Chapter 12

VALERIO

8 years ago

A fter Olivio’s fateful judgment on my parents and uncle, his goons dragged my ass out of the warehouse and pushed me into a car.

Lost in grief and bleeding out, I had vague recollections of them driving me around in the backseat of their sedan. After some time, I was tossed onto a street curb somewhere in the middle of Naples, which left me bleeding and vulnerable.

The last thing I remembered was the impression of gravel biting my skin as I hit the ground.

I blacked out.

When I came to, everything was a blur. The harsh odor of antiseptic, the steady beep of a heart monitor, and the stark white walls of a private hospital room greeted me.

My body ached from head to toe, every movement sending pain shooting through my ribs, my arms, and my head. I tried to piece it together—how the hell had I ended up here?

The truth slammed into me like a freight train.

Olivio Tirone, his torture, his goons, and a wild explosion that snatched my nearest and dearest from me.

The doctors were kind enough to fill in the gaps.

They claimed a ‘good Samaritan’ spotted me on the street and drove me to the hospital.

Whoever it was had pinned cash on me—sufficient to cover my bills and even pay for a cab ride home. I didn’t know then who they were and had never found out, but I owed them my life.

Patching me up was swift. A few stitches here, a couple of bandages there.

The bruises were deep, but nothing that wouldn’t heal.

On a physical level, at least. The real damage was waiting for me at Villa Tesoro.

When I arrived at the residence, the atmosphere hit me like a punch to the gut. My brothers, Enzo, Alessio, and Vitto, sat together, broken and grieving.

Their faces were pale, eyes red-rimmed and hollowed from the sleepless span.

I’d been missing for hours—long enough for them to believe I was dead, too.

When they saw me walk through the door, their relief was overwhelming.

‘Rio!’ Lorenzo’s utterance cracked, raw with emotion, as he rushed forward, pulling me in a tight embrace.

I winced, the pain from my injuries flaring up, but I didn’t care.

He was shaking, his grip like a lifeline.

Alessio and Vitto followed, their hands gripping my shoulders, their faces streaked with tears they probably didn’t even realize they were shedding.

‘We thought you too were -,’ Vitto whispered, burdened with grief, unable to finish the sentence.

‘I’m here,’ I managed to say, but my voice sounded hoarse and unfamiliar. ‘I’m here.’

But my being present didn’t change the fact that our parents were deceased.

Their absence hung over us like a dark cloud, suffocating and relentless. I’d returned, but they hadn’t.

The pain of their loss sat heavy in the villa like the air laced with heartache, too thick to breathe.

Aunt Bianca arrived and drew us close, her face pale and drawn.

She’d lost Costa, our uncle, her one true love. The devastation in her eyes mirrored the hollowness in ours.

We all held on tight, endeavoring to stay upright, leaning on each other to bear the burden of this unbearable agony, the only way we’d survive.

Lorenzo was trying to hold it together for everyone, but I recognized the cracks in his armor.

Alessio, the joker among us, didn’t say a word.

Vitto, the youngest, trembled every time he reached for something.

‘We’ll get through this,’ I told them, even though I didn’t believe it. How would we get through something like this?

The joint funerals came and went in a blur, the grief so heavy it was hard to breathe.

We stood side by side in the church, the scent of incense filling the air as the priest’s words washed over us without registering.

I remember the sound of Aunt Bianca sobbing, her hand gripping mine as if letting go meant falling into the abyss.

When they lowered our parents’ caskets into the ground, part of me was buried with them.

I shook with finality. The realization that they were lost to us forever. There was no coming back from this.

We gathered around the graves, silent, all of us wrapped in the cold embrace of loss.

The sun slipped under the horizon as the last handful of dirt fell on their coffins.

My brothers and I stayed long after the others departed, standing in the dark, only the four of us.

‘I don’t know what the fuck we’re supposed to do now,’ Alessio muttered.

‘We find the mofos that did this and tear their words apart,’ I said, but even as the words left my mouth, I wasn’t sure how we would.

Vitto sniffed, his eyes red. ‘We have to. For them.’

Lorenzo nodded, though his face was tight with the effort of holding back more tears. ‘We’ll get to our enemies, and we’ll scorch them to the ground, every last sinew, fiber, and bone,’ he echoed, his vocal cords strained. ‘But first, we get through the grief together.’

And we did, in our own way.

We supported each other through the darkest days, relying on the only thing remaining—our fratellanza .

But the agony persisted.

It lingered in the walls of Villa Tesoro, in the echo of my father’s laughter, in the scent of my mother’s perfume that still clung to the air.

I’d been lucky to make it out of the Tirone warehouse alive.

But I’d never felt fortunate. Not with the gaping hole that losing our parents had left in all of us.

VALERIO

Present day

Over the years, the rage had never waned.

We’d planned our revenge campaign with care, letting every step unfold over time.

Precision was more important than expediency.

Over the last few years, Lorenzo had done his bit, and so had Alessio, and now it was my turn.

For some time, however, getting close to Olivio had been impossible.

Before his health declined, he’d spent the majority of his days in his armored warehouse or shuttling between it and his guarded home. He never ate out, most likely in fear of getting gunned down or obliterated in the same fashion as his victims.

Also, Lorenzo made me promise to focus on rebuilding the Calibrese business first so we’d have the strength to pursue the Tirones.

It took years of waiting and planning, and now, being so proximate to Olivio in hospital, the urge to end him right then, with my bare hands, was almost overwhelming. However, I kept my face blank, the way I’d learned to.

An hour later, Chiara was ready to leave.

So was I.

Sick of his face.

Yet, in full appreciation that I was closer to my goals than ever before.

As we left the ward, I spotted a cart of laundered janitor’s uniforms by one of the hallways.

I slowed, swiping one and folding it under my jacket, careful not to alert Chiara.

A little further down, a janitor strolled by, his access card dangling from his belt. He didn’t even detect it when I bumped into him, murmured, ‘ scusa ’, and slipped off his ID from its clip.

Back at the car, I stashed both items into the trunk and strode to the driver’s seat.

Chiara’s face was closed off, tight.

Olivio’s shit was getting to her, and for a moment, empathy inundated me.

It can’t have been easy growing a woman in the Tirone realm.

A world of egotistical, misogynistic pricks.

I slid behind the wheel and, on a whim, reached a hand to cover hers.

She glanced at me, surprised.

We locked eyes for a long time, and a second impulse came over me.

I lifted her hand to my lips and kissed the soft skin.

The scent of her lotion, vanilla, and br?lée, I guessed, wafted into my nostrils.

Her eyes softened.

‘ Grazie ,’ she murmured.

Releasing her, I canted my eyes back to the front of the car, turning on the engine with the press of a button.

We took off, my hands steady on the wheel.

Chiara leaned her head back, sighing, lost in her thoughts.

I tagged the forlorn expression in her eyes, and my soul lurched.

We drove the rest of the way in silence, and when we got back to her home, she went straight into the house.

I welcomed the space, stalking my suite to finalize my plans.

CHIARA

I crossed the lawn that evening and knocked at Rio’s door.

When he opened it, I made a simple, quiet request. ‘Please join me for dinner.’

He hesitated.

I braced for disappointment.

He’d been about to refuse when he bit his lip, eyes studying me.

‘OK. After all, you’re paying me by the hour.’

I gave him a slow smile, then headed back.

He soon followed, accepting a glass of white wine when he entered my warm, cozy kitchen.

The meal was uncomplicated: pasta with fresh herbs and a crisp salad with lemons from my garden.

I didn’t need to impress Rio, but something about having him in my space compelled me to make a little extra effort.

We sat at my small table, where the scent of basil and rosemary filled the air. I smiled as I witnessed him take his first bite.

‘This is incredible,’ he rasped in that hoarse timbre of his, with a fork paused mid-air. ‘You made this?’

I laughed, warmth spreading through me at the compliment. ‘ Si , but it’s nothing fancy. Just some herbs and lemons from my backyard.’

He arched a brow, impressed, his pale blue eyes lighting up as he nodded. ‘You grew all this?’

I nodded. ‘My mother taught me how to garden when I was younger. It’s something we used to do together. She’d wake me up early on Saturday mornings, and we’d spend hours planting and pruning. Before she -.’

My voice trailed off, the memories both sweet and heavy.

I stood up to gather the dishes, trying to push back the emotion inside me.

Rio was beside me with no warning, his sinewed hand covering mine as I gripped a plate. I froze, hesitating to speak or even look at him.

Without a word, he took the dish from me, set it aside, and then turned me toward him. His arms came around me, pulling me close, and before I was able to resist, I sank into him.

I pressed my face into his chest, breathing him in.

He smelled like the outside—like fresh air and sunshine—and I let myself get lost in that scent, in the comfort of his warmth. His hands rubbed gentle circles over my back, soothing and grounding me.

I clung to him harder.

I needed this. Someone to hold me, to remind me I wasn’t alone. His embrace was strong but tender, and the walls around my soul began to crack just a little.

After a few minutes, I pulled back, embarrassed.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—’

‘Don’t apologize, bella ,’ Rio growled, his finger trailing down my cheek. ‘You don’t have to explain.’

Our eyes met, the air charged with something more than comfort and friendship.

His hand lingered on my face, and my pulse quickened, a new kind of heat spreading through me.

His gaze dropped to my mouth, and my breath hitched.

Without restraint, I leaned in and kissed him.

It was soft at first, a gentle press of lips.

I half-expected him to pull away, but he didn’t. Instead, he returned the kiss, his hand sliding to the back of my neck, pulling me closer.

The kiss deepened, and a fire ignited in my chest, spreading through my veins and making my head spin.

Dio , he tasted like wine, warmth, and everything I never realized I craved.

In moments, he had me against the countertop, his mouth trailing down my nape to my upper torso.

His eyes sliced to mine as he arched a brow in question.

I stared down at my gaping tee and heaving tits, nodding.

He growled as he lifted a corner of my shirt, whipped down my lacy bra, and latched.

I had to throw my hands around his shoulders to keep from buckling to my knees.

This man was a master at nipples.

He sucked with the right amount of pull, then laved and lashed the tip, blowing on it, heating and cooling me all at once.

While his other hand squeezed and pinched my second taut tip.

I felt like I was on fire as arced pleasure found a pathway from my tits to my clit, giving me delight beyond what I ever thought was possible.

The heightened sensation and bursts of tingling continued until, with a cry, the sensation in my nipples exploded into shards of heated, sustained explosions of ecstasy.

My pussy, too, pulsed and convulsed into a prolonged, wild orgasm, and I just managed to hold onto his shoulders, hair flying as I bucked at Rio’s ministrations.

When we finally broke apart, I was breathless, my heart pounding so loud I was sure he was hearing it.

Rio’s eyes were dark, and his mouth parted as he stared at me, also as affected.

Neither of us spoke for a beat, the silence heavy with the unspoken.

I swallowed hard, a flush of heat scorching my cheeks.

‘Turns out I am a floozy,’ I joked weakly, trying to defuse the tension.

Rio’s lips quirked into a half-smile, that familiar teasing glint returning to his eyes. ‘I wouldn’t say that. For many men, your wildness is a fantasy.’

He bent his head and kissed me, and I reached for him, hands stroking lower in a bid to capture the heated diamond stiff shaft throbbing against my tummy.

His hand stilled me, gripping me, pulling me away from him.

He stepped back, and I stared at him.

‘Am I your dream?’ I ventured, then blushed at the realization I had appended ‘ desperate ’ to my descriptors.

He assessed me with a tilted head, his pale eyes gleaming. ‘All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity, but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes to make them possible,’ he rasped. ‘T.E. Lawrence,’ he added.

His eyes were solemn as he spoke but still guarded.

I sighed. ‘I’ve never dreamed with my eyes closed bello , for my life has been so full of danger that even in my sleep, I’ve never relaxed from keeping watch.’

He lifted a hand and trailed it along my jaw. ‘Not anymore. I have your back.’

With that, he stepped away from me, removing his heated length.

I missed it that instant, eyes locked on him as he strode to the sliding doors leading out to my garden.

He paused after pulling them open.

‘ Buona notte, leonessa .’

His growl was the caress he left behind as he walked away.

Damn, this man.