Brando Read online

  “His love is misplaced. That puttana told me only a few minutes ago she only loves my brother.”

  Drago frowned. “Is this the truth or are you causing trouble again? And be honest.”

  “It’s the truth. She’s still hung up on Vinnie. If I were your brother, I’d leave her...” Brando smiled, “...in a grave.”

  Drago shook his head. “You’re evil.”

  “That’s what she said.”

  “Leave now.”

  “One more question.”

  “What?”

  “I saw a Catholic priest here. Do you know who he is?”

  Drago grimaced. “Why would a priest be here? They think we’re a scourge on the earth.”

  “They’re worse scourges than you lot.”

  Drago’s eyebrows pulled together. “Don’t you have a brother who’s a priest?”

  “Sì, he’s a devil too.”

  Drago shook his head. “You’re the devil, not the holy men.”

  “They’re not holy, they’re murderers and pedophiles.”

  “You obviously have issues.” Drago turned around, muttering, “Don’t come back.”

  “Don’t plan on it,” Brando said. “Unless I feel like fucking your mother.”

  Drago spun around. “What did you say?”

  “I love you.” Blowing Drago a kiss, Brando walked off, thinking he needed better medication, because his hallucinations were getting worse. Drago was right. There was no way a priest would walk around a gypsy village full of whores, and especially not the Padre. The only woman the vile bastardo didn’t hate was the Virgin Mary, the man a warped fucker.

  Willing all thoughts of the Padre out of his head, Brando strode down the mud track, heading for his car.

  3

  Ivy pulled on her Viper outfit, which consisted of black skin-tight pants, an even tighter black top, and a black leather jacket. She knew she had one fuckable-looking body, but it wasn’t why she wore the getup. The poured-on clothes allowed her to move with ease, and as a Black Viper—a trained assassin and spy, she didn’t want anything that might hinder her in a fight.

  She slid a knife inside her right boot and a gun in her jacket, grabbing an extra clip for good measure. Pocketing it, she headed to the mirror, quickly pulling her dark brown hair up in a ponytail. Once done, she smudged some black kohl under her dark eyes and smacked on some lipstick, not bothering with any other makeup, her tanned complexion flawless.

  She headed out of the room she shared with her sister. She veered left down the passageway, aiming for D’s room. They had gotten a job protecting the Santini twins. The two men were booked into playing a gig at H20, the hottest nightclub on the island. She knew why D had volunteered for the job. Her fellow Viper was hot for Vinnie, one of the twins.

  She knocked on D’s door. The Santini Don had given the Vipers the lower west wing of the house to live in. They’d moved in after the Santini family had been attacked, so they could help protect them as well as receive help in return. Ivy and her sisterhood of Vipers wanted to take down their former employer, the Black Russian having massacred a number of them.

  D answered her door. The African American, Puerto Rican was practically a stunt double for Rosario Dawson, the two looking eerily similar. She was wearing bright red lipstick, black vinyl pants, and an electric-blue top. She’d also straightened her curly hair, the brown locks now reaching her ass.

  “Ready to roll?” Ivy asked.

  “Most definitely.” D closed the door behind her. “I’m really looking forward to this. Thanks for letting me come.”

  “My pleasure.” Ivy followed D down the passageway, her eyes going to the Viper’s ass. She laughed, “What are you wearing?”

  D spun around. “What do you mean?”

  “It looks like you’re wearing granny-knickers under your pants. I can see the outline. If Vinnie sees it, he’ll laugh more than hit on you.”

  D’s face flushed. “Give me a minute, I’ll change. Meet me out front.” She took off back down the passage, disappearing into her room.

  Ivy continued onwards, stopping in the foyer as the front door opened. Brando stepped inside, the man capturing her breath. No matter how many times she saw him, she couldn’t get over his beauty. And God, he looked even more delicious than normal. Instead of his usual suit, he was dressed like a gypsy. He was wearing a loose shirt and tight black pants, making his bulge stick out. She wanted to kneel down in front of him and take him right there and then into her mouth, not giving a shit about who saw. But she wouldn’t, because, although he looked like heaven, he was hell on two legs.

  He gave her one of his wicked grins; those two pointy incisors making him look villainous. “Buona sera, Ivy,” he said, saying good evening, his Italian accent smoother than melted chocolate.

  She remained silent, not knowing what to say or do.

  “Not going to speak?” he said, smiling wider. “But then again, I do tend to render women speechless.”

  She snapped out of her dumbstruck state, and went to move past him. She didn’t want to be near him, since he always created conflicting emotions in her. One second she wanted to suck him off, the next she wanted to stab his eyes out.

  She stepped outside, stopping as he brushed a hand over her ass. She spun around, finding him staring down at her, his golden eyes intense.

  “I was going to ask if you wanted to come to my room,” he said, brushing his hand over her breasts.

  She smacked it away. “Don’t touch me!”

  The first time they’d met, he’d ordered her to take her clothes off, then had fucked her without caring how she felt, just taking what he wanted. The next time he’d seen her, he’d whispered into her ear that she was his property. She’d been owned by one man before: the Black Russian, and that bastard had brought nothing but pain and suffering to her life—and Brando would do the same.

  He stepped closer, making her back up fast, almost causing her to fall down the steps.

  “Back off!” she snapped, considering hitting him. The man didn’t know the meaning of sexual harassment—or more likely didn’t care.

  “Why are you denying me?” he asked. “I know you want me.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Such a liar.” He grabbed her shoulders, leaning in for a kiss.

  She shoved him away. “I’m not yours to do as you please,” she growled.

  “Oh, but you are. So stop fighting me, we both know you want to fuck me.”

  “You’re full of yourself.”

  “And for good reason, I’m gorgeous.” He reached out to touch her breast again.

  She smacked his hand away. “Stop it!”

  “You’re lucky I like you, Ivy, otherwise I’d hurt you for daring to hit me.” He sneered. “Though, I might not be so nice the next time you do it.”

  “You tried to touch my breast.”

  “It’s called a tit,” he said, emphasizing the word, “and it belongs in my mouth.” He smacked his lips together.

  “And your cock belongs in a guillotine.”

  He laughed, his golden eyes lighting up. “Such a mean-spirited women. Maybe that’s why I like you so much: you’re just like me.”

  “I’m nothing like you. I don’t treat people like shit.”

  “Some people would disagree with that.”

  “Name them.”

  “Kennedy,” he said, mentioning one of the Black Vipers she didn’t get along with.

  “She’s deserves it, so you can’t use her as an example.”

  “Okay, I concur, you’re all sweetness and sunshine.”

  “Don’t make fun of me.”

  “I was being nice for once, and if you want me to be nicer, how about you give me a kiss a day to ward my nasty personality away.”

  “You have got to be kidding?”

  “Try me.”

  She shook her head.

  “What are you so scared of?”

  “I don’t trust you.”

  “It�
�s just one kiss.”

  She breathed out. “Will it get you off my back?”

  “Sì.”

  Knowing it was a bad idea, she still nodded, just wanting him to stop bugging her. And, in all truth, she wanted to kiss him and if he believed it was under duress, she could walk away without Mr. Arrogant thinking he’d won her over.

  He leaned his head down to her, the man so much taller. He cupped her face, his eyes beyond beautiful, their golden hue captivating to look at. She stared into them, forgetting to breathe. He leaned even closer, his cruel lips pressing against hers. His tongue pushed inside her mouth. The next second, she was up against the wall, his mouth ravaging hers. His hands moved to her breasts, pinching and pulling at them, making her libido flare out of control. She grabbed his ass and pulled him closer, knowing she was making a mistake, but unable to stop. He knocked her hands away and stepped back, leaving her breathless and confused.

  A smile formed across his face. “I knew you wanted me.” He laughed and made for the door.

  A second later, realization struck her as he disappeared inside the house. The bastard had suckered her! She swore. Men had called her a cock tease, but Brando was a pussy tease.

  Furious, she stormed back inside the house, wanting to rip a piece out of him. She stopped under the archway, seeing him disappear up the staircase, probably heading for his bedroom. She went to follow, but hesitated, knowing if he got her in there she’d be a lost cause. She’d probably end up with her ass in the air and his cock in her pussy, like the last time. No pleasure for her, only the bastard getting off, then telling her to leave. If that happened again, she was sure she’d attack him, the man a selfish asshole.

  She spun around and headed back down the passageway that led to D’s room, wondering why her fellow Viper was taking so long. She knocked on the door. It opened a few seconds later. D’s best friend poked her head out, the blonde American woman giving her a sneer.

  “What’s D doing?” Ivy asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Changing,” Kennedy said.

  “It doesn’t take this long to change a pair of panties.”

  “She wants to look her best for Vinnie, so wait, bitch.” Kennedy closed the door on her face.

  Ivy yelled out, “You’re the bitch! And tell her to hurry the fuck up or I’ll leave without her.”

  Kennedy poked her head out again. “Then leave, because she’s my friend and you’re not getting your filthy claws into her.”

  Ivy leaned her back against the passage wall, giving Kennedy a smile. “Not happening, bitch. I’ll wait as long as she needs.”

  Kennedy glared at her, then her head snapped to her left. The wheelchair-bound Santini appeared around the corner. Bella stopped a few paces away from them, her eyes going to Kennedy. Like all the Santini, she was stunning. Though, her blue eyes and heart-shaped face were not only beautiful, but sweet-looking. Bella dropped her gaze and rolled her wheelchair past them. Kennedy pushed away from the door and started following her, the bitch in heat. Ivy had caught the lesbian Viper sitting on Bella’s lap the other day, hitting on the poor woman.

  Bella glanced over her shoulder at Kennedy, her eyes going wide. Kennedy grabbed the back of the wheelchair, telling Bella she’d take her wherever she wanted to go. Ivy shook her head, knowing that Kennedy didn’t have a chance in hell with Bella, since the woman was straighter than Brando’s fat cock.

  Ivy breathed out, wishing she could get Brando out of her mind, the man already owning it.

  4

  “Get some freaking clothes on before Brando gets here,” Vinnie said, walking into his twin’s room. They shared a small house out the back of their family mansion. It was a place where they could play their music without the others bitching. There were a few rooms: a bedroom each, along with a storage room, a bomb shelter in the basement, an adjoining lounge and kitchen, and their soundproof music studio, where they were cutting their first album.

  Vinnie’s twin grinned at him. Dominic had a towel wrapped around his hips, his body still damp from the shower. Colorful tattoos covered both his brother’s arms, the water designs on his left one standing out the most. He also had silver rings in his nipples, a pierced eyebrow, a small bullring in his nose, and a stud in his tongue, his twin having a piercing fetish.

  “Why bother getting dressed when the chicks will only rip my clothes off,” Dominic said, scratching his nuts through the towel.

  “Just get some clothes on before Brando gets here or that sadistic bastardo will pistol whip you for making him wait.”

  Dominic dropped his towel, the Prince Albert in his cockhead making Vinnie grimace. His brother picked up a pair of jeans off the polished wooden floor and yanked them on. The jeans settled halfway down his bare ass, displaying too much of his front as well.

  “Put on some boxers,” Vinnie said, sitting down on Dominic’s bed.

  “Got none clean, forgot to put them out for the wash.”

  “Then at least wear a belt or a long shirt to cover everything.”

  The sound of footsteps approaching the room pulled Vinnie’s gaze to the doorway. Brando entered through the opening, looking like a hitman—which he actually was. Their brother was dressed to the nines, decked out in a black suit and leather gloves. Under his jacket, he was wearing a white shirt and a holster, the latter holding a .22 handgun. He also looked freshly showered, his black hair still damp.

  “We’re going to the club, not a hitman’s convention,” Dominic said. “Change into some jeans or you’ll stand out like Vinnie in a gay bar. Actually, that’s not a good analogy, considering what he’s wearing.”

  Vinnie pushed off the bed, wanting to hit his twin. “I don’t look gay,” he snapped, feeling insulted, “and you’re the one who fucks anything with a pulse.”

  Dominic grinned. “I’m not the one dressed like one of the Village People.”

  “I am not,” Vinnie said, his leather pants and black muscle shirt perfectly fine. “And what I’m wearing is better than your grunge-look,” Vinnie’s gaze moved to Brando, “and the Godfather outfit over there.”

  “I’m a bodyguard tonight, and bodyguards wear suits,” Brando said, smoothing a hand over his jacket, which was probably Armani, maybe Versace, his brother having expensive tastes.

  “We have enough soldati guarding us. Instead, we need you to go incognito. I want you to slip into the crowd to see if anything’s happening that we need to be concerned about. I’m still getting stalker mail, plus the heavy-breathing phone calls have started up again.”

  “I don’t own suitable jeans and my leathers aren’t for going out.”

  “Borrow some of mine, then,” Vinnie said, knowing Brando was referring to his BDSM shit.

  Dominic sniggered.

  “What’s so funny?” Vinnie said.

  “I wouldn’t wear your clothes, you go commando.”

  “So do you.”

  “Only when I run out,” Dominic continued sniggering. “The chicks keep stealing them.”

  Brando shook his head. “Just give me something clean.”

  “Give him that bright pink pair you have with the love hearts on,” Dominic said.

  Vinnie flicked his twin the finger, then turned to his drawer, pulling out some clean black leathers. He chucked them to Brando, along with a black Led Zeppelin T-shirt. Brando dumped the clothes on Dominic’s bed and started undressing. He laid his jacket on the mattress and pulled off his holster, slipping his shirt off next. He reached for the T-shirt, the severe scarring on his back capturing Vinnie’s attention. Long lines carved up his brother’s flesh, Brando’s obsession with being whipped beyond disturbing.

  “Are you ever going to stop doing that merda to yourself?” Vinnie asked, using the word for shit.

  “I rarely do it to myself,” Brando answered.

  “You ask people to.”

  “Everyone has their fetishes.”

  “Not self-harming ones that mutilate their back.”

 
“You have tattoos—that’s self-harming, and Dominic also has weird piercings, which I also consider self-harming.”

  “That’s decoration. What you do is nasty merda, and it must hurt like fucking crazy.”

  “I like pain.” Brando pulled the T-shirt on, covering his scars once more.

  Vinnie shook his head. “You’re a weird bastardo.”

  “I don’t deny it.” Brando stepped out of his pants and pulled on the leathers, the casual attire making him appear much younger than his thirty-four years, which was five years older than Vinnie and Dominic. Brando was too mo-fucking beautiful to be a Santini. Their mother had had an affair with a D’Angelo, most of the men from that family resembling male models. And Brando used his looks to his full advantage, picking and choosing whoever he wanted to fuck. Unfortunately, he had a bad habit of treating women like puttane, only using them for sex.

  Brando smiled, though it wasn’t a friendly one, especially when he showed his pointy incisors. It just made him look even more sinister. It was what had given him his nickname.

  “Let’s go, vampiro,” Vinnie said.

  “Stop calling me that,” Brando grunted, giving him a scowl.

  “Lighten up, man. You obviously need sex, ’cause you’re wound up tighter than a nun’s pussy.”

  Dominic sniggered. “I agree. You definitely need to get laid, bro, and since that Viper isn’t willing to bend over for you, just fuck one of our groupies. Hell, don’t smile and any female will bend over for you. Also, don’t talk; you put females off when you order them around.”

  “I don’t need advice on females from a fenucca,” Brando said, slipping his gun into the back of his pants.

  Dominic glared at him. “I’m not gay. I’ve told you enough times I’m pansexual.”

  “You’ve fucked men; that’s gay.”

  “I fuck women more, so I’m not gay!” Dominic stormed out.

  Brando sniggered. “He must have PMS.”

  Vinnie scowled at him. “Why can’t you stop riling him? You know it upsets him when you call him gay.”

  “He calls you gay, and you’re not, so I don’t see the issue, especially since he is.”