GianMarco (7 page)

Chapter Six

Trent Black was dead. His bloody remains had been found ripped to shreds. Someone
was sending them a message loud and clear. Since Dante’s return from London nearly
four months ago, he had searched for clues as to who was responsible for his friend’s
death. So far, all that kept turning up were dead ends. Yet, nothing added up.

It had been on Trent’s advice that Dante had gone to London in the first place. Apparently,
Trent had met someone there with information on
il Diavolo
and had set up a meeting for Dante and his brothers. Even though it obviously had
been a trap, Dante still couldn’t bring himself to believe Trent was a part of that
setup.

Although he would never trust anyone like he did his brothers, Dante had had no reason
to believe that Trent would betray him. Trent had been involved with the Underground
for a couple of centuries and had proved his worth time and time again, so after the
London nightclub incident, Dante had wanted some answers. Knowing that his brothers
were more than capable of handling any task he had sent them to do, Dante had taken
off to initiate his own investigation.

Dante had flown back to New York to confront Trent and headed straight to his friend’s
Long Island home. Trent’s SUV had been in the driveway, but the second Dante had stepped
out of his Ferrari, he sensed something was terribly wrong. A scent he was all too
familiar with wafted to his nostril, and he’d silently prayed he was mistaken. After
receiving no answer to his insistent knocks and hearing no movement inside, Dante
started to pick the lock. To his surprise, however, the door was already unlocked.
Just as he suspected, the stench of death greeted him when he walked through the door.
With panic filling his chest, he’d rushed inside through the house, which was a wreck.
It looked as if it had been ransacked.

The walls and carpet were smeared with blood. Dante had followed the trail to the
kitchen, where he found what was left of Trent, which had basically been some ripped
clothing and ashes. Whoever had done this to him had been there recently, because
after a vampire was killed, the body decomposed to ashes, which then evaporated within
twenty-four hours. The heavy weight of sadness had crushed Dante, making him wonder
if Trent had been set up as well.

He searched the house for clues that could give him possible motives for his friend’s
murder. It appeared as if someone had been looking for something specific. After a
few moments, he recalled a safe behind a hidden panel on the wall Trent had once told
him about. He’d been fortunate to find the safe was still untouched. Whoever had turned
this house upside down couldn’t have been someone close to Trent or they would have
known about its existence.

There had been nothing out of the ordinary in the safe: a pile of cash, a deed, stock
certificates, and pictures. Dante would have tossed the pictures aside, but something
told him to hold on to them.

He began to thumb through the photographs when one picture caught his eye. There were
two familiar faces in the images—the rogues who had attacked them in London. Why would
Trent have a picture of them? The next photo made him pause yet again. It was the
redhead from the club. There was no name on the back of the picture, but he had a
sneaking suspicion that it was not Diane.

The next picture was of the two rogues, “Diane,” and another man. He flipped the picture
over; on the back it simply read, “D.O.D.-I.C.” Dante knew very well what those initials
stood for, and he felt chilled to the very bone. Could these be members of the fabled
Inner Circle of the Disciples of
il Diavolo,
of which he’d only heard whispers; and if they were, then why was there a human amongst
them ... or was she human?

The taste of her was human, but there had been something else. Originally, he thought
that she had recently been with another vampire, but that wasn’t it. She had had a
taste that he figured out the source. He wondered who the other man in the photograph
was. Dante had slid the pictures into his breast pocket. He decided to take them and
give them a more thorough examination later.

Now, as he wore a hole in his carpet trying to figure out what his next move should
be, he stared at the picture again. Who was that young man in the photograph? It had
been nagging him for weeks and he didn’t seem to be getting any closer to finding
out. The man seemed oddly familiar, although Dante was certain that he had never seen
him before. Dante felt in his gut this man was the key.

Dante was exhausted. He had not slept for three days straight, he couldn’t remember
when he had last eaten, and it was all slowly starting to take a toll on his senses.
God only knew when he had last had a woman; Diane obviously didn’t count. Perhaps
his brothers were right when they said it was time for him to take a sabbatical. Underground
business was consuming his every waking minute.

He had made a vow, but how could he go on like this? He was no good to the cause if
he wasn’t one-hundred-percent fit.
Il Diavolo
had been eluding him for many years, and he seemed no closer to finding him now than
when he had begun his quest.

Dante sank down into the nearest armchair and rubbed his temples. He couldn’t even
remember the last time he had actually laughed and enjoyed himself. It seemed ages
ago. He envied his brothers that they could go on with regular lives despite carrying
their own separate pain.

Having been responsible for his brothers from a very early age, he felt more like
a father at times than their eldest brother. Marco had only been an infant, and Romeo
and Nico had been ten and eight when they’d lost their parents. Dante had been relatively
young for a vampire himself at the time, only sixty-one. All four brothers had still
been vulnerable to any rogue who might prey on them. He had done all he could to protect
them, even things he wasn’t exactly proud of, but they had all made it this far.

Not wanting to be the overbearing older brother, he tried not to interfere in their
lives, although he kept close tabs on each of them. But lately, he could feel a great
turmoil from within his youngest bro
ther. He loved Romeo and Nico
, but he felt the strongest connection with Marco, who had fed on him during infancy,
creating a special bond between the two beyond what most brothers shared.

Since he was getting no closer to finding the answers he sought concerning his adversary,
he would break his own rule and find out what was going on with his youngest brother.
Perhaps then he could feel useful again. It was time to pay GianMarco a visit.

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So much for Toni, or Tanya, or was her name Tara? Whatever the hell her name was,
she hadn’t been much help. GianMarco was still horny and he had no desire to touch
her again. Quickly he slid out of bed, careful to not wake her, and donned his clothing.
He left without a backward glance to Toni/Tanya/Tara’s house. No matter how many women
he slept with, they could not assuage the ache that had built up within him.

The past four months had been absolute torture. Instead of the fire for Maggie being
doused by him taking multiple partners, it raged on more than ever. GianMarco had
volunteered to take most of the cases that took him outside of the office so that
he wouldn’t have to be there as often. Oliver had no complaints about him taking over
so much of the workload; he was going through his own crisis at home with his wife,
so he wasn’t in the office as much either. Unfortunately for GianMarco, his problem
wasn’t so easily solved, because Maggie would be there sitting at her desk diligently
working whenever he did go in to the office. She seemed to get sexier each time he
saw her and the temptation of acting on his feelings was getting harder to resist.
He’d never lacked self-control around any woman and didn’t intend to lose himself
over Maggie.

But each day he grew weaker with need for her. She’d become a fever in his blood.
He would sit in his office grinding his teeth together as he listened to her humming
some happy tune while she worked as if all was right with the world. He was torn between
wringing her neck and fucking the shit out of her. Something needed to be done and
fast or else he would go insane.

In the beginning he was only attracted to her physically, but now the lust he felt
for her had moved to a higher plane. Maggie Williams was not the same woman she had
been when she had started working for G and T. She seemed happier; the sadness in
her eyes was still there at times but not like it had been four months earlier.

She even dressed better. Instead of the flowery tent-like dresses and floor-length
skirts that she once sported, Maggie wore clothes that showed off her voluptuous form
to its advantage while still looking tasteful and businesslike. The skirts she now
favored were just above her knees, showing off her shapely legs. Maggie had great
legs, and GianMarco had spent many nights fantasizing how they would feel wrapped
around his waist as he drove his dick into her dripping wet pussy.

Maggie always had a smile on her pretty face and a kind word to say, and the clients
sang her praises. He liked the way her cheeks would dimple when she smiled. It made
him want to run his tongue all over her soft brown skin. He could still sense her
vulnerability, but she hid it well. She had transformed from the quivering ball of
nerves he had first seen into a swan. Whatever was responsible for her metamorphosis,
GianMarco didn’t know whether to be grateful or not, because it put his heart and
libido in a more precarious position.

At times he would ignore her, walking by her desk without saying a word so that he
wouldn’t have to look at her and want her. Each night he dreamed about their lovemaking
on Maggie’s couch that day, but in his dreams they had gone further. He would wake
up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat. The vivid images of him screwing
her in every conceivable position were never far from his mind. His resistance was
definitely waning.

Today’s incident had only underlined how precarious his situation was. When he had
stepped into the office this afternoon, Maggie had been on her hands and knees crawling
around the floor searching for something. The sight of her generous derriere positioned
sinfully up in the air was enough to make his mouth go dry and his dick jump to instant
attention.
Dio
, but she was enticing. More than anything he had wanted to fall to his knees behind
her, hike up that dangerously
short skirt, and slid
his member between her succulently thick thighs.

Instead of acting on impulse as his body screamed out for him to do, GianMarco had
cleared his throat to announce his presence. She looked up at him with a welcoming
smile. “Hi, GianMarco. You have a message on your desk. The voicemail system was down
earlier so I needed to handwrite it. A Mr. Brown called about some work you had done
for him last month.” She turned her attention back to the floor. That was another
thing about Maggie. She was the only person who called him by his full first name,
and the way she pronounced it with a slight southern drawl made his balls throb.

GianMarco hated that he didn’t have the strength to walk away right then and there,
but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her ass. “What are you doing on the floor,
Maggie?”

“I lost an earring. I’m certain I walked into the office with them on.”

“What does it look like?”

“It’s just a plain diamond stud, a diamond speck actually. See?” She turned her head
slightly to reveal a tiny diamond in her ear. GianMarco’s breath caught in his throat
as the delicate lines of her neck were displayed to him. He wanted very much to run
his lips over the velvety-looking skin.

“Very nice,” he commented politely as he felt his control quickly slipping away.

“Thanks for saying so but I know it’s not much to look at.” She laughed softly as
she continued to crawl across the floor, scanning it for her lost earring. Her ass
wiggled seductively as she moved; she seemed totally unaware of the effect she had
on him. He quickly scanned the floor from where he stood with his eagle-sharp eyes
and spotted nothing.

“How long have you been looking?” His eyes strayed back to her plump backside, again.

“For the last fifteen minutes, with no luck.” She sighed, getting up to her knees.
She turned to him with her bottom lip poked out in a pout. “Shoot, I just bought them
last week.”

“Were they expensive?” He contemplated running his tongue across her protruding lower
lip. His heart beat rapidly and sweat beaded his brows. The smell of her perfume drifted
to his nostrils, and it was driving him wild.

“Well, I spent more than what I normally would have for a pair of earrings. They were
on sale and they were pretty small, so it wasn’t terribly expensive.” She shrugged
and attempted to get back to her feet. He reached over to assist her, tugging on her
arm harder than he meant to, causing Maggie to fly into him. She gripped his shirt,
anchoring herself to him. GianMarco grabbed a handful of her soft hair and pulled
her head back so that their gazes could meet.

Her eyes were wide with bewilderment and ... desire? He smiled in triumph at the knowledge
that she wanted him, too. As he lowered his head to hers, the door to the office opened.
Maggie pushed against his chest in a hurry and twisted out of his arms. It was Oliver.

Bastardo!
GianMarco cursed his friend’s untimely arrival.

“Hey, guys, what’s going on?” Oliver asked.

“Looking for my earring,” Maggie answered hastily before rushing behind her desk.

Oliver must have missed Maggie and GianMarco’s brief embrace because he continued
to smile as he’d seen nothing. “So, has anything exciting happened while I was gone?”

“If it did, you interrupted it,” GianMarco growled, before stalking out of the office
and slamming the door behind him.

“Now, what’s gotten into him?” he heard Oliver ask.

Nothing a good fucking wouldn’t solve,
GianMarco mentally replied. He was literally in pain. His incisors descended and
ascended without him controlling it. His cock would not go down and his temperature
had risen to a degree that would have killed a human being. His system was completely
out of whack and he didn’t know how to handle it.

GianMarco never believed he would succumb to this fate, but he was in the throes of
la morte dolci
, the sweet death, almost the equivalent to blue balls in a human male, only the pain
was one hundred fold in a vampire. It felt as if his body was incinerating from the
inside. He took several deep calming breaths trying to get his body back to normal,
with little success. For now at least her still had his wits about him. If he didn’t
get some pussy soon, his body would go crazy again, and that was when vampires were
at their wildest.

GianMarco hopped into his Escalade and tore out of the parking lot. He had not needed
relief this badly since he was a young vamp. He finally pulled up to a bar that he
sometimes frequented. The women who came here were usually looking for a good time.
That was where he had met Whatshername. She had been sitting at the bar alone and
their eyes had locked. She’d worn her hair in short springy curls around her well-shaped
head, and she had had smooth dark skin a lot like Maggie’s. If GianMarco squinted
enough, he could almost pretend she was Maggie.

It hadn’t taken long before he had followed her home. He’d fucked her for several
hours, bringing her to countless orgasms. He ate her out between each fuck, taking
his fill of her sopping wet cunt.

By the time she lay on the bed in a happy, unconscious heap, he was worse off than
he had been before he had followed her back to her place. Now, here he was late at
night with his dick harder than petrified wood, his incisors would not ascend, and
his hands would not transform back to normal. His temperature was so high, his thoughts
were muddled. There was only one thing left to do.