UNCHAIN ME: SAVAGE BEAST MC 3 Page 2

  * * *

  BELLAROSA

  THREE YEARS LATER

  The man looks me up and down. His eyes are the darkest, cruelest, black that I have ever encountered. He walks around my body in a circle, his hands clasped behind his back as he does. I keep my head held high, refusing to look as scared as I feel.

  Inside I’m trembling, but on the outside, I refuse to show any emotion. My father may not have taught me much before he disappeared into the night, but he did teach me that.

  “Never show them your fears, your hopes, your happies, or your sads. They will always use them against you, my Bellarosa.”

  “Who Papa?”

  His blue eyes shift to the side, then back over to me. “Your enemies, figlia mia. My enemies. Men in general.”

  I didn’t understand what he meant, not until this exact moment. Not until the Devil himself walked into my mother’s home as if he owned the place.

  Antonio Rossi wasn’t just a devil, he was the Devil. He was a man the children whispered about in school, the man the girls feared and the boys wanted to be like.

  He was the head of the Zanetti famiglia and for whatever reason, he was standing in my living room when I returned from school today.

  “She’s sixteen?” he asks.

  “Yes, Mr. Rossi,” my mother breathes.

  My eyes shift to hers, but unlike my father, she wears her fear all over her face and body stance. She is not a strong woman, my mother. Life has worn her down. Still beautiful, with classic Italian features that I’ve always thought rivaled Sofia Loren, in her heyday.

  My mother has been showing her age more recently though, especially since the disappearance of my father and the second job she’s been forced to add to make ends meet. I’d taken on working at a diner after school as well, though even with three paychecks, we were still constantly behind on the rent and every other bill in our household.

  “I’ll take her,” he announces.

  My head moves, my eyes snap over to his and I watch as his lips twitch at my first show of emotion since I’ve walked through the door to find him standing here.

  I really look at him, noticing that he’s wearing a suit that most likely cost more than the entire apartment building. His black eyes are cold and find me immediately, never leaving some part of my body. His gaze makes me feel uncomfortable, naked, frightened.

  “When?” my mother whispers, sounding not only scared, but sad—defeated.

  Rossi snorts. “Now,” he announces.

  “She’s not even eighteen,” my mother gasps.

  I don’t have to guess at what is to happen next. I know. All girls my age have heard the rumors. My mother has two more children other than me to look after. My father isn’t coming home, most likely because he’s dead and buried somewhere. She needs money to feed my sisters, and I am to be her cash cow.

  Nobody will even ask where I am, at school tomorrow, by the end of the week my locker will be cleaned out and everyone will know what has happened to Bellarosa Mazzilli.

  Rossi hums. “To some, she will already be too old, but I assumed she’s a virgin still and that will aid in her value. My woman, Carmella, will teach her exactly what to expect and what is to be expected of her. She will be safe, warm, clothed and fed. You have nothing to fear, Mrs. Mazzilli.”

  His words wash over me, their meaning becoming more than instantly clear. I don’t look back at my mother. I don’t hug her or cry. I don’t even tell her goodbye.

  Following behind Mr. Rossi, I walk out of her apartment knowing that she and my sisters will be able to eat and have a roof over their head at the mere expense of me spreading my legs for strange men.

  * * *

  TWO YEARS LATER

  DRAGON

  “Brother, I’m not going to ask you when you’ve had enough, but honest to fuck, I wonder about your sanity,” Mountain says.

  We’re locked in my office. He’s just shoved a video of Journee taking on three men at once when she promised me she was at home with Kora for the night. I was gone, shit needed to be done and I shouldn’t have to worry about leaving my kid at home with her own mom.

  “That my bedroom?” I ask, catching a glimpse of something on the wall behind her. Something that looks an awful lot like this picture that I had framed and hung on the wall my goddamn self.

  Mountain clears his throat. His eyes meet mine and I can tell that he really does not want to answer me, but I’m not going to let him out of my office without a straight fucking answer.

  “Yeah, it is,” he murmurs.

  “Kora?” I demand, the blood beginning to boil inside of my body.

  He shakes his head. “Once I got my video, I snuck her out. I didn’t want her in there, but brother, she knew who Mommy’s friends were,” he explains.

  Lifting my fist, I slam it on my desk listening to the wood crack beneath the force of my hand. “I’m going to kill her,” I growl.

  Mountain shakes his head. “Calm down, I know you want to, but she’s still Kora’s mom.”

  Shaking my head, I inhale a deep breath. I cannot let myself lose my shit. I need to rein it in, stay calm, and take care of her the right way. She’s a whore. I’ve known it since the first time I fucked her.

  I cannot get pissed off, she’s not mine. I don’t even like her, let alone love her. This has zero to do with how I feel about her and everything to do with betrayal. I won’t fucking stand for it.

  “I’m cool,” I murmur a few moments later.

  “Yeah?”

  Lifting my chin, I grunt. Inside, I want to kill the cunt with my bare hands. I’ll have my chance to end her, to toss her out on her ass, to watch her drown, and not lift a goddamn finger to help her. I can be patient though.

  Standing, I thank Mountain for his information and go in search of Pinkie, one of our regular clubwhores. She’s standing at the edge of the bar, her tits on full display. It’s a quiet Thursday night, nothing fucking crazy, no parties, nothing out of the norm.

  Pinkie watches me approach and her lips twitch into a smile.

  “Hey,” she coos as soon as I sidle up to her side.

  “My room,” I mutter.

  Lifting her chin, she turns from me and I watch her ass sway as she quietly makes her way toward my room. I give the common area a courtesy glance, noticing that the only person watching me is Mountain. His chin jerks, then he takes a pull from his beer. I know he doesn’t disapprove of me with Pinkie, however, he probably disapproves of me not ending Journee immediately.

  I will end her.

  Just not yet.

  I have to wait until the time is right.

  * * *

  ONE YEAR LATER

  DRAGON

  Journee is on her knees, my cock in her mouth working me as though her life depends on it. It does. My gun is trained on her forehead, her eyes watering as saliva drips down her face. I hate this fucking bitch.

  Hate. Her.

  This is not the woman my dad wanted for me. This is not the woman I wanted for myself. I settled because I thought my kid needed a mom. I should have listened to Silver eight years ago. I should have scraped this bitch off the day after she birthed Kora.

  Using my free hand, I wrap my fingers in the back of her rat’s nest hair and hold her mouth against my dick, forcing her to take all of me. I know she can, she’s had more dicks down her throat than she can count. I watch her struggle, the water in her eyes spilling over and down her cheeks as she stares up at me.

  It shouldn’t turn me on, her struggling for breath, but it does. Moving my hand from her hair, I pinch her nose. Tossing my gun down, I tangle my fingers in her hair again. She struggles, her arms flailing around as she attempts to push away from my dick. My grip on her hair is too tight, though. This bitch isn’t going anywhere.

  “You leave town, you ragged ass whore. Leave and never come back. I don’t want you anywhere near me or my daughter again, do you understand?” I growl.

  Her words are garbled as she attempts
to speak. I have no desire for her teeth to find my dick, so I tug her off of me, keeping my hand in her hair.

  “Do you understand?” I repeat.

  Her eyes narrow as she looks up at me, still on her knees, her fucking face a goddamn mess. I liked her once. She was pretty and funny. Now, she looks like every other overworked whore I’ve ever come across. Too goddamn skinny, addicted to too much shit and stinking like desperation.

  “I hate you. Keep the fucking brat, she’s a drain on me anyway.”

  Without thinking, my instinct taking over at her words lashed out of anger toward our daughter, I lift my arm and backhand the bitch across the side of the face. With my grip firmly still in the back of her hair, she doesn’t fall to the ground, I hold her steady and do it again.

  “Get the fuck out of town. I see you again and I’ll kill you, plain and goddamn simple,” I order, pulling my jeans over my hips.

  Releasing her, I watch as she slowly stands on shaky weak legs. Tucking my cock back in my pants, I watch as she gathers a small backpack and shoves some shit inside. Reaching for my gun again, I train it on her, I don’t move, my gaze focused, waiting, watching for the cunt to finally walk out of my life.

  “You loved me once,” she whispers. “I loved you, too.”

  I shake my head once, my eyes focused and never leaving hers. “I never loved you, Journee. You birthed my kid, that’s all.”

  Her teeth sink into her bottom lip and she nods. “Well, I loved you. Still love you.” She shrugs.

  “That why you take on three dicks at a time while my kid is in the next room? That why you sneak out to suck and fuck anyone that will give you dope when I give you plenty?”

  “You want too much from me,” she whispers.

  Snorting, I lift my hand and run my fingers through my hair. “I want you to be a decent human. Nothing more, nothing less. Get the fuck out before I end you right here, right now.”

  She doesn’t say anything else. I watch as she turns from me and walks out of the house. I continue watching her go, making my way to the window to keep my gaze on her as she walks down the street. I should probably feel guilty that she doesn’t have any access to my money, to a phone, or credit cards.

  She’ll be dead in a week. That should make me feel really fucking bad for turning her out, it doesn’t. It sounds heartless, but I’m fucking done. I warned her over the years what would happen if she ever put Koralia in danger, that she would be gone.

  Making my way over to the sofa, I sink down and bury my face in my hands.

  Fuck.

  “Daddy?” a voice whispers from the hallway.

  I flinch, lifting my head to look over to my daughter, wondering just how much of that scene she witnessed. Her little feet carry her over to me and she crawls into my lap, wrapping her arms around my shoulder and letting her head rest next to my neck.

  “Mom left?” she asks, her voice so fucking small. So fucking sad and I feel like the biggest asshole on the planet.

  Lifting my hand, I run my fingers through her soft hair. “She ain’t right, hasn’t been for a long time,” I say.

  “I know,” she whispers.

  For the next couple of hours, I hold her. My baby. This small bundle that was put in my arms eight years ago. This little creature that I should have protected a hell of a lot more than I have. That shit changes now.

  I’m going to do right by her, by my Koralia.

  * * *

  BELLAROSA

  Everything has changed. I watch the man dressed in blue jeans and a leather vest leave my room. He’s nothing like the men I’m used to.

  A lot has changed recently, Gavino Santoro has taken over the Zanetti famiglia and he is now the Boss, Antonio Rossi is dead, but I’m still a whore. So in retrospect, maybe not much has really changed, at least for me.

  Carmella bustles through my door, stopping just at the jamb and arches a brow toward me. “He claimed he was satisfied,” she announces.

  Clearing my throat, I lift my gaze to hers. I’m wearing the same negligée that I wore last night. It’s cream and completely see-through lace with matching sheer lace panties.

  The man, Wolfe, as he introduced himself, he didn’t even spare me a second glance. I’ve never slept beside a man before who hadn’t been inside of me. It was so foreign, dare I think, nice.

  “He said he was faithful to his woman. I didn’t push it, he clearly did not want anything from me, but did not wish to insult Mr. Santoro,” I explain, shifting my legs over the side of the bed.

  Carmella nods, her eyes finding mine and I don’t miss the flicker of sadness that washes through her when she looks over at me. She sees too much, far too deep inside of me. I hate that and love it all at the same time.

  “These new men, they’re dangerous. Do not let one night with one of them fool you into thinking they aren’t.”

  I nod, watching as Carmella walks out of the room, closing my door behind her. I’m sure that those men are indeed extremely dangerous, however, I am also positive that the Zanetti famiglia and all that implies are equally as dangerous.

  Me?

  I just want a taste of freedom. Even if it is only for a moment, I want to be able to close my eyes and breathe free air. I haven’t walked out in the sunshine alone since I was sixteen years old. Haven’t felt the sun kiss my shoulders without a guard or Madame watching me for three years.

  Standing, I make my way over to the window in my room. I watch the men move around the grounds. They’re all coming and going as they change shifts, though some are just leaving their whore’s beds.

  Lifting my hand, I place my palm against the window and wonder what it would be like to just walk away. What would happen if I just left? Rossi is gone, but that doesn’t mean that anything has changed.

  Gavino Santoro is just as dangerous, probably even more so, than Rossi ever was.

  I spend the day in my room. Bathing, cleaning and preparing for a night of work. Once the sun has set, once the grounds are bathed in the dark, there is a knock on my door.

  “You have a guest,” Carmella’s voice spills into the space.

  Turning from the window, I see the man himself, the Boss, standing in the doorway. He doesn’t spare Carmella even a glance as he walks past her. She closes the door behind him and it’s just us in the room.

  “Bella,” he purrs.

  A thrill shimmies throughout my entire body just at the way he says my name. It shouldn’t. I know that I should never allow myself to feel anything when it comes to men who darken my doorway, but I can’t help it.

  “Mr. Santoro,” I rasp.

  His lips twitch into a smirk. “Come to me,” he gently demands.

  I do as he asks. Not because he is simply a client, but because he is the boss and at the end of the day, I want to—I want him.

  Vino is special, at least to me. He, like Carmella, sees inside of me.

  His warm breath fans my face, and unlike many of my clients, his mouth touches mine in a gentle brush of a kiss. I melt into him, unable to stop my heart from racing as soon as his lips touch mine. It is so overwhelming to have his mouth on mine that I know he must feel it too, I just know it.

  Chapter One

  BELLAROSA

  I look down at my shaking hands. My body still aches when I move the wrong way. Mauro Ricci is a sick and twisted piece of shit. I’ve never been treated so poorly by a man in my entire life, and for a call girl, that’s saying something.

  He hurt me. Made me bleed and laughed. He informed me that it was because of Gavino Santoro, he stole his bride, therefore, Mauro was going to hurt him where it hurt, in the wallet. Which included taking me out of work for a while.

  It’s been three weeks. My ass is mostly healed, along with the fractured ribs I’d received from his heavy hand and shiny shoes when he kicked me.

  “Are you feeling okay?” Carmella asks, her voice just a light whisper as it floats through my bedroom.

  I shrug, looking down at my fingers. I’
ve formulated a plan, a stupid one. I’m supposed to be going to the Russians, to work for them in a week’s time. I don’t plan on ever making it that far.

  I’m tired of being used.

  Not only by the men that spend their money on me, but also being used to send messages to Gavino. Used to strengthen relationships between the Zanetti famiglia and the Russians, then between them and the new bikers that have become regulars, never the same ones either.

  “I think that I’d like to go down to Mr. Santoro’s office. I need to talk to him before I leave for the Russians,” I say, attempting to keep my voice even and calm.

  This is it. This is my last-ditch effort to give myself more before I run. I know that if I’m caught, if I’m found, it could mean certain death.

  Carmella gives me a warning look but doesn’t forbid me to go. Hurrying, I clean myself up as best as I can, adding bright red lipstick for dramatic effect, then completely disrobe before I slip on a robe dress and a pair of high heels.

  There is a driver waiting for me in the foyer. He doesn’t speak, his instructions have already been delivered to him. Following behind, I am grateful when he opens the backdoor for me. Slipping inside, I let out a hiss as I sink down into the leather of the seat.

  Closing my eyes, I let out a sigh as the car pulls up to Gavino’s offices. With trembling legs, I make my way toward his office door. It’s closed, but not locked. Slowly turning the handle, I slip inside.

  I hear him let out a curse as soon as I pass over the threshold. Closing the door behind me, I immediately let my dress fall to the floor.

  “You can’t be here,” he mutters. His eyes drift down my naked body, a body he’s seen in this state more times than either of us could count.