reveal any of my father’s plans to Damien, or even hint that they would soon be under attack. I just thought between the two of us we could negotiate a tentative ceasefire, and if we each then brought these agreements to our fathers, they would at least be forced to consider the peace.”
I sigh. “Only, my father found out about the meeting. He thought the same as you—that I was going to betray him. He also saw an opportunity to strike a crushing blow to the Irish. He had me detained, and he and your father intercepted Damien where we agreed to meet. They tied him up and tortured him, like you saw on the video. And then they killed him. I don’t know what their plan was after that, but I knew they were planning to send the video to Andrew Walsh.”
Alexis’ eyes are as wide as dinner plates. “What happened?”
I think back on that cold night just over two years ago, locked in my bedroom like a petulant child. I ripped the room apart. It was the last time I let go of my emotions like that, the last time I let my rage consume me. The place was in tatters by the time I was finished.
“A few of my father’s men were unsure of their loyalty,” I reply. “Especially having heard that he was down in the basement torturing a Walsh. They knew that he’d taken it too far, and they released me.”
I remember Dom Rozzi’s face when he opened the door and found me inside shredding my mattress with a penknife. I’m sure he wondered if I was the less crazy Belluci after all.
“I went down to the cellar,” I continue. “But I was too late. Damien had bled out, and my father and yours were sitting opposite his corpse having a drink, toasting their success.”
Alexis’ features twist with revulsion, skin paling. I don’t blame her. I remember the grisly scene vividly, the stench of blood and fear that filled the damp air.
“Then what happened?” she asks in a small voice.
“They pulled their guns when they saw me come down the stairs,” I say. “But I shot first.” I lick my lip. “I didn’t want to do it, Alexis, but I had to. I know how hard it must be to hear this, like losing your father for the second time.”
I had hoped at the time that maybe my father’s death would be enough to stop Andrew Walsh from declaring war. It wasn’t. The rest is history.
Silence thickens in the small gap between us. I can see she is processing everything, can practically hear the gears clicking in her head. My chest tightens, and I wonder if she is only seconds away from spitting in my face and storming from the room.
I know already that I will not be able to handle her rejection after finally laying out the truth for her. And so I heed the impulse that sweeps over me and lean over the chair, crashing my lips against hers.
If I am kissing her, she can’t call me a monster.
She stiffens, and at first I think she will push me away, but then she starts kissing me back feverishly. She stands from the chair and presses her body flush against mine, threading her arms around my neck. Her kiss is fervent, greedy. She kisses me like she needs to, or else her whole world will shatter. I wonder if our passionate embrace is the only thing keeping her from crumbling at my feet.
I cup my hands on her ass, plump and pert beneath my fingertips. Alexis sighs against my lips. I swing her around and push her onto the desk, wedging myself between her thighs. She groans appreciatively, and that wicked sound sends a bolt of electricity straight to my balls. My cock stiffens against the zipper of my trousers and I grind it into her, letting her know how fucking hot she makes me.
I tilt her head back, kissing down her chin, over the soft flesh of her throat. Alexis gasps and sighs. I brush the strap of her tank top down and kiss over the curve of her shoulder. Heat gathers in a tight knot between my thighs and I crush my hips into hers, needing even that slight release.
Suddenly, there is a knock at the door. I still, listening.
“Gabriel, are you in there?” It’s Vito.
I sigh and push away from Alexis, and she hurriedly rearranges herself.
“Yeah, come in,” I call.
Vito opens