7. Santino

CHAPTER 7

SANTINO

T he city blurs past the windows of my car, a smear of neon and shadow, as I weave through the late-night traffic with single-minded focus. My knuckles are white on the steering wheel, my jaw clenched so tight it aches. Every mile that passes, every minute that ticks by, feels like a noose tightening around my neck.

I'm running out of time.

The meeting with the feds, the one I've been working towards for months, is mere hours away. A lifetime of secrets, of sins and betrayals, all laid bare in exchange for a chance at freedom. A chance to finally shed the weight of my father's legacy, to build something new and clean and untainted by the blood on my hands.

A chance to be worthy of Aaron, of the love and devotion he offers so freely, even in the face of my darkest demons.

But it's not just my future hanging in the balance. It's Matteo's, too. My nephew, my blood, the innocent child who's already lost so much. I can't fail him, can't leave him to be swallowed up by the same darkness that's haunted my steps since the day I was born.

I have to make this work, have to find a way out of the tangled web I've spent my whole life weaving. Even if it means burning down everything I've ever known, everything I once held dear.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, jolting me out of my racing thoughts. I glance at the screen, expecting to see Gia's name, or maybe Marco's. But it's not my sister or my consigliere lighting up my display.

It's Aaron.

For a moment, I just stare at his name, something hot and fierce clenching in my chest. I haven't seen him since the gala, since our desperate, passionate reunion in the shadows of the museum. Haven't let myself think about the way he felt in my arms, the way he shattered so beautifully beneath my hands and mouth.

I've been avoiding him, throwing myself into the preparations for my meeting with the feds, trying to convince myself it's for his own good. That he's safer, better off without me darkening his doorstep.

But god, I miss him. Miss his smile, his laugh, the way he looks at me like I'm something precious, something worthy of love and redemption. Miss the way he fits in my arms like he was made just for me, the way his body yields and accepts and cherishes every part of me, even the jagged, broken pieces.

Before I can think better of it, I'm answering the call, lifting the phone to my ear with a hand that trembles. "Aaron," I say, my voice rough with all the longing I've been trying to deny. "Is everything okay?"

There's a beat of silence, heavy with all the words we haven't said. Then, "No, Santino. Everything's not okay. I need...I need to see you. Please."

The ache in his voice, the quiet desperation, cuts through me like a blade. I swallow hard, my grip tightening on the phone. "I don't think that's a good idea, Aaron. I'm in the middle of something, something big. It's not safe for you to be around me right now."

"I don't care," he snaps, a thread of anger beneath the hurt. "I don't care about safe, Santino. I care about you. About us. You can't just kiss me like that and then disappear, not after everything we've been through."

I close my eyes, guilt and longing warring in my chest. He's right, I know he is. I've been a coward, pushing him away instead of trusting him, trusting in the strength of what we've built together.

"I'm sorry," I say quietly, meaning it with every fiber of my being. "You're right, I shouldn't have shut you out. I just...I wanted to protect you, Aaron. From my world, from the choices I've had to make."

"I don't need your protection," he says fiercely. "I need you, Santino. All of you, even the parts you think are too dark to love. So please, just...just let me in. Let me stand by your side, whatever you're facing."

I take a shuddering breath, something hot and bright unfurling in my chest. "Okay," I whisper, the word feeling like a vow, a promise. "Okay, Aaron. Come to the mansion. I'll...I'll explain everything, I swear it."

"I'm on my way," he says softly. "Just hold on, Santino. Hold on for me."

The line goes dead, and I let the phone fall from my numb fingers, my heart pounding a staccato rhythm against my ribs. He's coming to me, my beautiful, brave Aaron. Coming to stand at my side as I face down the demons of my past, the legacy of blood and violence that's been my birthright.

I can only pray that I'm strong enough, brave enough, to be the man he sees when he looks at me. The man I desperately want to be, for him and for Matteo.

The man I'm going to fight like hell to become, no matter the cost.

By the time Aaron arrives at the mansion, I'm a livewire of nervous energy, pacing the length of my study like a caged predator. I've sent Matteo to Gia's for the night, needing to know he's safe, protected, while I lay my soul bare to the man who holds my heart in his hands.

The sound of the doorbell, of Aaron's soft footsteps on the marble tile, sends a bolt of anticipation down my spine. I force myself to stillness, to breathe through the maelstrom of emotions threatening to pull me under.

And then he's there, standing in the doorway like a vision, his eyes soft and worried in the warm light of the desk lamp. "Santino," he says, his voice wrapping around me like a caress. "Talk to me. Tell me what's going on in that head of yours."

I cross to him in three long strides, my hands coming up to frame his face, my forehead resting against his. "I'm sorry," I whisper, the words torn from somewhere deep in my chest. "I'm sorry for pushing you away, for making you doubt what you mean to me. I'm just...I'm so fucking scared, Aaron. Of losing you, of tainting you with my darkness."

He surges forward, capturing my mouth in a kiss that steals the breath from my lungs. It's fierce and desperate and so full of love it brings me to my knees, my hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt, holding on for dear life.

"You won't lose me," he says against my lips, the words a fierce vow. "I'm not going anywhere, Santino. I'm in this, with you, for as long as you'll have me. Your darkness is a part of you, and I love every part of you, do you understand? I love you."

The words, the sheer, unvarnished truth of them, crack me open, spilling everything I've been holding back, everything I've been too afraid to voice. "I love you too," I rasp, the confession torn from the deepest part of my soul. "God, Aaron, I love you so much it terrifies me. I never...I never thought I could have this, have you. Not after everything I've done, everything I am."

He smiles at me, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "You have me, Santino. You've always had me. And I'm going to stand by your side, no matter what. We're going to face this together, whatever it is. And we're going to come out the other side stronger, unbreakable."

Here's the expanded section with more action, dialogue, sensory details, and physical sensations, written in a high heat and steamy style:

I nod, my throat too tight with emotion to form words. Instead, I pour everything I am, everything I feel, into the kiss I press to Aaron's lips. It's deep and searching, a claiming and a surrender all in one. My hands roam the planes and angles of his body, mapping the lean muscle and smooth skin like I'm trying to memorize every inch of him, to imprint him on my very soul.

"I need you," I breathe against his mouth, my voice raw with desire. "Need to feel you, to be inside you. Please, Aaron."

He shivers, pressing closer, his own hands urgent on my shoulders, my back. "Yes," he whispers, walking me towards the bed. "Yes, Santino, make me yours."

We undress each other with reverent hands, taking our time, savoring each brush of skin on skin. I worship his body with lips and teeth and tongue, learning the salt-sweet taste of him, the way he trembles and sighs at my touch.

"You're so beautiful," I murmur, kissing my way down his chest, his abs. "So perfect, Aaron. I can't believe I get to have you, to call you mine."

"Always," he gasps as I take him into my mouth, my tongue swirling around the sensitive tip. "I'm yours, Santino, always. No one else's."

The words set a fire in my blood, a possessive need to claim and mark and make sure the whole world knows that this man is mine. I work him with lips and hand until he's writhing beneath me, his fingers tangled almost painfully in my hair.

"Please," he begs brokenly, his hips lifting in search of friction. "Santino, please, I need more. Need you inside me, filling me up."

I groan around him, the heated desperation in his voice making my own arousal throb almost painfully between my legs. Pulling off with one last, hard suck, I crawl back up his body to capture his mouth in a searing kiss.

"Tell me you have stuff," I pant when we break apart, my forehead resting against his.

He nods frantically, reaching for the nightstand. I hear the sound of a drawer opening, the crinkle of foil and a bottle being uncapped. Then he's pressing lube and a condom into my hand, his eyes black with need.

I waste no time slicking up my fingers and reaching between his spread thighs to find his entrance. He cries out, arching into my touch as I breach him slowly, carefully, working him open on first one finger, then two. By the time I'm three deep, crooking them just right to graze that sensitive bundle of nerves, he's a trembling, incoherent mess, my name falling like a prayer from his lips.

"Now," he demands, his nails raking down my back. "Santino, now, I'm ready. Fuck me, take me, make me forget my own name."

Growling low in my throat, I withdraw my fingers and roll on the condom with shaking hands. Then I'm lining up and pushing in, breaching the tight, slick heat of him inch by glorious inch.

We both groan when I'm fully seated, wrapped up in each other as close as two people can be. I take a moment just to savor it, the feeling of absolute completion, of coming home.

Then I start to move, slow, deep strokes that ignite sparks up my spine, that make Aaron keen and writhe beneath me. "Yes," he gasps, tilting his hips to take me even deeper. "Oh god, Santino, just like that. You feel so good, so fucking perfect."

"You're perfect," I breathe, lavishing hot, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, his throat. "Everything about you, Aaron. The way you look, the way you feel, the way you love me."

He makes a wounded sound, his arms coming around me, holding me impossibly closer. "I do," he whispers fiercely. "I love you so goddamn much, Santino. More than anything."

The words wash through me, bright and cleansing, chasing away the last lingering shadows of doubt. I claim his mouth again as my thrusts grow faster, harder, pouring everything I feel into the slick slide of lips and tongue. He meets me passion for passion, his body welcoming every driving stroke, every grind of my hips against his.

"Touch yourself," I command hoarsely, feeling my climax building at the base of my spine, my balls drawing up tight. "Want to feel you come around me, want to watch you fall apart."

He obeys with a moan, one hand flying to his own neglected cock, fisting it in time with my movements. It only takes a few tight, twisting strokes before he's tensing, crying out his release as he pulses hot and wet between our sweat-slicked bodies.

The rhythmic clench of him, the utterly wrecked expression of bliss on his face, is enough to send me hurtling over the edge after him. I bury myself to the hilt as I let go, my face tucked into the sweat-damp curve of his neck, his name a broken litany on my lips as pleasure crashes through me in wave after cresting wave.

In the aftermath, we cling to each other, panting harshly as we come down from the high. I press soft, reverent kisses to his face - his brow, his cheeks, the tip of his nose - until he laughs breathlessly and captures my lips with his own.

"I love you," I murmur into the scant space between us. "I love you so fucking much, Aaron. I'm never letting you go."

"Good," he whispers back, his fingers stroking soothingly through my hair. "Because you're stuck with me now, Santino Ricci. Forever, you hear me?"

In that moment, tangled together on rumpled sheets with the scent of our lovemaking heavy in the air, forever sounds like heaven. Like everything I've ever wanted and never dared to let myself imagine.

Later, when we've cleaned up and crawled back into bed, our limbs intertwined and our hearts beating in sync, the words come spilling out of me. I tell him everything, holding nothing back - the meeting with the feds, my plans to bring down my father's criminal legacy once and for all, the future I want so desperately for us and for Matteo, far away from the blood and violence that have defined my life for so long.

He listens without judgment, his hand stroking soothingly through my hair, his heart beating steadily beneath my cheek. "We're going to make it happen," he promises, his voice fierce with conviction. "We're going to get you out, Santino. You and Matteo. And then we're going to start over, build a life together. A family."

I nod, letting his words wash over me, fill me up with a hope I've never dared to nurture. "Anywhere," I vow, sealing it with a kiss. "I'll go anywhere, as long as I have you and Matteo. Nothing else matters, not anymore."

We talk for hours, making plans and promises, painting a picture of a future that seems almost too bright to be real. By the time dawn starts to creep over the horizon, I feel lighter than I have in years, the weight of my past no longer quite so crushing.

But then my phone rings, shattering the peace of our little bubble. It's Gia, her voice tight with fear and barely leashed rage. "Santino," she says, and I know, I know before she says another word that something has gone terribly, horrifically wrong. "They know. The Romanos, they know about your deal with the feds. About your plans to leave."

Ice slides down my spine, dread pooling in my gut like lead. "How?" I demand, my mind already racing ahead, calculating risks and escape routes. "How the fuck did they find out?"

"I don't know," Gia says tightly. "But they're coming for you, fratellino. Coming to make an example of you, for daring to betray the family. You need to get out, now. Take Aaron and Matteo and run, as far and as fast as you can."

I meet Aaron's wide, worried gaze, seeing my own fear reflected back at me. "What about you?" I ask my sister, hating the way my voice shakes. "Gia, you're in just as much danger as I am. Come with us, please."

"I can't," she says, and I can hear the regret, the sorrow in her voice. "Someone has to stay behind, to cover your tracks. To buy you as much time as possible."

"Gia," I choke out, grief and guilt clawing at my throat. "Don't do this. Don't sacrifice yourself for me, not again."

"It's not a sacrifice," she says fiercely. "It's a choice, Santino. A choice I make gladly, because you're my brother and I love you. Now go, before it's too late. Give Matteo a kiss for me."

The line goes dead, and I let the phone slip from my numb fingers, my heart shattering in my chest. Aaron is there in an instant, his arms coming around me, holding me together as I shake apart.

"We have to go," I rasp when I can speak again, pulling away to meet his gaze. "Aaron, I'm so sorry. I never meant for you to be caught up in this, in my mess."

He shakes his head, his jaw set with determination. "I'm exactly where I'm meant to be," he says firmly. "By your side, Santino. No matter what comes."

I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. I take one last, lingering look around the study, the room where I've made so many hard choices, so many brutal sacrifices. Then I take Aaron's hand in mine, lacing our fingers together. "Let's go get our boy," I say roughly. "It's time to leave this place behind."

We're halfway to Gia's house, the dawn just starting to paint the sky in shades of rose and gold, when the ambush happens. One moment the street is quiet, empty, and the next there are black SUVs surrounding us, the squeal of tires and the bark of semi-automatic gunfire shattering the morning calm.

I curse viciously, slamming on the brakes and throwing the car into reverse. But it's too late, they're already on us, masked men with weapons pouring out of the vehicles like a swarm of locusts.

"Get down," I yell at Aaron, shoving him behind me as I draw my gun. "Stay behind me, no matter what happens."

He nods, his face pale but determined. I spare a moment to brush a hand over his cheek, to try and convey everything I'm feeling with a single, searing look. Then I'm moving, lunging out of the car and into the fray, my weapon barking in my hand as I put myself between the man I love and the hail of bullets.

I take down three, four, five of them before the first bullet finds its mark, slamming into my shoulder with a burst of blinding pain. I stumble, nearly going to my knees, but I force myself to keep moving, to keep fighting.

For Aaron, for Matteo, for the future I so desperately want for us.

But there are too many of them, coming at me from all sides with a ruthless, single-minded focus. A second bullet grazes my thigh, a third buries itself in my gut with a sickening, wrenching impact.

I feel myself falling, the world going gray and hazy at the edges. I hear Aaron screaming my name, hear the rage and desperation in his voice as he empties his own clip into our attackers.

Then he's there, gathering me into his arms, his face swimming above me like a vision. "Hold on, Santino," he begs, his hands pressing frantically against the wounds in my flesh, trying to stem the crimson tide. "Please, baby, hold on. Don't leave me, not now. Not like this."

I try to speak, to tell him that I love him, that I'm sorry, that he has to run, has to save himself and Matteo. But the words won't come, trapped behind the copper tang of blood in my throat.

The last thing I see before the darkness takes me is his face, streaked with tears and contorted with a grief so raw it steals the breath from my failing lungs.

And then there's nothing but the void, cold and yawning and so terribly, terribly final.