Chapter 48

48

Luca

I weave my fingers through the strands of her curly hair. So silken, so smooth. I bring them up to my nose and sniff. Rose petals. If anyone had told me I'd be addicted to the scent of roses, I'd have laughed at them. Yet here I am, drawing in lungfuls of her scent, and my dick instantly twitches. Clearly there's a direct connection between her fragrance and my cock. I draw my hand back. She moans and turns in my direction, as if reaching for me. I freeze, waiting until her breathing grows more regular. Her dark lashes fan her cheekbones. Her pink lips are turned up slightly at the sides as if she's smiling in her sleep. I put that look of satisfaction on her face.

After I took her ass, she slumped into sleep. I pulled out of her carefully, then walked over to the bathroom, got a warm, wet towel and cleaned her up. Then turned her over, unwrapped the tampon, and slid it into her. I had just enough time to pull the sheets over us before I spooned her and fell asleep.

When I woke up—with a hard-on—we were facing each other. I allowed myself to survey her features for a few more minutes. Lingered long enough to risk waking her up. The morning light slants through the gaps in the curtains. Soon, she'll be awake, and I'll have to take her to the opening night show. She'll insist on going; I know that. And it's not going to be safe.

Whoever attempted to kill her last night will, no doubt, try again. I'm going to have to try to protect her, but how? It's not a job I can do on my own. I can't be everywhere all the time. Much as I hate to admit it, although I'm the Capo of the Cosa Nostra, I'll still need to ask for the Don's help. It'll help even the odds somewhat… I hope.

I head for the bathroom, have a quick shower, then pull on my clothes. I move toward the bed, pull the cover up, and make sure she's tucked in. Then, I kiss my wife carefully, making sure not to wake her before I turn and head down the stairs.

A coffee first, before I leave. I know I'm delaying, but cazzo , it's not every day one must swallow one's ego and ask one's bigger brother for help. I walk into the kitchen, then stop.

"The fuck you doing here?"

Massimo glances over his shoulder from his position in front of the doors that lead onto the deck. In front of him, the waves of the Tyrrhenian Sea stretch out. The morning light highlights the dark circles under his eyes. His cheekbones stand out in relief. His hair is mussed, his jaw unshaven. He's not wearing a jacket—a first for Massimo—his tie is loosened, and his shirt is rumpled.

"You look like shit," I drawl.

His face doesn't change expression. "Needed a cup of coffee."

As if to mark his words, the bialetti on the stove begins to bubble, and the scent of espresso fills the space.

I walk over to the stove and switch off the flame. Then grab two espresso cups and pour the coffee in them. I walk over to Massimo, hand him a cup, then slide the doors open and step onto the deck.

With the first sip of the espresso, my head clears. With the second sip, my blood begins to pump, and by the third, I'm almost ready for this upcoming conversation with Michael. Almost.

"You didn't come to my place to get a cup of coffee, did you? What's on your mind?" I ask.

He drains his coffee then places it down on the railing with a snap, before he glances away. "She's in love with someone else."

"What?" I blink. "Who are you talking about?"

"Olivia." His fingers tighten around the cup. "She's in love with someone else."

"Ah, so you stayed back in the hospital until she woke up?"

He glances into the distance. "I was with her when she came to. I asked her to marry me."

"What? You just met her."

"You just met Jeanne, and yet, here you are, married to her," he points out.

"I only did it because I had to find a way to get Michael off my back."

He glares at me.

"It's true. You know what a stickler for tradition he is. He wants us all to be married within the month."

"And she was the only one you could find?"

"I woke up in that cell where that bastard Freddie had thrown me, and there she was. It was like a sign from above."

"So, it had nothing to do with the fact that you love her?"

I glower at him. " Stocazzo , the fuck you talking about?"

His lips kick up. "Keep denying it. You were always good at deluding yourself."

"I've figured out my shit, man. I have my marriage of convenience in place. None of that messy falling in love shit for me. And I've still delivered on the promise made to Nonna."

"She turned me down." Massimo stares into his still full espresso cup. "Because she is in love with someone else."

"She just woke up from an injury, which is quite likely going to change her future... And you spring a proposal on her? Even I know it's not great timing."

He shakes his head. "How could I have not known she had someone else in her life? I could have sworn she felt something for me. I thought—" His throat moves as he swallows. "I thought she was the one."

"But she isn't." I reach over and grip his shoulder. "At least she told you now. It would have been far worse if you'd married her, only to find out she had someone else on her mind."

"If I'd married her, I'd have made sure she thought of no one else but me," he says in a hard voice.

I peer into his features. " Che cazzo , you have feelings for her."

"Of course I do, you coglione . Why else would I ask her to marry me? Unlike you and the rest of my dumb ass brothers, I know when I'm falling for someone, and I'm man enough to own up to the truth."

"Are you questioning my manhood?" I growl.

"You said it; not me." He wrenches his shoulder out of my grasp, then tosses back his espresso. "I could have sworn she had feelings for me." He shakes his head. "My instinct is never wrong."

"You're talking like the two of you have known each other longer."

His gaze narrows.

"So, you two knew each other from earlier? No wonder the two of you were eye fucking each other at my wedding."

"We weren't eye fucking each other." He raises both his shoulders. "Okay, maybe we were."

"No wonder when I asked you to accompany the two of them over to Malta for my wedding, you agreed so quickly."

His features don't change expression, but something in his eyes gives him away.

"I assume you made full use of the plane journey?"

He merely presses his lips together.

"Put it down to good pussy, and now you can move on, you?—"

He tosses the espresso cup aside and grabs my collar. "Don't fucking talk about her like that."

"My bad, fratello. " I raise my free palm. "I was merely saying that this clears the way for you to consider the arranged marriage with the Camorra princess."

He hesitates.

"Think about it. You took your chances, and it didn't pan out. Now, you can do the one thing that will help resolve this feud between the Cosa Nostra and the Camorra . Another thing that Nonna wanted. You marry the princess, and peace reigns between the families. It makes life safer for all of us, not to mention, it opens up a host of business possibilities."

"You do realize, it's because Michael wants to legalize the Cosa Nostra businesses that he wants this union to go ahead. This way, he's assured that they won't take advantage of our moving away from organized crime and endanger our lives."

I stiffen. Of course I'm aware of it. I've tried hard not to think about it. It's the done thing, after all. Thieves want to go straight. Criminals want to reform. Offenders want to make up for their transgressions. Me, though? I'm a villain. The one with a black heart. The one who's never dreamed of anything but being the head of the Cosa Nostra . Take that away from me, and what do I have?

Her, you have her.

And she married you because she needed to find a way back to the premiere of her musical, which is this evening.

I lower my hand to my side. "Or don't marry her. I mean, it will solve quite a few problems if you do, but if you don't, I'm sure we'll find some other way to work out our differences with our fiercest rival."

He glares at me, then rips the half-undone tie from around his neck. "Fuck! Fucking f-u-c-k."