The pressure builds behind my eyes, and I’m suddenly fighting the urge to ugly cry.
Tommaso wraps his arm around my waist. “And what tests did Gina and I pass exactly?”
Stefano regards us for a moment before saying, “Ruling California.”
“You’re giving up control?” he asks, stunned.
Marco looks equally stunned and doubtful. “You’re a control freak,Papà.”
“Don’t I know it,” Riccardo mutters.
Stefano cuts him a hard look and clears his throat. “Yes, Tommaso, I’m giving you autonomous control over our territory in the States. A seat will be added at the ‘Ndrangheta table, andyou’ll have the same power and responsibilities as the rest of us Dons.”
Stefano looks down at the dead body of his colleague, Carmine, with disgust. However, I know that disgust isn’t because of the grotesque state he’s in, but rather because of his plans and what he and Arturo had planned to try to force through their syndicate.
The reminder of Carmine’s body makes everything assault me at once. The attack at Vincenzo’s, being taken, having Carmine’s head basically explode all over me. This revelation, and that Tommaso isn’t going to be ripped away from me, nearly makes me collapse.
I start to shake. Tommaso knows what’s happening because this man is in tune with everything regarding me. He keeps me close to his side and walks us toward the door without a word to his father, brothers, or Vittorio.
But Vittorio calls out, and we turn. His eyes dance; as much as he’s a ruthless Don, I can tell he loves to cause chaos. “I have family in New York. Don’t hesitate to reach out if you’re ever in need of an ally, and the Candreva family can help.”
Tommaso nods, then walks us out the door. He seems to know where he’s going, and once we’re out of the room, he scoops me into his arms and carries me through the house and up the stairs.
We enter a bedroom, and I see my bag from Vincenzo’s is already inside.
“Tommaso.” I start to shake harder, not knowing if I should be sobbing with relief or punching him for using me as bait.
“Shh,il mio sole. Let me clean you up, and then you can unleash on me however you see fit.”
He walks into the ensuite, sets me gently on the vanity, and starts the shower. Then he’s back, pulling my soiled dress offmy body and removing my underwear and shoes. He undresses quickly and picks me up again to carry me into the shower.
I don’t protest because, with how hard I’m trembling and how badly my skin itches with the blood and gore covering it, I couldn’t clean myself fast enough.
He sits me on the stone bench under the spray and begins to wash me. We don’t speak as he scrubs my hair, rinses it, then repeats the process to ensure everything is gone. After he works the conditioner into my hair, he washes my body thoroughly, then rinses it all off.
Once he’s done, he kneels before me. Water drips from his face and clings to his dark lashes.
I slap his beautiful, gorgeous face as a sob catches in my throat before I fist his hair and slam my mouth to his. I’m, by no means, the dominant one in our relationship, but I need him to know that he can never do that to me again. That he can never keep me out of the plan, especially when it directly involves our child.
“I’m sorry, love,” he says between punishing kisses. “Everything hinged on Arturo having no idea.”
I slap him again, but with less anger. “You’re saying I’m not a good enough actress.”
He kisses along my jaw, then bites down, and I arch into him with a cry of need. “I couldn’t risk it. Not when it comes to you or our child. For our family, I’ll do whatever it takes, even if I need to keep you in the dark to protect you.”
My hands burrow deeper into his hair, and I yank his head back so he’s looking at me. “Fine.” I do understand his motives. “But it doesn’t mean I like it. Or that you won’t pay a price.”
The corners of his beautiful mouth curl into a dark smile, and his eyes glint with wicked intent. “Make me pay, wife.”
Having control over this man—this king of the jungle,mylion—is intoxicating because he never gives this to anyone but me. He’d never get on his knees for anyone but me.
Controlling his head, I push him down while I spread my legs. “Worship your queen,il mio re leone.”
“With fucking pleasure,” he growls. It rumbles through the tiled shower, sounding like an actual lion.
My back bows the instant he starts to devour me like I’m his last meal. My cries fill the shower, but I don’t care. The thought of anyone hearing is the last thing on my mind because the only thoughts I’m capable of are the pleasure this man brings me and how much I love him.
My hips buck and grind against his face, chasing my release like I’m chasing oxygen to breathe. My fingers tangle in his hair, holding him to me, directing him, using him, and I’m heady with the control and power he’s giving me.
