Bruno: Heartless Mafia Boss Page 3

  He dismisses me and grabs the file again, instantly engrossed in reading. I’m fuming on the inside and yet I’m so freaking confused. Coral put things in motion to save me? And this man stood up and yet he doesn’t bring me to her?

  “Put the clothes on I gave you, Winter. We will arrive at the hotel soon and I’d like to obtain some decency since we will be here for the next couple of days. But I don’t mind paying off a few employees if I have to drag you through the lobby naked. You’d do good to follow through when I ask you to do something.”

  “You didn’t ask. You ordered,” I whisper hiss.

  I want to stand up to him and yet I don’t want to outright rebel due to his harsh and cold appearance. This whole situation is screwed-up. I have no clue what my future holds, even with this man mentioning Coral, how she was saved, and how she wanted the same for me.

  Because this man doesn’t give me the feeling he does anything out of the goodness of his heart. In fact, I don’t even think he has a heart.

  CHAPTER THREE

  – BRUNO –

  There’s a knock on the door and Emmet strolls in to handle the courier that’s bringing the contract. A contract I ordered to be drawn up to cover the basics of what I’m going to offer Winter. Reading through her background–which was in the file I received when I bought her–was confirmed once I let Emmet do our own background on her as well.

  The woman currently occupying the bathroom in this expensive hotel room hasn’t had a nice life. And I’m fairly sure she’s never experienced the kind of luxury she’s wrapped in now. I’ve been searching for a new suitable wife and when I laid eyes on this beauty I knew she was it. I couldn’t believe it when I noticed the sign stating she was a virgin.

  Anger fueled through me when I saw Ridge Blacksson touching her. I knew there was a chance I’d run into him, seeing the asshole still prefers his women non-willing and chained. I really need to get my hands on evidence to tie him to the murder of my wife or the assassination attempt through my mistress.

  Maybe I should settle for exposing the fucker, but I know with his ties to another mafia boss he might be able to wave away any charges linked to his name. Besides, I won’t settle for jail time. He needs to die, and I want to watch the life slip from him at a very slow pace. I’m biding my time. I’m a fairly patient man when it comes to vengeance.

  “Need anything else for the night?” Emmet asks while he hands me the envelope.

  “That will be all,” I mutter, dismissing him as I open the envelope to look over the contract.

  I hear the door fall shut at the same time Winter strolls into the room. From the corner of my eye I notice how she’s drying her hair with a towel. She’s wearing a lavender nightgown I laid out for her.

  “More documentation on me?” She stalks closer but comes to a stop when I slowly give her a look of disapproval.

  Her spine straightens as if she’s catching herself faltering underneath my gaze. She affirms my suspicions when she takes determined steps forward and lets her eyes go to the papers I’m holding.

  I place them on the table and slide them in front of her. “I’d like to offer you a deal.”

  “A deal,” she muses and her delicate fingers–with short fingernails–reach for the contract, hovering over it as she takes in the written words.

  From the way she turns the page I assume she’s angry, probably insulted by the way I had a contract drawn up, but I refuse to change my plans. I won’t give her a chance to refuse; no one refuses me.

  She makes a neat pile after reading through all the pages and shoves them my way. Her magnificent blue eyes slam into me. Blue like deep water I’m more than thirsty to explore. And they flare with so much emotion, it’s clear this woman is a passionate enigma.

  “I don’t know if I should be offended, repulsed, or have pity for a man who needs a contract to buy a human incubator.” Her finger jabs at the papers and she adds in a curious tone, “Why don’t you offer a lifelong a million a year in exchange for five years of marriage and a son to a woman in your own league?”

  “My own league,” I repeat.

  Her head tilts slightly as she crosses her arms in front of her chest, making the silk of her nightgown strain against her lush breasts. This woman doesn’t know how much she affects me. Hell, I’m not liking it one damn bit myself, but I’m not the one bringing up how different we are; miles apart and yet thrown together for reasons unknown.

  “High-class. And I’m not putting myself down but I stated the league of your own part because of the wealth thing. Wealth in money but also education. I thought this whole mafia world you mentioned thrives on doing business on their own level, like I mentioned, stay in your own league.”

  I shrug. “You’re smart. You’ll take the deal.”

  “I don’t want your money,” she simply says and the corner of my mouth slightly twitches again.

  She also managed to do so in the car. But now I’m mentally rubbing my hands in glee because to me it doesn’t sound as a rejection, more like a negotiation. “Then what is it you want?”

  She bites her bottom lip and clearly thinks things over. “My debt to be taken care of. Unlimited art supplies, a place to make my art, and someone who will sell my paintings all over the world so I can make my own money.”

  Ah, I’ve read about both things she just brought up. Both the debt due to medical bills of her aunt who passed away–causing her to lose the house and to force her into living on the streets–as to her artistic side which she never could explore through education due to said debts.

  “If I were to make a new contract, one where your demands are met, you will agree?”

  Her jaw ticks and she snaps, “What do you think? I have nothing else in my future than to turn back to the streets I was roaming without a prospect of a future. Kidnapped, smacked around and made to do weird and . . . whatever, and standing here now? That bathroom I just took a shower in is probably bigger than any house I ever lived in. I always wanted kids, but men are assholes. Which you’re obviously aware of with you being one and shoving this contract in my face.”

  I grab a pen and hold it out. “So, that’s a yes?”

  She narrows her eyes. “Once you change everything into my demands.”

  “You do realize the million a year buys you more than the demands you stated for supplies, and a place to paint, right?”

  She balls her hands into fists and places them on her hips. Her chin lifts as she says, “My creations will–”

  I cut her off with a bark of laughter. “Making a painting and earning millions isn’t–”

  “Something a whore off the streets can do? Way to support your future wife’s choice. But I guess no feelings or other personal things are involved, right? Just the sex needed to get me pregnant. Do we even have to uphold some form of relationship to the outside world? How would that even work? Why is it you’re offering me this deal, Bruno? What’s the catch? Why do you need to tie a woman to you in black and white? Because I can imagine you can have your pick of one of the many who willingly drop to your feet. Not to mention you said in the car you’re some kind of bigshot mob boss. Aren’t there any made-men with pretty daughters waving them in your face to forge some kind of bond or alliance? And give me the truth because you’re handsome and rich enough to have your pick instead of buying some woman in an auction who has a shitty past and nothing to give in return.”

  I’m biting the inside of my cheek the second she called herself a whore. But she’s right to question my motive and I do owe her the truth so she knows what she’s getting into.

  “Don’t call yourself a whore again. You’re a virgin for fuck’s sake. And that was also one of my demands when I was searching for a new wife. The last one I had died. Murdered in fact. Poison. Meant for me but she died nonetheless. I had a mistress who was paid money to assassinate me. So, I had to kill her. Clearly I’ve dabbled in the women roaming my world and none lived long enough to fit my needs. You will have enough mo
ney not to be bought off by someone who would offer money to kill me. So, you see, I have my reasons.”

  “You do realize it’s not very motivating for me to agree to this deal you’re offering when you explain how all the ones before me ended up dead,” she deadpans.

  “You wanted honesty.” I shrug.

  “The million a year was hazardous money? Because then you might have to up the price seeing I won’t last very long with your track record. Wait, if I would become your wife . . . a mafia wife, seeing you’re the boss of all bosses and all, would I inherit your wealth if you died? You know, the silver lining thing. Since they killed two women but you being the main target and all might be worth the risk if you don’t live for very long.”

  I take a deep breath, quickly becoming angry and frustrated with this whole discussion and mainly because she hit a sore point. “Now it’s my turn to point out how you’re looking forward to my death while I mentioned how my former mistress wanted to kill me so instead I killed her. Are you giving me the impression you’d take up an offer to kill me?”

  She rolls her eyes. “With me passing up your money and wanting something to guarantee a good start for my passion indicates I can’t be bought, Bruno. But I do have to say you’re getting on my nerves and it makes me itch to wrap my hands around your neck and see what happens if I squeeze hard enough.”

  My hand flashes out and I do exactly what she just mentioned; my fingers wrap around her neck–squeezing enough to make her gasp–as I pull her close to my face. I’m towering over her while her tiny fingers dig into the front of my shirt to balance herself.

  “I could snap your neck with my next breath,” I whisper in an even tone.

  “And I could hit your balls before you do.” Her promise doesn’t sound like an idle threat.

  She’s so surprisingly intriguing. I guide her head next to mine to place my lips next to her ear.

  “Try me,” I demand huskily.

  She moves fluently but I’ve had years and years of training and experience. Her growl of frustration flows through the air when I’ve roughly blocked her and have her plastered with her back to my front, rendering her helpless.

  “You, Winter,” I tell her, and damn, my voice is filled with the same amount of lust running hot through my veins. “You really do tick all the boxes on my long list of demands for the perfect woman.”

  Her breath hitches and I quickly spin her around, slamming my mouth over hers to take a kiss that surprisingly flames up my whole body. I bury my fist in her hair to guide her head to the side, plunging my tongue inside her mouth to deepen the kiss.

  My cock is rock hard and the punishing grip I have on her hip is keeping her in place so I can create friction by rubbing myself against her. Months of no fucking, my cock not even so much as twitching at the sight of a woman, and this one manages to rise a craving to bend her over this table and bury myself deep.

  I roughly pull her hair to rip her mouth from mine. Her hot breath falls from her red, well-used lips, eyes glazing over, fucking hell, she needs to sign the damn contract otherwise I’ll tie her to my bed. Either way, she’s mine and not going anywhere. But I prefer the contract so she can accompany me wherever I go instead of keeping her all to myself in one single room.

  “I’ll make sure you get top of the line supplies, a space to work, and hire someone to sell your art,” I promise.

  “Okay,” she says, still dazed.

  “Five years, Winter. Our wedding will take place in four weeks.”

  She takes a step back, stumbling into reality along with it.

  “Without restrictions? I’m free to go anywhere I please?”

  I give a slight shake of my head. “You will have a guard accompany you at all times if you’re not with me.” Her face flashes with anger but I hold my palm up. “Head of the mafia, remember? I have enemies, needless to say with losing two women. I won’t take any risks this time. And you’ll have to earn certain privileges. Don’t give me that look. I don’t trust anyone except for four people.”

  “And who might those four people be?”

  A sigh rips from me. “Can’t you for once stay on the discussion at hand instead of taking one thing and hopping to the next?”

  She crosses her arms underneath her tits again. “No. I tend to run with things that intrigue me. And if something else is important I make a mental note and dive into it at a later point in time.”

  “You’d do best to stay focused. Straying from matters at hand is too chaotic,” I snap, getting annoyed by sidetracking while we were making progress in negotiating.

  She jabs a finger against my chest. “Get used to it because I am chaotic.”

  I wrap my fingers around her wrist in a tight grip. My upper lip twitching with anger I snap, “Watch that mouth.”

  Her eyes narrow. She’s about to snap something but gets interrupted when my phone rings. I instantly dismiss her and pick up, knowing it’s my brother who’s calling by the sound of the ringtone.

  I listen to his rambles before I interrupt him by letting him know, “The auction already took place. I sent a picture to Stone to let him know what woman I bought.” I have to chuckle at his response, he knows me too well. “Yes, brother, she’s perfect, and no way am I handing her over.”

  Winter has her hands on her hips, her lips stay shut but her eyes are spitting fire. The women thrown on my path have always been docile. Except for the one standing before me and I have to say, it might be just the thing which makes my cock rock-fucking-hard.

  Alaric’s voice brings me back to the discussion I was having with him when he says, “Perfect as in ticking all the boxes off your insane list?”

  “And then some. Wedding is in four weeks.” I give Winter a smirk while my brother keeps rattling. I don’t have time for this shit. “Talk later, I have business to deal with.”

  I end the call and place the phone on the table. Winter eyes the movement and it makes me curious. “Anyone you’d like to call?”

  “Coral,” she says instantly. “I would like to hear for myself if she’s okay.”

  I give her a nod in understanding and relish in the fact she doesn’t have anyone else in her life. Fucked-up, but it’s the perfect opportunity to tie her to me even more than she already is.

  “Stone, president of Trigger Pull MC, informed me Coral is now his enforcer’s old lady. She’s protected by the whole club but the one you saw at the auction, who handed me the card–”

  “Nario,” she interrupts.

  “Nario.” I nod. “He wants your friend back.”

  “Who was the man you stopped from touching me? Mr. B.,” she questions.

  “Changing topics again,” I mutter underneath my breath and let out a deep sigh while I run my fingers through my hair. “His name is Ridge Blacksson.”

  “You two seemed like you didn’t like each other,” she prods.

  I give her a hard stare. “Understatement of the year. He’s the one who wants me dead.”

  Her eyes go wide. “He’s the one who killed your wife? That shit with your mistress? And you just stand there and not kill him? You’re the boss of all bosses, couldn’t you have sliced his throat right then and there? Man, if I knew, I would have throat punched him. I really wanted to. Ugh. I should have.”

  The corner of my mouth twitches, but the reality of her words instantly flares a surge of anger. “I can’t kill him without handing over direct evidence to tie him to one or the other.”

  “Oh.” Wrinkles appear in her forehead and she asks, “Due to the whole boss of bosses thing?”

  “Yes. Taking out a senator isn’t exactly keeping a low profile,” I mutter.

  Winter snaps her fingers. “That’s where I recognized him from.”

  I give her a tight nod. “I never had to justify any of my actions. But when this shit happened it was after–” I stop talking because why in the hell am I telling her this?

  “Let me guess, after you became boss of all bosses? Because being a ma
fia boss is like chopping of heads, paint the streets red, make ‘em bow for you. And when you are the boss’ boss, you kinda need to make an example. Holy shit, that’s it, right? Can’t you just order someone to kill him and blame someone else? No one has to find out.”

  Anger fades and is replaced with amusement. “Did you sign the contract? Because you sound like a mafia wife with giving options how to murder someone.”

  Winter shrugs. “I’ve watched movies and like to read. Is there any food?”

  A bark of laughter rips from me. “You and your shifting topics. How can you go from planning a murder to requesting food?”

  “I’m hungry and haven’t had normal food in weeks, if not months. All we were allowed was water and sandwiches.”

  Anger flares up again but it’s directed at Nario. I will make sure to make him pay for what he did to my woman. Because Winter is all mine.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  – WINTER –

  My eyes are burning in my head. I didn’t get much sleep last night; too many things roaming around in my head. And Bruno might be the biggest issue of my lack of sleep. Even if he saved me from the auction and the situation I was in, gave me clean clothes, food, and a bedroom for myself.

  Oh, and let’s not forget his offer; the deal we made. Most people would render me insane. Maybe I am, but if you were in my shoes and walked miles and miles in the burning sun with holes in your shoes, no food, and no shelter–metaphorically speaking. Well, some parts. Then you would grab this chance with both hands too.

  I slowly sip my coffee in an effort to wake up. Though, I’m awake enough to glare at the obnoxious man who is currently making a phone call. He mentioned I could talk to Coral later today and shoved the new contract underneath my nose I need to sign first.