Chapter 78 RóISE

Miceli pulls from my body with gentle slowness before shifting me so I'm sitting sideways in his lap. Then he washes me as carefully as he would a newborn.

Everywhere. Which destroys the baby metaphor but not the tender attention behind it.

My legs are filled with jelly instead of muscle and bone right now, so I don't even put up a token protest when he also dries me off.

I object though, when he slides a finger between my butt cheeks to smear ointment on my still fluttering sphincter.

"Shh. Let me take care of you, vitù. "

Realizing there's no point in arguing when he's almost done, I nod.

There's so much approval and warmth in his smile, my heart flutters.

Miceli guides me to sit on the vanity bench before he starts picking up the impressive array of weapons littering the floor along with our clothes and the things I'd stuffed into my shorts' pockets from my trunk prison, thinking I might need them.

My fiancé checks all three guns to make sure there are no rounds in the chamber before placing them on the bathroom counter.

After he stacks as many knives beside the firearms, I shake my head. "I think I need a better personal arsenal."

"It is my job to protect you." Miceli looks me straight in the eye. "I might have failed today, but I give you my vow that I never will again. "

"You didn't fail. No one could have foreseen the guy working for Gabriel Lion on my uncle's payroll." I will never call that man grandfather again. "And you got me back."

"You were well on your way to saving yourself."

I shake my head. "They knew I was heading for the warehouse, though I don't know how they guessed I would go there and not one of the apartment buildings."

"I'll be sure and ask them," Miceli says grimly.

"The point is, I'd run out of options when you guys showed up."

"I have no doubt in your ingenuity." He leans down and picks me up bridal style. "You would've gotten away."

"Well, I'm glad you got there when you did."

He's all about what a badass I am. And I like knowing he thinks that, but the reality is, I'm a fine arts major, not a mafia soldier. No matter how much training in self-defense I have done over the years.

And none of those abilities had any impact on what happened to me today.

Miceli pulls the covers back and lays me down on the bed before joining me there and tugging the summer weight comforter over us.

He traces the contours of my face with a light fingertip. "Tell me everything from the second that asshole jerked you off the dock."

"Why? Don't you want to forget about it? It's probably not healthy for you to dwell on something you consider a failure."

"But it is healthy for you to talk about it. So, talk."

I mean to argue again. Say something about going to a therapist, or visiting my mamo which is pretty much the same thing.

But instead, when I open my mouth, words start spilling out. How the men took me, what it felt like underwater before I got the darkened diver's mask and access to oxygen.

"I was scared," I admit. "And angry. So angry."

Miceli kisses my forehead. "And so fucking brave. Keep talking."

I do. For more than an hour. I tell him everything in more detail than I even think I could remember. I can see the banked fury in his eyes, but not once does he interrupt me.

Not to ask about the random stuff I grabbed from the trunk now adding to the mess on our bathroom floor. Not even to curse the kidnappers out.

When I finally stop talking, the look of approval on Miceli's handsome face is a balm to my wounded soul. "Did I mention how fucking brave you are? And smart. You are so damn smart."

"I must be, I agreed to marry you." These words pop out without me thinking about it, but I have no desire to take them back .

Agreeing to be the sacrificial lamb in my uncle's alliance plans is the best decision I have ever made. It doesn't matter how we came together, Miceli is it for me, created to be the other half of my soul before I was ever born.

And I'm the other half of his. Whether he ever admits that out loud, or not.

Right now, his body goes completely still. For several seconds, he doesn’t even breathe. He just stares at me like he cannot believe what I just said.

"It's true," I tell him.

And the feelings I have for him are real. My love for him is woven into the depths of my being at this point. There is no Róise without the love I hold for Miceli.

I am safe with him, both physically and emotionally.

It started all those months ago in Portland, but it didn't stop there. That very first time we had sex in his studio, the way he came back to give me stuff to put in my bath? To make sure I was okay.

It was so unlike the guy he portrays to the rest of the world, but it is the guy he shows me time and again. Even when we had to move the wedding date forward. He made sure he was the one to tell me.

To explain it.

And when I insisted on finishing school? He kept the promise he made in our contract. When I got kicked out of college, he could have capitalized on that to try to convince me to quit. Instead, he coerced the dean into accepting me back and apologizing.

Pretty much pretending I hadn't been kicked out, even though we both knew better.

Miceli didn't stop there, though. He found me an agent for after I graduate, so I don't have to give up my dreams.

He acknowledges my compromises and looks for ways to mitigate them, so I'm living a life I want, not one thrust upon me.

Yes, I stand up for myself. I am me, after all, but Miceli could make that really hard to do. Instead, he supports me. Even when that makes things harder on him.

Not only did he fire Giovanna for trying to hurt my feelings, but he made sure the interview with a massively popular and busy celebrity news reporter got rescheduled.

And the sex? It's not just off the charts; our souls connect when we are together like that. Maybe that's mystical, but it doesn't make it any less true.

He's not perfect. Not at all. He gets a little too much joy out of the dark side of his job as Genovese underboss. He's violent and unapologetically criminal.

And still, he's perfect for me and I'm done pretending that's not true.

"I love you, Miceli," I breathe .

My heart knows what it knows. I will never feel this way about anyone else.

He pulls my hand to press against his heart. "Do you feel that?"

"Yes."

"It beats for you."

"What are you saying?" Is he admitting he loves me?

"I swore to myself I would never fall for a woman like my brother or my cousin." He barks out a self-deprecating, dark chuckle. "I thought their obsession with the women they love, made them vulnerable, and weak."

"I don't know Salvatore very well." I met him briefly at his wedding, but that's all really. "But your brother is not weak."

"Neither am I. My love for you gives me strength. It gives me focus."

"Say the words, Miceli." I need the words.

" T'amu . I love you." He kisses me softly. " Sempre e per sempre . Always and forever."

Another kiss. My lips try to chase his, but he's not done.

" Sei mio . You are mine." This kiss is a little more forceful but no less emotionally devastating. " Io sono tua . I am yours."

"I love you so much, Miceli." My voice cracks on his name and a tear of joy slides down my temple.

He swipes it with his thumb, licking it off like even that single tear is precious to him.

"This…" He waves between the two of us. "It's not about blood alliances. It is about how my heart beats for you and you alone. I would give up the mafia for you."

Before, I thought that was what I wanted, but I realize now it's not. One, because my uncle is right. I am a Shaughnessy and nothing will change that. Which means that without the protection of a syndicate, I'm not safe.

Whatever children I have are not safe. And Miceli would definitely not be safe.

But two, a mafia underboss soon to be don is who I want to marry. "I don't need you to change for me to love you. And I don’t need you to give up the mafia to make me happy. I am happy with you."

"I do not know what deity gifted you to me, but I will make offerings to them for the rest of eternity."

"To be clear, then, there will be no more of the love isn't a word I use crap? Because you are going to love our children."

"Every bit as fiercely as I love you," he vows.

My eyes burn with more joy-filled tears. The words are everything I need to hear. The final piece that assures me I made the right choice agreeing to marry this man.

"I fell in love with you that night in Portland," I tell him in a choked voice. "When I saw you standing in your brother's office and knew you were the man I was supposed to marry, I felt so betrayed. Not only by fate, but by my own feelings."

"You hid those feelings pretty well," he says with a wry twist of his lips.

"Self-preservation, but there is no one I ever want to touch me but you and I knew that then."

His eyes burn with violent intensity. "Good, because I would have to kill anyone who touched you."

"You're such a sweet talker."

His expression turns so serious. "I'm not a sensitive guy, no matter what people think about artists. You are the only one who touches my heart so deeply that I believe part of my soul still exists. I love you with everything inside of me and everything I have. Róise, you are my world."

His use of my name in this moment, with that admission feels like another claim on my heart.

~ ~ ~

Pusheen yowls at the door until Miceli lets her in. Then, she bounds up onto the bed, settling her long Maine Coon body along the side recently occupied by Miceli.

"She's a pushy beast, but I understand her need to know you are safe." He reaches down and pets our cat.

"She doesn't know I was kidnapped," I point out.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that."

I roll my eyes, but Miceli shakes his head. "Didn't you say that Troy was the soldier she jumped on in the hallway?"

It takes a second for me to remember what he's talking about. "Um, yes."

"Well, guess who was one of the men on sonar watch detail?"

"What a smart cat you are my beautiful Pusheen." I scratch her head and then yawn.

"Rest. I'll order us some dinner."

"Make it something we can eat in bed." I snuggle into the bed with my cat.

"We do not eat in bed."

"On the day I got kidnapped we do." There will be other times too, but I'll break him into the idea slowly.

"Why do I feel like this is not going to be a one-time deal?"

"Because you're smart?"

~ ~ ~

Pusheen is still in our bed when I wake up the next morning, but Miceli isn't. I get up to use the bathroom and find him in the en suite filling the tub.

I approve. "Good idea."

Sexy times in the shower are fun and all but right now the bath looks like heaven and a side of spicy tots.

"Your cousins are going to be here in an hour. I would have let you sleep otherwise."

"But you know I want to see them. Besides, I woke up on my own." Probably because he left the bed, but I don't mention that. "I swear I can feel every muscle and they all ache."

Exhaustion drags at my body from my epic adrenaline hangover too.

Miceli sweeps me up into his arms and then lowers me into the bath.

"You do that a lot."

"It's a family trait," he says with a shrug in his voice.

"Carrying your fiancée around like a bride is a family trait?" I scoff.

"Ask Catalina if you don't believe me."

"I will." After I visit with my cousins and then sleep for about three days.

Miceli climbs into the deliciously scented water with me and I lean back against his chest.

His hands pass over my body in languid strokes.

My eyes slide closed. "Feels nice."

It feels more than nice. It feels like I'm being cherished and I revel in it.

One of his hands travels up my torso until his thumb brushes the underside of my breast. He doesn't go any further but continues those unhurried touches on either side of my body. His big hands glide over my stomach, and then between my legs, washing my thighs. He doesn't go near my core.

I'm trying to decide if I'm disappointed or not when he moves down to caress under my knees.

The leisurely touches send tiny sparks of pleasure along my nerve endings. My eyes flutter closed and I slip into a place of half awareness.

My brain fills with pleasant, peaceful static as my muscles relax one by one until I'm a floating mass of goo.

Memories of yesterday are far away. Only Miceli's touch registers.

When he gently pinches both of my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, I feel a corresponding pulse in my clit. I moan, reaching back to touch him too.

"Shh…just relax and feel mi dolce fiore ."

With a soft sigh, I do and eventually the slow and gentle caresses bring me to climax .

"Feel better?" he asks.

"I do," I say with surprise.

I don't ache nearly as much as when I first woke up. How much is whatever he put in the bath and how much is the aftermath of my orgasm?

"That's a family trait too," he teases.

"That's not something I'm going to ask Catalina about."

Moma shows up with Kara and Fiona. She insists on fussing over me and is adamant I either lay on the couch or return to bed.

I know when I'm beat. I choose the couch.

"One of our own men was feeding information to Gabriel," Kara says, her tone filled with shock.

She should be shocked. The men allowed on the estates security detail are the most trusted among my uncle's soldiers.

"I bet your dad is livid." I take a sip of the strong Irish breakfast tea moma insisted on preparing for me.

She brought her own tin with her. It's no use telling her we have tea. It's not hers specially shipped from her hometown in Ireland.

"Mick and him are both on the warpath." Kara shakes her head. "I had to leave Fitz at the mansion with Ollie and the nanny."

"I'm surprised they let you all come then."

"That was moma ."

I grin. My grandmother is a force to be reckoned with when she wants to be.

Moma sits by my legs and pats my calf. "Now, you'll tell us all about yesterday and drain the poison from your heart."

"I already did that with Miceli," I explain.

"You did, did you? Well, that's fine." Moma digs her knitting from her capacious purse. "He'll make a fine husband even if he is Italian. Now, you'll be telling us, or I'll hear no end of it from your cousins."

None of us are fooled. Moma wants the details as badly as Kara and Fiona.

Telling them is different than telling Miceli. My cousins interrupt a lot. Moma makes noises of disapproval and approbation where needed and I'm yawning halfway into the tale.

I don't know when I fall asleep, but I don't hear them leave.