Chapter One

Where Ends Meet

Rafe

Bright lights dim behind heavily tinted, bulletproof glass of the Revanzi Vengeance. Usually, I don't require a driver, and if I do, I ask Dom. But my best friend and right-hand man sits in the leather seat at my side in the rear of the car tonight, my wife squished nicely between us.

We pull up in front of the club, a short drive across Cyprus to the particular venue that caters to my needs tonight—the place where Willow entered my life—though I doubt she knew of the club's full facilities on her last visit.

And it's the reason we have a driver. Because when we leave the club, none of us will be in any state to navigate let alone man a steering wheel.

"Is this it?" Willow curls her fingers through mine.

Black-tipped, scarlet nails dig lightly into the back of my hand, and she switches a nervous gaze between us, before dipping her head, letting her glossy black hair form a curtain between us, shielding her from a pair of intent gazes.

But not before I read the reflected desire in her jade-green eyes, or note the pale-pink fingers creep along her cheeks as blood rises in her face, heating her from the inside.

For me, blood flows south.

She's ten years younger than my gritty twenty-eight, now head of the Gallo empire. Despite how jaded I've become, Willow ignites something in me I thought long lost.

I intend to ruin us all tonight, just because of a not-so-innocent fantasy my wife voiced the day we married.

Forcibly. Against both our wills.

And then I added to her pain, treating her worse.

Now, I take the weight of the trauma I caused her and wear it as a mantle to earn my way deeper into her heart, until our souls brush every time we kiss. Touch. Fuck.

"We're here." I raise our joined hands to my lips, pressing a tender kiss to her soft skin. "Tell me no, and I'll take you home, run you a bath, and spoil you stupid."

She giggles softly. "You already do all that, Rafe."

"And look where it got you." On her other side, Dom folds his arms, glaring at me over her silken raven-black hair.

I know tonight will break him on two levels. She isn't the girl he wants—the one who never gives in to him, anyway—and she's my wife. But it's different when permissions are granted in advance. Because tomorrow I won't be begging forgiveness of anyone.

"Mr. Gallo." The chauffeur holds the rear door of the armored vehicle for us.

Since my father's assassination, I'm far more cautious—read borderline paranoid—about our public appearances. Becoming the head of one of the largest mafias in the world at twenty-eight has that effect on a man.

Breathing in Cyprus's salty air, I flick the button open on my jacket with my free hand, slipping from the car with grace I learned early in life to disguise any lethal intent, drawing Willow to me. I turn away before Dom alights, walking at our backs.

A few extra "Mr. Gallos" reach us, but I don't acknowledge a single one, though Willow does, in her own, soft way. While my wife can snark at the best of times, her quiet demeanor to others isn't underestimated. An old line about honey attracting minions trips across my mind. I smile at the reminder of how easily she fell into my life under duress that would have crippled another human.

But where others fall, Willow rises.

Her tenacity, her heart, and that stubborn, brave streak laced with loyalty are the reasons I will one day lay down my life for this woman. Right now I have a different plan in mind.

The ma?tre di' at my father's club—my club—leads the way to the private rooms beyond the VIP area. Willow looks around nervously as I place her before me.

"Walk."

I murmur just loud enough to be heard over the booming music that reverberates through my bones, along with the memory of nailing her virginal little body to the wall in my office with my cock during our last visit to Cyprus.

"Rafe, shouldn't you be—" Her hair flicks around her shoulders, slithering across the strapless scarlet sheath I chose with her for this occasion.

Because the shimmering material represented the blood spilled over our union.

The hearts melded.

And because it would be all too easy to expose her stunning curves with two sets of hands.

"Go." I press my hand to her lower back, walking beside but slightly behind her.

Her shoulders dip a little at the reassurance, and I take note of the way she craves knowing she's not screwing up, knowing she's loved.

I will give you so much of that love you'll scream for me to back off.

Unless, of course, she's screaming for a different reason.

We reach the room I reserved before flying out for my father's second funeral in his home province, where the local capos assumed control in times of need. Cyprus will be a part of our regular territory tour, along with Lower Manhattan, before we return to Rhode Island.

I press slightly harder on Willow's back when she hesitates before stepping inside the black-and-red decorated room. She capitulates, not checking with me this time, and I smile.

My little minx is determined.

Willow brought a new sense of home to my life, as well as her own colorful language.

I follow her inside, giving the man on the door permission to lock us in until I request our freedom. Paranoia, perhaps. But what better place to follow up on my father's assassination than by taking out half his remaining bloodline in one night? I make a second note to add extra guards for my sister, then push thoughts of my family from my mind.

Tonight is about Willow. No one else.

"The driver is around the back," Dom mutters in my ear. The big man twitches at my side, and shoves his hands into his pockets.

"If you're not good with this, tell me now," I warn him.

A quick glance my way and a shake of his dark head confirms what he won't admit to either of us verbally—he wants her.

And when I shift on my heels to look back at Willow where she stands at a broad glass pane that overlooks the club and its flashing lights, I don't blame him in the least.

She's stunning. Curves in all the right places, strength protecting her in the rest.

Her scars, the ones that crisscross her shoulders and back, are on display and without shame. They dip well beneath the material of her dress, and I plan to lick and worship every single one of them as a measure of the pain she suffered on my behalf.

A large pasha-type lounge takes up the centerpiece of the room with no back to it, just a circular space off the floor, covered with black pillows that match the dark ceiling and black ornate wall fixtures. The red floor matches her dress, and I can't wait to see her black hair spread across it, her scarlet lips open with soundless cries.

"Come." I crook a finger in her direction, my tone brooking no room for denial.

Her feet turn in my direction before she's thought about obeying my command, her eyes widening as she takes me in, Dom slipping his jacket off at my side. Those luminous green eyes stare up at me, a flicker of resolve covering the fear, but it's there and I see it.

Her skin dimples, soft and pliant beneath my fingers as I cup her cheek, trailing along her throat to the heavy platinum collar I clasped around her neck the day I married her.

"Hard limits. Tell me."

She swallows, and the pressure between her throat and my fingers increases, cutting off her air for a moment as I tow her forward.

"Nothing, Rafe. I trust you."

"Should you?" She nods, but it's not enough. I bare my teeth, aiming to scare her, show her I'm serious, but she doesn't back down. "Do you want to rephrase that?" She shakes her head and I nod slowly. "Rules. My hard limit. You tell me if you need to stop at any time. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Rafe." She stares up at me, no defiance, no attitude or brattiness present. Just the incredible woman I get to call my wife.

"All right then. One more. Tonight, use your manners. Ask nicely when you want something, and say thank you afterward. Clear?"

She smiles, the tip of her tongue tracing her bottom lip, leaving a glossy sheen over her red lipstick. "Thank you, Rafe."

I growl. "Don't you sass me already, Willow. Now go and ask Dom nicely what he needs. Wait."

I pause until she turns her attention back to me, then catch her mouth, covering it with mine in a deep, slow kiss. I want her to feel that kiss, my love for her, to the edges of her sanity, to remember throughout this night.

Her tongue slides along mine in a delicate dance we know so well, teasing and giving, opening and taking. This kiss is a two-way door and by the time I draw back, cupping her chin to lose myself in her eyes once more, a moan lies heavy at the back of my throat.

"Thank you," she whispers before I can say anything.

"You're welcome." I kiss her again, lightly, savoring her taste. "Go to Dom, Willow." I send her to another man with her taste on my lips.

She takes the steps slowly, looking up at Dom. We're of a height, both well over six feet, but where my muscle is lean and corded, his build is far more solid. Next to him, she looks tiny, fragile. A breath catches in my throat as she doesn't say anything at all, walking right up to him, rising on her toes, and offering him her mouth.

Dom stares down at her for a long, frozen moment, before a groan tears from his lips and he buries his hands in her hair, bringing her mouth to his.

Where my kiss with Willow was sensuous, full of longing, theirs is a desperate clash of mouths as he devours her, fisting handfuls of raven-black locks to hold her in place. My heart thuds in my chest, a voyeur in a fantasy I created for her. The floor shifts beneath my feet and I find myself slipping my jacket from my shoulders and hanging it on a hook beside the door. Two initials are etched in the scrollwork—not scratched in, embossed:A.G. Armand Gallo. My father.

A self-depreciating snort rises from my throat as I stare at the pair of offending letters. Here I stand in a club my father built from the ground up, embedding his name into everything like a biblical heathen god. And I feel like I can compete with that? I'm kidding myself, knowing my place is back in the States, and well away from a family I barely belong to but by the auspicious accident of my birth.

Yet here I stand, about to fuck my wife with my best friend in a room where he's had countless women himself.

A long breath leaves my chest until there's nothing left. Hollow. That's what I am right now. A hollow facade of a man with a heart beating in a chest that doesn't seem to belong to me. My forehead rests on my arm where I brace it against the wall, still unbreathing.

Still.

The finest, lightest contact at my calf through my slacks brings my lungs back to life. Through the roaring in my head, the usual honorific reaches me, but not from some placating pleb, or Dom's deeper tones. From someone much softer, all curves and heart and heat.

"Sir."

I rap my knuckles on the wall, and pivot on my heel to find Willow kneeling at my feet. Her gaze narrows, picking out the tiniest shifts in my strained expression. Her slinky red dress pools around her thighs. Dom stands at her back, his eyes mirroring the concern in hers. But right now isn't the time for a deep and meaningful conversation about a man who can't haunt us any longer.

"You shouldn't be down there." I suck in a breath, willing my body and mind to behave for once, catching under her arms and drawing her up my body. "Not until I have the chance to see you bare."

"Please," she whispers, looking up at me.

"Get my cock out."

I nod to Dom over her head, and his eyes hood as he takes a step forward, grazing his hands along her sides in an intimate gesture as she fumbles at my pants, undoing my belt and letting it hang open as her palm finds my cock, her slender fingers wrapping around my length.

"May I?" Dom rumbles, leaning close enough to speak in her ear as he finds the fragile seam of her dress with his large hands, drawing her up.

She nods, without taking her eyes from mine, running her thumb across the engorged head of my cock. "Yes please, Dom."

He huffs softly, drawing the zip down her dress until it tumbles to the floor around her feet. I knock her hand away, running my own fist over my cock as I appreciate the view I'll never tire of absorbing.

Willow stands naked before me, her head high, shoulders back, those perfect breasts pressed out, her dusky nipples pebbled to tight peaks.

"If I put my hand between your legs, would you drip for me, Willow?" I watch her reaction, the way her lips part on a shocked gasp, though she should be used to me already.

"I—yes."

My smile is the carnivorous sort. "Good. Did you enjoy kissing Dom?" She hesitates, catching her bottom lip between her teeth as though unsure what my reaction will be if she says yes. Finally she nods, swaying slightly where she stands. "I'm glad. Step out, and say thank you with your tongue."

I catch her hand, helping her balance in her sky-high stilettos that match the dress as she untangles herself gracefully from the pooled scarlet galaxy. Her head tips up as she searches for him, but it only takes a second before he's pressed against her back, his hands sliding around her stomach as he tastes her again.

Not a true kiss this time, more a twist of tongues sweeping together, flicking and sharing.

Blood fills my cock at the way she arches back, thrusting her tits out for me. I catch one stiff peak between my teeth, squeezing until she writhes between us, then flick the blood-starved tip with my tongue. Her startled cry ruins us both.

Perhaps it's simply the beauty of a stunning woman between us, or maybe it's the shock in her tone, like we can still surprise her.

My hands are on her as I break their interlude, forcing her face back to me and kiss her until she's wrapped around my body, fighting to press against me. Each time she draws back, I bring her closer, denying her the air she desperately requires, but my blood rages and I need her now.

A tiny whimper escapes her as Dom drops to his knees behind her. Her squeal in my mouth gives me pause. Clasping the back of her head, I pull her into my chest, watching him part her ass cheeks and lick her clit to asshole. She pushes her perfectly round ass into his face, tiny cries tearing from her as he works her over, his tongue devouring her body as he did her mouth. I pull her close, tangling my fingers in her black mane as he works her over. His tongue flicks briefly over my balls, sending electric shocks along my spine.

My control spools out an inch at a time, but she's already leaving me heady with unsatisfied need.

"Fucking perfect," I rasp out, catching her mouth with mine again to swallow every cry she gives us. I cup her sex from the front, catching Dom's chin and pushing them together a little more before I slide my fingers inside her.

She soaks my skin with her slick heat instantly, mewling against my mouth. I can taste her fantasy playing out as she comes fast and hard on my fingers and his lips. Her legs shake, and I wrap an arm tighter around her waist to hold her up.

Soft whimpers leave her as Dom rises, his face dark, eyes hooded. The way he looks at her is that of a predator's relationship with its prey, something he will take, and ruin.

Tonight, we both will.

And I know she will fucking love it.

Holding her between us, I keep my fingers inside her, surprised when Dom slides one then two thick fingers between mine until we're both fucking her with our hands.

Barely recovered from her orgasm, Willow whimpers, but Dom shushes her gently. "We need to stretch you, baby. Don't want to damage you." His lips curl as he coos at her, knowing he's scaring her a little, and getting off on it.

Twisted fuck. He's as sick as me.

"Rafe…" Her eyes widen as she rests her body back on Dom's solid form again, watching me through flickering, dozy eyes that read sated and needy and frightened all at once.

And that mind-blowing combination sends her right over the edge, covering us all in the scent of her satisfaction.

Gathering her in my arms, I work my cock against her stomach, coating myself in her cum. "Do you want—" is all I got out before Dom presses against her back, still as dressed as me.

"Baby, show us what you can take, yeah?" He slaps one ass cheek, rearing back to check his handiwork as she gasps, panting.

"Want us to take it slow?" I catch her other ass cheek in my hand, squeezing gently. "This first time will be fast and rough, sweetheart. Feel what you do to both of us."

"The first time…" she whispers faintly, and then that's all she can say.

We sandwich her, kissing all over her body and throat. I lift her leg gently, holding beneath her thigh as I rub my cock at her entrance and slowly slip inside. Her searing, slick heat makes it easy to fill her until I groan, bottoming out far too fast.

"Don't you dare slow down," she whispers belatedly, once we've caught our breaths.

Dom's hands curve around her breasts, playing with her nipples as he dry-humps her from behind. "Tell me when you need me to stop or back off, Willow," he murmurs sweetly into her ear as he positions himself.

But when I thought he might take her asshole, he surprises us both by rubbing his mushroom head against the hole I already fill.

I wrap both arms around her, looking deep into her eyes. "You can handle us. Both of us," I whisper as Dom works his way into her sopping cunt.

Her cum is obscene, coating her thighs and easing his entry as he stuffs her with his thick cock, massaging mine until he's just inside. Then he pushes deeper while I hold her still, kissing her mouth and whispering promises I'll remember tomorrow as she claws at my shoulders. A frenzied squeak leaves her, and we both freeze.

"I'll go slow," Dom mutters, a pained look crossing his face as he backs off, withdrawing until only the tip of him is left inside her.

"Don't you fucking dare, Dominic Barese," Willow growls. She reaches back to wrap her arms around his neck, looking at him upside down. "If you pull out I'll find one of Chef Luca's knives and start stabbing indiscriminately. Fuck. Me. Now. Please," she adds, like an afterthought.

Knowing what she did with those same knives to the last man who betrayed her, that's not an empty threat.

"My girl." I smirk over her head where she still glares at him.

"My fucking pleasure, ma'am." Dom grips her hips tight, his hands covering mine as he slams back in to fill her hilt-deep.

If her sounds before worked us up, her scream unleashes something hellish in my father's room.

We pound her tiny body, lifting her between us as she screams her orgasm that runs in a never-ending stream. Our cocks rub together, increasing the friction until she pulses, bearing down hard. A hot gush covers us in her bliss, her body going limp, skin to skin to skin.

Those flutters along our lengths fuck us both up royally. My need rips from my throat as I bellow my orgasm to the black painted ceiling, Dom echoing my roar with his own a moment later.

Which is how we find ourselves tangled around each other on the floor some unspecified time later, our clothed bodies still joined, Willow naked and purring softly between us.

I find her mouth with mine as Dom kisses along the slope of her neck. "Sweetheart, come back to me for a second. Are you hurting?"

"I don't think I could feel pain at this point." She stretches languidly, wrapping an arm around each of us.

"Is that so?" Dom asks, checking a glance at me.

I nod, dipping to kiss her mouth. "We need to get rid of these clothes."

"Why are you still wearing clothes?" Willow's confused voice matches my sentiment.

"Exactly. They have to go."

"Why?" She raises dozy, bedroom just fucked eyes to me, and frowns.

"Because, raven." I kiss her sweetly, feeling my cock thicken alongside Dom's inside her tight cunt. A deep moan leaves her kiss-bitten lips as she writhes, her pussy already pulsing at the double intrusion.

"We're not done."