Phantom
: Chapter 31

January 16, 1945

“Tell me about her.”

Alfonso has just left, leaving me sitting before Angelo’s desk while he puffs on a cigar, the two of us alone aside from the small pile of cocaine before him. He stares at me calmly, but there’s a hint of challenge in his eyes, as if he’s daring me to lie to him.

I tap my fingers on the armrest, contemplating how much I should divulge.

“You may be my consigliere, Ronnie, but I would hope that you didn’t forget you are my friend—my brother—above all else.”

I sigh. “She’s the love of my life.”

He nods slowly, his gaze studious. “I knew there was something deeper between you two when you defied my orders and prevented Paulie from taking her. Even more so after the party when I saw you sneak after her to the powder room.”

I tighten my lips, disappointed I wasn’t as sly as I had thought I’d been, but certainly not surprised. Even inebriated, Angelo has always had a sharp eye.

“I’ve left you alone on the matter because I had hoped you would come to me if it ever became serious. But I see I was wrong.”

“Angelo—”

“Do you know there’s a certain look to a man when a woman is taking care of him? Since I’ve known you, you’ve always had this”—he twirls his hand, searching for the word—“hardness about you. And for as long as I can remember, I’ve been waiting for the day when a woman would come around and soften you.”

He takes another puff of his cigar. “It appears that day has arrived. And it’s the wife of my accountant, no less.”

“She was mine before he was yours,” I grumble.

“Which is why you saved him. For her.”

I nod once, grinding my teeth. Angelo and I rarely discuss our feelings. While we hide nothing from one another, we rarely discuss our feelings, only divulging emotions that are necessary.

I shift, discomfort wrapping its claws around my bones.

“You love her,” he states plainly. “Since when?”

I sigh and grab a damn cigar from his table, deciding I’m going to need it to get through this conversation. My nose will never touch cocaine, so tobacco it is.

“Since I first saw her, truthfully. We’ve . . . Our affair has been going on for quite some time.”

“And John? Does he know?”

“Of course not. He would—” I clench my jaw, fury constraining my vocal cords for a moment. “He would likely hurt her if he did.”

That has Angelo raising a brow, unimpressed with that new knowledge of John. While my boss hasn’t always been the most faithful, he retains respect for his wife. He’d never lay a hand on her, and despite his occasional infidelity, he treats her like a queen.

“You know Judge Jones would accommodate anything I asked of him—”

“They have a daughter.”

Angelo has a few judges in his pocket, as a matter of fact, and it’s an advantage I’ve considered before. Yet it’s one I haven’t brought up to her, considering how adamant she is to keep her family together. I’ve threatened to kill John on many occasions only because my anger got the best of me and I can’t stand the thought of him drawing breath. But after our argument a few days ago, I don’t know that she even wants to divorce him.

“It’s frowned upon to be a single mother. And she wants Sera to grow up in a home with both parents. She can only think of her daughter, and I can’t blame her,” I continue.

Angelo cocks his head. “Is that the only barrier between you two? She knows what you do, correct?”

“She knows my position, though I do not divulge our business to her. But yes, my job is another point of contention. My lifestyle is dangerous, and she fears for her daughter’s safety.”

He’s quiet for a few beats, staring at me thoughtfully while he takes another puff of his cigar, the jewels of his ring glinting off the overhead lights.

“You understand you’re only my consigliere, yes?”

I frown. “Yes.”

“Which means I do not require you to complete contracts or put yourself in more harm’s way. You’ve made your bones, Ronnie.”

I sigh, understanding where he’s going with this. It’s not my job to whack people, but I do it anyway because of the release it brings me. I enjoy it more than any normal man should. But handling the contracts personally puts me—and my loved ones—in more danger of retaliation.

This life is not one I can leave, but it is one that will allow me to retreat into the shadows, where it’s not only safer for myself but also a family, too.

“Having a family is a strain on the heart for those of us in the position we’re in. We both understand that. But that also means that we make sacrifices to ensure our families stay safe. We make sacrifices to ensure our own happiness.” He finishes his cigar, stubbing it out while piercing me with his stare through the smoke billowing before his face. “Killing offers you relief. But you must decide if ending a life is better than experiencing your own, my friend.”

January 17, 1945

I’ve always enjoyed watching Genevieve squirm.

There’s something innately satisfying about making her nervous.

I haven’t visited since our fight. Mostly because I’ve been busy with work since I cleared the Saputo estate. But partly because I’m injured, and I know the moment she realizes, it’ll only prove her point about why we can’t be together.

“I’ve missed you,” she breathes, twiddling with her fingers. She stands before her rocking chair, shifting anxiously, waiting for me to make a move.

I am a little displeased that she didn’t run to me as she usually does, but I also can’t deny my enjoyment from watching her.

“I missed you, my love,” I say softly, slowly approaching her.

She swallows, attracting my attention to where her throat bobs. I’m certain her pulse is hammering beneath the delicate flesh there, and my teeth clench with the urge to bite it.

She’s always felt so much more alive between my teeth.

“Ronaldo, I don’t want to fight,” she says, nearly vibrating by the time I’m within a foot of her. The tension between us is thick, and it tastes as sweet as her pussy after she comes for me.

“Then let’s get the first one out of the way,” I say. I remove my trench coat, then my button-up, allowing her to see the large bandage over my shoulder.

While I undressed, she seemed enraptured, but now that her stare is locked on my injury, only concern shines through. She gasps and closes the gap between us, faintly brushing her fingertips over the bandage.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I was in a terrible mood after our argument,” I confess quietly, the words rumbling out of my chest. “And the next day, we spotted a long-time enemy on our territory—someone I thought I had killed before. So I went there and iced them all, but they did manage to hit me.”

There’s a tremor in her bottom lip, and I know she’s picturing the scenario I laid out for her. Imagining the moment a bullet sliced through my shoulder. The danger I immersed myself in the very day after she said that my job could get her and Sera killed.

“Was it worth it?” she asks, her words cracking at the seams.

“Yes.”

“Would you do it again?”

“Yes.”

“Will you keep doing it?”

This time, I hesitate. “I don’t know. Maybe not.”

Her blue eyes finally flick to me, unshed tears within.

“This isn’t a life I can walk away from, my love. But as Angelo told me, it is one that will allow me to retreat into the shadows. And for you, I would do that. I may not be able to guarantee that things will always be safe, but I can guarantee that as long as I breathe, I will always stand between you and a bullet. Sera, too.”

She’s not entirely satisfied with my answer, but she nods, deciding that it is good enough. At least for now.

“And I may not be able to divorce John right now . . .” She hesitates for a split second, licking her lips. “But maybe I can when Sera turns eighteen. She won’t be young forever, and there will come a time when she moves on with life and creates one of her own, and then I won’t be so beholden to John.”

Just as Genevieve was unsatisfied by my response, I’m not entirely pleased about having to wait four more years to make her my wife, but it’s enough. And regardless, my heart sings. It feels like for the first time in nearly a year, there just might be a future for Genevieve and me.

One that doesn’t end with either one of us suffering.

“Angelo knows a judge. When you are ready, I believe he will grant you a divorce.”

Shock flashes through her gaze, then happiness. And when a few tears finally spill from her eyes, they’re complemented by a bright smile.

“Yeah? D-do you think he’d let me keep Parsons Manor?” she asks, staring at me with the hope of a little girl asking for a brand-new pony.

I grin. “If he knows what’s good for him, he will.”

A shaky laugh reaches my ears, and I can no longer withstand the distance between us, small as it is.

Ignoring the flare of burning pain in my shoulder, I dive my fingers through her curls and pull her into me, crashing my lips against hers.

She opens for me earnestly, a soft moan greeting my tongue. She tastes divine, and I’m unable to restrain myself from devouring her, licking her eager little mouth and biting her delicate lip.

Her hands flatten against my stomach before slowly gliding up to my chest, taking her time exploring the surface of my bare flesh. All the while, it sends tremors throughout my body, her touch dismantling my restraint inch by inch. My cock firmly presses against the zipper on my trousers, hard enough to crack ice in the South Pole.

Our kiss grows hungrier. We feast on each other, yet it only leaves us even more starving.

“Fuck, Genevieve, I love you so much,” I groan against her mouth. I bite her bottom lip and drag it through my teeth, savoring her taste before diving back in for more.

She whimpers against me, scarcely getting out her breathless response through impatient kisses. “I love you, too.”

Bullet wound be damned, I grab the back of her thighs and lift her in my arms, carrying her to the couch and dropping us both onto it.

Our hands tangle and fumble as she unfastens my belt and trousers, releasing me from the confines and wrapping her hand around my cock. Meanwhile, I shove her dress up past her waist, fumbling with her undergarments.

I growl, growing impatient with her girdle and straps and instead tear her underwear from her body. She gasps, and instead of dropping it on the floor, I rip myself away from her lips and stuff the shredded fabric in her mouth.

“If you want to know how good I make your pussy feel, then I expect you to fucking taste it, too,” I growl.

Panting, she stares up at me with rounded eyes, utterly shocked. Yet she makes no move to spit them out and instead watches me closely as I line up the tip of my cock with her opening and drive inside her.

Her eyes roll, and her scream is muffled, though the sound is no less erotic.

Pinning her knees to her ears, I fuck her quickly and roughly, enraptured by the sight of her tight pussy gripping my cock as I slide in and out of her.

“Look how desperate your cunt is for me,” I snarl. “But I don’t think you know what true desperation is like, do you?”

She nods, adamantly disagreeing. But my little rose has gone through life without ever being plucked from her place of comfort. Before her husband turned to the bottle, he treated her delicately, those thorns keeping her safe in gentle hands. How unfortunate for her that I’d gladly bleed if it means crushing her beneath my fist.

“Hold your legs right there, baby. If you let go, I stop.”

Confused, she replaces my hands on the back of her thighs, keeping her legs spread and knees up to her head.

With one hand, I rub her clit in tight circles until her eyes flutter and her back arches. Once she’s comfortable in her pleasure, I close my other hand around her throat, triggering another stunned expression.

A tinge of unease bleeds into her stare, though my cock and fingers keep her distracted enough. However, I quite like the way she wears fear, so I squeeze tight, a squeak slipping through before I sever her oxygen.

Instantly, her cheeks redden, and her body shudders beneath me. Yet another moment where I wish I could photograph her staring up at me just like that.

Bright-blue eyes filled with pleasure and panic, her brow furrowed, and those pretty red lips stuffed with her soaked underwear.

“Fuck, baby, you look so goddamn pretty when you’re desperate,” I groan, my balls tightening from the view alone. “My needy little slut.”

She’s unable to make a noise, but her body speaks plenty. Violent tremors overtake her, and her nails claw at her own skin, leaving behind red marks as I pound into her.

Red-faced, she squeezes her eyes shut and slides her hand over to my wrist, her arm barred across the back of one of her thighs. Crescent moons form in my skin, her thorns surfacing and drawing blood. As if it’s not enough, crimson trickles down the same arm from my shoulder injury, though the pain is indiscernible beneath the ecstasy holding my body hostage.

My own moans make up for her forced silence, pouring from my throat like water from a spigot. If anything, my pleasure makes her wilder.

“This is true desperation, mia rosa,” I bite out through clenched teeth. “This is what I feel when you are near. So completely taken by you that I can’t fucking breathe.”

Her cunt clamps down on me the moment the last word leaves my mouth, and I release her throat, allowing her to belt out a broken scream.

“Ronaldo!” Her outcry is muffled from the underwear in her mouth, and she seizes beneath me as the pleasure contorts her body. Even her fingers stiffen and splay wide, her hands sightlessly fluttering around, unable to grasp onto anything solid.

She clenches around my cock tightly, and instantly my vision blackens and I see stars. The orgasm rushes through me unexpectedly. I thought I had it under control, but her pussy is too goddamn tight, and it rockets me right over the edge.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” I shout, becoming lightheaded from the dizzying rush of pleasure coursing through me. “Fuck, yes, milk my fucking cock.”

Hips gyrating, she does exactly that. My release pours into her in rivulets, filling her until it leaks from the sides and spills onto the couch.

My body trembles violently, even as I come down. The aftershocks are persistent, and I twitch endlessly while waiting for my vision to return.

When it does, I’m resentful of my limited sight. More than anything, I’d love to have a full view of her heaving below me, still shaking as I do while little sounds ripple from her throat uncontrollably.

Her chest, throat, and face are still flushed tomato red, but her expression is slack with exhaustion.

Panting, I sit up straight and am briefly confused when I notice we are not in the same spot as before. It takes a few seconds to process that I fucked her so hard, I moved the couch a good foot from where it had been.

She notices, too, glancing around before turning her bright gaze back to me, her astonishment evident. “If you wanted to rearrange my furniture, you could’ve just asked me.”

February 12, 1945

John came home from work sober, and with a stack of new books in hand for Sera. She loves reading, like I do, and when she saw them, she lost her mind with excitement.

She’s gotten used to seeing him less. First, because of his drinking and gambling. Then because of his second job. He told her he is now working for a big client on top of his business, so she understands his new hours now. Though we didn’t dare tell her who the client was.

I would be beside myself if Sera knew who John’s boss is, but John and I are both well aware of how children overhear all sorts of gossip from their parents.

After gifting her the books, he challenged her to a dance competition.

For the first time in so long, we turned on the radio and danced and sang together as a family. And when Sera grew tired, John had her step up onto his feet and he swirled her around the living room.

Sera was so happy, and she stared up at her father with so much love that it made my heart ache.

If I knew that he would come home like that every night, it would make staying with him easier. My heart has long since been stolen by another, but at least Sera’s would stay intact. Until she turns eighteen, that is.

Because then I will be the one to break her heart.