N I N E
L I L L I A N A
“Then act like a jealous bitch,” Andrew said, “Dominic would lap it up like a fucking dog.”
To be entirely truthful, it wasn’t as hard as I thought. Any woman with hormones would feel the heat between the legs with Dominic Romano around, except his existence was the very source of my distress.
The workings of Illinois International Port District were looked after by Dominic in case of any illegal passage of shipments. Most of the stolen ammunition from the Vittelos were exhausted, and we required weapons for the upcoming attack. The Cartels wouldn’t risk exposing themselves in the territory of Chicago, while we, the Morettis, wouldn’t be able to contact our allies for various political reasons.
The only old-school route was the Chicago Port. But it had to be done when Dominic wasn’t available around.
“How long do I have to engage him?” I asked.
“Minimum of two hours.”
I gave a quick thought and nodded. “Fine, manageable. Set up an interview with Sophia Bianco.”
Now, Sophia Bianco, the only daughter of the Bianco family, was a typical rich-bitch socialite of Chicago, filled with the tantrums of all the Kardashians put together. Aside from her breast implants and an ugly lip job, the tabloids were crazy about her alleged involvement with Dominic Romano. Thus, she was the perfect prey for my hunt.
Her interview would help me getting into an internship job with a media house, a cover I needed desperately. The second, and most important, was getting the attention of Dominic.
It was a miracle that I didn’t strangle her bonny neck with the strings of the bikini she chose to wear for the fifteen-minute interview, sipping her margarita, and after making me wait for one fucking hour.
“Dominic, if not for my family, I will simply torture you for making me go through this shit,” I muttered to myself, as I got into a cab and pulled out my phone to text him.
“How well do you know Sophia Bianco?”
Not a minute later, as anticipated, my phone beeped: “Why do you care?”
I saw the message but didn’t reply, knowing he already had a man tailing me and tracking my phone. And expectedly, when the cab pulled up near my apartment, the shinning charcoal grey Maserati GranTurismo Convertible was parked right outside. Climbing the stairs, I didn’t even fish out the key, and instead, turned the knob to swing the door of my apartment open.
“One of these days I am going to get a restraining order against you,” I said as I entered, sensing his presence in my apartment before I glanced up to find him leaning back on my couch with his feet resting on the table. I didn’t know if it was the small size of the place or not, but Dominic’s presence always felt a bit overbearing.
“I can drive to you to Judge Hammer’s office if you want,” he offered. “At least you won’t have to take the stupid cab rides.”
I sneered at him. “Not everyone is born with a silver spoon like you, Mr. Dominic Giovanni Romano.”
The moment his middle name slipped out of my tongue, I regretted. Giovanni Romano was the name of his grandfather. I immediately cursed myself as the slip up was outright reckless and stupid, especially at this stage of my plans.
“So, you have researched quite a lot about me. I am impressed.”
I shrugged, keeping it casual. “Don’t flatter yourself. Your name came up a hundred times when I was searching for Sophia-the-bitch-Bianco.”
The truth was, I didn’t even know if web media had it or not. But since he didn’t retort, I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.
Note to self: Google Dominic Romano the moment he leaves the apartment.
Heading to the kitchen, I grabbed an apple, a bottle of water and a sandwich I made in the morning but couldn’t finish eating because I had to interview a slutty socialite. Taking a bite, I strode towards the couch and slumped down lazily beside him.
“What did Sophia say?” he asked and grabbed the bottle from my hand to take a sip.
All this time I have been with Dominic, I have only seen him pouring alcohol into his system. Water? Yeah, this was a first.
“That you have a small one.”
He chuckled at first, and then turned to face me directly and stared for a long second. He was looking at me like he was reading me or something. It was unnerving and made me instantly self-conscious. My thoughts were quickly confirmed when I gave him a questioning look.
“Nothing,” he said with a soft smirk. “You are not a very convincing liar.”
For a moment there, a tiny insecure moment, I thought it was game over for me and that he figured out what my real intentions were. And knowing the fact that behind his playful exterior, he was Dominic Romano, a man who valued blood and family and a man who would not hesitate once to kill me even if he had an inkling of my plans, for a brief second I blanched.
Truth be told, deep down, I was like him. I was like Dominic—cold, calculated, and indifferent. Which is why it shouldn’t bother me—I told myself—it should not bother to give it away so carelessly for the vengeance I awaited for twenty-three years of my life.
A finger snapped, and I broke out of my reverie, acting all annoyed. “What? Let me eat,” I muttered, taking a bite of the apple, and speaking with mouth half-full. “I had to skip breakfast because of that bitch. Afterward, I almost lost my appetite looking at her implanted boobs.”
Dominic laughed outright. “She was showing off her tattoo and expensive lingerie. Sofia does that to belittle other women. One of her many talents,” he explained.
“Well, she is lucky that I didn’t give in to my urge to strangle her with her so-called expensive lingerie and drowned her in the pool of her own lake house.”
“And of all the women in Chicago, you had to interview her?”
“Journalism project,” I grumbled, getting up to dump the remaining into the trash bag. “And what brought you to my apartment by the way?”
“Sophia has a talent of pissing off others, so I thought you might like some peaceful company after enduring her.” He winked and gave a cheeky grin, making my eye roll.
“You are exactly the company I want to avoid after Sophia Bianco. Apart from her surgical lips yapping away with a fake accent, she went on and on about you, souring my mood further.”
Dominic quirked an eyebrow. I don’t even know how people fucking do that. “Souring your mood? Or making you jealous?”
“Hell would freeze over before—”
One second he was sitting beside me, and then in the next, his lips were on me, cutting my words off. And before I could even push him back, the taste of him exploded on my tongue. The very hands of mine which should have driven a knife into him were wrapped around the contours of his muscular torso, pulling him closer.
Staring directly into my eyes, pulling back, he murmured, “I almost forgot how amazing you taste, Lilliana.”
It took one breathless kiss from those lips and one utterance of my name to make me forget who I was, even though it was for a millisecond. In that blissful millisecond, he wasn’t the enemy—he was simply a man who could weaken my knees and melt the iron casing around my heart with his heat.
This time I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him closer for another kiss, with the same passion and need mimicking his. “This time,” I said, panting, “don’t forget it again.”
“I will try not to.” That was all he said with a smirk and undoing the buttons of the blouse.
“Dom—” My words were cut short with the sound of my bra ripping apart. “Goddamn it!” I glared at him but only for a moment before his fingers rolled my nipples firmly.
“Yeah, right. God damn it!” he quipped, continuing to torment me. My head rolled back in painful ecstasy—moaning and writhing.
“The couch won’t do.” I heard him saying before lifting me and carrying me into the bedroom, and deposited my body on the bed as if I weigh nothing.
I raised myself a little, balancing on the elbows, watching him undoing the slacks. All this while, the electrifying blue eyes were trained between my legs, hardening only a little when he saw me shifting. “Don’t move,” he warned.
My first instinct should have been to rebel. Instead, passion scorched my core and turned my defiance into ashes. Dominic wasted no time in grabbing my ankles, spreading me wide for his liking. I gasped when I felt a sharp nip on my sensitive bundle of nerves. Almost involuntarily, my fingers wove into his dark brown hair, pushing his head away because it was too much of a sensation.
“You don’t want to cum on my mouth? Alright, then.” Dominic quickly climbed on top of my body, pinning me down under his strength and forced my legs aside with his. “Perhaps you want to cum on my fingers?” he rhetorically asked.
A strangled groan past my throat, as he grounded his thumb over the spot he has bitten and palmed my pussy at the same time. My hips jacked up, demanding more of his touch, which he tauntingly held back.
“Please,” I begged him, at the same time I reminded myself that it was all an act.
Dominic smirked as if he’d invaded my thoughts. “You are exquisite like this,” he rasped, brushing his lips over my slightly parted lips. “An exquisite vixen.”
His free hand closed firmly against my nape while he worked on my sex with the other. His thumb pulsed ceaselessly until the first orgasm burst out of me like a pent-up flood.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I screamed and writhed, riding on the high sensation, incredible spasm after spasm. When the waves finally receded, I expected to find Dominic wearing his triumphant smirk. Instead, I heard the impatient tearing of a foil as he rolled the condom along his hard, veiny shaft.
A sharp pang of fear coursed, and you could say it was a sixth sense that tried to reason with me to come clean at the moment, but I was too proud.
I was too proud to admit to Dominic Romano that of all the men in the world, he was going to have my virginity. I was so high on retribution that even my virginity was a price I bargained with.
One lie, among the sea of many, wouldn’t matter—that’s what I told myself when Dominic positioned himself over me. I squeezed my eyes shut, biting onto my lips, waiting to battle the incoming pain.
"Lilliana,” Dominic breathed against the slope of my throat, peppering soft kisses.
I felt the tip at my entrance, and in the next second, he slammed into me with one hard thrust, forcing out a piercing scream higher than the decibel of a steaming engine. And there was nothing erotic, pleasurable or sensational about the first time. It was downright painful, no matter how wet and sloppy my channel was from the earlier orgasm.
Recovering, I realized Dominic had frozen and was sitting between my legs, with his gaze transfixed on his sheathed cock smeared in traces of my virgin blood.
He silenced me with a hard, furious look.
I fell like an idiot not to realize that Dominic Romano would be disgusted with the idea of fucking a virgin pussy. He was a man who prefers a quickie, almost anytime and anywhere.
Silently, he took my legs and maneuvered me into a fetal position that surprisingly lessened the lingering pain on my lower stomach, and disappeared into the bathroom. After a while, when he came out holding a damp towel in his hand, he began cleaning between my legs with a gentleness wholly unknown to me.
For a man, who was thoroughly displeased with the idea of fucking a virgin, he was sure as hell confident to care for one.
“Who was this ‘Dominic Romano’?” I doubted for the first time the way he was treating me.
He was acting like those fictional heroes, the notion of which consumed the fantasy of young women to distract themselves from the reality of men.
I slowly sat upright, dragging a bedsheet over my naked self and watched him getting dressed.
“Look, I can explain, Dominic,” I tried softly.
Dominic turned around slowly but didn’t meet my eyes. “You have Ibuprofen in your bathroom cabinet. Take them if you need it,” he said without any regard for my earlier statement.
Clutching the sheets tighter against my cleavage, I watched him walk out of the bedroom and then the definite sound of the door being slammed shut.
Every day I inched closer to my retribution, I felt as if I was losing a part of myself in the process. In an attempt to chase the vengeance to avenge the dead, I was destroying a part of myself. The only question stood out: Is it worth it?
Will my sacrifice be enough to destroy the Romano Family?
When the burner phone blinked and indicated that the shipments made it through, I should have been relieved.
But I found myself drowning in alcohol, like a self-deluding fool, hoping I could forget everything when I’d wake up next with a hangover worse than brain surgery.
I will try to update this story weekly as well, although I am not promising a particular day. I am switching between this and The Monster’s Protégé, so it becomes a little difficult formulate emotions for the character.
Anyhoo, hope you guys enjoyed the chapter.
And enjoy your Sunday! 😘😘