Chapter 80 RóISE

Miceli walks like a cat, but I can sense his presence in the apartment before he walks through the door into the great room.

My throat is dry, my palms sweaty. My heart is beating so hard I can feel it.

I've been working so hard on the new décor, and this will be the first time that he sees it.

For the sake of security, Miceli insisted we stay with his family while the actual work was being done. Because I didn't want him to see anything before it was all finished, I agreed.

Staying with his family has been good for my relationship with Aria. We've gotten to know each other, and I like her. She likes me too, now. And I adore my sister-in-law Catalina almost as much as my cousins at this point.

Accompanied by a full security detail, I've been overseeing the workmen and transformation to our home. Miceli has been working in his office, but I wouldn't let him come up to the penthouse.

He's been complaining about not being able to see more of me because I'm up here while he's on a lower floor.

As of today, that can end.

Miceli walks into the room, his eyes on me.

He doesn't look anywhere else. He doesn't see his paintings on the walls or the new sofa and chairs. All he sees is me.

And my heart thuds for a different reason. Miceli De Luca loves me. I am the center of his world.

"What do you think? "

He gives me a look from head to toe, and his eyes darken with desire. "I like the yoga pants. They show your ass off but that T-shirt is too big for you."

"It's one of yours."

"You like stealing from my wardrobe."

"Yep. It's one of the bennies of being in a serious relationship."

He reaches me and draws me into his arms. "If by serious, you mean we're together until one of us kicks the bucket, yeah, I can see that."

"You and your morbid thoughts."

"Maybe you'll train me to stop thinking of death by the time our first kid is born," he offers.

I wrap my hand around the back of his neck, loving that I have the freedom to touch him whenever I want. "Well, I've got some time to do that since I'm not getting pregnant right away."

Something flashes in his eyes.

I put my hand up to stop him from saying what I know is going to come out of his mouth. Some morbid thing about how he needs to have an heir before too long in case he dies young.

"You are not dying young. I just got you. And I am keeping you forever. And if not, having a kid to train to be the next don will stop you from taking any chances…"

"I don't need any other reason than to know you are here waiting for me. I don't take the risks that will stop me from coming home to you."

"Good to know." Getting lost in his eyes, I forget what I'm supposed to be showing him.

We kiss.

But when he goes to pick me up to carry me to the bedroom, I remember. And I press against his chest "Wait. I want you to see."

"I want to see you too. "

Laughter bubbles out of me. "That's not what I meant. But it can be on the menu for later."

"I'm ready to feast now."

"Look around, my love, and tell me what you think."

He stops on his trek toward the bedroom. "Say that again."

Miceli calls me by all sorts of endearments. Aphrodite. His sweet flower. Good girl. But I haven't used any with him, except Ares. I don't know why.

No that's not true. I do know why. I didn't feel like I had the right. Maybe that doesn't make sense, but I know he is mine now.

In my family, endearments are special and only used with people you love. And I didn't want to reveal my love for him .

"My love."

That earns me another scorching kiss, but eventually I convince him to ooh and ahh over my hard work.

He likes the desk nook created by a bookcase divider open on both sides in the living room. "No more working in a spare bedroom?"

I shake my head. "You have an office two floors down if you need privacy or solitude to work. But this way, even if I'm studying over there and you're working here, we're still together."

I know he's going to like this. We're both a little obsessed.

The look of approval on his handsome face says I called it. "That's perfect. I didn't like being cooped up in one of the bedrooms while you were out here."

"But working on your laptop on the coffee table is not ideal."

He shrugs. "Worth it to spend more time with you."

"I don't care if I am supposed to be independent and want time to myself or if you're supposed to be hard and aloof with me. I want us to be just like we are. Always."

"Good because having you breathe the same air as me keeps me alive." He kisses me. "I love you." Another bone melting kiss. "I need you." He pauses, his dark gaze filled with emotion I never thought to see there. "You make my heart beat, and losing you would make it stop."

"Always with the morbid with you."

His laughter is still on his lips when he presses them to mine, but I insist that Miceli finishes his inspection of the great room.

"I like your touches, it feels like a ho…" He doesn't finish the word because his eyes have snagged on my portrait above the fireplace.

Then he sees the grouping of book cover paintings on the wall behind the dining room table.

"You hung up my art. "

"Yes." I put my hand out to his. "Come with me."

I want him to see everything before we talk about that. We go back through the hall, but instead of going into the primary bedroom, I drag him down to the last room.

I open the door and step back and wait for his reaction.

The room is set up very similarly to the studio in lower Manhattan. There are two easels, cabinets for his paints, brushes, turpentine, linseed oil and everything else. Canvases of all different sizes lean against one wall.

The walk-in closet is now set up for storage of paintings as well as more art supplies.

He wiggles the doorknob. "There's no lock."

"This is your home. You don't have to lock away your need to paint from me." I don't want either of us to lock away any part of ourselves here.

"What if someone walks in here besides one of us?"

"If it means seeing my cousins and my moma elsewhere, so be it. If I see less of them, I'll deal. If it means not having your family over to visit, we'll visit them. But I want your heart here in our home."

"It already is. You're here."

"You're such a romantic for a big, bad mafioso." My sarcasm would be more believable if I wasn’t giving him a totally sappy, gooey-eyed look.

"Only for you, mi dolce fiore . Only for you."

We christen his studio in the best way possible. Afterward he carries me to the bedroom and tells me he likes the new decor, even the mauve duvet cover.

The room is a mixture of mauve and midnight blue. On the far wall, here is a picture, but it's not a painting.

It's a blowup of one of the photos from the photo shoot. In it we were spinning, and my dress is flying around us. My hand is on his neck and his head is bent toward me.

And our love for each other shines like a thousand-watt bulb.

"It's us." He walks forward and touches the frame. "Our feelings are right there for everyone to see. This is the picture that should be hanging in the living room."

What am I going to do with this guy? "Could you maybe stop saying such perfect stuff? I like the painting in the living room. It's like a love letter from you."

Even though I didn't realize that the first time I saw it.

"I like it too," he admits.

"Good, because we're not hanging the painting where my legs are spread."

A wicked grin on his face, he turns back to me. "What will you give me to keep it for just us?"

"Anything you want." Because I want to give him everything .

"That's a generous offer." He twirls one of my curls around his finger and tugs. "But I will never allow another to see you in that way."

"I know," I say breathlessly.

He tugs me closer. "I don't want to keep our families out of our home."

"I don't either."

"I've been thinking about what you said about my father's portraits. I think that my family deserves to have the paintings that reflect his love for them."

"I do too. But are you ready for that?"

"I will be. Eventually, but I'm ready now for them to know about my own art. I know I will be a good don. I need to be sure that Sev sees me as I am though, before he names me as his successor. "

"I'm pretty sure your brother sees everything in you already. He may not know about your paintings, but I wouldn't take for granted that he doesn't either."

Miceli shrugs, like his brother's opinion isn't what matters. "You know me in ways that no one else does, or ever will, mi vitù . They might see the paintings, but you see the heart of the man who painted them. A heart I believed no longer beat until I met you."

"I thought I hated you."

"But you've always loved me." His gaze dares me to deny it.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean you'll get away with murder with me."

"That is literally what I do. Get away with murder."

I can't help grinning, but I roll my eyes. "Not with me you don't."

"No." His expression turns serious. "With you there is no death, only life."

I wrap my arms around his neck. "I love you, Miceli De Luca."

" T'amu mi vitù, from now until eternity."

" Sempre e per sempre ," I reply in Italian.

Now and forever.