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18. Chapter Eighteen

“Our intel places Romano in the basement of The Agua tomorrow night,” I say to the men gathered in the Vitelli mansion’s conference room.

All the capos of the Chicago Outfit, along with Dante, sit around the table. At the table’s end, the consigliere—my father—maintains a vigilant silence, his gaze sweeping over the men.

Since Leos betrayal, he’s become even more observant, keen on catching any subtleties I might miss. His presence reminds me of the immense burden he bore for nearly three decades and sheds light on his desire for an early retirement.

I glance at the antique clock on the far wall. It’s already midnight. Fuck. There’s no way I’ll be making it back to Sophie’s tonight. And I didn’t show up for lunch either.

I refocus my attention on the men in the room. “We also know he will have some Cartel members with him.”

Orlando, ever the stoic, sucks his teeth, his toothpick bobbing from his thin lips, his expression unchanging. “So we’ll be pissing on the Mexican Cartel as well,” he states, his tone neither betraying excitement nor dread, but his thirst for violence is undeniable. Killing a man was generally his solution to any problem, and after thirty-two years of service to my family, he’s solved a great number of problems.

“When you stick your hand where it doesn’t belong, you end up with a bloody stump,” Enzo quips, and a murmur of agreement ripples through the room. “They should’ve stayed on their side of the border with their narcotics and human trafficking.”

Pietro, eager to steer the conversation back to strategy, interjects, “The basement of The Agua is where the prostitutes work. If Romano is going to be there with his capos, are we going to be interrupting some sort of orgy?”

Dante quips, “God, I hope not. I’m afraid Romano’s bare ass is way beyond the threshold of what I can stomach.”

Laughter fills the room, but it passes quickly. Every man here knows the stakes of what we’re planning to do.

“No, no orgy. It’s worse.” I continue, capturing their renewed attention. “Animal cruelty. Beyond the rooms where the girls work, there’s a large hall. Ideal for fights—dog fights, right, Salvatore?” I prompt, acknowledging his critical role in gathering our intel alongside Dante, though I know Salvatore is not one to seek credit for it.

“It’s true.” Salvatore’s nose crinkles. “He’s a sick son of a bitch.”

“Si,” I agree.

Moving onto the particulars of tomorrow night’s operation, I explain, “There are five guards.” I put up five fingers and two vials of clear liquid. “We’ll need to neutralize the five silently and conceal their absence—we can’t afford any disturbances on the main floor.”

“Those men deserve bullets, not pricks in their necks, in my opinion,” Enzo says without a flicker of emotion on his long, weathered face.

“You’ll have to go back on your own time if you want to share your bullets with them, Enzo.” I snap, but soften my tone with a small smile.

“Moving forward,” I steer the conversation back on track. “This operation demands precision. Once we take out the five guards, it’s open season, amici.”

A ripple of excitement passes through the room at the prospect, but I’m quick to temper it. “Stay away from Romano’s girls, but everyone else in that basement is fair game. As long as Romano and his men are eliminated, everything else is collateral damage.”

Orlando’s grin broadens, a gleam of approval in his eyes. “Bene. Anyone sick enough to wager on dog fights deserves a taste of their own medicine—thrown into a cage with one of those abused dogs.”

Now, there’s a thought. I can’t help but entertain the idea with a shrug. “If you manage to corral them into a cage, be my guest.”

Salvatore’s laughter echoes the sentiment, a rare moment of humor amidst the gravity of our plan. “Agreed.”

“But keep your eyes on the prize,” I caution, my gaze sweeping across the faces of my capos, ensuring the message hits home.

The room empties, leaving just my father and me to debrief, but I’m only half attentive because a restlessness that has become all too familiar begins to writhe through my veins.

I want Sophie.

Still, I manage to ask, “Romano was one of your capos and most trusted friends, Father. What do you think of the plan?”

“It’s solid. Catching him unawares is the best way to ensure a swift judgment without sacrificing good men.” My father scratches his graying stubble thoughtfully.

“But?” I prompt, wanting to hear the unspoken concern lingering in the air.

“He knows today was his final chance to take you out, Domenico, and since that has failed, he would know that his end is near. Pascal Romano is at his most dangerous when he feels cornered and out of options. He becomes the aggressor.”

“But how can he fight back if he doesn’t even know we’re coming?” I ask.

“Pascal is not the sort of man to wait around for retaliation. He’ll throw the first punch, which will likely be unexpected and below the belt.”

“Well, it looks like we have that in common,” I stand, stretching cramped muscles. I should hit the gym, but not in my current state. Right now, I just want to drown in my woman. I bid Father goodnight and head out, hoping for a quick shower and possibly a trip downtown.

By the time I finally drag myself up to my room, it’s two-thirty in the morning. I debate reaching out to Sophie. Calling now would wake her, but then, she’d still catch more sleep than if I’d actually made it back and fucked her into exhaustion. So, of course, I reach for my phone.

The burner phone I gave her doesn’t go through so I call her cell.

“Creepy caller or creepy stalker?” she asks sleepily when she picks up the phone.

“Scusa?”

She makes a breathy chuckling sound and I can picture her full lips curving up in a smile, “Ah, creepy stalker it is, then,” she teases, sounding a little more awake.

“Are you still getting those calls?” A frisson of unease runs down my spine, but I try to keep my voice neutral. I might be slightly more on edge today because of this morning’s events.

“Nico, I told you, it’s no biggie. I get these sorts of calls for a few months once or twice a year. It comes with the territory.”

“What happened to the phone I gave you?”

“It’s switched off, I think.”

“Sophie—”

“You never call, Nico, and you’re here every day, so what’s the use of me carrying a phone around just for you?”

It’s for when I can’t be there, like now, stubborn woman.I take a breath instead. “I need to sort out your lines and network provider. Don’t fight me on this, Sophie. You can still keep your numbers—”

“Nico…” Her voice, sing-song and sleepy, pulls me from my protective spiral.

“What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what?’ Look at the time! Why am I awake?”

I sigh, “Right. I’m sorry about lunch. And for not showing up tonight.” Fuck, that sounds lame.

“Don’t worry; when you didn’t show up, I carried on without you.”

All the blood rushes to my cock as I imagine her with her hands on her body, and suddenly, I’m no longer tired. “Really?”

“No. I seriously considered it, though. I thought about getting myself so wet and ready for you that I’d be coming the moment you drove your big cock inside me.”

“Santo cazzo, Sophie you’re trying to drive me insane, is that it?” I put the phone on speaker and then start stripping.

“You asked for it when you woke me up, considering the state I was in when I fell asleep.”

“Touch yourself,” I grab the phone, palming my stiff cock as I cross the room to the ensuite.

She chuckles. “I already tried that; wasn’t much fun without you.”

“I’m here now. Do it.”

“You’re being bossy again,” she chuckles, the way she does when she’s excited about something.

“Lo so. Now, put your fingers on your clit for me, fiammetta.” I place my phone in the shower niche in the marble wall and turn on the faucet. I throw my head back, bracing one hand on the marble tile as the warm spray hits, My other hand grips my cock.

In moments, her soft snickers trail off into sighs. She’s doing as she’s told.

“Good girl,” I tell her as my cock jerks in my hand. “Tell me what you’re doing,” I instruct her as I start to pump my cock in long, slow strokes.

“I’m rubbing my clit, slowly, the way you do it,” she sighs.

“Keep your hand on your clit then squeeze your tits together between your arms,” I recall an image of Sophie on her back with her tits creating the perfect channel for my cock. How I fucked the soft round globes, then shoved my cock up between her plump lips until I painted her a pearly necklace of cum.

The memory sends a jolt of heat through me, striking up the tingling at the base of my spine as I grip my cock harder and pump faster.

“Are you in the shower?” she asks.

I nod, then remember she can’t see me. “Si.”

“Touch your piercing for me,” she whispers a breathy plea. I do as she asks, grazing my thumb over the barbell on my next stroke.

“I love that thing,” she moans.

“I know, baby.”

“Oh fuck, Nico, I want you.”

“Finger yourself, Sophie. Hard,” I demand, watching in my mind’s eye as she obeys, slipping her fingers through her folds and sliding inside her tight channel.

Her breath hitches, letting me know she’s found that sensitive patch of flesh inside her.

“What’s your other hand doing?” I ask, curious.

“Playing with my nipple,” she replies easily. It makes me wonder if she’s done this before; I can’t say I’ve ever engaged in phone sex, but with Sophie, I’ll take her any way I can get her.

“Pinch it,” I rasp as I thrust into my hand, imagining it’s her tight pussy gripping me.

She’s crying out now, letting me know she’s doing what she’s told.

“Nico—”

“Harder.” I want to hear that sexy sound she makes when pain and pleasure culminate into something else, something that makes her body spark up brighter.

I hear it—a moan and a cry blended together—and ripples of pleasure begin to spread out from the base of my cock.

“Finger yourself faster, fiammetta. I want to hear you come.”

“So fucking bossy,” she whispers, right before her breath hitches and she moans. She’s hitting her G-spot again and again. I picture the palm of her hand grinding against her clit with her every thrust.

“Ah, God, Nico!” She cries.

“What are you thinking right now?” I want to know what she fantasizes about and what gets her off.

“I want you… in my ass,” she whispers brokenly.

Well, fuck me.

My hips jerk, and my hand clenches harder around my cock of its own volition.

“To have you filling me…” She moans. “Fucking me from behind…” She gasps. “Making me take every inch of your big cock…”

My balls draw up tight with the need to orgasm as the scene she’s painting plays vividly behind my eyes. I grit my teeth and make myself wait for Sophie to go first. Within moments, thankfully, she’s there.

“Ahh, Nico!” She screams, and I can see it; her lips parted, her body flushed and shaking, her pussy gripping her finger like a vise as she rockets over the edge.

“Christ. Fuck,” I curse as the sounds of Sophie in the throes of orgasm send me careening over the edge after her.

I thrust into my hand in short, jerky strokes as ribbons of cum paint the shower floor, then disappear down the drain.

As I come back down, I lean my forehead against the arm braced on the wall, listening to her catch her breath. She remains silent for so long that I start to wonder if she’s fallen back to sleep, but then she speaks.

“Nico?” she says, her voice hesitant.

“Sì, tesoro?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but… I—sort of missed you tonight.”

My lips stretch into a wide smile. “I missed you too.” Christ. I am ever so fucked.

“Then, at the risk of sounding clingy, will I see you tomorrow?”

Tomorrow night, I’ll be busy putting Romano in the ground. Victories like that used to be followed by meaningless, adrenaline-fueled marathon sex with one woman after another. But after tomorrow’s war, I know all I would want is Sophie.

“Si, I’ll be there.It may be late when I’m done…”

“No worries. If you take too long, I’ll just get started without you.”

I huff out a laugh, “Nice. I’ll be counting on it.”

“You know, Nico, men with guns, men like you... they don’t scare me. But this,” she pauses, her breath catching in a way that makes me envision her shaking her head in disbelief, “this—us. It terrifies me.”

Her words strike a chord in that part of me that always leaps to life when she shows me her soft side. The spray of the shower becomes a background noise as her voice, suddenly hushed and vulnerable, becomes my sole focus. I kill the water, stepping out and wrapping a towel around my waist, the phone pressed closer to my ear.

“What scares you about us, Sophie?” I wanted to move things at Sophie’s pace, not wanting to scare her off, but today’s close call with death has loosened some of my inhibitions. I need to make her see that there’s more to fear from the world out there than what lies between us.

“You were right, Nico, about what I want. I want you,” she murmurs. “But I’m scared it’s not real, that it won’t last.”

I want to hoot in joy at her admission, but I manage to keep my voice even. “Sophie, what I’m hearing is you don’t want this,—what we’ve got going, to end?”

“Uh-huh.” Her voice is a soft whisper.

“Which means you’re more than ready for it to begin.”

“Nico…”

“I’m in love with you, Sophie. I intend to own every single part of you—body and soul, and I have no plans whatsoever of ever letting you go. So, how is that for a beginning?”

She bursts into tears, her sobs raw and heart-wrenching. “Oh, Nico, I… that’s…”

“Tesoro,” I interject, laughing, “You’re crying over a man? I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Shut up, you awful, beautiful man,” She manages between sobs.

“Okay, get some sleep, amore,”I chuckle, wishing like hell I was close to her. “And I know it’ll be hard, but try to resist the urge to paint giant red hearts on your home and office walls before I get there tomorrow night.”

“Oh my God, I cannot deal with you right now, Nico,” she laughs, her eye roll practically audible before the line goes dead.

I toss my phone on the bed and do about ten mental fist pumps. And yes, a couple of physical ones.

I can’t remember ever feeling this charged up before. Sophie Kellan turns all the dark and grotesque parts of me into something that feels worth it. But I understand why she’s scared. It’s like stepping off a ledge into outer darkness, with no way of knowing what’s waiting when one hits the bottom.

At least now I know we’ll hit it together.

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