STOLEN || 18+ (Monsters #3)

.22. Sweet

"That's the power of people, I suppose

every other little thing in your life could be going perfectly to plan

but if you are missing somebody,

it's hell."

- Beau Taplin
. . .

Fabiano

"Fuck you, Giovanni."

"This is the thirtieth time you have said that since you came here, Livy."

I kept my pen down, watching as she glared at me and Giovanni. The talk with Leyla did not go well, it seemed.

"I am trusting you with her safety," she said. "If you can't do it. Let her come with her."

"She is not going anywhere," I said.

"She wants to come with me."

"Too bad," said Giovanni, a possessive glint present in his eyes present.

She watched us silently. "So this is the plan. Keeping her locked up in her room and letting her out only for food? Or do you send that up, too?"

"You are overstepping, Olivia."

"Don't talk to me about overstepping!" She slammed her hands on the table, glaring at Giovanni and her eyes filled with tears. "Miss Summers told you this is wrong and you'd didn't listen. She is dead now, Giovanni. The least you can do is respect the last thing she asked of you. My stepsister is not a pet. "

If it was anyone else, Giovanni's knife would have been embedded in their heart.

Guilt flashed on Giovanni's face but it was gone before Olivia could see it. "She will be allowed to go out. But she is not fucking leaving me."

Olivia nodded. "And both of you won't raise a hand on her."

I sighed. "We won't." If there was one thing I was sure of it was that we would never lay a hand on Leyla in a way she don't like.

Olivia nodded again and left the office.

"She has grown some balls," I muttered.

. . .

I watched from the balcony as Leyla walked in the garden, wearing a light yellow dress, her gorgeous skin brightened up in the sunlight, and her curls up in a bun.

She sat down under a tree and opened her book, slim fingers ruffling through the pages.

Deciding to talk to her, even though I rarely said anything, I walked inside and then out into the garden.

She looked up at me as I approached, beautiful curious eyes taking in my clothes. I was in a three-piece suit. Giovanni and I had a meeting with another arms dealer on the morning, securing a shipment coming in.

"What are you reading, Leyla?"

I sat down next to her.

She closed the book and showed me the cover. "The occult book."

I hummed and my eyes fell on her waist. A hint of her waist was visible - her dusky skin tempting me to grab her.

So I did.

I picked her up by the waist and sat her down between my legs.

"Fabiano..."

I stayed quiet, freeing her hair. I lightly massaged her shoulders and she sighed, her tight body loosening. I hummed in return but she didn't say anything. She melted into me as I massaged her shoulders with gentle hands. I could not remember the last time I had been this gentle with a woman.

Soon enough, she was nestled in my arms, her eyes closed and her arms wrapped around her book almost as protectively as mine were wrapped around her. I admired her face.

She had a pretty little nose, full bottom lip and almond eyes. Her cheekbones were lightly defined, hidden by the fullness of her cheeks which I loved. She was an innocent look, and she was innocent, but by no means was she a child. I had seen her books, physics, history - she was at the top knowledge of these fields.

It felt unfair to keep her away from the world. When this all was over, she could go to a university. She could learn and even get a job if she wanted. I had no problem with that and if the traditionalists of the mafia had a problem with that they could talk to Giovanni's knife.

Famiglia would struggle accepting sweet Leyla as mine and Gio's. They would want us to be with someone Italian. It was a tradition. Marrying an outsider was forbidden.

I kissed Leyla's cheek, nuzzling into her neck. She smelled sweet, I couldn't point out what exactly it was, but she smelled sweet as fuck.

I wondered how sweet she was between her legs. How sweet her moans and whimpers and screams would be when I ruined this little body for any other man. I wondered how sweet her tears would be when she took my belt on her ass.

I wondered how sweet would be her love.

. . .