movement sets off a ripple, heat building, pressure tightening.

"Nnnngh.." My mouth fell open with a soft, barely above a whisper, but enough to fill the silence.

And when it hit?

“Ah.. ahhh! Fuck!” My legs shuddered, back arched, hand shaking as the wave tore through me.

I bit down on my lip, but still, a soft moan escaped, the kind that sounded too desperate to deny.

It wasn’t loud.

But it was messy.

Raw.

And finally, mine.

~~~~~~

DANTE'S PERSPECTIVE

I slammed the door shut behind me.

The sound echoed down the marble hall, but I didn’t look back. I headed straight for the east wing, the one room in this mansion that wasn’t touched by silk or perfume or anyone else’s breath.

My office.

The moment I stepped inside, the tension settled back onto my shoulders like a fitted coat.

The lights were low, the table already littered with documents that reeked of betrayal and incompetence.

A missed shipment. A port official bribed by the Bastianos instead of me. Someone had talked too much, moved too slow, and the fallout hit hard enough that three of my men were currently missing.

Possibly dead.

I dropped into my chair and leaned back, fingers threading through my hair.

That was why I’d gone to her. Catalina.

I didn’t even look at her when I walked in, I never needed to. She was always there.

Quiet. Waiting.

I didn’t call her. I didn’t have to.

I just have to spread her legs, and she'll give it to me.

And when I was inside her, I wasn’t thinking about her eyes or her voice. I wasn’t picturing a future.

I was just clearing my head.

That was all she was good for.

A release. A body that didn’t flinch, even when I was rough. One that cried through the bruises and touched me like she still believed in something I never offered.

She wasn’t my lover.

She was my wife only by name. A title for appearances, for family ties, for the few occasions I needed to remind the world that I wasn’t weak enough to die alone.

I didn’t love her. Never did.

But when no other woman could stomach the weight of my world, when they cried, when they begged, when they left, Catalina stayed.

Not because I asked her to.

But because that’s what she does.

She stays.

And in this life… that’s all I need.

My desk phone rang. Once. Twice. I didn’t move.

The third ring came, sharp and urgent. Only one man would dare call directly without waiting.

I picked it up.

“Speak.”

“Boss,” Matteo’s voice crackled through the line, low and tight. “We found them.”

Silence.

“Where?” I asked, already feeling the pressure mount behind my eyes.

“Warehouse 12. Near the docks. But… you’re not gonna like what we saw.”

“Spit it out.”

“There was a message,” he said carefully. “Branded into one of the bodies. Burned in.”

I stood slowly. My fingers curled tighter around the phone.

“What message.”

A pause.

Then: “Lucchese bleeds.”

My jaw clenched. My vision narrowed.

The phone creaked in my grip, then snapped from my hand as I hurled it across the room. It crashed against the wall with a violent crack, splintering into worthless plastic.

I didn’t speak.

Didn’t curse.

I just stood there, chest rising and falling, the room vibrating around me like it could barely hold what I wanted to do.

They left a message. Burned it into one of my men.

They wanted a war.

They were about to get one.

I took a breath through my nose, slow and deep. The broken phone lay in pieces by the wall, but I didn’t move toward it.

Instead, I pulled out my cell.

One press. One contact. It rang once before being picked up.

“Boss,” came the voice on the other end.

“Warehouse 12,” I said. My tone was calm. Controlled. The storm beneath it didn’t need to be explained. “Bring the cleanup crew. Full burn. No salvage.”

A sharp inhale. “Understood.”

“Anyone still breathing,” I added, “you bring them to me. Alive or begging.”

“Yes, sir.”

I ended the call.

My reflection stared back at me from the dark glass of the window, shirt still half-buttoned, hands still curled from impact.

Lucchese bleeds.

They made a mistake.

A very loud, very public one.

And now?

They were going to learn exactly what it meant to touch something that belonged to me.

Even the dead would pay for that message.