Owned By Massimo

Chapter 18-The Message

Massimo's POV

“Don, what do you plan to do with her?” Markus asked, leaning back in the leather chair across from my desk. The dim lights of my private office in the club cast long shadows across the room. Smoke from his cigar curled lazily in the air between us.

I stared at the glass of whiskey in my hand, swirling the amber liquid slowly. A dark smile tugged at my lips. “Use her as a pawn,” I said. “Killing her would be too easy. I want Damiano to be helpless. I want him to suffer. I’m going to break her, make her my toy. Let him watch his own daughter obsess over his enemy, ready to do whatever I want. She’s going to be my perfect instrument.”

Markus scoffed, shaking his head. “Here I was actually thinking you finally found a woman.”

I laughed darkly, the sound low and rough in my chest. “She has fire, I’ll give her that. She stirs something in me that many women can’t. Her touch doesn’t burn or make my skin crawl. I’ll enjoy it while it lasts.”

The memory of her on top of me on the balcony flashed through my mind…her soft body grinding against my c**k, her moans into my mouth, the way she jumped without hesitation just to prove her point. She was reckless, wild, and completely insane. And f**k if it didn’t turn me on more than anything had in years.

Markus raised his glass in a mock toast. We sat in silence for a while, the muffled bass from the club music vibrating through the walls. This office was my sanctuary when I needed to think…away from the house, away from her scent that still clung to my skin.

“But Don, what if there’s more to the surface about her that we don’t know?” Markus asked, his tone careful.

I leaned forward, setting the glass down with a soft clink. “What could there possibly be? You think Damiano would send his own daughter to me?”

“You’re right, Don. The research we did showed she’s a reckless and spoiled child who knows nothing about the mafia business. Damiano tried his best to give her a normal life, kept her away from all this. But guess his daughter didn’t want normal. She walked right into the lion’s den.”

“Good for me,” I said, my smile turning sharper.

The thought of Isabella wanting me to belong to her almost made me laugh out loud. I had no plans of belonging to any woman…especially not the daughter of the man I hated more than anything in this world.

Damiano Rossi. That bastard still haunted my nightmares. The things he did to my family, the blood he spilled, the way he ripped everything apart and ran like a coward. I still woke up some nights with his name burning on my tongue.

I was going to ruin his daughter. Slowly. Thoroughly. I wanted to see how good it would feel to have his precious girl sucking his enemy c**k willingly, begging to be my slut, spreading her legs for the man who would destroy her father.

“You’re ruthless, Don,” Markus said after a long pause, respect and a hint of unease in his voice.

“Have you found Pat?” I asked, changing the subject. The name left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Markus was quiet for a moment before he sighed. “Whoever this Pat is, he’s very sneaky. Doesn’t leave any trace. Every time we think we’re close to getting him, he just vanishes like he doesn’t even exist.”

“I want to know why he’s always targeting us.” I said, my hand clenching. “If we weren’t always one step ahead, that coward would have made us lose a lot of money already. Find him.”

“I’m sorry, Don. We’ll keep looking. He can’t hide forever. He’ll slip up soon.”

The conversation hung heavy in the air. Pat was another loose end I needed tied. Someone always poking at my operations, causing small fires I had to put out. But right now, my mind kept drifting back to her. Isabella. Damiano’s daughter. The perfect weapon wrapped in soft skin and bold eyes.

She didn't even know the type of mess she got herself into. Walking right into my trap without even knowing. I was going to enjoy breaking her so much.

Markus’s phone suddenly lit up in his hand. He unlocked it, and his brows furrowed deeply.

“Don, you just sent me a message.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I got this message and it’s from you.”

He handed me the phone. I took it, staring at the screen. The message was short and strange, sent from my own number somehow. My jaw tightened as I read it.

“There’s a traitor in your house.”