Leonardo Antonelli: Brutal Attachments, #1

Chapter 1

Leonardo

I hadn't been able to sleep for the last three days. This was something I wouldn't even wish on my worst enemy. Or maybe I would and that's why it was happening to me.

The minute I locked eyes with her, I knew that I had to have her. Nothing would stand in my way.

I immediately contacted my head security man, Wilson. I told him to track her for as long as necessary until he had dug up every possible piece of information on her. I had to know. I was obsessed. I anticipated that she would probably have a boyfriend, maybe even a husband. That didn't bother me. This wouldn't be the first time that I had to dispose of someone. But usually, when I had to do that dirty work, it was about business, and rarely ever personal.

But to have that woman, to possess her, to make her mine, and no one else's, I was willing to do anything. Whatever man, no matter how powerful, no matter how vicious would be dealt with. My men would bring him to me.

It hadn't taken Wilson long to dig up the information. My face lit up as he walked into my office. But something about his expression sent a shiver down my spine. He looked sick. Deathly pale.

Wilson, is everything okay?

He swallowed hard before answering, slowly raising his head and staring at me.

Sir, is this some type of joke? He asked.

I frowned. I could feel the veins beginning to tense in my neck. What the hell are you talking about? I barked at him.

I'm talking about the young woman that you had me follow, sir. You really don't know who she is?

Damn it, Wilson, I said, slamming my fist on my desk. If I knew who the woman was do you think I would be sending you out there to follow her?

He bit his bottom lip, then shook his head from side to side as if he was afraid to reveal whatever information he had discovered. His hesitation only made me more anxious, more annoyed, but also more desperate to know who she was.

Sir, she's twenty-two years old, a virgin, and recently graduated from a small liberal arts school—

Tell me her name! I screamed, standing up and glaring at him.

Caroline Chambers, he replied looking away.

My mouth gaped open. I plopped back down into the chair. I felt like I'd been kicked in the chest. It couldn't be true. There was no way. I was being paranoid. Jumping to conclusions.

Chambers ? I said. As in Chambers Realty & Co?

Yes, sir, Wilson replied. The same Chambers that your family has been fighting tooth-and-nail against for the last 100 years. The same evil family that drove your father to an early grave. And led your mother to commit suicide a few weeks later.

Ever since that brief meeting with Wilson, my head had been spinning. I hadn't been able to sleep more than a couple hours without waking up in a cold sweat. All those memories that I had fought hard to push away, fought so hard to suppress, they all came surging back.

Five years ago, everything that my family had built over generations had nearly fallen apart in a matter of weeks. There had been false accusations against my father spread in the media. He'd been set up just as he was on the verge of completing one of the biggest real estate deals in New York history. It was something that was going to be talked about all around the world. It was going to take the family to heights that surpassed even our own grand ambitions.

Of course, the competition for the sports complex and condo project had been fierce. All the biggest developers from around the world wanted in on it. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. But as was often the case, my father knew all the right strings to pull and all the right doors to knock on.

Many of the competitors who'd lost out were furious with him. Some had even threatened to take legal action, alleging bribery and corruption. None of those threats ever bothered him. He simply laughed them off. Bribery and corruption were how everything got done in Manhattan real estate. It had always been like that. And it always would be. Tough luck. The game is what it is, he would often say. Either learn how to play it or get out.

But not everybody was able to just move on and go in search of other deals. And when I say not everybody, I mean only one group of bastards, one family with a bloodline that had been tainted for generations, full of crooks, thieves, bootleggers, and cutthroats. They had it all in their family.

The feud had first started during prohibition. The Chambers vs. the Antonelli's. The Chambers had a stranglehold on the underground pubs and speakeasies. Nobody could sell booze in the city without paying them off. If you refused, within days the police would raid your spot and lock up anybody they wanted to. And sometimes, if you really pissed them off, your loved ones would have to come down to the morgue to identify your body. They were cold, ruthless, and willing to do whatever it took to maintain control.

Nobody ever dared to challenge them, at least not openly. Sure, plenty of bootleggers tried to sneak around them, do whatever it took to stay under the radar, and avoid facing their exorbitant fees or their murderous wrath. But to actually stand up to them, let alone to declare war on them, you would’ve had to be crazy.

And that's exactly what my great-grandfather, Joseph Antonelli was. Crazy. Or maybe he'd felt that since he'd survived the trip from Sicily, coming from nothing, he really had nothing to lose. He'd seen tougher, meaner bastards than the Chambers. He hadn't left everything behind in the old country and come to America to live like a coward. He was full of ideas and ambition. But he needed money to bankroll them. And at the time bootlegging seemed like the best option.

He assembled a crew of fellow immigrants and they began offering protection to the bars who were constantly under threat by the Chamber's gang. Of course, that didn't go over very well. The Chambers weren't used to being challenged. Especially not by a ragtag group of immigrants that they had very little respect for. In their mind, my great-grandfather needed to be humble and work menial jobs, stay in this place, on his knees, begging and groveling.

Thankfully, for the succeeding generations of my family, Joseph Antonelli had very different ideas about what his place was.

I got out of bed and walked around my darkened bedroom. It could be so lonely in here sometimes. So much money, so much status, so much power, but I still had no one to share it with. I still had no one to continue my legacy.

Sure, I was only 25. There was plenty of time for me. But with the way things had worked in my family, I had the feeling that an early death awaited me. Whether it would be the stress, an enemy's bullet, or some unfortunate accident, I couldn't help feeling that I didn't have much time.

I sighed heavily and bit down on my bottom lip. I could feel my chest tightening. I hated these haunting, morbid thoughts. But at times I just couldn't shake them and pretend that everything was all right.

This wasn't the life that I'd chosen. It had chosen me. And of course, I was proud of the family name, proud of everything that we'd accomplished. But I wanted something of my own. I wanted something that I could build with my own brains and brawn.

But that ambition would have to be put on hold. I had a more important mission to attend to. Revenge. And Caroline Chambers would be the object of my rage. She would be the one to suffer, to scream out in pain. She would be the one to pay for what they'd done to my great-grandfather.

They’d tied both him and his wife up in a basement and had tortured them for two weeks straight. Taunting them, beating them, burning their flesh. And eventually cutting off their hands and throwing their bodies into a dumpster.

Before we had the chance to exact revenge, the police had come in and broken up both bootlegging rings.

The pain, anger, and hurt had lived in our family for generations. But we had tried to move on. We had tried to put that part of our family history behind us. Yes, it was important, and it had made us who we were, but now we were legit. We no longer had to operate in the criminal world. No longer had to look over our shoulders. We were respected and admired.

My hands tightly gripped the steering wheel of my tinted-out black Audi. I'd been waiting across the street from Parson's Design School for the last twenty minutes. From the information that Wilson had given me, Caroline attended graduate school classes here four days a week from 9 am until 3pm. Then she headed home to her family’s Upper West Side mansion. I trusted the information that Wilson had passed on to me. But I needed to see for myself.

I could hardly resist the urge to grab her off the street. But I knew that I had to be patient. It wouldn’t be long until I got my hands on her. She wouldn't see it coming. Just like my great-grandfather hadn't seen it coming.

I was going to bring her down into my dungeon. Nobody would hear her screams and her cries, her pleas for mercy and forgiveness. Of course, she would claim that she had nothing to do with her family's activities. Nothing to do with their past. She would try to win my sympathy. She would promise to do everything that I wanted her to do if I would only let her go. I'd already played out the scenario in my mind for hours and hours, tossing and turning in bed. I'd be merciless with her. The more she screamed, the more she begged, the rougher I would be with her.

But what was the point? What was my ultimate objective? For several days I had asked myself those questions. Would unleashing my sadistic impulses on her truly be enough to satisfy me? I didn't think so. I wanted more. Much more.

I wanted her total and complete submission. I wanted her to renounce that cursed family name of hers. I would make her an Antonelli. I would pump my seed into her and make her mine. She would never want anything to do with her family ever again. She would never again associate with any of the men in her family. I would teach her to hate them as much as I did.

But of course, I wanted her to make the choice for herself. I wouldn't penetrate her until she was dripping wet, begging and pleading for me to pump my cock into her, for me to shoot my seed deep into her womb, wanting more than anything else in the world to be the mother of my children.

Maybe there was something wrong with me. Maybe my mind was twisted and poisoned. Maybe I needed to do something to extricate this hate from my heart, something that didn't require kidnapping and torturing. But I couldn't think of anything else that would be more satisfying.

Sir, are you sure that this is really the best idea? Wilson asked me, his voice quivering.

I was tempted to get up from my desk, rush towards him, grab him by the back of the neck and drag him out of my office. But I managed to control myself, smiling wickedly. For the last several hours, I hadn't been able to think about anything else except how I was going to exact my revenge on the Chambers.