43. Chapter Forty-Three

"We can't let them get away with this," Marco growls.

Elio nods, while I don't respond at all. Though, I do agree.

It's been a few weeks since the Canvanis sent their dogs after me and my guys. And they did the same with my brothers about a week later.

They're trying to prove a point.

The only point that's going to be proven is they're fucking with the wrong family. We have to be smart about this.

Elio has tried speaking to Maximo and Connor about this, but neither wants to be involved. I guess I can't blame them. There's nothing in the treaty about this shit, and the only person who can handle anything to do with the treaty is Papa. Though I was sure Maximo would be on our side after Canvani's rogue men fucked with him. Seems Maximo believes the men truly were rogue, and because he can't prove otherwise, that's how it's staying.

"What do you have to show us?" I ask Elio.

He picks up his phone, unlocks it, and clicks a few things. He hands it over.

There's a text message open. The number isn't saved in his phone and most likely a burner. There's only one received text.

UNKNOWN: We know your secret.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Marco asks.

"Can't be sure."

"Well, how many secrets do you have?" I ask.

He smirks. "A lot."

"It's Papa, isn't it? That's what they're talking about?" Marco says, looking from me to Elio.

Elio shrugs a shoulder. "It's possible, but we won't know until the pussy shows himself or we get more info. Which, I think will happen eventually."

"We think this is them too?" I ask.

"Most likely," Elio answers.

I shake my head and hand him his phone back.

"I think we need to spend a day at the manor with Papa. Hang around for a bit, see if we can coax him into a good mood." Elio reaches for his cigarettes and lights one.

"You know his disease doesn't work that way," I argue. I don't know why I have to be the bearer of bad news all the time. Why am I the only one who sees it for what it is?

"Not usually, but it's been known to happen. There can be triggers. I'm all out of ideas here. I don't know what else to do," Elio says, inhaling deeply.

"What if we tell them?" Marco suggests.

"No," Elio and I both bark

"We've gone over this," I add. "If we tell them, they're going to claim our territory. They'll take it all because they can. It sucks, but we don't have a choice in the matter. We need to find a way to get Papa to pass this down to us officially."

"Can we send them a text from his phone?" Marco runs a hand over his head. I know he's trying to be helpful but come on. What are we, five?

"That's ridiculous, Marco," Elio spits with a shake of his head.

"What about those AI things? They make so much shit real. We could make it seem like Papa is saying something he isn't."

"Now you're just being stupid," I say.

"Fuck AI," Elio adds casually.

"At least I'm trying to come up with something," Marco argues.

"And we're not?" I bark.

"Doesn't seem like it," he adds.

"Enough, Marco," Elio warns.

He huffs out a breath and leans back in his chair.

An hour later, with no better plan than the one Elio came up with, I'm on my way home, frustrated beyond belief. This is getting out of control. I hate not being in control.

The thought of losing everything my father has built makes me angrier than I can express. I can't even fucking think straight.

When I get home, I go up to my office and pour myself a drink. There's a soft knock at the door. When I turn, I find Jordan standing there in nothing but an over-sized t-shirt. Her hardened nipples are protruding beneath her shirt, and it has my cock twitching.

She better have panties on.

The way her presence has my head clear and focusing on something other than my father and this mess is welcoming.

"Hi," she says simply. As if we share this sort of greeting often.

"Hi?" I question.

She shrugs and steps in, looking around the office as if she's never seen it before.

"How was your day?"

"Terrible. Yours?" I shoot back the alcohol and pour more.

Another shrug. She moves toward my desk, dragging her finger along the edge as she walks to the window.

"Boring."

I narrow my eyes as I watch her take everything in.

She's up to no good.

She has this strange look on her face. And the way she's sauntering around—it isn't normal. Not for her. Maybe for a prostitute or a thief. Not for Jordan Bramante. I do wonder how my little angel is appreciating her new last name, but I won't ask. Not now when I'm trying to figure out what she's up to.

"Did you come in here to chat, or did you need something?"

She raises a brow at me. "I wanted to see how my husband's day was."

"Oh—so you're acknowledging our marriage now?"

"Did you not want me to?"

I take my shot and pour another, mulling it over.

She moves to me, stopping at my side and looking up at me. I stare down at her, taking her in.

She's so beautiful. Sexy. Breathtaking.

"Can I make your day better?" she asks, her voice soft with a slight rasp.

I raise a brow in question, and instead of explaining, like I expect her to, she reaches for me, slipping two fingers behind the waistband of my pants.

I pick up my glass and take the shot, keeping my eyes on her. When I don't respond, she tentatively reaches over with her other hand and works on getting my belt open. My dick is already thickening at the mere thought of her putting her pretty lips around it.

What a way to forget about the bullshit. And I didn't have to ask or beg or tempt.

She undoes the button and unzips the fly. She drops to her knees and sits back on her heels, placing her palms flat on her thighs.

I narrow my eyes at her, wondering what the hell she's doing. Spending too much time on Google, maybe.

She looks up at me. Her full lips part, and she opens her mouth wide, bringing her gaze to my dick.

Holy shit…

What has this girl been doing to walk in here like this? Part of me wants to ask. Part of me doesn't fucking care.

I place the glass down and pull out my now aching dick and step forward, stopping just before her mouth.

"You want me to feed you my cock, angel?" I question.

She nods once, eyes still on my dick.

I should ask why she's doing this. Why is she suddenly offering herself to me? But I don't care enough to know why. She's my wife now. Maybe she's horny. I can help her with that. It's my duty as her husband.

I run the crown of my dick along her tongue slowly. She wiggles restlessly, her nails digging into her skin.

"My little angel is eager for her husband's cock."

She nods once, and I move a little deeper, pushing past her lips.

I grunt out a sound of approval. "But why?" I push deeper, causing her eyes to water as I hit the back of her throat. "Are you horny? Do you want to please me? Or do you want something?"

She blinks, a tear streaming down the corner of her eye. I pull out and she sucks in a breath.

I raise a brow at her. "Do you remember the rules?"

She smirks, blinking up at me. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now tell me why you came in here trying to suck my dick."

Okay, maybe I didn't care, but I guess I do now. I don't need her sucking my dick to bite it off as revenge or something. Not that she couldn't lie to me, but I like to think I'm a good judge of that.

She licks her lips and sighs. "I just figured I'm here, so I may as well make the best of it."

"And making the best out of it is getting on your knees for me?"

She shrugs one shoulder. "I thought it would make you like me more."

I furrow my brow. This doesn't sound like the feisty girl I know. Doesn't sound like Matteo's daughter. It definitely doesn't sound like my wife.

I tuck my dick back into my pants. She frowns.

I grab her under the arms and get her to her feet. She stays put in front of me, lips slightly parted as she looks at me with the most curious look on her face. I can't tell if she's grateful and relieved she isn't currently sucking me off—or disappointed.

"I wouldn't have you here if I didn't like you, Jordan."

"I'm only a payment," she argues, but there's no fight in those words.

Should I tell her she's more than that? That I wanted her from the moment I saw her in the club and the only reason I went to get payment was because it was her.

I don't think she's ready for that kind of truth.

"You're more than a payment. You're a Bramante. My wife."

"Maybe now, but that's now who I was when you took me."

I brush my fingers along the side of her face, preparing to give her some truth. A truth she'll need to face one day or another. May as well be today.

"Maybe you should take some time to figure out who you were when I took you, because I don't think you know."