Brando Page 7

  Brando.

  He was walking towards her, dressed in the casual clothes he’d been wearing at the club. She turned around, not wanting to talk to him, especially after the show he’d put on for her.

  “Ciao, Brando,” Mira said.

  Brando sat down next to Mira. “It’s Uncle Brando.”

  “But, you’ve got different parents from my papà.”

  Ivy looked to her side. Brando appeared pained by Mira’s words, those golden eyes of his for once showing emotion. He’d recently found out that he was the result of an affair his mother had with a D’Angelo, which meant he was only a half-brother to the Santini—with the exception of Mira’s father, who was the result of an affair the Santini Don had with a prostitute.

  Mira shimmied closer to him and placed a hand on his lap, clueless that she’d upset him. Ivy stared at the girl’s hand in horror, realizing Mira was hitting on Brando, a man who was more than fifteen years her senior. Ivy raised her gaze to Brando’s face. He appeared perplexed by the younger girl’s attention.

  He moved Mira’s hand off his lap. “I’d still prefer if you’d treat me as an uncle.”

  The girl’s shoulders slumped, the sting of rejection probably new for the gorgeous young thing. “But, you don’t look like the others.”

  Brando’s jaw tightened. “I’m still their brother.”

  “Not my father’s.” Mira leaned into him, placing her head on his shoulder. “Which means you’re not my blood.” She placed a hand on his lap again.

  Brando let out a sigh. “If you’re hitting on me, Mira, stop it. I’m too old for you.”

  She jerked her head off his shoulder. “No, you’re not.”

  “I am, and, bambina, you do not want a man like me.”

  “Yes I do, and I’m not a baby, I’ll be nineteen next week.”

  A slight smile pulled at his lips, for once not making him look so cruel. “You’re persistent, aren’t you?”

  “My father used to say that if you see someone you want, you don’t stop until you get them.”

  Brando looked across Mira at Ivy, his eyes telling her he wanted her. “That doesn’t always work,” he said, moving his gaze back to Mira.

  “Of course it does. No one has ever said no to me, and I can’t imagine anyone saying no to you. You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. No one would turn you down.”

  “Ivy has.”

  Mira’s eyes shot to Ivy, her expression surprised. “I didn’t know you’re a lesbian.”

  Brando burst out laughing, making Ivy glare at him. “I’m not a lesbian,” she snapped.

  Mira frowned. “But, if he wants you, why would you turn him down? God knows I wouldn’t.”

  “Because he’s an asshole who treats women badly.”

  “He’s nice to me.”

  “Probably because he sees you as a niece.”

  Mira scowled at her, looking like she’d been insulted. “I’m not his niece.” She turned back to Brando. “And you shouldn’t treat me like one or call me a bambina. I’m a woman.”

  “And a very beautiful one,” he replied.

  Her scowl dropped, a smile instantly replacing it. She placed her hand on his lap yet again, the girl persistent. A man started calling out her name, making her whip her hand off Brando. “I’ve got to go,” she said, pushing up. “That’s my papà. If you want me, I’ll be in my room.” She blew Brando a kiss, then ran off, disappearing around the twins’ studio.

  “She has a lot of confidence,” Brando said. “An admirable quality, just misplaced.”

  “Definitely misplaced.”

  He focused on her. “Only because I’m her uncle.”

  “Keep reminding her of that.”

  He smiled. “Is that a note of ownership I hear?”

  “No, she can have you.”

  He slid closer. “But I’m not interested in her.” He flicked his tongue out, licking her ear.

  She jerked her head to the side. “Don’t!”

  “Why?” He placed a hand on her lap, running his fingers over her pussy.

  She pushed his hand off and shifted over. “I saw you fuck that woman.”

  “For your viewing pleasure.”

  “It wasn’t pleasurable!”

  He laughed. “It was for me.”

  “You’re a prick.”

  “One that makes your pussy ache.”

  “No you don’t, and you’re vile.”

  His smile widened. “So true, but you still want me.” He placed a hand on his crotch. “As I want you.”

  “You said you would be nice to me if I gave you a kiss.”

  “I’m a liar, you should know that by now, and you touched my ass while I kissed you. So, let’s drop this game and go to my room.”

  “You were the one that stopped things earlier, not me.”

  “I was teaching you a lesson, because you wouldn’t admit to wanting me.”

  “Lesson learned: you’re a conceited jerk, so go away.”

  “If you don’t want to be around me, you can easily leave.”

  “I was here first.”

  “Not true, I’ve lived here all my life.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Again, you’re still here, so you must desire my company.” He moved closer, bumping his hip against hers.

  She shifted over again, the man impossible. “What do you want, Brando?”

  “I already told you: to fuck you.” He moved his mouth to her neck, running his lips over her flesh, teasing it.

  “Stop that,” she croaked out.

  His hand moved to her breasts. “Just say yes.”

  “Why are you asking permission?” she said, the man heating her up. “You just take what you want anyway.”

  He let go of her breasts and grabbed her face, turning it towards his. “Are you calling me a rapist?” he snapped, looking furious.

  She hit his hand away, her arousal disappearing in a second. “Don’t touch me like that again!”

  He leaned his face closer to hers, all lust gone from his eyes, only anger remaining. “Answer me. Did you just call me a rapist?”

  “Yes. You forced me the first time.”

  “I did not,” he spat. “I told you to get undressed and you did.”

  “I didn’t want sex.”

  “Then you should’ve said no.”

  “You spun me around and pushed me on the bed.”

  “You didn’t object.”

  “I didn’t say yes, either!”

  A frown creased his perfect brow. He dropped his head, appearing to be thinking. When he spoke again, it was almost inaudible. “You should’ve told me. I’m many things, but not a rapist.” He looked across the water, his expression far away.

  She watched him, surprised by how sad he looked. She willed herself not to feel anything for him, because he was trouble with a capital T. “Then be nicer to women,” she finally said. “Don’t order them around like pieces of meat, just there for you to fuck.”

  His head snapped around. “Keep your fucking advice to yourself, you self-righteous stronza,” he said, calling her a bitch.

  She jolted, not expecting such venom. “That’s precisely why I’m not interested in being with you. You’re a complete asshole.”

  “Then this won’t shock you.” He placed a hand on her back, stilling her, then with a nasty grin he shoved her into the pool.

  Ivy yelled out, the water freezing cold. She flailed about, her clothes weighing her down.

  He pushed to his feet. “Can’t you swim?”

  She grabbed for the side of the pool, spewing Egyptian curses at him, damning him to Hell.

  His grin widened. “You look like a drowned rat. Not sexy at all.” He turned and walked off.

  Ivy pushed out of the pool, her clothes clinging to her body uncomfortably. “You asshole!” she screamed. “That’s precisely why no one likes you.”

  He turned around. “Mira loves me,” he said, grabbing his crotch. “Maybe I�
�ll go give her what she wants, and if not, like you said, I’ll just take it.”

  “Don’t you dare go near her!”

  “I’ll do whatever the fuck I like.” He disappeared around the twins’ studio.

  Ivy ran after him, afraid he was going to Mira. The girl might be old enough for sex, but not with Brando. She headed past the studio, racing through the back entrance of the house. The Vipers and Alessandro turned their heads to look at her, the Korean Viper laughing. She reminded herself to kick Sae Ra’s ass during training. She ran for the staircase, sprinting up it, not caring that she was getting water everywhere. She burst into Mira and Siena’s room, stopping at the sight of Mira and her sister playing on the PlayStation.

  “Where’s Brando?” she asked, shivering, her wet clothes clinging to her body horribly.

  The girls’ eyes lowered down her. Mira looked back up at Ivy’s face. “I don’t know, and why are you wet?”

  “Brando pushed me into the pool.”

  Mira burst out laughing, along with her sister. “I love Brando, he’s so cool.”

  Ivy glared at her. “It’s not funny! And he’s an asshole.”

  Mira stopped laughing, although her grin remained. “Why did you think he was here with me?”

  “He said he was coming to see you.”

  Mira sat up, looking excited, her hand going to her hair. “Really?”

  “Quit it, Mira,” Ivy said. “He’s too old for you; find someone your own age.”

  “He looks young.”

  “Not young enough, so if I catch you going near him again, I’ll be going straight to your father.”

  Mira sprang to her feet. “No! You can’t. And he won’t care, he doesn’t remember anything.”

  “Then you won’t mind me telling him you want to bed your Uncle Brando.”

  “NO! Don’t!”

  “Then back off, girl.”

  “I’m not a girl, and I saw him first.”

  “I don’t want him, so get that out of your head. And you’re still not getting him.”

  Mira thrust her chin up. “No, you’re lying; you do want him, that’s why you’re telling me not to go after him. You’re a tease, leading him on. Well, I won’t lead him on, he can have me. So, you back off.”

  Ivy blinked, surprised by the girl’s audacity. “You don’t tell me what to do, I tell you. And if you want to be a Viper, learn that quick or you’ll be tossed out on your ass so fast you won’t know what hit you.”

  Mira crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ll go tell Uncle Ricardo you’re threatening me.”

  “I am not threatening you; you trumped-up little rich bitch! So, stay away from Brando or I’ll tell your father everything.” Ivy spun around and stalked out of the room, slamming the door shut. A second later, she swore, realizing that Brando had made her lose her cool. She didn’t want to ostracize Mira, but in one fell swoop, Brando had come between them. She knew she should go back in and apologize, but she couldn’t, not if she wanted to make the girl toe the line, plus she never apologized. Apologies were for weak people, and she wasn’t weak.

  Ignoring her wet clothes, she headed for Brando’s room, wanting to rip a piece out of him. She pushed his door open and entered, ready to yell and scream at the bastard, but instead stopped, the sight before her shocking her to the core.

  Facing the window, Brando removed his shirt, revealing a severely scarred back. Whip marks crisscrossed over it, years of abuse layered over the top of each other, old and new scars creating a sadistic portrait of his past.

  Wanting to know what had happened to him; Ivy closed the door behind her.

  He spun around. “What are you doing here?!” he snapped, looking angry.

  “I...” She paused, his scars still leaving her dumbstruck. “Your back—”

  “Is not for your eyes.”

  “Who whipped you?”

  “None of your business, so get the fuck out of my room.”

  She stiffened. “You don’t have to be rude.”

  “If you want me to be nice,” he sauntered over to her and unzipped his pants, “suck my dick.”

  Her cheeks flared. “I’m not interested!”

  “Obviously you are, because you’re still here, so kneel in front of me and open wide.”

  “No!”

  “I won’t pay you if keep giving me attitude.” He pulled his cock out. “So, get to work, my cazzo won’t suck itself.”

  “I’m not a whore!” she shouted, slapping his face.

  In the blink of an eye, he pushed her into the wall. She went to hit him, but he was too fast. He grabbed her wrists and pressed his body hard up against hers, leaving her defenseless.

  “Let me go!” she yelled, jerking about in his hold.

  He cocked his head to the side, placing his lips next to her ear. “I warned you what I would do if you slapped me again.”

  “Let me go!”

  “I don’t think so.” He wrenched her arms behind her back. Using one hand to restrain her wrists, he unzipped her pants and burrowed his fingers into her panties.

  “Stop it!”

  “Why are you complaining? You’re wet for me—in more ways than one.” He pushed a finger inside her pussy, making her inhale sharply. “Dripping wet.”

  He added another finger and hooked them, pressing up on her pussy. She bit her lip to stop from groaning, what he was doing feeling incredible.

  “Admit you want me,” he said.

  “No,” she forced out, not willing to admit anything to the bastard. She started struggling again, stopping a second later, the movement causing even more pleasure to shoot through her, the pressure on her pussy excruciatingly good.

  “You should be punished for lying,” he said, “spanked for being a naughty cock-tease. I bet your culo would redden nicely under my hand.” He removed his hand from her panties and spun her around. Placing an arm across her shoulders, he yanked down her pants and—

  Ivy cried out as he smacked her ass. He did it again, making her cry out louder.

  Banging started up on the door. “What’s happening in there?!” Alessandro shouted.

  Brando let go and stepped away from her. “Ivy assaulted me.”

  Not believing her ears, she spun around, shouting, “You assaulted me!”

  “You struck me.”

  “It was just a slap and—”

  “See, Alessandro, she admitted to it, so go fuck one of your Vipers and leave me to handle mine.”

  “I’m not your Viper!” she yelled, yanking her pants up.

  “Oh, yes you are, Ivy, you belong to me.”

  Alessandro opened the door and poked his head inside. He grimaced as his eyes fell on Brando’s cock. He moved his gaze to Ivy. “Do you need me to sort him out?”

  Brando laughed. “How pathetic, a Viper who needs rescuing,” he said, looking at Ivy. “No wonder you want my famiglia’s help to take the Black Russian down. You Vipers are all pussies who are only good for sucking Santini cock.”

  “We are not!” Ivy’s eyes shot to Alessandro. “And I don’t need your help. I can take him out anytime I want.”

  “Only to dinner.” Brando made a slurping sound. “And I’ll be happy to toss your salad.”

  Alessandro sniggered.

  “Get lost, Alessandro!” Ivy spat. “You’re as bad as he is.”

  Alessandro’s eyes moved to Brando. “Looks like she doesn’t need rescuing, you do.” He disappeared around the door, closing it behind him.

  “He’s right, I do need rescuing.” Brando lifted his cock. “Resuscitate my cazzo; it’s starting to go limp.”

  Ivy clenched her hands. “Why is everything about sex with you?”

  “Not always, I like killing people too.”

  “You’re warped.”

  “And the insults continue, yet you’re still standing there, eyeing up my beautiful cock while pretending you don’t want it, even though we both know you do. Unfortunately, you’re boring me now, so either run away
like a scared little girl or suck me off like a woman.”

  “Women weren’t put on this earth just to pleasure your cock. We’re human beings with feelings.”

  “And a warm, wet mouth, just waiting to be filled with my cum.”

  “You disgust me,” she spat.

  He pointed to the door. “Then leave, I’m not stopping you.”

  “I will, I just want to know one thing before I go.”

  “What?”

  “What happened to you to make you like this?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why are you a sex mad freak?”

  His upper lip twitched. “Do you really want to know?”

  “Yes.”

  “Too bad, because you never will.” He turned and headed into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

  9

  17 Years Ago

  Brando walked through the church. The pews were empty, mass not for another hour. Colorful glass saints peered down at him as he headed for the back room, where he assumed the Padre was. He stopped outside the door and knocked on it. When no one answered, he called out, “Padre Michael, it’s Brando Santini. I’m here to help you with mass.”

  Noise came from behind the door, then it cracked open, the priest poking his head out. The man’s pale blue eyes looked glassy, his dark hair was a mess, and his cheeks were flushed. Brando wondered whether he was sick. Before he could ask, the Padre opened the door wide and yanked Brando into the room, closing the door behind them.

  Brando pulled free, shocked by what the priest was wearing—or wasn’t. He only had his underwear on, his muscular body laid bare. Feeling deeply uncomfortable, Brando averted his gaze.

  “What’s wrong with you, boy?” the Padre said, slurring the last word. “Why can’t you look at me?”

  “You’re not wearing clothes, Padre.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with displaying the male body. It isn’t obscene like the female form.”

  “You should still get dressed.”

  “You don’t tell me what to do, I tell you, so look at me.”

  Brando continued to stare at the floor. The Padre took hold of Brando’s chin, forcing him to look up. Brando tried to pull free, but the priest tightened his grip, making him yelp.

  “Let go!” Brando cried. “You’re hurting me.”

  The Padre let go. “That wasn’t my intention; I just wanted to see your face. You look like an angel.”