Chapter 32

 

The massage therapist’s hands glide over Caprice’s thigh, then down to her calf and back up.

“That feels wonderful,” Caprice murmurs appreciatively in her Italian accent, half asleep.

This is exactly what she needed – a relaxing massage after a long day of traveling. Sergio had finally finished his business calls, and then promptly stated he was exhausted and needed to rest. He collapsed into the hotel bed, and was asleep within five minutes, snoring loudly.

Caprice decided to partake of the hotel’s spa amenities, scheduling an hour long massage, followed by a manicure and pedicure. She considered throwing in a facial, but thought it would take too much time – she and Sergio had reservations at B’jou, an upscale French restaurant, later that evening – and Caprice hated being rushed.

Caprice rolls over onto her stomach, the massage therapist expertly kneading the knots out of her neck and shoulders. She saw her own masseuse in Naples weekly, but since she was in London with nothing else to do, she thought she would treat herself.

She relaxed into the massage table, letting her mind drift. One more day in London, then they would be returning to Naples. Hopefully, Sergio would take care of business quickly. She looked forward to returning home, ready to move full-steam ahead on her acting career. Caprice just knew Maxie would take her on as a client. Maxie would be crazy not to, Caprice thought confidently. She had it all – beauty, brains, and the most gorgeous breasts ever.

 

 

Caprice awoke the following morning with a start. She rolled over to find Sergio’s side of the bed empty. She sat quietly for a few moments, and then heard Sergio’s voice in the next room.

Caprice rose from the bed, nude, and strolled to the living room of the suite. There, she found Sergio sitting on the sofa, wrapped in a terrycloth robe, talking rapidly on his cell, alternating between Italian and English. Mario, his second-in-command, had called to inform Sergio there was a problem at Bellisimo’s. Apparently, the place had been busted last night for prostitution by undercover cops.

“Shit,” Sergio grumbled. This was the last thing he needed right now. “Make a call to Stefano. He’ll take care of it.” Stefano Giamvalli was the deputy chief of police in Naples, and on the Mafia payroll. Sergio knew Stefano would make this go away – for a price, of course. Sergio would pay him off, and Bellisimo’s would be back in business.

He glances up at Caprice, her fabulous body a welcome distraction. Caprice walks casually over to Sergio, kisses him lightly on the cheek. Sergio reaches around, gives her a good morning pat on the ass. Caprice smiles, making her way to the bathroom. He watches Caprice as she walks past him, trying to refocus his attention back to his conversation.

“Take care of it, Mario,” and with that Sergio hangs up, tossing his phone on the couch.

Sergio walks to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Caprice is already in the shower, the hot steam rising up to the ceiling. He opens the shower door and steps inside the massive shower.

Sergio stands behind Caprice as she washes her hair, wrapping his arms around her from behind, massaging her luscious breasts.

“Mmm…….bell’umo,” Caprice murmurs, her huge nipples becoming hard and erect under Sergio’s hands.

Caprice turns around as Sergio moves his hands down to her ass, his strong hands squeezing. He kisses Caprice firmly, his tongue pushing apart her lips, sucking on her tongue.

Caprice reaches down, grasps Sergio’s cock, hard and swollen. She is hot and wet, hungry, ready to take all ten inches. He lifts Caprice and she wraps her long tanned legs around his waist as he guides himself into her, fucking Caprice up against the shower wall, the warm water dripping over their bodies.

“Ahh…….yes, Sergio……..fuck me, harder,” Caprice moans, as Sergio pumps even faster, Caprice’s lovely breasts bouncing and jiggling.

Sergio bends down, licks one of her nipples, then clamps down on it, sucking, then biting it. Caprice moans with pleasure, the sensation of Sergio’s mouth on her nipples causing her to fall over the edge.

Caprice bucks against Sergio, moaning his name. Sergio slams his cock into her as she shudders, her orgasm coursing throughout her body.

Sergio, still hard and ready for his release, kisses Caprice. “You know what I want, mia bella,” he whispers, his voice heavy with lust.

“Mmm…….yes, I know,” Caprice says, licking her lips. She gets down on her knees, the warm water running down her back, down her ass. She takes Sergio in her mouth, sucking just the head of his cock while she cups his tight balls.

“Take it all, mia bella,” Sergio growls, his cock ready to explode. Caprice opens her mouth wide, taking all of his cock, his head hitting the back of her throat.

God, I love this man’s cock, Caprice thought, closing her eyes.

Sergio looks down at Caprice, the sight of her sucking him turning him on even more. He loves watching her head bob up and down on him, her full lips wrapped around his cock.

“Suck it, come on, faster,” Sergio says, his hands in her wet hair. He can feel himself getting close, ready to pop any second. He grabs Caprice’s head, fucking her mouth faster now. Caprice looks up at him with her gorgeous, smoldering dark eyes, her mouth stuffed with his cock.

“Ahhh…….” Sergio moans, shooting his thick, salty come in Caprice’s mouth as she swallows it all down.

After a few moments, Sergio pulls Caprice up. “That was incredible, mia bella,” he says, kissing Caprice deeply. He never had a woman suck him off the way Caprice does.

“Yes, it was,” Caprice murmurs contentedly, her orgasm just what she needed to start the day.

 

 

Caprice, refreshed from the shower and orgasm, gets dressed in a Versace black leather mini, fitted red sweater, and Jimmy Choo knee-high boots – a casual look for Caprice. She admires her reflection in the mirror, turning from side to side, satisfied with her choice of outfit.

“Sergio, when will we be leaving London?” Caprice asks, trying to conceal the impatience she was feeling.

“Soon.” Sergio turns his back to Caprice, facing the terrace overlooking Hyde Park, the first time he’s noticed the view since arriving.

Caprice rolled her eyes. “Soon? What does that mean, exactly?”

Sergio turned back around, facing Caprice. “It means soon. I have work to do here.”

“Yes, mio caro,” Caprice says, deciding not to push it. “Well, what shall I do in the meantime?” Caprice asks innocently, hoping he would take the bait.

Sergio knew what to do to pacify Caprice. He pulls out a wad of cash, peels off several bills, and hands them to her.

“Here, mia bella. Take this and have fun,” Sergio says. He pauses, then peels off another couple of bills, feeling generous after Caprice swallowed his come.

“Grazie, amore mio,” Caprice said, lowering her eyelashes, smiling. Suddenly all thoughts of leaving London vanish from Caprice’s mind.

She leaves after kissing Sergio goodbye, happily strutting through the hotel lobby, all eyes on her. Caprice giggles as a male passerby stared, unable to take his eyes off her, while the man’s wife glared at her.

She exits the hotel, the doorman nodding to her. The limo was waiting for her at the curb.

“Harrods, please,” Caprice sang out to the chauffeur.

 

 

Sergio paced inside the hotel suite, cursing Nick Stone. He was supposed to meet the son-of-a-bitch today. It was the entire reason for being in fucking London, Sergio thought angrily. And not a single word from Nick. No call, no text, no message. Nothing.

Sergio was done with this fucker. Oh, he’d meet with Nick, hear him out. Then, once Sergio returned to Naples, it would be over for Nick. Sergio would make sure of it. He would put his best men on it. Nick would be pumped full of lead and thrown out in the fucking ocean for wasting Sergio’s precious time.

He picks up his phone again, checking to see if Nick had called or texted. Furiously, Sergio throws his phone down. He considers calling Nick, but decides against it. Nick works for him, so Nick should be contacting him, not the other way around. Clenching his fist, he punches a hole in the wall, unable to control his fury.

After hitting the wall, Sergio feels slightly better and pours himself a glass of red wine. He downs the entire glass in two gulps, pours himself another glass.

There is a knock on the door. Sergio, assuming its housekeeping, yells out, “Come back later!”

Another knock, this time louder, more insistent. Annoyed, Sergio quickly drinks the rest of his wine, hastily puts the glass down, and strides to the door.

Sergio peers out of the peephole. Nick is standing outside the door, his hands in his coat pockets. Sergio flings open the door and growls, “Where the fuck have you been?”

“Pleasure to see you too, Sergio,” Nick responds, a sarcastic edge to his voice.

“I’ve been waiting for you to contact me all fucking day,” Sergio seethes, the two glasses of wine only fueling his anger. “Kept me waiting like a fucking bitch!”

“Can we talk about this inside?” Nick asks calmly, while pushing his way through. He walks into the hotel suite, looks around, assessing the environment. This will be easy, he thought.

“You better fucking start talking. You brought me here, told me there was a serious problem as to why you can’t finish McCall off. So, what’s the problem?” Sergio demanded, staring at Nick.

Nick says nothing, only stares back at Sergio, unblinking, his hands still buried in his coat pockets. Sergio chuckles, shaking his head, pointing his finger at Nick, and says, “You, my friend, are a strange one.” Sergio laughs out loud, walks back to the bar to pour himself another glass of wine.

Nick stares at the red wine, flashbacks of Vincent Rossi’s blood soaked shirt still so vivid in his mind after all these years.

Sergio glances at Nick while he pours another glass, notices him staring. “Would you like a glass?” Sergio offers, not really wanting to share a drink with this asshole, but thought he ought to at least offer.

“No thank you,” Nick says briskly, looking away.

Sergio shrugs his shoulders, and takes a long drink. He puts the glass down, looks at Nick, his brow furrowing, tilting his head to the side.

“Wait a minute….. che cazzo?....... How the fuck did you know where I was staying?”

Nick doesn’t answer. He merely walks to the window, takes a quick glance at the view, and begins to close the drapes.

“What are you doing?” Sergio asks, alarmed. Buzzed, he fumbles with his glass, trying to move quickly to the bedroom to get his pistol.

Sergio is too slow. Before he even realizes it, Nick is in his face, the end of his gun jutting into Sergio’s carotid artery.

“What am I doing?” hissed Nick. “I’m going to blow your fucking brains out, that’s what I’m going to do!” Nick spits in his face, the look of repulsion and disgust on Sergio’s face only makes Nick want to do it again. So he does, one long stream of spit rolling down the side of Sergio’s cheek.

Sergio lunges forward, his fear and anger rising inside him, like a boil ready to spew forth its puss. He pushes Nick as hard as he can, throwing him to the floor. Sergio tries to pin Nick down, but Nick is agile, and quickly gets up, the gun pointed directly at Sergio’s chest, ready to fire.

Sergio raises his hands up in defeat, his eyes bulging with fear. “Per favore! Please don’t shoot! I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“What I want?” Nick asks incredulously. “Sergio, you stupid fuck. What I want is to kill you. I was there when you’re fucking father died. That motherfucker tried to kill me. Now I’m going finish this off,” Nick says matter-of-factly. “Once and for all. Time to die, asshole.”

Nick pulls the trigger, the bullet piercing Sergio’s chest, ripping through flesh and tendons and muscle, the pain so utterly unbearable that Sergio, in that instant, wishes for death.

Nick walks over to Sergio, his body collapsed on the hardwood floor. He stands over Sergio, smiling down at him, watching the life slowly fade away from Sergio’s eyes. Nick feels at peace now, both father and son dead.

Nick calmly picks up Sergio’s cell phone, turning it off and then placing it in his coat pocket, and leaves the hotel suite without a backwards glance. He closes the door behind him, already thinking about his next victim – the lovely, sweet Katherine Harris.