Brando Read online

  She pushed out of Dominic’s bed and grabbed her clothes, quickly pulling on her bra and underwear, along with her little green dress. She slipped out of Dominic’s room, crossing her fingers that Vinnie was here. Her eyes swept the lounge. She hadn’t paid it much attention last night, because Dominic had been all over her. He’d skipped foreplay, his cock inside of her before they’d reached the bedroom. But she took every little detail in now. It looked like a bachelor’s pad—the place a mess. It had leather couches, a plasma TV, a pinball machine in one corner, and a cabinet stacked with wines and spirits. Musical instruments were leaning against the wall, while a dirt-smeared football was sitting in the middle of the coffee table, which was also covered with unwashed glasses and coffee mugs. On her left, there was a small kitchenette, along with three doors—one she hoped led to Vinnie’s room.

  She tiptoed over to the room next to Dominic’s and cracked the door open, finding music equipment inside. She tiptoed to the next room, again quietly opening the door. Her heart stopped at the sight on the bed. Vinnie was sprawled out naked across a king-sized bed, the black sheets bunched up at his feet. Her body flared up as though his fire tattoos had set her alight.

  And he was alone!

  Thank Jesus and the Virgin Mary and all the saints and angels above, because if he’d had a female in bed with him, the puttana wouldn’t be seeing tomorrow. Obviously, the woman Vinnie had been with hadn’t been important enough to sneak home. Still, it hurt knowing he’d been with someone else ... and all the other women too, because he was always with a different female every time she saw him. But it wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t help himself. It was the fault of those puttane. They threw themselves at him, shouting for his attention, throwing bras and panties at him as he played up on stage. Any man would find that hard to resist, especially one as virile as Vinnie. She just needed to make sure he didn’t do it again, and once she got that ring on his finger, she was sure he wouldn’t wander. He would be an attentive husband—she was certain of that.

  She stepped inside, closing his door quietly, and tiptoed to his bed, wanting to snuggle up to him as well as kiss his lips until hers hurt. She bobbed down next to him, her eyes roaming over ever little detail of the man she loved. She smiled as he let out a cute little snore. He was completely out of it, her darling lost in dreamland. He had youthful good looks, making him appear in his early, rather than late twenties. She reached out, running her finger down his perfect nose, over his luscious lips, down his neck, his chest, and those beautiful abs of his, and ... oh, Dio ... the man was as well-endowed as his twin, just minus the Prince Albert.

  Remaining asleep, Vinnie turned onto his side. Irene’s eyes went to the bullet wound in his back, one of her father’s soldiers having caused it. Just under two months ago, her father had ordered his men to attack the Santini compound. He’d wanted to wipe out the entire family for siding with another family who had betrayed him. She’d found out afterwards about the attack and had screamed at her father for risking Vinnie’s life. Her father had looked at her sadly, his expression telling her he thought she was crazy, then he’d walked out of the room, leaving without scolding her. Not long after that Brando murdered him, along with her mother.

  Vinnie let out another little snore, sounding like his nose was blocked. Still asleep, he slung an arm over his face, drawing Irene’s attention to his muscular bicep. His fire and hellish tattoos were beautifully rendered and in direct contrast to his twin’s water designs. She liked them better than Dominic’s, or maybe it was just because they were on Vinnie, the man so damn perfect.

  She should’ve gone home with Vinnie, instead of his twin. She should’ve lain with him, kissed his lips, and opened her legs wide for him. And she would. She pushed to her feet and slipped her dress off. It fell to the floor, along with her underwear, leaving her naked for her man. The memory of his smile replayed in her head—of how he’d looked directly at her as she’d stood in front of the stage. He’d been attracted to her, and if that woman hadn’t distracted him, she would’ve made love to him instead—which she would rectify now.

  She lay down next to him and rolled him onto his back so she could kiss him. Cupping his face, she sealed her lips against his, reveling in their softness. She couldn’t believe she was finally with him. She’d sent him so many letters, writing about how much he meant to her, and how just thinking about him made her want to live. But to be here; actually kissing his lips, while touching his body—it made her happy for the first time since tragedy had destroyed her family.

  Vinnie moaned and opened his mouth for her. She slipped her tongue inside it, her heart almost bursting with joy. Not breaking the kiss, she started massaging his cock. It was hardening beneath her palm, exciting her no end. He moaned again, muttering what sounded like “D” against her lips. Remembering the name from the club, she stopped kissing him. Was D the woman he’d dragged into the room?

  “Forget about her,” she said.

  He opened his eyes, looking half-asleep.

  She ran her hand over his brown hair, which was shorter than Dominic’s. “I’m all you need, Vincenzo.”

  His eyes widened. A second later, he shot sideways, falling over the edge of the bed. He scrambled to his feet and covered his cock with his hands. “Who the hell are you?!” he yelled.

  She pushed off the bed. “Irene,” she said, wanting him to know her real name, the one she signed all her letters with. She didn’t want to hide anything from Vinnie. Lovers didn’t do that, they told each other everything.

  Still looking stunned, he backed up as she rounded the bed. “You’re the one who’s been sending me those letters and calling me,” he said.

  “Only the letters, and I’m sorry for getting mad at you. I would never have hurt you; you just upset me with all your cheating.”

  “How the fuck did you get into my room?”

  “Dominic brought me home.” She moved closer, backing him into the wall. “Don’t be mad, I only went with him to be with you, and I saw you go with that woman, so you have to forgive me, like I forgave you. Plus, we love each other, so it shouldn’t affect our relationship.”

  “I don’t love you; I don’t even fucking know you.”

  “Of course you do, you’re just confused.” She reached out to touch his arm, wanting to calm him down, because he looked like a wild animal ready to bolt.

  He jerked to the side and jumped onto the bed, running across it to the other side of the room. He spun around and pointed to the door. “Get out!” he yelled, still trying to cover his cock.

  She walked around the bed. “There’s no need to panic. I wouldn’t hurt you.”

  He backed towards the door. “I don’t want you touching me, and I don’t want to touch you either. So stay back, you’re freaking me out.”

  “Vincenzo!” she cried, now getting upset. “Why are you doing this? I told you who I am.”

  “Leave me alone!” He shot out the door.

  Irene ran after him, stopping at the sight of Vinnie yelling at his stunned-looking twin. Dominic was now dressed in low-hanging jeans and a ripped shirt. His eyes moved to her, his face surprised, then anger shot across it. He stalked towards her, making her back up fast, his expression scaring her.

  “You puttana!” he yelled, reaching for her arm.

  Panicked, she lashed out at him. Dominic blocked her arm and grabbed her. She screamed and went for his face, scratching his cheeks. He yelled out and let go. She ran for Vinnie, who backed up fast.

  She pushed him into the wall, yelling, “You love me! You do!”

  He shoved her away from him. She went for him again, now furious he was rejecting her. He was hers! She’d done everything for him: changed her appearance, gotten slimmer... Everything! He’d also gotten her through the bad months, making her want to live again, yet now he was backing away, as though she wasn’t worth his time. But she was! She just had to convince him of that.

  Arms wrapped around her from behind, lifting her
off her feet, Dominic cursing her to the high heavens. He swung her around and shoved her face first into the couch, yelling at Vinnie, “Get the duct tape!”

  He pushed a knee into her back, making her cry out. Seconds later he was yanking her arms around, tapping them together with duct tape. He bound her feet next. She screamed, begging for Vinnie to help her. She was yanked around, Dominic sealing her mouth with the tape.

  He glared down at her. “You think you can use me to get to my brother?! Well, fuck you, you’re dead.” He yanked her up, throwing her over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift.

  “You don’t need to kill her,” Vinnie said. “Just dump her in the countryside.”

  “Hell, no,” Dominic replied. “I read those letters she wrote you. She’s dangerous. She needs to be taken out.”

  “She’s just a female.”

  “Are you thick or something? Females are killers too. We have a house full of Viper assassins. I say let her swim with the fishes.”

  “She didn’t hurt me.”

  “She molested you, and the witch scratched my fucking face, and if she was a man, you’d kill her without a second thought. Also, if I set her free, she’ll try to get at you again. Maybe the next time she’ll come with a gun. Hell, we’re lucky she didn’t kill the both of us in our sleep. I’ve heard stalkers do that merda.”

  Vinnie breathed out. “I still don’t feel comfortable with killing her, and if you hadn’t broken the rules and brought her back, she wouldn’t have had the opportunity.”

  “It doesn’t matter, it’s too late now.”

  “It’s not too late, and killing everyone that threatens me isn’t the fucking answer.”

  “It is when they’re loopy nutjobs. Also, I brought her in, so I’ll take her out.”

  “No!

  “I’ll get a soldato to do it, then.”

  “I said, no. Just get one to take her back to town.”

  “Okay! I’ll do it. Now, get some clothes on while I call Miko.” Dominic dumped Irene on the couch. “He always covers my back.”

  Vinnie walked off, closing his bedroom door behind him. Dominic pulled out a phone from his jeans, telling someone to get here pronto. A few minutes later, a fat soldato walked through the front door.

  Dominic lowered his voice. “Dispose of her. I’ll pay you two grand. Just don’t let anyone find out, and don’t tell Vinnie. He thinks you’re returning her to town. Let him believe that. I want the stalker dead.”

  “No problema, boss, but in return you have to get Brando off my back. He needs to know I bought my car with the money you gave me. I can’t keep using the gambling winnings excuse. I found out he followed me to the gypsy village. If you don’t clear things up with him, I’ll end up with my throat slit.”

  “I didn’t pay you enough for that. Those cars cost an arm and a leg.”

  “It took a long time to save, plus I also used some of my salary. Now I’m regretting buying it.”

  “Okay, okay, I’ll get the vampiro off your back.”

  “Grazie.” The soldier went to pick Irene up.

  “Wait a sec,” Dominic said. “I’ll get you a blanket so no one sees her.” He disappeared into his room, returning with one.

  The soldier wrapped the blanket around Irene, the material covering her from head to toe. She struggled as he picked her up, panicking again, but the soldier was too big. She screamed, the gag muffling her voice.

  “No one’s going to help you, puttana,” Dominic spat. “You come after my twin, and this is what happens. No one hurts him. Not you, not anyone. Now, get the fruitloop out of my sight,” he snapped at the soldier.

  The soldier carried her outside, stopping for a moment. He gruffly told someone to move, then continued walking, bumping Irene against his shoulder. She peered through the top of the blanket. The back of a woman dressed in a maid’s uniform disappeared into the main house.

  The soldier rounded the corner of the building, barking at another man, “Open the trunk.”

  He tossed Irene into it and slammed the trunk shut. Irene closed her eyes, terror now taking over, the memory of Christo Donatelli doing something similar to her. She started crying, not wanting to die. Even though her family was dead, she still didn’t want things to end this way. She wanted to have children with Vinnie, to see their family grow, to make them strong like her family had been before Christo had killed her sisters and Brando had slaughtered her parents. She’d been truly happy before her family had been stolen from her—and she wanted that happiness back.

  The car bumped her about, taking her to wherever the soldier was going to dispose of her. She wondered whether he would cut her throat or shoot her. An idea popped into her head. Maybe she could encourage him to fuck her, and while he was doing it, she could somehow kill him. But she needed to talk to do that, which meant she had to get rid of the gag. She wriggled her mouth about and pushed at the duct tape with her tongue, but no matter how hard she tried to get it off, it remained firmly stuck.

  A while later the car came to a halt, then the trunk popped open. The top of the blanket was pulled away from her face, revealing the fat soldier staring down at her. Grimacing, he leaned down to pull her out of the trunk. Irene screamed into the duct tape.

  11

  Ivy headed out of her room with her sister and Cyn. Her sister had gotten some information from a source in the Black Russian’s household, warning her that the bastard had ordered a hit on Menna. The informant didn’t know who the assassin was, nor could they talk for long, the information they were giving punishable by death.

  Ivy followed Menna, who was now looking better, her sister’s morning sickness having finished. Menna was in her second trimester, her baby bump finally showing. Ivy ran a hand over her own stomach, the doctor’s words bothering her. She dropped her hand, forcing what he’d said out of her mind, because there was no way she could be pregnant. She was infertile, plus she would be a terrible mother. She was a fighter, not a diaper changer—and she wanted it to stay that way.

  Cyn started humming a tune behind her, some crappy pop song.

  “Shut up,” Ivy snapped, the woman irritating her. There were only two Vipers she hated, and Cyn was one of them, the bitch having fucked her ex.

  Cyn went quiet. Unlike Kennedy, Cyn never answered back, the female scared of her.

  The three of them headed for the kitchen. They needed to get some lunch before they rounded up all the Vipers to brief them on what was happening. Although Menna was safe inside the Santini compound, the Russian bastard could still get to the other Vipers when they went out on jobs, hurting them in retaliation.

  Ivy came to a sudden halt partway into the lounge, doing a double-take. A beautiful man was sitting on the couch across from Brando’s mother and next to a raven-haired woman. He turned to look at her, his golden eyes fixing on her face. He was a younger replica of Brando, with jet black hair and dark-olive skin, and a face so beautiful he could only be one person...

  Jagger D’Angelo.

  Cyn gasped, “Holy shit, he’s fucking beautiful.”

  Jagger pushed to his feet and walked around the couch, holding out a hand to Menna. “Hello, I’m Jagger D’Angelo.”

  Before Menna could react, Ivy stepped around her and took hold of his hand, giving it a shake. “I know who you are. We’ve met once before at the Black Russian’s home.”

  Jagger frowned, then enlightenment lit up those wonderful eyes of his. But instead of being enthralled by them, all she saw were Brando’s eyes, her mind constantly on the beautiful bastard.

  “I remember now,” Jagger said, letting go of her hand. “You’re Black Vipers. I was sorry to hear about what the Black Russian did to your sisterhood.”

  Ivy nodded her thanks, still hurting over her sister’s and fellow Vipers’ deaths. So many had died during the great battle, and in a way they didn’t deserve. The Black Russian and his guards had been vicious in their attack, slaughtering them as though they were animals, not human beings who had
worked for him. It was amazing that any of them had gotten out of there alive, because they had been gravely outnumbered.

  “By the way,” she said, wanting to change the subject, her loss still a festering wound. “You look so much like Brando it’s uncanny, just a younger, much nicer version than that evil bastard.”

  Jagger grinned, showing the same pointy incisors as Brando. “It sounds like you don’t like my cousin.”

  Ivy went quiet; surprised that Jagger didn’t know Brando was his half-brother. Her gaze moved to Concetta as the woman pushed off the couch. Looking concerned, Concetta placed a finger to her mouth. Jagger looked over his shoulder at his aunty, who instantly dropped her hand.

  “What was that look about?” Jagger asked.

  Concetta cleared her throat. “It’s to do with why you’re here, but I don’t want to tell you until Brando arrives.” She glanced at her watch. “And he’s late.”

  Cyn muttered something behind them.

  Ivy turned to look at her. “What did you say?”

  Cyn took a step back, her eyes worried. “It was purely a transaction, nothing more.”

  Ivy bristled, instantly going on alert. “What transaction? And if you tell me you whored yourself for him, you’re dead.”

  Cyn shook her head vigorously. “I only whipped him.”

  “You what?!”

  “He paid me to whip him. It wasn’t sexual at all. He promised me a grand for it, and since Menna doesn’t pay me shit, I said yes.”

  “Where is he?” Ivy growled.

  “The whipping room. He’s a warped motherfucker, even has a cat o’ nine tails in there. I had to whip him with it until he passed out.”

  Ivy’s hand shot out, grabbing Cyn by the throat. She shoved her backwards, Cyn yelling out as she hit the floor. Menna grabbed Ivy’s arm before she could go for Cyn again, her sister shouting at her to stand down. Ivy shook Menna’s hand off her. She wanted to beat the shit out of Cyn, but restrained herself, needing to prove to Menna that she was responsible enough to keep as second-in-command.