I push up to my feet, grinding my teeth at the pain that shoots up my leg. "Antonio?" Emilia whispers, and I turn to find her standing behind me, her pretty brows furrowed in concern. "Are you okay? Does your leg hurt?
"I'm fine," I reply through clenched teeth. "I need to get you out of here, baby. I'll check the back door in case more guys are waiting there, then we'll leave."
"We can't leave."
I blink in confusion at her. "What?"
"There might be survivors. I need to check—it's what I do, Antonio."
"No fucking way. They're not dead. They can deal with it until my brothers get here."
Her eyes narrow on mine, her mouth falling into a flat line. "You can either help me get to them, or I will go out there myself," she says stubbornly.
"Fuck!" I curse just as the front door opens again, so I nudge her back and raise my gun. I catch footsteps, listening, and I count three men. A light shines in the restaurant, and there is a little shuffling as the survivors on the floor groan in pain.
"Antonio, was this your work?"
Matteo.
He got here quicker than I'd have expected. I knew one of the chefs would make the call, but I didn't think my brothers would get here so fast/ But then again, we've always been a protective bunch.
I lower my gun and step from behind the partition to find three lights pointed at the writhing men on the floor. Luca, who's standing behind Matteo, points his light at Marco, whistling under his breath. "An eye for an eye and a foot for a foot. I guess you didn't need us after all."
A blonde head moves past me, and I grit my teeth as Emilia runs to the injured men. "I need my bag," she orders in that bossy doctor voice of hers that always has my cock hardening. "Shit, it's in my room back home. Luca, get me a first aid kit from the kitchen and a bowl with some hot water. Some towels too. Fast!"
Luca rolls his eyes but starts for the kitchen to do as his twin asks. He takes his sweet time in there but comes back with everything she asked for, and we all shine our lights on the guys as she works on them. If a part of me is happy that she doesn't have any pain meds to use as she patches them up, but I don't voice it.
This one will live," Emilia says, her voice clinical as she finishes bandaging the surviving gunman. She moves to Marco, who's still conscious and glaring at her despite the agony hemust be in. "Him too, but he's going to need surgery if he ever wants to walk again."
"He'll get it," Matteo says flatly. "His father's problem now."
When the door opens and more men filter in, Matteo points at the men on the floor. "Take them out through the back door and load them up in the van."
“What about the—” Emilia starts, but Matteo shakes his head.
“The cleaners will handle the rest. Don't worry about it.”
I grab Emilia's shoulder before she can protest further. "Let's get you home,mia stellina. This is the third meal I've ruined for you. I have to make it up to you somehow."
"But—"
"They'll be fine," I tell her, taking her hand and pulling her through the kitchen and to the back door. She helps hold some of my weight from my throbbing leg as we move through the alleyway. The front of the restaurant is crowded with people trying to peer in, but I know it'll be spun as a robbery; the cops will be paid off to close the case, and the restaurant will be open tomorrow and be running like nothing ever happened. Trusting my brothers to deal with the mess, I lead her to the black SUV idling at the curb—one of my brothers must have arranged for it. "Don't worry about those men, Emilia. They knew what they were getting into. You should worry about this invalid. I can barely walk."
She smacks my shoulder, but I spot a smile as she climbs in ahead of me. I nod to the driver, and he pulls away from the curb. I wrap my arms around Emilia’s waist and pull her against me. "You're going to make such a perfect mafioso’s wife," I rasp,nibbling her ear and making her shiver. "Fuck baby, watching you work seems to turn me the fuck on."
"Antonio," she whispers, embarrassed as her eyes shoot to the driver and then back to the hand on her knee. The little dress she has on does little to hide her pebbling nipples, and her sharp intake of breath lets me know she likes having my hands on her. "Stop it, we can't do this here."
"But I want you," I breathe, nibbling her ear as my hand climbs up her thighs, which she spreads for me despite her protests. “I just want to touch you. I can’t stop.” I slide my fingertips up her inner thigh, brushing the sensitive skin. “Let me touch you,” I rasp into her skin as I press my thumb over her mound, causing her to jolt. I rub the spot in slow circles, a groan humming in my chest as I feel moisture flood her panties. She bites her lip and turns around to bury her face in my shoulder.
“When you said you didn’t want to hide me from the world, this isn’t what I thought you meant,” she pants into my neck, whimpering when I slide my finger over her panties and down the outline of her wet slit. “Oh, Antonio—”
“Shhh,” I whisper as I tug her panties to the side, making her jolt when I touch her clit. She bites to my shoulder to stop a cry, writhing helplessly as I stroke her swelling bud the rest of the drive. She whines when I pull my hand away, but the car jolts to a halt seconds later. The driver keeps his eyes firmly forward—he knows better than to look—as Emilia and I climb out. I pull her against me as we walk into her apartment building.
Her legs appear a little shaky as we walk through the lobby, and it’s unclear who’s holding whom up, but it doesn’t matter as we’re on each other the second we step into the privacy of the elevator. Her arms circle my shoulders as I back her against the wall, kissing that sexy little mouth until we’re bothout of breath. Our lips are still on each other's as the elevator door opens on her floor, and we stumble down the hall, breaking apart as she digs into her purse for her keys.
“Open it,” I grumble, my breath hot on her neck, licking a slow line up toward her earlobe before moving to nibble the flesh under her ear. “Hurry up.”
“I’m trying,” she moans, her hands trembling as she unlocks the door, then pushes it open. We stumble in, arms and lips locked. I kick the door shut and begin stripping her, tugging at her dress even as her fingers drop to my jacket, pushing it off my arms. Her fingers move to untuck my shirt. We manage to break apart long enough for me to shove the dress off her shoulders and for her to yank my shirt off.
