1,572A/N: Hello rockin' readers! This was my other entry in the Bodice Ripper contest and won Second Place Voter's Choice and the Forbidden Fruit category. This is another of those ideas that took hold of me and wouldn't let go. This is going to be a full length fic, and my goal is to post often. There are four chapters already completed. It's going to be an angsty ride, so buckle up!
Thanks to my awesome betas, SassySue (chayasara) and Wendy (wmr1601), for wielding the sparkly reds and picking up on all my little flubs! As always, I bow to my awesome prereader, Aleea (aleeab4u) for catching plot holes and for cheering me on when I wasn't sure about this story at all.
Chapter 1
~Mysterious Stranger~
Mafia princess.
Ice queen. Bitch. Rare beauty. Daddy's girl.
Off-limits.
Lonely. Apathetic. Bored. Protected.
This half-life wasn't easy. I hovered between conflicting planes of existence, and the stress was killing me. There were those at the top, there were the underlings paid to do the dirty work, and then there was me . . . trapped in purgatory.
My father, Aro Volturi, was the head of the Volturi crime family. I wasn't aware of this until I was fifteen, and the man I thought was my father died.
A few days after Charles Swan's funeral, a sleek black limo had pulled up in front of our weathered little house as I watched curiously from my bedroom window. The man who stepped out was over six feet tall with massive shoulders and a swarthy complexion. His eyes were two orbs of pitch, and when they were trained on you, defying him was the last thing on your mind. His presence alone instilled fear and commanded respect.
The clang of metal and crashing of glass reached my ears as my mom opened the front door. I scuttled over to the top of the steps to eavesdrop, spying the metal tray my mom had been carrying on one side of the foyer, the rest of the floor littered with shards of colored glass.
"It's time, Renee." His voice was as commanding as his presence, although it was soft—almost kind.
"No. She's only fifteen, Aro!"
"Renee, I agreed to this ridiculous farce to protect our child. Things calmed long ago, and the man we allowed to shape and influence her is dead. It's time for her to take her rightful place."
Our child? The man they allowed to . . . oh, hell no.
"Please, Aro. She doesn't even know! Her father just died!" Renee spat in a harsh whisper.
"I'm her father." His voice had turned as cold as ice, all gentleness gone. "You have until Friday, Renee. I'll leave Caius behind to . . . help you tie up your loose ends. You're welcome to come, too. But understand this: Isabella Marie comes with me on Friday."
Closing my eyes, I pushed the seven-year-old memories back. My mother now sat quite comfortably beside her mafioso husband, the underlings did their thing, and I was forever suspended somewhere in between.
Everyone was afraid of my father, and nobody would dare befriend his daughter—or lay a hand on her without his permission. I've been defying my father for the past three years. He's paraded a number of "suitors" before me, and I've turned my nose up at every one. If he expected me to marry one of those ghiottoni, he was crazier than I thought.
Angela Moretti was my only real friend—and that's because she was the daughter of my father's cousin, Marcus. Angela was a bit more accepting of the life because she'd been in it since birth, but she was a rebellious girl with a flair for getting in trouble. At nineteen, she was engaged to marry Lou D'Angelo, whose father was a made man. I kept teasing her about her name becoming Angela D'Angelo, but she would simply remind me that she intended to keep her maiden name (not likely to happen, but she could dream) and that I would probably die an ice queen spinster at the rate I was going (more likely).
The door to my bedroom flew open and Angela—speak of the devil—strode in. She was dressed in formfitting black from head to toe: tight top with a plunging neckline and no bra to rein in her huge tits, skintight jeans, and shiny black Louboutins that screamed "fling my legs over your shoulders and fuck me senseless."
"Bitch, let's go." She placed her hands on her hips and blew a huge pink bubble. Her lush lips were painted the rosy hue she only wore when on the prowl.
"Oh, fuck no." I sighed, slipping out of my four-inch high heels and flexing my toes. The air felt cool and soothing against my sore feet. "I just spent hours making nice at Nico's wedding."
"Um . . . I was there, too, remember? Fucking boring, and baby needs some excitement."
"What about Lou?"
"He's gone skiing with his fucking friends. I'm not getting married for another year, so I intend to have my fun while I can. You think Lou hasn't been boning that bitch Lauren at the day spa?"
"Eww! That blue-eyed ho-bag that throws herself at everyone?"
"That's the one. Get sexied up."
"My father—"
"Yeah, Uncle Aro and your mom are holed up in their suite. He won't even notice you're gone."
An hour later, we were speeding down the highway in Angela's Mustang—windows open and hair flying.
"Woo hoo!" Angela shrieked.
She passed me a blunt, and I took a strong hit. I had a feeling I was going to need it based on the mood she was in. After a few pulls, I started to relax.
We ended up in a dark, seedy dance club. The lighting was dim, the bodies packed tightly, and the music was kicking. After doing a line off Angela's mirror in the grungy ladies' room, I felt on top of the world. We made our way onto the dance floor, finding a small pocket of space to one side.
The music vibrated inside me like a living thing. Angela and I liked dancing together, circling one another, rubbing, touching. We had no sexual interest, but guys love that shit. Case in point: a hot one started moving in on us, obviously having eyes only for Angela.
After an hour or two, my mouth was dry, and I was sweating profusely. Angela headed off into a corner to cozy up with the hottie, and it didn't look like they needed a third wheel. I wandered down the hall leading to the bathroom and spied a red metal door propped open. Sticking my head out, I gulped in fresh, cold air then strolled down the alley to smoke a cigarette.
A loud metallic slam sounded, and I rushed back to the door. The dented metal had no handle and was now locked from the inside. Fuck me.
Now I'd have to find my way back to the front of the club. The stupid heels Angela made me wear weren't made for comfort, and I was cussing up a storm when four shadows morphed out of the alley in front of me.
"Well, looky here." The guy pulled a ski mask down over his face as he stepped into the scant light. "Fresh meat."
"Pretty, bejeweled fresh meat." Another guy in a ski mask joined the first. "Get a load of the stones on her."
"C'mon, guys. We're not here for her. Stay focused." A third voice came from the shadows.
"I'm going to check on the . . . status." The fourth guy stalked off down the alley.
The first two moved in closer, and I glanced back to assess my options. Naturally, the alley was a dead end, and the door to the club remained closed.
"Listen, boys . . . if you'll just move aside, I'll be on my way." I strode forward confidently; inside I was quaking.
The two looked at each other and laughed as they spread out across the narrow area between the brick wall and the dumpster.
"Guys, just let her go."
"No fucking way, man. Not only is she going to pay my rent for the next six months with her baubles, but I'm pretty horny come to think of it."
I reached in my handbag for my gun. Shit! I'd left it in Angela's car. I did, however, have pepper spray.
"Nice try, bitch!" Before I could pull out the pepper spray, he flung his arms around me and pushed me up against the wall. The knit ski mask rubbed against the side of my face, and I felt his moist breath hot on my ear. He reeked of beer, weed, and something sour. "You're a fighter, huh, baby? This is gonna be more fun than I thought."
"Hey! What the fuck's wrong with, you? Let her go." The guy I hadn't seen yet came from behind my attacker. He was much taller than the douche holding me, and I caught a flash of intense green eyes behind his ski mask.
"You want a piece of her? Wait until I'm through."
"That's not what we came for."
"Masen's men!" The fourth guy ran part way down the alley, gesturing wildly to his friends. "We gotta get the fuck outta here!"
Feet pounded down the alley going away from me, and I was let go rather abruptly by my attacker, landing on my ass.
"Stupid sons of bitches!" I muttered, rising to my feet. "Stupid fucking shoes!"
As I made my way past the dumpster on wobbly legs, I was yanked into a darkened doorway, and a hand slapped over my mouth.
"Shh . . ." Warm breath puffed against my ear, and I could feel his heart pounding against my back as he pulled us deeper into the dank, inky blackness.
The still air was stale and moldy. By the sudden sounds of scurrying feet scrabbling against concrete, I surmised that there was nobody here to save me. I started struggling, my focus on getting back to that doorway—the alley seemed far more palatable now.
"Stop it! Do you want to die here?" he whispered fiercely.
I shook my head but continued to struggle. He pulled us deeper inside, until his back hit a wall, and he slid us around the edge. My view of the door disappeared, the last bit of light along with it. I elbowed him in the gut, and he grunted in pain.
"Please stop." His pleading tone halted me mid-jab, and he took the opportunity to tighten his grip on me. "Trust me, you're safer in here. You don't want those men to find us." His breathing was ragged, and I could feel his heart thumping faster between my shoulder blades.
Shouts and pounding feet on the asphalt drifted into the building, ricocheting crazily off the walls. My captor stiffened around me, moving carefully along the wall until we reached a corner. His hand still covered my mouth, but not as firmly, and I shook my head, dislodging his hold.
"Let me go!"
"Shh . . . please. Do you know of the Masen family?"
Did I. They were Irish mobsters that my father was always in conflict with. They were like the Montagues and the Capulets.
"Yes."
"Well, those are his men out there."
"Fuck me," I whispered. If they came across me, there would be hell to pay. They might kill me, but more than likely, they'd use me as a bargaining chip with my father.
"Now shut your pretty, little mouth for me. I'm not gonna hurt you."
"You're not?"
"No!" he said in a scathing tone, as if it were unreasonable to think a guy in a ski mask that dragged a girl into an abandoned building had ill intentions.
"Who are you?"
"Just be quiet, princess."
More shouts came from just outside the door, and I froze in place.
"Round them all up. No witnesses." The voice was deep and gravelly and such a shiver down my spine. I actually pressed back closer against the guy holding me and started to hyperventilate.
I knew voices like that. If they caught us here, we were both dead.
"Oh, please." I gasped, trying to catch my breath.
"Shh . . . he'll go away soon."
Now that I wasn't fighting him, he removed his hand from my mouth and kept both arms wrapped around me. I grabbed onto a well-defined forearm and held it tight. As I started to relax a little, I became more aware of him. He didn't smell like a typical dirtbag thug. I couldn't place the clean, spicy scent of his aftershave, but I knew it was expensive. About the same time, I felt something hard poking my lower back.
"D-do you have a gun?"
"No, princess." He chuckled softly, and whatever was pressing against me twitched.
"Ohmygod. You're turned on by this."
"Not by this . . . by you."
A warm hand slipped under my shirt to cup my tit. Shit! I knew I should've worn a bra.
"Oooh . . . nice," he cooed in my ear.
I started squirming and rubbed against the thick ridge of his erection. He moaned softly, his hand squeezing harder, and he pinched my nipple between his fingers, rolling and tugging it slowly, sending a lingering jolt between my legs. Traitorous body!
"Get your hands off me!"
"Are you sure that's what you want?" His warm lips grazed my ear, sending a shiver through me. Grabbing my hip with the hand that wasn't caressing my tit, he rolled his pelvis against my ass, and I felt just how big and hard his cock was.
"Check along the alley! Make sure nobody's left." That horrifying voice came from out in the alley again, and goosebumps erupted on my arms.
"I've got you, princess. We just have to lay low until they're gone."
"And then what?"
"Then we walk out of here and go our separate ways." He pressed a kiss to the side of my neck, his breath warm and moist on my tingling skin. "Unless you want something more."
"Something more . . . like some perv mauling me in an abandoned building? Let me see . . . no fucking thanks!" I struggled harder to escape his hold, angry at the way my body betrayed me at every turn.
He loosened his arms, and removed his hand from under my shirt. Relief flooded through me until he spun me around to face him, our chests crushed together. Warm fingertips grazed my skin as his hand slid under my hair and he anchored an arm around my waist. "Take it easy. Don't make any fucking noise, or they're going to find us."
Now his hard-on pressed against my stomach. I tilted my head up, straining to see his eyes in the dark, needing to know if he was toying with me, planning to hurt me, or maybe feeling the same strange, erotic pull to me that I did to him. A wall of blackness greeted me; I may as well have been wearing a blindfold.
"Come on, you pussies! How do these tikes manage to dodge you? Knew I shouldn't have taken a night off. I want their balls on a platter! Do you hear me?"
The grating sound of that voice was one I'd never forget. A memory flirted at the edges of my mind, a night that man was talking to Aro. I never saw him, only heard his voice, but it was forever tattooed on my soul.
"What the fuck were you thinking?" Aro's voice boomed across the back room of Volturi's, a high-priced strip club. He had to pretend to have legitimate businesses, and all his men loved beautiful women. So did his enemies. Many a deal was done over drinks and lap dances.
I was eighteen at the time and loved to defy him in any way possible. I wasn't supposed to be at the club—ever—but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him, right? Paulie knew I skulked around the back rooms. He had a soft spot for me and finally threw his hands up, warning that I would be completely on my own if I were caught. On this particular night, I was curled up under the desk in the spare office, writing in my journal, when the impromptu meeting convened.
"He was getting too close, Aro. I might ask what the fuck you were thinking by allowing an incorruptible cop to get so far into his investigation."
"He wasn't going to get anywhere! I had it under control."
"Like you had Swan under control? You're going soft, Aro."
My heart pounded in my chest. Swan? My father?
"Soft? I'll fucking show you soft!" Chair legs scraped across the floor, and a gun was cocked. "Get the fuck out of my club."
"That was a mistake, my friend." The man's voice was cold and unfeeling. Dead.
"You're nobody's friend. Just a leech that sucks the life out of others."
"Whatever, but if it wasn't for me . . . you probably still wouldn't have your daughter living under your roof. You need to learn how to be grateful, or things could be ripped away from you."
"Are you threatening me? Get out now. Before I put another hole in your fucking head."
My body stiffened involuntarily, and I pressed closer to my captor. That man . . . I was fairly certain he'd killed my father. My stomach filled with bitter bile, and rage flared inside me like an inferno. I wanted to kill the bastard more than anything, but I couldn't do that when my gun was in Angela's fucking car and when there were who knew how many others around.
"What's wrong?" he whispered against my hair.
Goosebumps erupted over my skin, my arms and legs prickling with it. Bella, you are so fucked up getting turned on by this thug. But he wasn't a thug. There were certain incongruities: expensive aftershave, the way he spoke, his disgust when the other guys were messing with me, taking the chance of hiding me away with him when he could have left me behind. I didn't know what his deal was, but he was no dirtbag. You know, there are different levels of dirtbags, genius. You're just making excuses because you feel something, and you're ashamed of it.
"Wh-Who is that man?" I whispered.
"Someone who's going to kill us if he finds us. Shh . . . if ever you were quiet, now would be the time."
A shiver went up my spine, and a jolt shot down my body, anchoring itself between my legs. How could I be scared, disgusted, and horny all at the same time?
"Please." I wasn't even sure what I was asking him for, but my plea caused his dick to twitch against me.
"You're killing me, princess." His voice was hoarse and breathless.
He spun me away from him, and pulled my back against his chest. Warm lips sampled the skin on my neck, and I didn't play coy—I leaned my head to the side, giving him better access.
"Baby, is this turning you on?" He ground his pelvis into me, digging his well-endowed cock against my lower back. He crooned into my ear. "What do you need? How can I take away your anxiety?"
Unable to answer, I leaned back against him, no longer trying to escape. It was answer enough for him. My skirt was lifted smoothly over my hips. One of his arms formed an iron bar across my chest, and the other slid ever-so-slowly inside my lacy thong to probe against my sex.
"This is what you want, huh, baby? You're so tight . . . just relax for me. Oh yes, that's my girl."
My body went limp against his, and I allowed him to press his long, calloused fingers inside me. He developed a slow rhythm before adding the pad of his thumb to circle my clit. A low moan bubbled up my throat, and I rocked my hips against his hand without shame.
Sounds continued in the distance—yells, catcalls, running feet, the loud clang of metal—all the while, deep in the recesses of the all-consuming dark, I consented to this strange contradiction of a man and the tantalizing play of his fingers.
"Shh . . . quiet now."
Something was building up inside me, hot and needy and wanton. I turned my face to the side so his lips slid across my cheek. I moaned softly, my breath hitching as I felt an orgasm coming on.
He leaned his head forward and captured my lips with his own. I was so turned on, so close to release, that I didn't think. I opened my mouth, allowing his tongue to slip between my lips. It was all-consuming and hot, almost tender.
"Mmm . . ." I hummed against his lips, breathless as I felt the euphoria building.
He pulled back from this kiss and whispered, "Come for me, princess." Then he deepened the kiss, his tongue doing to my mouth what his fingers did to my pussy.
I cried out into his mouth as a powerful wave of ecstasy blew through me, taking all my strength with it. My legs buckled, and he bent his knees, tightening his arm around my chest to support me while I rode out my orgasm.
He broke away from the kiss and pressed his lips against my ear. "Beautiful," he whispered.
The sounds of the men hunting us had died down, but we stood in the dark for a while longer, listening.
He slipped his hand from between my legs and turned me around, his lips finding mine again. Those long fingers found their way into my hair as he plundered my mouth.
His dick twitched against my stomach, and I was prepared to return the favor. After all, he kept me safe, brought me pleasure, and he was an expert kisser. I skimmed my fingers over the front of his jeans, feeling how big and hard he was. I started to unbuckle his belt, but he grabbed my hand.
"No, princess."
"But you're so . . . don't you want me to?"
"Fuck, yes, I want you! You have no idea, but I can't afford to lose control here, now. If it was any other time, believe me . . . you'd be underneath me."
This turned me on even more. "What now?"
I heard a click, and a penlight lit up the room. It hurt my eyes, and I squinted against the light until I adjusted. The warehouse we were in was filthy, damp, and dusty. Some abandoned tables, chairs, and other equipment were strewn haphazardly on one side.
Taking my hand, he led me deeper into the maze of rooms that eventually spilled into a wide hallway. "This way." We headed for the double doors at the end of the hall, and he opened one of them slowly, peeking out. Signaling it was safe, he pulled me outside into another alley.
Up ahead, I could see streetlights, cars, and people. When we were almost to the street, he stopped short, and I ran into his back. He turned around and held both of my arms, walking me back into the brick wall. Intense green eyes gazed down at me from within the ski mask. He glanced down at my lips and slowly brought his mouth down on mine. He was giving me a chance to reject him, but I couldn't. I wanted his hands on me, his lips. He kissed me deeply, with the same intensity as when we were hiding out.
"Thank you, princess."
"For what?"
"Trusting me. I'm sorry we met under such horrible circumstances. Would it be too weird if I asked for your number?"
"How about you give me yours?"
"I can't do that."
"Oh, fuck it." I gave him my number. "Can I at least get your name?"
He hesitated. "Tony."
"Do you have a last name, Tony?"
"Let's stick with Tony for now."
"Okay, and I'm—"
"Tony" pressed a finger to my lips. "Shh . . . don't tell me your name—not yet."
"Okay, Princess it is."
What a weird fucking night.
oOo
A/N: What do you think of Green Eyes? Bella sure is conflicted. Thanks for reading, would love to hear your thoughts!
I want to thank the awesome ladies at The Lemonade Stand for sharing my other new story Freddie in their What We're Reading This Week post. If you haven't started Freddie yet, go check it out. Loads of angst in that one too.