Another blush attacks my cheeks. “What? Oh, absolutely not.”
His gaze flicks up. “Absolutely yes.”
“Giovanni—”
“Lucia.” The way he says my name makes my spine go straight. “I never got the chance to feed you tonight the way I intended. This way will do just as well. Come here.” He holds out his hand.
I sigh. And I end up exactly where he wants me, rankled and flustered, too aware of the solidity of him beneath me. A brazen reminder of everything we did in that warehouse.
He pours wine with one hand, steady as ever, as Caterina returns with more food, stands and watches for a moment, satisfied, then leaves us.
The silence that follows is thick.
Giovanni tears bread, dips it, brings it to my mouth.
I glare. “I have hands,” I gripe half-heartedly, aware of his gaze fixated on my face.
“I know.”
“Then why?—”
“Because I want to,” he says simply. “And you will indulge me in this too,sì?”
Between his thick, muscled thighs beneath me, the sultry heat in his eyes, and the simple need to care for me that is completely disarming in a man as powerful and dynamic as the man I call my husband, yielding is as inevitable as breathing.
So I do.
He pushes the first morsel into my mouth. And I moan, because the flavours are almost obscene, rich and grounding, dragging me back into my body.
Giovanni watches me as though feeding me is its own kind of intimacy.
As is watching him take healthy mouthfuls of his own, his Adam’s apple bobbing as we gorge on the meal.
After a few bites, I swallow hard. “What happens next?”
He knows I’m not talking about the food and his jaw tightens. “We won’t talk about that tonight.”
“I want to know.”
He lifts a brow. “You want to discuss how I mean to deal with Salvatore Bellandi right now, over lamb?”
“I want to know how much time I have before La Fratellanza strike next. If I’m going to die,” I snap.
His hand stills and his voice goes low with fury. “Listen to me. Enough has been taken from us tonight. Know that what happened tonight will never happen again.”
My heart drops when I remember what we learned in the car on the way home. That not everyone on the Dragoni side made it out alive.
“One of your men?—”
“I know,” he cuts in, eyes dark. “And that is exactly why I will not spend what remains of this night giving Bellandi more space in my head. We honour the fallen by taking the time to remember them, taking care of their families, then taking stock while we plot our next move. Sì?”
“Okay.”
I stare at him as he leans closer. “Trust me when I say, I mean to rewrite how this ends.”
My breath catches and I manage to summon a smile as he pulls the dessert towards us.
He feeds me another bite. His fingers brush my lip.
