40. Emily

Iget three days with him. Three days in an apartment near the water that's not much more than a bed, a couch, and a kitchen. Three days of drinking wine, eating take-out, and having more sex than I thought my body could physically handle.

Three days of laughter, three days of movies and music, three days of a little dancing even though Simon doesn't want to.

I drop the pretense of not being totally head over heels for him and let myself enjoy the weird break from reality. I throw myself into it and refuse to think too much because every time I stop to look at our situation, it only makes me fucking terrified.

Three days with Simon are the best three days I've ever had in my life.

It's like a vacation, except it's a forced vacation and if we get caught by a whole litany of people, we're probably dead.

Simon tries to make it feel normal. There are tells though: he pays for everything in cash and he wears baseball caps pulled down over his face when he leaves the house. Since we left the oasis in a hurry with nothing more than a hastily packed duffel, he buys us both new wardrobes, which is a fun afternoon spent online shopping, then trying things on, then taking it all off and fucking again.

He's also on the phone a lot. I don't know who he's talking to and the one time I press, he gets defensive and tells me not to worry. But I'm pretty sure he's talking to his brothers and sisters, and maybe some people in the Famiglia, even though I can't tell.

We should divorce. He should go back home. We don't do either of those things.

Instead, it's three days of happiness, which I think is more than some people ever get in their whole life.

On the morning of the fourth day, Simon's up early. He makes us coffee and comes back to bed as I stretch lazily already thinking about how I'm going to spend the afternoon doing nothing but being with him. He leans over me and peppers kisses down my neck and pulls me against him, and I laugh when his hard cock presses into me.

"You really can't help yourself, can you?" I ask as he grunts in reply. "I mean, you'd think with all the humping we've been doing lately, you'd be shooting blanks?—"

He groans and pins me down. "Please, dear god, don't ever call it humping again."

"What should I say?" I writhe a little, giving him a come punish me, big daddy, sort of look, although I'm not sure it's registering. "Would you prefer I call it ‘lovemaking?' Because I don't think what we've been doing is very loving if you know what I mean."

"Call it sex. Call it fucking. But just not humping. That's just so—" He makes a face and shakes his head. "It's like we're a couple of animals."

"Sometimes that's exactly what I feel like." I arch my back and get a little burst of gratification when his eyes instantly go to my chest. The man is predictable, but in a very good way. "When you've got me on all fours and my face is in the pillow, and you're fucking me from behind."

"You mean, I'm humping you from behind."

I bite my lip and make a face. "Alright, fine, you've made your point and now I've thoroughly turned myself off."

He laughs and kisses my neck. His grip on my wrists tightens and he pushes me down tighter against the mattress. "I think I can help with that."

"No, definitely not. I don't think I'll ever make love again." I sigh dramatically and he buries his mouth with mine, his tongue invading my lips, and okay, I was wrong because I can definitely make love to this man whenever he wants it.

He strips off my clothes and when I try to squirm away, because it's more fun when I put up a little token resistance, he grabs me and spanks my ass hard until it's nice and pink. Then he turns me over and buries his mouth between my legs, and I grind my hips into his mouth as he does his filthy work and brings me to what has to be the ten-thousandth orgasm of the past forty-eight hours.

It's like he's determined to punish me for teasing him as he drags me into his lap and makes me slide down his shaft. I ride him, groaning away as sweat dribbles down between my breasts, and he slaps my ass harder as he thrusts with my rhythm.

"I don't think I'll ever get sick of fucking your gorgeous pussy," he growls as he sucks my nipples and I move in bliss-filled circles. "I could lie here and watch you ride my fucking cock all day long, baby. The beautiful faces you make and those gorgeous tits. You look so goddamn good."

"You feel good," I say, placing my palms on his muscular chest. "God, you feel so fucking good." He stretches me wide and fills me up, but more than the size of him, the man knows how to work his hips. He knows what he says, knows when he teases and when to push, and it drives me absolutely wild.

"You make it easy, begging for it, taking me whenever I want it, you filthy fucking girl." He leans forward and buries his mouth on mine before turning me around and pushing me down into the bed. My legs wrap around his hips as he thrusts into me and I'm so damn close again I can barely breathe. It's bliss, it's too much, but for some reason it's never enough, and I explode in an orgasm along his thick length.

He groans as he takes me rough and he's not too far behind. I feel him come between my legs and we're grinding together nice and slow, coming down like a pair of skydivers sharing a parachute. He holds me for a while and whispers how good it feels to be between my legs, how much he loves having me in his life, how much he needs me. And I tell him things in return: how I wake up with a smile on my face knowing he's nearby, how I crave his arms around me more than I crave sleep, how he's become the only thing I look forward to when I wake up in the morning.

I remember a time when life was bleak. It wasn't that long ago. My dad was deep in debt and I was working two awful jobs just to keep us both afloat, and I had no hope. There was no reason to look forward to the next day knowing it would only be more toil for nothing. I was pushing that boulder up the mountain knowing it would only roll down again and I'd have to start all over. I kept going, one foot in front of the other, but I never lifted my head up to look around.

Now I'm out of the cycle. I can see the trees, the river, the world all around. Simon makes it brighter. And maybe we're hiding in this apartment because there are people who want to hurt us, but all of that feels so distant. I'm completely zoned into him, completely enamored with the way he moves all sleek and lithe, with the way he watches me with a hunger in his eyes.

It's too good and I know it won't last. Which is why I'm not surprised when he comes back from yet another phone call later that morning, sits down at the kitchen table across from me, and looks like he's about to deliver a cancer diagnosis.

"Three men broke into a strip club my father runs last night, stole all the cash from a safe, killed one of the bouncers, and torched the place. Across town, a deli that's associated with our organization got its windows smashed in. Not far from there, three men jumped one of our low-level soldiers and beat him bad enough to put him in the hospital, and I'm not sure he'll ever come back out. This all happened within a few hours."

I sip my coffee and try to gather my thoughts but I'm flushed with conflicting feelings. Why is he telling me all this? Why is he letting the outside world encroach on what we have? I want to pretend like there's nothing past the front door. We have money, we have a roof over our heads, and that's more than enough.

"I want you to go stay with your father," he tells me.

I don't know what to say. I feel like I was just kicked in the face and all my teeth are on the floor. I clear my throat, drink more coffee and shake my head. "Absolutely not."

"It'll be safer for you there," he says very softly, almost too gently, like he's afraid of scaring me. "This Santoro thing is heating up and my dad still wants you dead. I can't handle both of these problems while also worrying about you."

I could almost laugh. "Why do you think I'd be safer there with my dad?"

"I'd be able to post a bunch of guards on the two of you. I'd know where you were and I wouldn't have to worry."

"You'd know where I was if I was with you," I point out since that's an absurd reason to send me away. "I'm not going anywhere."

He looks frustrated. "I know it isn't ideal, but I have to start going out into the world again."

I spread my hands and force myself not to cry. I want to beg him to stay. I want to ask, do you, do you really? But I know how selfish that would be.

His family needs him. Davide, Elena, Stefania, even Freddie and Laura, they all need him, and I can't keep him hidden away in here forever just because I'm afraid of letting him go.

Worse, he'd resent me if I did it.

But that doesn't mean I don't want to. I have this stupid dream where we slip away and go live in some little English village and we'd never have to worry about anything again. Except that's my dream, not his, and the terrible part is he might actually go with me if I try to convince him.

And I won't do it. I can't do it. Even if I want to.

"Then I'll come with you," I tell him, straightening my spine and putting on a brave face. "I'm your wife, right? We can present a united front. Show people that we're not afraid." Even though I'm absolutely terrified.

"Emily—"

"I mean it," I say before he can talk sense into me. "We're just starting this thing between us, it's finally starting to feel right, and I don't want to lose that. I'm not walking away from you, Simon."

He closes his eyes and rubs his forehead, but I can tell he's softening. I know him well enough to see the way he's tilting his head from side to side like he's considering it against his own better judgement, and he finally grunts with frustration.

"You do what I say." He points a finger at me. "And I mean that. If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to flap your wings and quack like a duck, you'd better become an aquatic bird. Got me?"

I flap my arms. "Quack."

"Good girl." He's smiling now, his expression and tone softening. "I'm going to regret this."

"We're a great team." I get up and kiss him. "You'll see."