8. Angelo

8

ANGELO

I ’m lost in a pleasant dream, Fee’s smile warning me from the inside out. God, she looks so fucking beautiful in a bikini. I’m itching to take it off and have my way with her again. Ever since I had her, I can’t get enough. I want more. I need more.

A shrill sound suddenly pierces through my subconscious. For a moment, I’m disoriented, the line between dream and reality blurred. Then my training kicks in, and I recognize the sound—my security alarm.

My eyes snap open, adrenaline coursing through my veins. Someone’s trying to break in.

I leap out of bed, grabbing my gun from the nightstand in one fluid motion. As I race toward the door, I glance at my phone, linked to the security system. The alert shows the balcony doors in Fee’s room are open.

My heart pounds in my chest as I sprint down the hallway. Fee. Lou. Are they okay? A thousand worst-case scenarios flash through my mind in the seconds it takes me to reach Sofia’s room.

I burst through the door, gun at the ready, only to find Fee standing by the alarm panel, her eyes wide with panic. The relief that floods through me is almost dizzying.

“Angelo!” she gasps, her voice barely audible over the blaring alarm. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to?—”

I quickly move to the panel, inputting the code to silence the alarm. As the noise cuts off, leaving us in sudden silence, I turn back to Fee.

"Are you okay?" I ask, setting my gun down and moving closer to her.

She nods, wrapping her arms around herself. “I had a nightmare,” she explains, her voice small, “a–about Jonah taking Lou away from me. I just wanted some fresh air. I didn’t think about the alarm. I’m so sorry.”

I feel a wave of tenderness wash over me at the sight of her, looking so vulnerable in her pajamas, her hair mussed from sleep.

“Hey, it’s okay,” I say softly, reaching out to gently touch her arm. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

Fee looks up at me, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Or scare you.”

I shake my head, offering her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about it. But next time you need some air, there’s an easier way.”

I guide her to a panel near the balcony doors, showing her how to disable the alarm for just that section. “See? This way, you can get some fresh air without waking the whole building.”

Another idea hits me. “Follow me,” I tell her.

I lead Fee up to the third floor, my hand gently guiding her up the stairs. As we reach the top, I hear her soft gasp of surprise.

The entire third floor is an open-concept space, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city with the sound of rain softly splattering against the windows. A small indoor garden occupies one corner, filled with lush plants and a trickling water feature. Comfortable seating is scattered throughout, and a small kitchenette sits unobtrusively along one wall.

“This is my sanctuary,” I explain, watching Fee’s eyes widen as she takes it all in. “There are no alarms up here. You’re welcome to come whenever you need air or space if the balcony isn’t doing it for you.”

Fee turns to me, her eyes shining with gratitude. “Angelo, this is… it’s incredible. Thank you.”

I smile, feeling a warmth spread through my chest at her reaction. “I’m glad you like it. I want you to feel at home here.”

She smiles at me, and it’s such a beautiful sight that it makes my heart race. I clear my throat. “How has Lou not woken up with all this commotion?”

Fee laughs softly. “Lou’s always been a heavy sleeper. A marching band could go through her room and she wouldn’t stir.”

We share a moment of quiet laughter before Fee’s expression turns serious again, her eyes searching mine with a seriousness that makes my heart stutter.

“Angelo,” she says softly, “why are you being so nice to us? Why are you helping Lou and me so much?”

I swallow hard, feeling suddenly vulnerable under her questioning gaze. For a moment, I consider deflecting, giving her some non-answer about it being the right thing to do. But something in her eyes, in the quiet intimacy of this moment, makes me want to be honest.

“Because,” I whisper, taking a step closer to her, feeling my heart quicken, “from the moment I met you, Sofia, I knew you were special. You and Lou… you’ve brought something into my life I didn’t even know I was missing. I want to protect that. To protect you.”

Fee’s breath catches, and I can see the emotions playing across her face—surprise, confusion, and something else I can’t quite name. Her eyes shine with a mix of disbelief and hope, and for a moment, I wonder if I’ve said too much, if I’ve overstepped some unspoken boundary between us.

“Angelo, I…” she starts, but I gently place a finger on her lips.

“You don’t have to say anything,” I murmur. “I just want you to know that you’re safe here. Both of you. For as long as you need.”

Fee’s eyes glisten with unshed tears, her vulnerability on full display as she steps closer, closing the distance between us. And then, before I can fully comprehend what’s happening, she presses her lips to mine, her kiss soft and warm, yet filled with a desperation that mirrors my own.

The world fades away as I lose myself in the feel of her, in the way her lips move against mine with a hunger that ignites something deep within me. The rain splatters against the windows, a soft, rhythmic backdrop to the sudden intensity of the moment. I pull her closer, my hands sliding up to cup her face, my touch both tender and possessive, as if I’m afraid she’ll slip away if I don’t hold on tight enough.

This kiss is even more passionate, a raw and primal connection that strips away all pretense and leaves us both exposed. My hands roam over her body, memorizing the feel of her, the softness of her skin beneath my fingertips. Every touch, every kiss, is a silent promise, a vow to protect her, to keep her safe from the shadows that haunt her.

Fee melts into me, her hands clutching at my shirt as if she’s afraid to let go, as if this moment is the only thing keeping her grounded. And in that moment, I realize that it’s the same for me. That she’s become my anchor in a world that’s constantly shifting, a beacon of light in the darkness I’ve grown so accustomed to.

We’ve only known each other two days, but it’s like I’ve known her for a lifetime.

Our kisses deepen, growing more urgent, more frantic, as if we’re both trying to drown out the fears and doubts that linger in the corners of our minds. But there’s something more than just desire in the way we cling to each other, something unspoken yet undeniable.

I guide her down to the plush carpet, every movement filled with a tenderness that contrasts with the raw desire simmering just beneath the surface.

Fee’s fingers trail over my chest, her touch sending sparks of electricity through me as she slowly runs her hands under my shirt. I watch her, mesmerized by the way her hands tremble slightly, by the way she looks at me with a blend of vulnerability and need.

Her eyes meet mine, and in them, I see a reflection of everything I’m feeling—the fear, the longing, the desperate hope that this moment will never end.

I lean in, capturing her lips with mine in a kiss that’s slow and deep, savoring the taste of her, the warmth of her mouth against mine. My hands move to the hem of her pajama top, lifting it gently over her head, revealing the smooth curve of her skin beneath. I take a moment to drink her in, my breath catching at the sight of her—beautiful, perfect, and all mine.

Our clothes fall away, piece by piece, until there’s nothing between us but the heat of our bodies pressed together. I lower her onto her back, the plush fibers cushioning us as I settle above her, my weight resting on my forearms. Fee’s hands skim over my back, her nails grazing my skin as I trail kisses down her neck, over her collarbone, and across the swell of her breasts.

Her breath hitches when my mouth finds her nipple, and I take it between my lips, rolling it gently with my tongue. She arches beneath me, her fingers tangling in my hair, urging me closer, and I respond by lavishing the same attention on her other breast, wanting to give her everything she desires.

Fee’s skin is warm and soft, and the feel of her beneath me, the way her body responds to every touch, every kiss, drives me to the edge of control. But I hold back, wanting to savor this moment, to make it last as long as possible. I slide my hand down her side, feeling the curve of her waist, the dip of her hip, until I reach the softness between her thighs.

She gasps when I touch her, her body trembling beneath my hand as I stroke her gently, feeling the wet heat of her arousal. Her hips move in time with my hand, her breath coming in short, quick bursts as I explore her, learning what makes her shudder, what makes her moan my name in that breathless, desperate way that makes my blood pound in my ears.

“Angelo,” she whispers, her voice a plea, and I know she’s ready. I’m barely holding on myself, the need to be inside her, to claim her, so strong it’s nearly overwhelming. I position myself between her legs, and as I push into her, a groan escapes my lips at the feel of her surrounding me, warm and tight and perfect.

Fee’s back arches, her nails digging into my shoulders as I fill her, slowly, completely. I hold still for a moment, letting us both adjust to the feeling of being so intimately connected. Her breath mingles with mine, our foreheads pressed together as we savor the moment, the intensity of it making my heart race.

I start to move, slowly at first, the rhythm of our bodies perfectly in sync, a dance as old as time itself. Each thrust is deliberate, controlled, a blend of passion and tenderness that leaves us both breathless. Fee’s moans grow louder, her body moving in time with mine, meeting me with each thrust, her legs wrapping around my waist to draw me closer.

The carpet beneath us is soft, but nothing compares to the softness of Fee’s skin, the way she feels beneath me, around me. I watch her face, the way her eyes flutter shut, her lips parting with each gasp of pleasure.

There’s something deeply intimate about this moment, something more than just the physical connection—it’s like our souls are intertwined, bound together by something far greater than either of us can comprehend.

I lean down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss, pouring every ounce of my feelings into it. Fee responds with equal fervor, her hands clutching at me as if I’m the only thing keeping her grounded. I can feel her tightening around me, the telltale signs that she’s close, and I increase the pace, driven by the need to bring her to the edge.

When she finally cries out, her body convulsing in the throes of her orgasm, I follow her, the sensation of her release pulling me over the edge. I spill into her, a shuddering groan escaping my lips as I bury myself deep, my body trembling with the intensity of it all.

For a long moment, we stay like that, tangled together on the carpet, our breaths mingling as we come down from the high. I hold her close, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, feeling her heartbeat gradually slow beneath my palm.

I can’t help but tighten my hold on her, not ready to let go just yet. The warmth of her body pressed against mine, the soft rise and fall of her chest—everything about this moment feels right, like it’s exactly where we’re supposed to be.

“Stay with me tonight,” I find myself saying, my voice low, almost hesitant. It’s not something I planned to ask, but now that the words are out, I realize how much I want it. I want her in my arms, in my bed. I want to fall asleep with her next to me, to wake up with her still there.

Fee looks up at me, a soft smile curving her lips. She reaches up, cupping my face with one hand, her thumb brushing gently across my cheek. “I’d love to, Angelo, but…” She hesitates, her expression tinged with regret. “I should stay in my own bed tonight. Just in case Lou comes into my room and freaks out if I’m not there.”

I feel a pang of disappointment, but I know she’s right. Lou’s been through so much in the last twenty-four hours, and the last thing Fee would want is to add to her daughter’s fears. I nod, understanding, even though part of me wishes she’d stay anyway.

“Of course,” I say, letting her go as she starts to sit up. “You’re right.”

Fee gets dressed slowly, as if she’s reluctant to leave, and I watch her, memorizing the way the soft light plays across her skin, the way her hair falls over her shoulder as she pulls on her shirt. There’s something almost surreal about the moment, like a dream I don’t want to wake up from.

Before she leaves, Fee turns to me, her expression tender. She steps closer, and for a moment, I think she might change her mind. But instead, she leans down, her lips brushing against mine in a soft, lingering kiss.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice filled with emotion.

“For what?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“For everything,” she says, her eyes shining as she pulls back slightly, her hand still resting against my cheek. “For tonight, for helping me with Lou, for… being you.”

I swallow hard, feeling a rush of warmth at her words. “You don’t have to thank me, Fee. I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.”

She smiles at that, her eyes softening. “I know.” She straightens up, giving me one last lingering look before turning to leave. I watch her go, feeling an ache in my chest as she steps out of the room, out of my reach.

The room feels empty without her, the warmth of her presence already fading, but I know she’ll be just down the hall. I lie back, staring up at the ceiling, my mind replaying the night’s events over and over again.

I don’t know what’s happening between us, but I know one thing for sure—I’m not letting her go. Not now, not ever.

I wake to the enticing aromas of coffee and something sweet. Following the scents, I find Fee and Lou in the kitchen, busy at the stove.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” I say, unable to keep the smile from my voice. “A man could get used to this sort of treatment.”

Lou turns, her face covered in a smear of flour. “Don’t get used to it. Mom can only really make pancakes and waffles,” she informs me solemnly. “ Never ask her to make eggs.”

Fee laughs, reaching out to tweak Lou’s nose playfully. “Hey, now, my pancakes are world-famous.”

“World-famous, huh?” I tease. “I didn’t realize I was in the presence of such culinary royalty. Should I bow before I eat?”

Lou giggles, while Fee rolls her eyes good-naturedly.

After wolfing down her breakfast, Lou rushes off to get ready for school. As soon as she’s out of earshot, I notice Fee’s demeanor change.

“You’re worried about her going to school,” I state quietly.

Fee nods, biting her lip. “After what happened with Jonah yesterday… I just don't know if it's safe."

I reach out, gently squeezing her hand. “Everything will be okay. I’ve arranged for extra security around the school. No one’s getting near Lou without our knowing about it.”

She seems to relax a bit at this, but then her eyes suddenly widen. “Oh, no,” she gasps. “Antoni Timpone’s funeral is today. I completely forgot! Your suit isn’t finished yet.”

I wave off her concern. “It’s okay, Fee. I have other suits. Don’t worry about it.”

“But—” she starts to protest.

“Really,” I interrupt gently. “It’s fine. We have more important things to focus on right now.”

As I say this, I realize how true it is. The funeral, the suit, the business of being a Don—it all pales in comparison to ensuring Sofia and Lou’s safety and happiness.

Marco drives us to Lou’s school, and I watch from the car as Fee walks Lou to the school entrance. The principal meets them, her expression a mix of concern and reassurance. Their conversation seems intense, with the principal nodding emphatically at whatever Fee is saying.

When Fee returns to the car, I raise an eyebrow. “That looked like a serious talk.”

Fee sighs, buckling her seatbelt. “It was. The principal assured me that they’re implementing new safety measures. She promised Lou would be closely monitored at all times.”

I nod, understanding her worry. “And you feel better about it now?”

“A little,” Sofia admits. “They seemed to take my concerns very seriously. The principal swore nothing like yesterday would ever happen again.”

I reach over and give her hand a gentle squeeze. “That's good. And remember, we have extra security in place too. Lou will be safe.”

Sofia gives me a grateful smile, and I can see some of the tension leave her shoulders.

As we pull up to the funeral home, the atmosphere is thick with tension. The place is crawling with La Familia members, other Dons, and their security details. It’s a scene I’ve seen a thousand times before—power and influence on full display, everyone staking their claim in the hierarchy.

Marco parks the car, and before we get out, Fee hesitates. She turns to me, her eyes shadowed with something I can’t quite place. “My mother will be here,” she says, her voice quieter than usual.

I raise an eyebrow. The only time Fee has mentioned her mother is when she told me that her mother was angry that Fee fell pregnant. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, leaning in closer, trying to read her expression.

She sighs, clearly reluctant to get into it, which only piques my curiosity more. “She’s… a lot,” Fee says, her tone evasive, as if she’s struggling to find the right words. “You’ll see.”

Before I can press her for more details, Marco gestures for us to follow. The three of us step out of the car and make our way toward the entrance, the air buzzing with murmurs and the low hum of conversation.

Inside, the funeral home is just as crowded as I expected. Dons from various families are scattered around the room, their guards standing close, eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of trouble. Jimbo and Romero spot us almost immediately, and they head over, their expressions grim but focused. Marco falls in behind us, his presence as solid and reassuring as ever.

But I’m only half paying attention to them, my gaze watching Fee as she gazes at the crowd, looking for Zip. I catch sight of him first, standing off to the side, his posture stiff and formal. And then I see her—Cher, Sofia’s mother.

Cher looks like an older version of Fee, but there’s a hardness to her that Fee doesn’t have, a kind of calculated arrogance that makes it clear she’s used to getting what she wants. She’s dressed head-to-toe in designer clothes, every detail meticulously put together—high heels, a fitted black dress that shows off her figure, and perfectly styled hair that looks like it’s never seen a day of trouble in its life.

There’s something almost plastic about her, the way she moves, the way she holds herself, like she’s more concerned with appearances than anything else.

She’s standing next to Zip, one hand resting on his arm as she talks to someone I don’t recognize. The sight of them together makes Fee groan softly, and I can feel the tension radiating off her as she mutters, “Here we go…”

I lean in closer to her, lowering my voice. “That’s your mom?”

Fee nods, her expression tight. “Cher. She’s… well, she’s always been like this. Always more concerned with how things look than how they really are.”

I take it all in—the contrast between Fee and her mother, the way Cher seems to command attention without even trying, and the way Fee seems to shrink slightly in her presence. It’s clear there’s no love lost between them, and I can’t help but feel a surge of protectiveness for Fee.

As we approach, Cher’s gaze shifts to us, her perfectly manicured eyebrows arching slightly. She gives us a once-over, her expression unreadable, and then she smiles—a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Ah, Sofia,” Cher says, her voice smooth and polished. “How’s Lucille?”

“She’s doing great, Mom,” Fee says in a dull voice. I find it interesting that Fee fails to tell her mother about Lou’s near-kidnapping.

Cher then turns to me, her eyes widening slightly. “Don Pirelli.”

As Cher’s gaze shifts between Fee and me, I can see the wheels turning in her mind, her expression sharpening with interest. It’s as if she’s trying to piece together some puzzle she didn’t realize was there. The subtle shift in her demeanor doesn’t escape me, and I can feel the weight of her scrutiny as she studies us, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Before she can say anything, Zip seems to catch on to the change in her focus. His eyes dart between Cher and me, and I can almost see the protective instinct flare up in him. He doesn’t waste any time.

“Cher, isn’t that Mrs. Moretti over there?” Zip says, his tone pointed as he gestures across the room. “We should go say hello. Now.”

Cher looks momentarily startled, as if she wasn’t expecting to be pulled away so quickly, but she recovers fast, giving us one last lingering glance before nodding. “Of course,” she murmurs, her voice smooth as silk. “We’ll catch up later, Sofia.”

Without waiting for a response, Zip all but drags Cher away, his grip on her arm firm. I watch them go, feeling a mix of relief and amusement. Zip might be small, but he sure knows how to handle Cher.

Fee mutters under her breath, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Well, that was fun.”

I chuckle softly, leaning in just enough so she can hear me. “You weren’t kidding about her being a lot.”

She sighs, rolling her eyes. “You have no idea.”

Before we can say more, Jimbo nudges my shoulder, drawing my attention away from Fee. “We should go pay our respects to Don Antoni’s family,” he says, his voice low and respectful.

I nod, feeling the shift in the atmosphere as we prepare to do what we came here for. The room is thick with grief and tension, a reminder of the delicate balance of power that hangs over all of us. As much as I want to stay by Fee’s side, there are duties that need to be handled.

Marco, Romero, Jimbo, and I start making our way toward the casket, weaving through the crowd of mourners and mafiosi. Fee follows close behind, but I can tell her thoughts are elsewhere, likely still on her mother and whatever drama is sure to follow.

I can feel the weight of the moment settle over us as we approach the casket. Don Antoni Timpone wasn’t just a powerful figure. He was a man who shaped the world we live in, for better or worse.

As we stand near the casket, paying our respects, the air thick with somber silence, I spot Gino making his way toward us. There’s a swagger in his step, a smirk playing on his lips, and I can feel the tension ratchet up a notch just from his presence.

He doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Well, well, well,” Gino sneers, his eyes flicking between Fee, Jimbo, Romero, and me. “Look who decided to show up. What a touching display of loyalty.” His voice drips with sarcasm, and I can feel Fee stiffen beside me.

I shoot him a cold look, but before I can say anything, Gino turns his attention fully on Fee, a cruel glint in his eyes. “You know, Sofia, it’s really something to see you here, paying respects to my old man. I’m sure he’d appreciate the gesture—especially since he had such a soft spot for your dear mother.”

Fee’s eyes narrow, her jaw tightening, but she doesn’t say anything. Gino’s pushing buttons, and we all know it.

“And speaking of my father,” Gino continues, his tone growing more insidious, “I’ve decided to give the eulogy. After all, it’s only fitting that his only son speaks for him, don’t you think?”

None of us respond, but that doesn’t deter him. Gino raises his voice slightly, drawing the attention of those around us. “Ladies and gentlemen, I think it’s only right that everyone here knows my father’s cursed confession. What is it, you might ask?”

There’s silence, everyone hanging on Gino’s words. You can hear a pin drop in the room.

An ugly sneer crosses Gino’s face. “His confession was that my father loved Cher Saldano.” He pauses, letting the implication hang in the air. “So much so that he bought the building where Perfezione is. He intended to gift it to Cher. Romantic, right?”

There are murmurs and gasps from the crowd. My gut twists, and I can see Fee’s eyes widen slightly, the shock and disbelief written all over her face. This is the first she’s hearing of it, and I don’t like where this is going.

Gino smirks, enjoying the reaction he’s getting. “But here’s the thing—there’s no deal in writing. No gift tied up in a neat little bow. So as far as I’m concerned, the building’s still a Timpone asset. And since I’m the one handling the estate now, that means you’ve got a problem, Sofia.”

“What do you want, Gino?” I ask, my voice low, barely keeping my anger in check.

He grins, savoring the moment. “Cash. Rent. Back rent. As much money as I can squeeze out of Perfezione. My father might’ve been soft, but I’m not. You owe the Timpone family, and I intend to collect.”

Fee’s face pales, but she stands her ground, staring him down. “That’s bullshit, Gino. Your father didn’t charge me or my grandfather rent.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Gino snaps back. “You’ve got three months to come up with $4.9 million to buy the building, or I’ll file the court docs proving you haven’t paid rent in months. Lease or no lease, you’re going to pay what’s owed—through money or blood. I don’t care how you get it done, but you’d better get it done fast.”

The threat hangs in the air, heavy and real. Gino’s eyes gleam with malicious satisfaction, knowing he’s backed Fee into a corner. I want to smash that smug grin off his face, but I hold back. There’s too much at stake to lose control now.

“We’ll see about that,” I finally say, my voice as hard as steel.

Gino shrugs, unfazed. “Tick-tock, Sofia. Three months. Clock’s ticking.” With that, he turns on his heel and walks away, leaving us standing there with the weight of his ultimatum crashing down around us.