Chapter 42

Milla was stripping out of her warm clothes in the closet when I finally made it upstairs after her. I waited for her to change, lingering outside of the closet. Milla propped her foot up on an ottoman in the center of the space and unlaced her boots. She'd gradually found a way to shove more of her things in here, and soon my tweed suits had been overrun with silks and softer fabrics. Blacks and silvers were now overrun with jewel tones and beaded skirts.

"Where did you go?" I asked once more.

She pulled off a boot and cast it aside near the other, where they both laid in an informal spot near the rows of heels she hoarded like a prized collection. I tried to hide my wince at the mess she made.

Don't make things worse for yourself, Nico. You nearly shot her brother.

"Where were you, husband?"

I released a long breath. "I just went for a drive to clear my head. Is that so wrong?"

"Yes," she clipped. Some of the sugar must have leveled out in her bloodstream because the glare she served me now proved her former frustrations had returned. "The Row isn't safe for us to be out on our own. Anything could have happened to you, and we would have never known! You made me worry."

I cocked a brow. "Yet, you went out as well?"

"I took a few men with me." She shrugged. "And I was armed. Besides, I knew exactly who I was meeting with."

She was smiling now, and that bothered me. "Who did you meet, Camilla?"

"Your friend, Vanya. She sent a note to meet with her immediately, but you were not here to receive it. So, I went in your place."

Camilla had met with Vanya. Arguably the two smartest women in Lynchaven had a private meeting—and hells knew what they had discussed. Vanya most likely wanted more information about last night before word got out, if only to control the rumors in her social circle, but Milla was too pleased with herself for that to have been the only thing they talked about.

"How did it go?" I only asked.

"Good."

I stood there, waiting for her to continue. "And?"

"And I might have figured out how to get Delilah's book from the Firenzes. We'll need the appropriate attire, however." She started browsing her gowns, flipping through the hangers.

"What kind of dress code are we talking about?" She couldn't mean the masquerade. The place would be crawling with watchmen.

She pulled out a beaded, floor-length gown with nude netting around the arms and shoulders. "I'd say it will be quite formal, though I don't expect an invitation to give us a proper notice."

"Camilla."

She sighed, putting the dress back, before turning to me. "The party will be moved to the Wet District. We'll infiltrate the Firenzes' warehouses while the party is going on. And no, I don't know where to look for the book on their property, but Aramis has been there several times. He's negotiated with them before, so he knows the layout of the land. He's going to help us, and you will not kick him out."

She was further out of her mind than I thought. The party... sneaking around the Wet District, taking advice from her brother? "I will never work with Aramis ever again, Milla." I turned and started towards the bathroom, eager to rip this foul shirt from my skin and walk away from this conversation.

My wife followed me, as expected. I grabbed a towel and turned the water on in the shower to warm up while I undressed.

"I know how things looked last night, Nico—" The rest of her thought disappeared as I dropped my pants and began fumbling with the mechanism holding my false arm to the end of my residual limb.

"Then why would you even ask me to work with him, Camilla?" She was plucking the nerve that had already been aggravated earlier this morning. I didn't want to fight anymore, but I sure as hells wasn't conceding either.

The shower was near scalding as I stepped beneath the spray, letting it hit the broad of my back and loosen the muscles tightening further with every roll of my wife's eyes. She stood in front of me, on the opposite side of the glass. Her arms were still crossed and wearing a glower that cut through the steam.

"We need his insight!"

I lathered the soap, like this was just another normal conversation married couples spoke over their daily baths. "We need to get rid of him. Every time he's involved, things go wrong. Tell me you haven't noticed the same." When she said nothing, I made my decision. "You want us to walk straight into the headquarters of our enemy based on knowledge he feeds us. Nothing in that sentence makes a lick of sense!"

"But we still need the book!"

That cord she plucked finally snapped. The soap fell from my grasp, and I bracketed my hands against the wet glass, staring down at her. "Not as much as I need you, Camilla! I will not risk losing you for a fucking diary!"

She flinched, realizing the source of my discordance. The fear behind my hesitance.

"I wasn't asking you for permission," she whispered. "I'm doing this for you."

I shoved off the glass and turned away. "How is any of this for me?"

"Because while this party is going on, we'll have the men moving the railcars."

"The cars?"

There was a pause before she continued, nothing but the falling water to fill the silence. Her voice echoed through the bathroom. "Without the trains, there's only one other option to safely and quietly get them through the Districts. We'll have to push them."

"Push them?" I asked, unsure if I heard anything she had said correctly. "You are aware we have no idea what kind of stock we'll be transporting."

"It doesn't matter. Even I could push a fully loaded car by myself... once I got it moving. The cars will be stored in the stockyards outside the South Gate of the city where all the cargo is checked. We'll have to get past the gate, but once the cars are in the city, we can push them along."

I shut my eyes and let the water pour down my front, letting the blood and sweat of the night disappear down the drain. Steam filled my chest as I inhaled deeply, settling the frustration burning in my heart. "I don't know, Milla..."

The shower door squeaked on its hinges, and I opened my eyes to see Milla, fucking naked, slipping into the shower with me. She'd undressed silently as I simmered.

"Think about it," she said, interrupting the stream of the water as she neared me. Gentle hands slid up my chest, hooked around my neck.

"We have a few days to work out the kinks," she continued, though her voice dropped into a softer sound. "But I will not lose you to some stupid black-market dealer. We're getting the book and your shadow back." She swallowed hard and inhaled a long breath of steam. "Besides, it's the only way I can keep you both."

"Camilla—"

"Save your breath." She stopped me with the shake of her head. "I know you're not sorry for what you did. I know you hate Aramis, and I don't expect you two to ever get along. But I won't choose between you or my brothers. My circle has shrunken small enough. I need you all alive, because I am too selfish to give any of you up."

My hand, which had been rubbing circles around the small of her spine, drifted into tempting territory. A thousand curses flooded my head when her ass filled my palm. "You want the fucking book, princess? I'll get it for you. I'll do anything you ask, Milla. You already know that."

"I do," she whispered, "and that's become my biggest fear."

She threaded her fingers into my hair and pulled me down to meet her lips, where I understood that fear she shared with equal severity. I kissed her like I'd never kiss her again, letting the frustration of the night and all that had gone wrong unleash like a wrath upon our intimacy. Her tongue was laced with cinnamon and sugar. The shape of her pressed against me as she rocked her lubricated body over my hardened cock.

I broke from her lips, staring at the place our hips rolled together. "Hells, Milla."

"Should we..." She pulled back, biting her bottom lip. "I mean, would it be easier for you if we—"

"Finished this in the bed?" I asked. When she nodded, I couldn't hold back my smile. "Don't worry about me, my love. I can fuck you with one hand."

To prove a point, I lifted her with my right arm, and she wrapped her legs around my waist instinctively as I shoved her back against the nearest glass wall. Hot water continued to spray from the shower head, our heavy breaths contributing to the clouds of steam rolling around our writhing forms.

I balanced her hips on top of mine, using my freed hand to squeeze the swell of her breast and my tongue to tease the other. Her head fell limp against the glass wall, panting my name as I sucked at her sensitive skin and licked away the sting of where my teeth grazed. Her fingers were still entwined in my hair, the heat of her center slid along my length as she sought more.

"You'll still have me after everything?" I lifted my hips to guide the tip of my cock near her entrance. "You still want me, Milla?"

She relaxed her legs, slipping lower as if to steal back control. "Forever, Nico."

That one little word could send me to my knees, but we'd get to that position later.

My hand braced on her hip; I adjusted the angle between us to plunge inside her. The trifecta of her gasp, the way she tightened a little around my cock, and the rapid rise and fall of her chest as warm water dripped down the valley of her breasts almost made me spill right there and then.

Milla leaned back against the glass, her lower back arching to sink me deeper, to let me hit that spot that made her sing sweet sounds that she was making now. Every inch of her was perfect, like we were made to fit together, and of all the times I'd been inside her, this might have been the best. Every time was better than the last, and I constantly craved the next kiss, the next touch, the next fuck.

"Hells, I'm almost there," I said after thrusting into her so hard, I thought I'd send her through the glass. Thankfully, the wall held steady.

Her eyes fluttered shut. Nails dug into the crest of my shoulders, and she whispered something about being close as well. Her sighs of bliss echoed through the bathroom. She squeezed around my cock, and I chased her climax, falling over the edge with her a moment later.

I released so hard, I had to let go of her hip to brace my hand against the glass. Milla continued to roll her hips, drawing out my pleasure as I shattered piece by piece. She stroked my neck with a feathery touch, whispered her praises into my ear as I rode the remaining aftershocks of our climax and caught my breath at last.

When the haze of desire finally cleared, I slipped out of her. She untangled her legs from around my waist and leaned against the glass, pinned against me.

"Just because that was incredible, doesn't mean you won the previous discussion." I could barely finish the sentence before taking another deep breath of air.

She smiled. "Of course not. We'd have more sex if it were that easy."

Despite the weight of the world still heavy on my back, I laughed. "Spoiled little heiress."

The sunrise was spillingthrough the cracks in the curtains by the time we finally tumbled out of the bathroom. Milla threw on a slip while I found some pants and finally climbed in bed for the first time since yesterday morning. She brought the cinnamon buns to the bedside table and sat against the headboard as I stared up at her. My eyes were heavy, and my body exhausted, but I couldn't look away.

"That was a first for me," she said as she grabbed a roll. "I think I like shower sex."

That was very good news for me. "It was a first for me as well."

Her brows kissed. "Really? I expected Nicolai Attano to be more adventurous in his past."

I scoffed, pushing up to lean beside her. "Just because I enjoyed my newfound freedom as a young man doesn't mean I don't still have firsts as well."

Her lips stretched into a small grin. "What else, then? What firsts of yours belong to me?"

She curled into my left side with her pastry in her hand, her head on my shoulder. And I wished I could stay here forever. I'd been waiting so long to tell her everything.

Waiting for this moment exactly.

"You were my first dance."

"Impossible! You were so smooth."

"My first dance that wasn't with my Nonna or aunts," I clarified. "Or my mother. The women of my family made sure their sons grew to be proper gentlemen."

She nearly choked as she swallowed a mouthful. "Gentlemen. Right. At least when the lights are on. I hope I'm your first wife, as well."

"The one and only."

Her smile fell half an inch. "Would you have accepted Vanya's proposal had I truly been dead?"

Hells... Vanya and her inclination for gossip. I straightened uncomfortably against the headboard. "No, I wouldn't have ever married her. There was no one before you, Milla. There never will be again."

She scoffed. "How can you say that? I wasn't your first, Nico."

"You were the first that meant something," I told her. "You were the first to truly have me. And—" My breath rushed out of my chest, stealing the words I so badly wanted to say. I'd never said them to anyone besides my family, and even then, it was different. They were a love forged from blood and kin. Milla was a love that stemmed and grew and bloomed from my very soul. One with roots that tangled into everything I was.

She sensed my nerves and shifted to straddle my waist, gazing into my eyes. "And what? Tell me, my love."

My smart woman. She already knew.

I dug my fingers into her hips, seeking her soft edges. "And this is the first time I've ever fallen in love, and I know with absolute certainty it will be my last."

Milla sucked in a breath. Her lips didn't break a smile, and her eyes didn't betray a single emotion until a thin tear rolled down the edge of her cheek.

"You love me, Attano?" she said, voice cracking.

I felt myself smile. "I do. I love you Camilla Mercy Marchese-Attano. I can't even remember a time now that I didn't love you. Even when you hated me, I realize now I was always so incredibly enthralled by you." My eyes caught on the cinnamon bun discarded on top of the bedsheet. "Even when you get crumbs in my sheets."

A smile collected the tears running down her cheeks, and she laughed. "I love you too, Nicolai. Tyrannical tidiness and all."

There was a long pause, the both of us too satisfied in the moment to break it. Milla fell against my chest, where our hearts beat against each other in quiet correspondence.

"Will you do me a favor?" she asked.

"Anything."

She looked up at me, resting her chin on my chest. "Tell me you love me every day. Don't miss a single morning."

My fingers combed through her wet hair. "I'll tell you every day, until our last sunrise. And even then, when we cross the veil, I'll whisper it through the void until my voice fills Oblivion. I love you, Camilla."

Her smile softened. "Perfect."

She returned her head to my chest and traced the interwoven circles marked over my heart. My eyes fluttered shut at last, having left nothing unsaid between us.

Never had getting my shadow back become more important—now that I had a thousand mornings ahead of me to spend just like this.