Chapter Five

Mattia

S hopping with Aurelia is a study in frustration. As soon as we enter the shop and the old bitch at the counter looks her over in cool, perfunctory assessment, the feisty woman who has been giving me hell since last night disappears. She gets antsy.

"Not you," I snap at the woman before she can even take a step in our direction. I point at a young blonde with a smile plastered across her face. "You can help us."

The old woman huffs and storms off to the back. Like I give a fuck. She isn't coming anywhere near Aurelia.

The blonde scurries forward to assist.

"She needs a wardrobe. Whatever she wants, she gets."

"Of course," the blonde says, still smiling as she leads us deeper into the store. She rattles on, but I barely listen, instead focused on Aurelia.

She's the frightened little mouse I met last night all over again, more apt to run than to bite. When she realizes there are no price tags on anything, the situation only gets worse. She suddenly doesn't want to touch anything, as if she's afraid she'll destroy it.

I've never cared for Vincent, but I've never wanted to bring him back from the dead and kill him myself quite like I do, watching her tiptoe around the store like she's afraid she'll fuck up the place simply by being caught inside.

She should be draped in diamonds and silk, living a life of luxury. Instead, she's fucking terrified that she doesn't belong.

It's abhorrent.

When she thinks I can't hear her, she complains that this is too much, that she doesn't need clothes, and that I've lost my mind.

After three hours of this, my patience runs out.

"Wrap up everything she's looked at," I command.

Naturally, she hears me. She startles exactly like a little mouse caught scurrying along the baseboards.

"What? No. You can't do that!"

I cut my eyes at her. "Everything," I repeat, holding her gaze.

"Of course, Mr. Agostino," the perky blonde says, smiling ear to ear. "Right away."

Aurelia scowls daggers at me.

Well, at least this fucking place didn't tamp out the fire in her completely. I was beginning to wonder.

I motion her over with a crook of my finger.

She stomps toward me, making sure everyone in the general vicinity knows she's pissed. It makes my cock so fucking hard it hurts.

Something about her attitude just does it for me. She isn't a delicate flower. She has spirit and fire and isn't afraid to tell me to go fuck myself. I'd rather have her spitting venom at me than whatever the fuck the last three hours have been.

Even when she's terrified, she has a backbone. I need her to remember that. In this life, in this world, she'll need it.

As soon as she's within arm's reach, I grab her, pulling her up against my chest. My lips land against her ear. "Keep being difficult, and you'll pay for it with my dick down your throat in the changing room, topolina . You can't complain if you can't breathe."

"You wouldn't."

"No?" I nip her ear. "Try me, cara mia ."

I'm not sure why I expect her to behave. No one tells her what to do, least of all me. But I'm not prepared for her to stomp on my foot as hard as she can.

I flick my gaze up, pinning a passing shop girl. "Where's the changing room?" I growl.

"Excuse me?"

"The changing room," I snap. "Where is it?"

"Um, the b-back?"

We're striding that way before she even finished speaking, my hand locking around Aurelia's elbow.

"Let me go, Mattia," she hisses.

"I will. As soon as I teach you to behave." I hustle her past shelves of designer clothes and shoes and into the back, practically dragging her into one of the changing rooms.

"Hey. You can't—"

A hard glare at the bitchy old woman trying to stop me from entering the changing room with Aurelia silences her.

The door slams closed behind us.

"Mattia!" Aurelia spins to face me, battling her hair out of her face. Her cheeks are pink. Her blue eyes spit fire at me. "Are you insane?"

I haul her into my arms, pressing her up against the wall. "Yes. And every single time you open your mouth, the madness grows, little mouse."

My lips find hers, my hunger for her spiraling out of control. Like usual, there's nothing gentle about the way I kiss her. I take her mouth as if it's our last kiss. For a moment, everything else disappears. It's just us, this tiny room, and the incessant throbbing of my cock.

"Let me go," she whimpers into my mouth, though we both know she doesn't mean it.

"No."

A spark of defiance fires in her eyes. Her fingers dig into my back, clawing. Even through the layers of my clothes, I feel her touch like a brand on my skin.

"That's it, cara mia . Fight me. You know how much I fucking love it." I drag her bottom lip through my teeth. "But just so you know, it's not going to stop what's about to happen."

I pull back for a moment, just enough to see a tiny flicker of anxiety waver in her eyes. But the potent mix of desire and anticipation is far more powerful. She may be nervous about this, but she wants it.

"Mattia," she breathes, both a protest and plea. But it's too late for words now. I've seen everything I need to see. This little goddess is a dirty girl, eager to explore.

I won't ever take anything she isn't truly willing to give. I'm not that fucked up in the head. I don't want her fear. I want her desire. Her obedience. Her pleasure. And I'm willing to do whatever the fuck I have to do to earn all three.

Without breaking eye contact, my fingers find their way under the elastic hem of her sweats. Her breath grows choppy as I trace the lips of her cunt through the thin fabric of her panties. She's already soaked.

My name escapes her lips in a strangled gasp when I flick the drenched fabric aside and delve a single finger inside.

"Oh God. Mattia."

Her walls tighten around my finger, clenching, pulling it deeper.

"That's right," I growl. "You'll learn to say it right, cara mia ."

She tenses and then relaxes into me when I add another finger. The look on her face is pure bliss as sweet surrender morphs into raw need.

I fuck her with my fingers until she's trembling on the edge, seconds from going over. She gasps and trembles, shaking in my arms.

I pull back suddenly.

"Knees," I command, removing my hand from her sweats and stepping back to give her a little space.

"Mattia," she pleads.

"Knees, topolina . Now."

She stares at me for a long moment—desire and fury warring in her expressive eyes—before slowly dropping to her knees. She's a beautiful contradiction on her knees before me—frightened little mouse and feisty, fiery temptress all wrapped in one.

"Good girl." I thread a hand through her raven hair, tilting her head back. "You're going to learn some manners, Aurelia."

Frankly, I don't give a shit if she learns manners or not. This is about power. About teaching her just how much of it she really wields. She may think she doesn't belong in this world, but she's wrong. She's my fucking queen. She fears nothing and no one, not any longer. We do what the fuck we want, where and when we want. No one tells us no. No one stops us.

Her eyes flash with a hint of rebellion before it bleeds to anticipation. Her lips part slightly but she says nothing. She wants this too much to fight me.

Interesting.

I keep my eyes locked on her face as I unbuckle my pants and pull my cock out, my hand wrapped around my length. Her gaze drifts down, her eyes widening as she catches sight of it.

She swallows audibly, her throat bobbing.

"Go ahead and look, Aurelia. Imagine me stretching that hot little mouth wide open," I growl, working myself in rough pulls while she watches. "Imagine me between your legs, driving into your tight little cunt. That's what you really want, isn't it? Me inside of you, fucking you raw?"

She licks her lips as if she can't wait to taste me. Goddamn. She's going to ruin me.

"Answer me."

"Y-yes."

"Too bad. Open that perfect little mouth for your husband," I demand, stepping up in front of her. "Suck me like a good girl."

Without further instruction, she flicks her tongue out to taste me, placing it against the head of my cock. She moans as she takes that first lick, heat flaring in her eyes.

"Remember that first taste, cara mia ," I growl, sinking my hand deeper into her hair. "You'll never know another. Now, suck."

She wraps her full lips around the head of my cock, sucking me into the hot, wet heaven of her mouth. Her blue eyes meet mine in a silent plea for approval. It's a simple act, yet the trust she offers so willingly in this moment makes my fucking chest ache.

On her knees with my cock in her mouth, she doesn't doubt me or herself. She knows she's safe here, and she fucking loves it.

"Good girl," I praise again when I hit the back of her throat and she chokes. But she doesn't pull away. Instead, she tries to take me deeper, fighting to accept every inch. A perfect mix of pleasure and power courses through me as I watch her bobbing up and down on my cock. Fucking owning it.

"That's it, cara mia ," I pant, clutching tendrils of her hair as I urge her on. "Just like that."

She looks up at me with pleading eyes.

"You want to come?"

She nods frantically.

"Then do it. Come all over your fingers for me."

I don't have to tell her twice. She slips her free hand into her sweats, practically sobbing around my cock. My hand tightens in her hair as hers begins to move between her legs.

I pump my hips, fucking her face, unable to stop myself. She's too fucking sweet on her knees before me, giving me the world.

"Christ, Aurelia. You're ruining me." My voice is a low growl as she sucks harder, bringing me closer and closer to the brink.

When she cries out around my cock, shaking beneath me as she comes, I can't stand it anymore. I thrust into her mouth a final time, my own orgasm crashing over me like a tidal wave.

"Swallow," I order, panting as I shudder through aftershocks of intense pleasure.

She does, taking everything I have to give her without protest.

Her eyes never leave mine, the trust in them making me feel things I've never felt before. Seeing my seed on her tongue and the self-satisfied glimmer in those brilliant blue eyes—that's victory. So is the realization that the urge to possess and consume runs both ways between us.

She's falling for me, even if she doesn't mean to do it. Little by little, her walls are crumbling. Little by little, she's learning to trust me.

And little by little, she's becoming something irreplaceable to me. Something I'll kill to keep.

I pull her up from her knees, claiming her lips in a searing kiss. "Fight me," I mutter against her lips. "Give me nine kinds of hell if it makes you happy. But never forget that you can bring me to my fucking knees if that's what you choose to do. That's the power you have, cara mia . You're a principessa . This world is yours for the taking. It always has been. You cower for no one. You fear no one."

"What if I don't want to be a principessa , Mattia?"

I tip her face up until her gaze tangles with mine. "Then be my queen, cara mia . Don that armor when you need a reminder that you no longer have to fear the world." My thumb brushes her bottom lip. "The world should fear Aurelia Agostino now."

Her eyes flicker across my face before she bites her lip and nods. "Okay," she whispers. "I can do that."

When we emerge from the changing room, everything she looked at is bagged up on the front counter, waiting for us. No one will look us in the eyes. They know precisely what we've been doing.

I don't give a flying fuck.

"Why don't you go change, cara mia ?" I suggest. "I'll pay and have everything loaded into the SUV."

"Okay," she whispers, her cheeks bright pink. She keeps her head held high and her shoulders back, though. It's a helluva lot better than where we started.

I scoop a bag from the counter and hold it out to her, watching as she turns and heads back to the back. Halfway there, her gaze drifts toward a dress hanging on the wall. She looked at the same one earlier.

I know nothing about dresses, but it's short and shimmery with puffy sleeves. She'd look like a fucking goddess in it.

"Why isn't that dress in a bag?"

"Sir?"

"That dress. Why isn't it in a bag?"

"Oh. Um." The shop girl's eyes dart around before she leans forward. "Mrs. Dawson said not to bag it because it's eleven thousand dollars, Mr. Agostino. She didn't think you'd want it."

"I said, bag up everything my wife looked at. Not bag up everything your bitch of a boss thought she deserved," I grit out, tossing my card on the counter in disgust. "Put it in a fucking bag. Now."

"Y-Yes, sir." The girl pales visibly before she scurries around the counter to get it.

I scoop up the rest of the bags to carry them out to the SUV, my blood boiling. It's not Aurelia's fault that I dragged her here dressed in my clothes. It's not her fault that her fucking father tossed her out like garbage. No one gets to treat her as if she's less than because she doesn't look like the kind of woman who needs a fucking eleven-thousand-dollar dress.

She could own everything in this shop without batting a lash if she wanted it. They have no concept of the kind of wealthy she is. But people like Mrs. Dawson love to lord their positions over others, as if working in places like this somehow makes them superior. Meanwhile, they can't even fucking afford the goddamn clothes they guard so closely.

Well, I can. Aurelia can. I'm drowning in money. It's hers if she wants it. Not that she'll need it once her brothers know who she is. She'll have enough of the Valentino fortune to last her fifteen lifetimes. They certainly won't miss it. She couldn't ever even hope to spend their fortune in her lifetime.

It's only a small part of the reason people like Brio Cascella will never beat Rafe. They're ants throwing rocks at giants.

As if thinking about Rafe conjured him, his ringtone blares from my cell in my breast pocket. I toss everything in the back and drag it from my pocket, swiping to answer.

"You've been quiet today," he says without preamble.

"I've been busy today."

"Scaring the neighborhood children?"

I smile at the question, leaning against the side of the SUV as cars whip past. The smell of the city lingers in the air—chocolate, the lake, and exhaust all mingling. If the sun is out, its rays don't penetrate the shadows cast by the buildings looming high overhead.

"No. I leave that to you, Capo."

"Now I know you're a lying motherfucker," he says with a snort. "Because I haven't scared anyone in weeks, yet my house isn't on fire."

"Are you complaining?" I laugh quietly.

"No. I'm extending an invitation to said house. Amalia wants everyone here for dinner tomorrow night. She says I'm annoying her, and she needs company."

Cazzo.

It's not remotely close to time to introduce Aurelia to her brothers.

Or maybe it is time.

It's a dangerous game to play, but perhaps meeting them is precisely what she needs. Because I can talk until I'm blue in the face, but until the costs are real to her, I'm not sure it'll make a difference. She needs to see for herself exactly who her brothers are and what they're about. God knows, Brio probably hasn't been honest with her.

Whatever lies he's fed her, whatever bullshit he's sold her…the only way to undo it, is for her to meet her brothers and see for herself that they aren't the enemy here. Brio Cascella is.

"I'll be there," I say to Rafe. "But I'm bringing someone."

"You're bringing someone? Who?"

"A girl, motherfucker."

His silence speaks volumes. It usually does. He isn't the type of person who has to say much to be heard.

I know him better than anyone, though. I know where his head is at. Not that long ago, our family was a whole lot smaller than it is now. We didn't have women to protect or families to defend. We fought simply because it was what we were born to do.

Now, everything is different.

One by one, we've changed. One by one, we've fallen. And one by one, we've found something worth fighting for. I never thought I'd join the ranks of happily coupled-up motherfuckers, but Aurelia has me twisted in fucking knots. I see that shit in my future, and I want it. I just need her to want it, too. I need her to want to fight for it, too.

"I guess things really do change, don't they?" he finally asks.

"Yeah," I say quietly. "I guess they do."

"You going to tell me about her?"

"Nope. You can meet her tomorrow."

" Vaffanculo ," he says, chuckling. And then he pauses. "Can we trust her, Mattia?"

That's the million-dollar question, isn't it? Can we trust her? Do I dare?

"Yes," I say with absolute conviction. Regardless of anything else, I realize it's true. I trust her.