Chapter 9: The Ache That Won’t Fucking Die.

Vittorio’s POV, One Of Vittorio’s luxurious mansion.

The water scalded my skin, but I didn’t care. Not when Katarina's face kept flashing in my fucking head. That trembling mouth. Those scared, soft eyes. The way her ass felt when she jerked away from me—like fire crawling up my cock.

I slammed a fist against the tile. “Porca puttana,” I growled.

She was under my skin. In my bloodstream. I couldn’t get her out, not even when I fucked my fist like a madman in the shower.

My teeth ground together as I gripped my hard cock, stroking to and fro with furious, punishing jerks my meat bouncing off the water as my cock was about to burst with pleasure.

 My balls were throbbing and swollen,

Rock hard like nothing I have felt before.

She was in my fucking head. Burning me from the inside out. Distracting me.

Katarina Delgado.. Her trembling lips on mine. Her thick ass brushing against my lap—sparks firing through my cock like a live wire.

That wild, terrified look in her soft brown eyes—fuck, it haunted me.

It was fucking seared into my brain.

 No woman had ever made me wake up hard, desperate, aching like a fucking animal.

No woman, not in my whole cursed life, had ever made me feel like this.

Except for her. Fiorella. The only woman who ever haunted me like this. The one I buried. The one I swore never to remember.

I pumped my hand, going faster and growling low in my throat, the slap of wet skin against skin filling the steam-thick air.

My muscles tensed, cords of steel under my skin, the veins in my forearm were popping as I squeezed harder.

I slammed my hips forward into my own hand,pretending it was her tight pussy squeezing me,dripping, crying out my name with those soft fucking whimpers.

I grunted, almost snarling.

"Bastarda," I cursed in a low breath, my abs tightening, the muscles in my legs locking up.

 I came like a fucking beast, shooting against the slick tile, my whole body shuddering with the force of it.

"Porca troia," I growled in Italian under my breath.

Fucking bitch. Fucking angel. Fucking beautiful, dangerous little bitch.

I braced myself against the wall, my heart hammering.

Steam curled around me, a heavy, suffocating cloud.

I had to find her.

Since Fiorella, no one had undone me like this. Not until Katarina.

I stood there for a moment longer, breathing hard, feeling the rage swirl hotter inside me.

She had no idea who she was running from. No idea the kind of man she had awakened.

When I caught her and I would catch her.   I wasn’t just going to fuck her. I was going to ruin her.

I stepped out of the shower, yanking a towel around my waist.

My skin steamed under the open air, the light catching every hard cut of my abs, my chest, my arms.

I didn’t bother putting a shirt on.

Let them fucking look. Let them remember who owns this city.

I headed down the marble staircase, water dripping from my hair, each step echoing like a war drum through the giant house.

Two of my men were waiting — Ghost and Franco.

They straightened the second they saw me, stationed on either side of the main hall like statues.

No one spoke. The silence was heavier than a loaded gun.

In the far corner, hunched over a sleek black laptop, was Pietro.

The twitchy little tech genius was already typing furiously, tapping at the keyboard like his life depended on it. It might.

I walked past my men without looking at them, the towel slung low on my hips.

The air thickened with tension.

Franco flinched slightly under my stare, and I smirked coldly. "Pietro," I barked.

The techie jumped, knocking over his coffee cup.

He scrambled up, clutching the laptop to his chest, his wide brown eyes flicking nervously to the wet lines of my body, the muscles, the scars, the raw masculine power.

Pathetic. But useful. I jerked my chin once.

"Come." Pietro rushed over, nearly tripping over himself.

He stood trembling, clutching the laptop like it might save him.

“He was already pink in the face, stealing glances when he thought I wouldn’t notice. Poor bastard. In love with his executioner.”. I could smell it on him like a sickness.

I let him look.

"Brief him," I snapped at Franco without looking. He knew what I meant, I had informed him about finding Katarina.

Franco cleared his throat, voice rough.

"The target is Katarina Delgado," he said. Brown eyes. Brunette. "

Pietro’s hands shook harder. I could smell his nervous sweat from here, sharp and sour.

He adjusted his glasses, nodding frantically.

 Franco continued. " Last seen at Massimo's club.

I watched Pietro absorb every word, his fingers already moving on the keyboard, pulling up city maps, traffic cams, and facial recognition databases.

Good. Fear made him fast.

I prowled closer, standing over him. He shrank into himself, but he didn’t stop working.

Smart dude.

"Pietro," I said calmly, voice slicing through the air like a blade.

"I want a full trace."

He swallowed hard, nodding so fast his glasses slid down his nose.

"Find the girl," I said. "Track her movements. Her family. Her friends. I want everything."

Pietro fumbled for his tablet, his hands shaking slightly.

"Yes, Don De Luca," he breathed.

I turned to Ghost, who stood rigid, sweat glistening at his temple.

"Go to Massimo," I ordered.

"Rip the fucking information out of him if you have to. Get his surveillance footage, his staff records, anything. Anything that touches Katarina Delgado."

Ghost nodded hard, fists clenched. "We'll have everything on her by midnight."

I stepped closer, crowding his space, until he could smell the soap and heat still clinging to my skin. I stared at him for a long moment, letting the silence drag.

Midnight was too slow. Way too fucking slow.

I wanted her back under my hand.  Under my control. Now.

"If you fail," I said quietly, my voice almost tender,  "I’ll make sure you feel every second you wasted."

Ghost swallowed hard, sweat beading on his forehead.

I turned back to Pietro, who was staring at me again, his eyes flickering lower, his breath shallow.

I smirked coldly. "Find her," I repeated, my voice the final nail in his coffin. "Or I’ll find you first."

Pietro flushed bright red and ducked his head, already tapping furiously on his tablet.

Katarina Delgado didn’t understand yet. She belonged to me now. And I would tear the whole fucking city apart to get her.

The fucking ache in my cock that hadn’t gone away even after jerking off like a fucking animal in the shower.

I needed a body.

"Franco," I snapped, my voice sharp enough to cut bone.

He jumped to attention.

Bring me something soft. Something stupid. A girl who knows how to kneel and shut up. I need to fuck her until I forget Katarina's fucking face."

 "Now."

Franco hesitated for half a second, A stupid mistake.

I stepped toward him slowly, deliberately.

"You heard me," I growled low, the rage leaking through my control.

"Something young. Something soft. Something desperate to please."

Franco nodded so fast he nearly tripped over himself, already reaching for his phone.

I turned back toward the windows, the city lights burning through the night like fire.

She would be under me again soon.

But until then...

I needed to fuck this hardness out of my system. Hard. Fast.  Without mercy.