Chapter 41 - Angela

For a minute, I panicked inside that house—the idea of dying instead of being handed over to those men seemed good—until the sound of gunshots echoed from outside again, announcing that Marco had come for me.

I screamed and smiled with joy when I spotted him advancing across the lawn like an angel of death, heading toward me to save me.

"It's him, Frank. We're saved!" I exclaimed, my hope renewed.

"You won't get away with this," my mother lunged at me, ready to slap my face, but I caught her wrist in the air, stopping her. "Your father lost everything because of you—because you fell in love with our enemy. Do you have any idea how much you've humiliated us?"

"Dad had the chance to surrender and accept my marriage to Marco, but he chose war once again."

"He had to! You don't know what it's like for a man in his position to bow his head and accept defeat—he couldn't appear weak."

She touched my face with her free hand in a gentleness that could be mistaken for affection, but now I knew what the woman who raised me was capable of.

"Mancini looks exactly like that right now—a weak man offering his daughter as payment to assassins," I removed her hand from my face, releasing her once and for all and grabbing my gun again. "The one most interested in war here should be Marco after everything they took from him in the past."

She raised her eyebrows in clear surprise but quickly turned her face away, trying to hide her emotions.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I heard her murmur, but we both knew exactly what I was talking about.

"Marco sent a helicopter—we have to go!" Frank turned from the balcony, coming toward us, making me put that conversation off for another time.

"You're coming with us," I said, grabbing my mother's arm and pushing her ahead of us. "Like it or not, I'm not leaving you behind."

She shook herself, trying to escape my grip as we climbed to the terrace where we could escape. Frank helped keep her contained, gripping her arm from the other side, reminding her she wasn't dealing with the daughter who obeyed her in everything, but with the Camorra's consigliere.

"You go first—as soon as your mother climbs up, I'll be right behind," he informed me, and even though I wanted to argue, I settled for agreeing—there was no time for that discussion.

I climbed the ladder shaking in the strong wind from the blades, my mother followed, glancing constantly at the ground on the opposite side of the mansion.

She was trying to see my father, but there were so many men on that lawn—most of them already fallen and dead—making it hard to recognize anyone.

"We need to go!" the pilot shouted as soon as Frank sat at the other end, keeping my mother between us.

"I'm not leaving without Marco—I'm not leaving him here," he was in danger again because of me. Marco should be far away from there, but he'd come to my rescue even after I didn't listen to him. "I'm not leaving here without you!" I shouted, looking at him, and I could see a smile appear alongside his disapproving expression.

The gunshots resumed full force as they advanced until he was finally face-to-face with my father. That was the moment Marco could finally get revenge, cleanse his soul for everything he'd heard about his abuser.

As soon as a bullet lodged in my father, he looked up, meeting my gaze, and I could breathe a sigh of relief. That hell was finally over!

The pilot lowered the helicopter a bit more, and I threw down the ladder, eager to have Marco close to me. He climbed with difficulty; I could see the pain on his face, and when he got closer, I noticed the torn and blood-soaked shirt.

I waited only until he sat on the bench in front of me to jump into his lap, ripping the torn shirt from his body to check his wound.

"Hey, calm down, angel. It's nothing serious—just a graze," he tried to stop me, but I only paused when I checked with my own eyes the sliced arm—there was another on his abdomen, but none had bullets. He'd been lucky they only grazed him despite all the blood.

I sighed in relief, holding his face and pressing our foreheads together. Now I could breathe—my father was dead, the Russians were our allies, there was no direct threat against him.

"I thought I'd die in that house, and then I thought you'd die out there too," I murmured with my eyes closed, breathing deeply to absorb his scent, needing to be sure he was okay.

"You won't escape me that easily, angel," he declared, threading his fingers through my hair and pulling me to kiss him. "We just got married—there are so many things I intend to teach you."

Before I could respond, Marco's tongue invaded my mouth, making my mind spin with his sudden assault. I gripped his shoulders, moving my lips in rhythm with his as we crossed the city back home.

As soon as the helicopter landed on the mansion's helipad, he scooped me up in his arms, ignoring the people congratulating him on the victory, and marched inside the house with me.

"You need to tend to your wounds first," I protested as he rushed upstairs. "Marco!"

"There's a part of me that's hurting, and only you can fix it," he said, worrying me, and I jumped from his lap, wanting to find what hurt him. But the shameless man just laughed, holding his member over his pants. "My cock hurts, Angel. And the only thing that can ease my pain is that tight pussy of yours."

I gasped, shaking my head in denial as I approached him anyway. I slid my hands up his bare chest and down to his pants, wanting to free him from them. As soon as the fabric slid down his legs, leaving only the black boxers marking his mast, I kissed his chest, trailing down his abdomen without taking my eyes off him.

"You worried me, husband," I murmured, circling the waistband of his boxers with my tongue before biting him and pulling his boxers down with my teeth.

"Oh, she-devil, this isn't the time to play."

"I think I can do whatever I want with you right now," I licked the head of his member, watching it twitch like it had a life of its own, and Marco hissed, breathing deeply. "You're an injured man—you don't seem in any condition to protest."

He smiled in a feral way, but as soon as I took him into my mouth, his eyes rolled back, and he started cursing in Italian.

I swallowed his cock as far as I could, doing exactly what I knew he loved, using my hands to stroke him where I couldn't reach. His moans filled the room, encouraging me to go faster and suck even harder, rubbing my lips around his thickness and letting saliva drip down his entire length.

Marco punched the wall, grumbling afterward—probably from the pain in his injured arm—then I let his cock slip from my lips and, looking at him, trailed down to his balls, licking and sucking them lightly, playing with them in my mouth and feeling even bolder and naughtier as his expression changed. Until he grabbed my hair at the nape, pulling my head back. Taking advantage of my open mouth, Marco thrust into me, going deep and choking me, the head of his member hitting my throat.

He held me still and moved his hips, fucking my mouth, stealing my breath, and in a strange way, making me even more aroused.

Unable to hold back, I unzipped and pulled the tight blouse off my body, left in my training top, and circled my fingers around my breasts, feeling my nipples harden and poke against the fabric.

"You're enjoying having your mouth fucked, aren't you? You like having my cock thrusting into your throat, forcing you beyond your limit?" he asked, drawing a low moan from me.

I pinched a nipple and slid a hand down to the center between my legs, starting to touch myself because I couldn't take it anymore. Marco moved even faster in my mouth, the sensation of breathlessness mixing with the pleasure of rubbing my clit and nipple.

I couldn't last long and just closed my eyes, feeling my world shatter as the devastating wave crashed over me. I shuddered from head to toe, collapsing onto my heels.

He growled, yanking his cock from my mouth and lifting me as if I weighed nothing, carrying me to the bed. Marco threw me onto the mattress with little care, and I felt something cold against my skin.

I opened my eyes quickly in time to see the pocket knife trailing down my stomach, cutting the pants I was wearing and the panties, leaving the fabric in tatters around me.

"Marco... ohhh, please..." I moaned, writhing as he ran the blade over my folds.

If I were in my right mind, I'd be fearing what he'd do, but the night's adrenaline and desire were stripping away any reason.

"You're so wet, she-devil. Spread your legs for me," he ordered, and I did, parting them further and becoming fully exposed to him.

Marco flipped the blade toward his fingers and penetrated me with the handle of the knife. I moaned, arching my back over the mattress, and his laugh echoed in the room, drawing my gaze—he had a wicked smile, his lower lip caught between his teeth.