Insatiable Crimes: A Mafia Romance

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V I N C E N Z O

I've always had a penchant for the darkness. Messy blood and pleasing deaths. Or in other words, things that were considered immoral. The deadly sins.

It was addictive in a way, the darkness, leaving you craving for more. More and more and more until you were caught up in the sadistic cycle of pain— give or take. Full on addicted to the screams and the cries. Infatuated with the expressions of terror. All the misery caused by me.

Yet, not even the sickest parts of my imagination could conjure up an image like this. Of this.

This woman.

My eyes narrowed as she made herself comfortable, going as far as to pour herself a two-piece Medusa Lumiere glass of red wine.

Her actions screamed arrogance. The tilt of her lips did too.

The sight of the swirling liquid made my throat ache, bringing back my raging thirst from hours ago. Porca miseria. I swallowed roughly, barely managing to tear my eyes away from the liquid. I had gone longer without anything in my body— which was true. But it doesn't make the thirst any less bearable. My throat burned in response.

The she-devil smiled knowingly.

Fucking hell.

"Don't worry, Capo," Her glinting eyes tracked mine down. "You'll be treated to many kind hospitalities. After all, you're my guest." Honeyed venom drizzled in her tone, sounding as appealing as getting shot in the balls. "And I proud myself to be a very charitable host."

And I proud myself to be the easter fucking bunny in disguise.

Her fingers twirled the stem of the glass, burgundy liquid sloshing rhythmically. "The sooner you answer my questions, the sooner the chains are off your body to do whatever you please." She eyed my frame thoughtfully. "Unless you'd prefer me to make you drink?"

Over. My. Dead. Fucking. Body.

There's only so much humiliation a man can take. My jaw tightened. "Ask."

She smiled then, even though there was nothing remotely humorous in the situation. The turn of her lips was condescending through and through.

And damn me if I didn't want to bend her over and spank her ass raw for it.

She narrowed her eyes, angling herself straight. At least one of us could. My hands clenched into fists, triggering my restraints to chime like Christmas fucking bells. Irritation tasted bitter in my throat.

Bitter and resentful.

"Why did you send your men after me?"

That was her first question? My eyes ran over her face, looking for any signs of mockery. I found none. The words were spoken with such emptiness, one would think that she was least interested in the answer. The foreign emotion on her face was enough for questions to arise in my own head.

Was this a ploy from her end? Watching her expression carefully, realisation struck.

They weren't telling her anything.

Disbelief took over my previous irritation, one I masked adequately well. Had she no idea whatsoever of what was going on?

I knew better now. She'd kill for the answers. The answers not one person gave her.