14. Hand Her Over

FOURTEEN

Hand Her Over

MILANA

I slink out of bed, leaving Julian sleeping. He looks so peaceful. I know he's had a lot going on over the last few weeks, so he could use the rest. My robe is lying on the chair in the corner. I grab that and a clean pair of panties and move to the adjoining bathroom to take a quick shower. I want to get downstairs to help Josie with breakfast. Alessio has been kind enough to let us stay, but I want to do my part to help out.

I tilt my head back and allow the warm water to stream over my face, raining over my body. I'm reaching for the shampoo bottle when a hand closes over my wrist, and I twist my head to see Julian behind me, his hard cock pressed up against me, his firm, muscled chest braced against my back.

"Let me," he says. He takes the shampoo and pours a generous amount into his hands, then begins to rub it into my hair, lathering it gently and rubbing it into my scalp. Julian doesn't stop there. He grabs the soap, builds a foamy lather, and moves his hands over my body, beginning at my breasts, playfully teasing my nipples, then lower to my belly. He taps the inside of my foot with his own, indicating that I should spread my legs. "I gotta do the job right," he murmurs in my ear, nipping at my lobe.

I'm putty in his hands, doing as he asks. His hand slinks between my thighs. Two fingers surge into my pussy, while his thumb runs over my clit. I moan and lean back into him. His arm bands around my waist, holding me upright while his other hand is busy finger fucking my pussy. My hips move with his hands, and my arm comes up and hooks behind his head as I beg him to let me come.

Julian moves us under the warm water as the soap suds are washed away, but his hand never stops. His teeth graze over my neck and shoulder, creating a frenzy of electricity that races through my insides. Suddenly, his fingers are gone, and he slaps my pussy. It doesn't hurt and instead brings me closer to my orgasm.

"Please," I beg. "Julian, I need more." He slaps my pussy again, but it's not enough. "Oh God," I moan.

"You want to come?" he asks with a chuckle.

"Yes." I pant. His hand cups my pussy, and I gyrate my hips to create a friction that I hope will take me over the edge, to no avail.

"I'll take care of you, baby. I'll always take care of you," he growls in my ear, mainly because I reach back and take his engorged cock in my hand and begin to stroke him up and down, squeezing him as I do. He takes my hands in his and places them on the tiled wall. "Don't fucking move. This pussy comes when I say," he says. He's bossy, and I love it. I jut out my ass, never moving my hands. He glides his palm over my ass cheeks and between them, finding my rosette. "Keep teasing, miele mia, and I'll see what happens," he says. "You want me here," he continues, and I feel a finger push inside my rosette.

I bite my lower lip, my head tilting back. It's an odd sensation, but when his finger moves inside, finding it ignites a strange sensation, I gasp. Then I feel his cock slide through my pussy lips, and he continues to play with me.

"Play with your clit," he demands. I don't hesitate, because I need to come. I'm desperate for the release I crave. As soon as I do, his cock thrusts into my pussy, and another finger is added to my ass as he fucks me.

"Yes. Oh, yes," I plead. He fucks me mercilessly, grunting and groaning as he does.

"Fuck me, you feel so good. So fucking tight. This pussy belongs to me," he says. "Say it," he orders.

"It's yours. Only yours," I moan. He pistons in and out until my orgasm hits me so hard that I nearly pass out from the intensity. If not for his hands at my waist, holding me in place as he finds his own release, I would have slumped to the floor. Instead, I'm wedged between the wall and his body, his cock still throbbing inside me, his face pressed against my neck, and his labored breathing as ragged as my own.

"Oh yeah! I'm still inside you, and I want to hear you come for me again," he says.

He pulls out of my pussy and hauls us back under the water. He lathers us both again, washing away the remnants of our escapade, then shuts off the water. Julian wraps me in a towel before grabbing one for himself.

He kisses me, then brushes his fingers over my lips. "I want to have your lips wrapped around my cock one day." My eyes light up. I've never done that, but I love how he makes me feel with his mouth between my legs, and I want to do that for him.

"I want to do that," I whisper.

"Tonight," he returns with a glint in his eyes.

"I—I don't know how. I might be really bad at it," I warn.

"I'll teach you how I like it," he says. "I want to own your ass too. I want all of you, but we'll go slow."

We move back into the bedroom to get changed and ready for the day. Julian is ready before me and tells me he'll meet me downstairs. He wants to see where Alessio is and if he's needed. I tell him I'll be down in a few minutes to help Josie. I might be crazy, but this is the happiest I've ever been.

* * *

Julian

"Y ou've been generous allowing us to stay with you, but this is an imposition. I can find another place to hide Milana until we get to the bottom of this," I tell Alessio. Ever since we left the table, Alessio's been waiting for Niccolo to arrive with what we hope is the name of the person in the photo.

"Milana is one of us. Il Destino takes care of our own," he replies solidly. "And there's more to it. La Famiglia has been included in their revenge, and we're not going to show weakness by hiding and waiting for Anton to strike again."

"Have Marco and Nero heard anything more?" I ask.

"Nero and I have concluded that Anton has his own police on the payroll in our cities. Marco has his men digging for more information and has asked Reno to engage Dante to research the local police for those on his payroll. As they say, follow the money," Alessio states.

"Makes sense," I agree. Alessio has a contact in every nook and cranny of his city. Politicians and cops are a constant, but that's only scratching the surface. Alessio has his hand in the entertainment industry, natural resource corporations, and in other areas you couldn't possibly imagine.

Niccolo shows up a short time later with his brother Davide. Niccolo is dressed in his standard dark suit and tie, impeccably tailored, as always. Davide is as tall as his brother, but his hair is a lighter brown, and his eyes are a dark chocolate brown. While Niccolo is comfortable in a suit, Davide prefers jeans and a hoodie. He hasn't yet been incorporated into his role with the family, but Alessio will expect Davide to look and dress the part, just like his brother.

For now, Alessio looks Davide over, giving his vibe of disapproval, but remains silent, choosing to ignore his relaxed outfit.

"I'm hoping you're here with news," Alessio gets right to the point.

"Davide's been able to work with the photo." He turns to his brother. "Show him." He clasps a hand on his brother's shoulder, encouraging him to move forward. Davide pulls a photo out of his back pocket and unfolds the photo. The photo is crisp and clear, and the man's profile is much more distinct, but although he looks familiar, I can't identify him.

"Why can't I place this guy?" I grumble angrily. I'm growing more and more frustrated. We seem to move two steps forward and one step back on this problem, and it's beginning to weigh on me.

"I ran a facial recognition program. He doesn't have a record and wasn't in the system, but he has similar features to this man." Davide takes out his phone and pulls up a picture of a dark-haired man with a prominent jaw.

"That's Angelo Corso," Alessio says. "What do you mean by similarities?"

"Angelo had been arrested, and when I ran the program, he was the closest match. Upon further investigation, I found photos of Angelo at a much younger age." Davide points to Alessio's laptop, "May I?"

Alessio nods and steps out of the way. Davide slips in a USB key, and the screen comes alive with side-by-side photos of Angelo when he was in his midthirties, and the man from the photo. The likeness between the two is remarkable. The man in the photo has a stronger jaw and firmer chin, but they are still very much alike, except one has dark hair, the other more blond.

"Tomasso?" I ask. "That doesn't make any sense." Tomasso has done his best to stay out of his father's way and delay his entry into his Mafia role.

"I know Tomasso. He's not the kind of guy who would turn on you or Il Destino," Davide states. "I understand his position. We've even talked about it. But we both know that our destiny is with the family. Regardless of the photo, there's got to be an explanation," Davide insists. "I called and left him a message to call me back. I want to have a chance to talk to him."

"It's not wise to walk into a situation alone. You may not know him as well as you think you do," Niccolo says, his expression of worry apparent.

When Davide's phone rings, we all stop while he looks at the screen. "It's Tomasso."

"Put it on speaker," Alessio commands, then takes a seat behind his desk.

"Hey, Tom."

"Hey. Sorry I didn't call you back. I'm glad you called. I was hoping to talk to someone." Tomasso's voice sounds heavy with sadness.

"You sound like shit, dude. Are you in trouble?" Davide asks, and I can see that he's really worried about Tomasso. Both these guys were fighting for their place in the family and have bonded in the process.

"Not me, but—fuck! I think I've got to talk to the capo." Tomasso sounds troubled. "He doesn't know me. I have no idea how to get in touch with him. I can't go to my father," he says, and I can hear him pacing, wherever he is.

"I can ask Niccolo to get you a meeting with him. I'll come with you. Whatever you need, man," Davide encourages.

"What if I'm wrong?" he says.

"I don't know what you're talking about, but the bigger question is, what if you're right?" Davide says.

He lowers his voice. "Can you come and get me?" I sense the hesitation, and from his tone, I can hear the conflict he's struggling with. Tomasso knows something, and it must be big for him to want to meet with Alessio.

"I'll get Niccolo to call Alessio. He'll set up a meeting, and we'll come for you," Davide offers, and Tomasso agrees, giving him his location. Davide promises to be there within the hour and hangs up.

Alessio tells Niccolo, "Get men in the area. I want backup available."

Davide gapes at Alessio. "Tomasso wouldn't do that. He's not that kind of guy."

"Are you willing to risk your life on that?" Alessio asks, lifting a brow.

"Yeah, absolutely," Davide snaps.

"All right." Alessio gets up and comes around the desk to stand in front of him. "Are you willing to risk your brother's life? He's a valuable asset for an enemy to acquire, and he would be dead before I could get to him. So, I'll ask again: is it worth taking a chance?"

Davide blows out a heavy breath and looks at his brother. "I never want anything to happen to you. Ever! You know that, right?"

"Davide, I love that you have trust and faith in people. I hate that I have to prepare you for the fucked-up crap that lands on our doorstep, but friends or not, we must make sure that we limit the dangers. Tomasso might be waiting for us to make his move. Maybe you don't know him as well as you think. There are other scenarios. Maybe his father got to him, and he's following his orders," Niccolo points out.

"Might be that he's being watched, and he's in danger," I add. "Either way, backup could be there to protect him as much as you." I look at our capo. "Do you want me there?"

Alessio rubs his chin and paces back and forth. "No." He shakes his head. "If this is related to Milana, then seeing you might tip them off."

Waiting around for stuff to happen is agonizing. I'm usually in the action and on the offense. "This nothingness is killing me," I grumble.

"Patience, Julian," Alessio says. "Everything will come to an end. Your father will have plenty for you to do when this cloud is gone. And I'll need you to train your replacement to guard my wife and child. You'll be moving forward with your training to take over for your father. He's already spoken to me about wanting to slow down and eventually hand over the reins."

I know Dad's been thinking about stepping back, but he's gone further than I expected. I guess it shouldn't surprise me that Dad spoke with Alessio before anyone else. It's exactly what a good underboss would do, and Dad's an exceptional leader.

"He should be the trainer for all new underbosses," I tell him.

Alessio chuckles. "I'd like to have a hundred like Joe. I would definitely sleep better at night," he admits.

Niccolo steps away to organize the men, and Davide sits on the sofa, elbows to knees with his head in his hands, staring at his shoes. Alessio excuses himself and walks out, leaving us alone.

I take the seat opposite Davide and give him a moment before asking, "Want to talk about it?"

He lifts his head, his brow furrowed and confusion written all over his face. "How does it happen?"

"What in particular are you asking about?"

"Tomasso and I had no say in the family we were born into. We didn't come into this world voluntarily. We never asked to be part of the Mafia. But because our fathers were part of it, we're in." He throws his hands up in the air and shrugs. "Just like that." He snaps his fingers. "No discussion, nothing."

"There is another side that you aren't seeing."

"What am I missing? Drugs, whorehouses, casinos, money laundering, and let's not forget, my father died because of the Mafia, your brother died for our cause, and best of all, we kill to balance everything out." He pauses. "How does any of this make sense?"

"I'm listening. But now it's your turn to listen and listen carefully. Other capos go into battle for more power and money. Alessio has not, and he refuses to start a war without just cause. He's reached out and created a peaceful alliance with three other families to solidify our position. Drugs, whores, and the rest are going to happen anyway, whether it's Il Destino or the Bratva, or anyone else. At least we give the prostitutes a safe place to work, and none are recruited. They come willingly for our protection, and we give it. We don't lace our drugs with fentanyl. Our shit is pure, and we refuse to peddle close to schools. We make sure drug traffickers know this, and they know the price if they don't. Gambling has been around for centuries. If you're stupid enough to put your house up for collateral, then you deserve to lose it," I say.

"Yeah, but?—"

"I'm not done." I cut him off. "This is a family. There is no one in Il Destino who wouldn't jump in to help you. That includes your father, who died to save a young man. My brother believed in the truth and knew there was trouble. He was gathering evidence when he was murdered. The truth finally came out, and the man responsible was dealt with. My brother believed in the brotherhood of what we have, the protection of our women and children and defending our family from the Bratva and the other enemies who lurk. The enemies are coming anyway. Together, we can beat them. The other option is to let the Russians, Chinese, or gangs take over our territory. How safe do you think we'll be then?"

Davide sighs and says softly, "Why can't there be peace?"

"There's a question I can't answer. I think peace starts inside each of us. You need to dig deep and find peace in your position with us . Not to be a dick, but you'd be dead within a week without our protection. You know this to be true. You're a target, just like the rest of us."

"I don't want to be on the streets breaking fingers," he says with a huff.

"Then talk to Alessio and let him guide you to where you best fit in. Give him a chance. Stop fighting him," I advise.

Niccolo picks that moment to come in and call his brother. "We're ready to leave."

Davide stands and stretches out his hand for me to take. "I appreciate the talk," he says. I've given him food for thought. Hopefully, it helps ease his mind and he can adjust to his place within the family.

* * *

T he pickup goes off without a hitch, but Tomasso is a mess when he arrives at Alessio's home. God only knows what he was expecting, but he's a nervous wreck. His clothes look like he's slept the night in them. His sandy blond hair is falling into his blue eyes. He has his father's stature and facial features, but the lighter hair and eyes are all from his mother's side of the family. His face looks hollow, like he hasn't been eating.

As soon as he's directed through to Alessio, he falls apart. "I don't know what to do," he says, his expression tortured. "I want to be a good son, but this isn't right. I wish I never heard it, but I did, and I can't unhear it. He's not thinking right. He's changed. Something's wrong with him."

I want to shake him and get him to make sense, but Alessio is as cool as a cucumber and lets him have his rant. Alessio waits patiently as Tomasso gets it all out, not that we know what the hell he's talking about. Davide pulls up a chair for him to sit, because, honest to God, the guy looks like he's going to fall over.

Once Tomasso sits, Alessio asks, "When did you last eat?"

"Eat?" Tomasso repeats.

"Yes, food. You know, three meals a day, that kind of thing," Alessio replies with a grin.

"I-I can't remember," he whispers.

He turns to Niccolo. "Ask Josie to get him something to eat and to make coffee for us." Niccolo does his bidding, and Alessio looks at Tomasso. "We're going to take this slow. You've gone and gotten yourself all worked up, and I can't make sense of it, but whatever this is, we'll sort it out."

"It's a mess," Tomasso replies, despondent.

"Is this about Milana?" Alessio asks.

Tomasso nods.

"I want words," Alessio insists.

"Yes." Tomasso's voice is shaky.

"You overheard something."

"Yes."

"What did you hear?" Alessio demands.

"Hand her over or…" He trails off.

"Or what?" Alessio asks with eerie calmness.

"I'll destroy you all," he finishes.

My brain keeps repeating the words, hand her over . They're talking about Milana. A burning ache builds in the pit of my stomach. Rage rises through my being. "No fucking way are they getting my wife. She. Is. Mine." I enunciate the words so it is clearly understood by all that Milana belongs to me.

Davide is at my side in seconds and murmurs in a low voice, "Calm the fuck down. You're the one who told me to trust Alessio, right?" Even though he's trying to soothe me, I want to reach out and punch him in the mouth. I glare at Alessio, who hasn't taken his eyes off Tomasso.

" Il Destino does not cower to the demands of the enemy, and we certainly won't hand over a woman who has committed herself fully to the family." Tomasso's eyes become fearful, but Alessio continues. "It takes a lot of courage to come to me, and I can see there's much more that you haven't said. Start at the beginning and leave nothing out."

"The other night, right before Julian's wedding, I came into the house. It was late, like really late, three o'clock in the morning. I had finished my last exam, and I and a bunch of guys from school went out to have a good time. I saw my dad's light on in his den. I thought I'd let him know I was home. As I got closer, I heard him talking. I only heard his voice, so he must have been on the phone. I was going to leave. Damn! I should have left."

"But you didn't. Go on," Alessio encourages.

"Dad was saying that the Russians are on the attack because they want Julian's woman. He was pissed that all this was happening in his territory and he was being blamed, and all they had to do to make it end was give the girl up," Tomasso says.

A growl rises from deep in my throat. Tomasso looks up at me. "I think this is bullshit. You don't do that. You can't! It's as good as pulling the trigger yourself," he says. He looks back at Davide. "I didn't know what to do, so I just stood there, listening." He turns to Alessio. "I don't know who he was speaking with, but they wanted to find a way to make it possible to have Milana in a place where she would be vulnerable and the Russians could get to her. I heard something about the wedding itself, but their voices got quieter, and I didn't catch it all. I was about to turn away when Dad opened the door and found me there. He knew I heard him," Tomasso states with a groan.

"Angelo caught you outside his door," Davide repeats, "and then what?"

Tomasso stares up at his friend. "He went crazy. Started pushing me and telling me I had no business spying on him. I told him I was coming to say good night. Then he did a complete one-eighty and said I was such a good son, and he was taking care of my future and the future of Il Destino." He redirects his gaze to Alessio. "He said you would understand. He was doing this for you because you were losing the respect of the men." Tomasso looks at me, locking eyes. "I didn't believe him. My own father, and I didn't trust him. The next morning, you were getting married. I don't even know why I did it, but I went to the church and hid behind the trees and waited, long before anyone was even there. I waited and waited. A car came. Two men got out. I took a shot at their car. And they took off and never came back. I stood there through the entire ceremony and waited. When it was over, I didn't know what else to do." Tomasso looks bewildered, lost.

"Listen to me." Alessio gives him a little shake. "Has your father spoken to you since?"

"Only on the phone. I asked him what he meant by what he said that night." Tomasso shifts forward in his seat. "Here's where it gets crazy. He doesn't remember it. He says we never spoke that night. And he means it! He really doesn't remember. Then I think back, and he's been doing that a lot lately, you know, forgetting stuff and getting mad for no reason at all. I haven't been home since, and I don't know where to go."

"You'll stay in the bunkhouse for now," Alessio tells him, "but first eat. You look like you need a few good meals in you."

"What about my father? What kind of man rats out his father?" he groans.

"If your father is ill, then we will deal with the illness. If he's directly defying his capo, that's another story. You saved a woman's life. A woman who saved one of our own. You need to straighten that out in your head. Whatever comes next, we'll deal with it."

"How could Dad agree to hand her over, just like that? Like her life didn't matter?"

"He may not be in his right mind, Tom. It's something we may need to face," Davide tells his friend.

Alessio steps away, taking me with him, Niccolo following.

"Time to make a visit to Angelo Corso," Alessio decides.