Eventually isn't good enough. Finding the bastard is our priority. I will not rest until he is found, not just because of Cosa Nostra and Salvatore. Now, I have something to lose. It doesn’t matter that I keep saying to myself that it’s my duty to protect her; my heart doesn’t get it. It would shatter again, and I need to protect myself. I need to protect myself from falling into the same trap again.
twenty
Valentina
I scroll on my phone, chasing the dopamine that will keep me from thinking about the events of the last few weeks. There will be some shifts in the dealings of Cosa Nostra; there will be consequences for what has happened to the don’s wife.
I dig my spoon into the box in front of me and take a mouthful of my cherry chocolate ice cream. My blood is spiking, and I can’t do anything. It’s normal to want to change the world and do things your way, and it’s normal to fight for your rights and want to live in a better place. At least in the normal world. In our world, that doesn’t work; not even the don’s wife had that privilege. She paid a high price. I know that feeling all too well; it’s carved into my skin. Mack showing up when he did was pure luck, and I won’t let anything like that happen again. I don’t want the moral compass of mundane people. I want the ruthlessness of a villain, so I can protect myself from getting hurt.
The front door opens, and I look at the clock. Seven p.m. He is extremely early and, may I say, unexpected. In the past coupleof weeks, he’s gotten home late at night and is gone first thing in the morning. He isn’t avoiding me; otherwise, he wouldn’t wake me up with his tongue and fuck me to sleep again. He’s needed, and not just because of the business, but because the don needs him. Their friendship is something I envy. I’ve never had a friend I could spill my secrets or gossip to. Not that I would have dared to bring any normal girls into my house, and any girl whose parents were part of Camorra avoided me. It didn’t matter that I was the boss’s daughter or that I had a brother most of them had a crush on. More so, it was jealousy, and I learned to read that from a young age.
Steps approach me, and I take one more spoonful of ice cream before I turn to face Gabriel. With a spoon in my mouth, I assess his appearance. Not a hair out of place, his black pants and black shirt are still impeccable, and it makes me wonder if he changes before he comes home. He looks like a man who has everything under control, but the look in his eyes says otherwise.
There is a storm in his eyes. Maybe something happened, but I’m dreading asking. The alarm in Cosa Nostra has been raised, and even my brother is working with them to catch the bastard who took Isabella.
With a stern look in his eyes, he approaches me until he is in front of me. He turns my seat toward him, grabs the spoon from my mouth, and pulls it out. I’m caught off guard when his fingers wrap around the nape of my neck and into my hair as he crashes his lips onto mine in a punishing kiss.
Our tongues intertwine with the rest of the ice cream in my mouth, and he feasts on my tongue, licking and sucking. I try to catch a breath, but he clutches on to me like a thirsty, crazy man.
“Fucking cherries,” he mumbles against my lips, and I take a deep breath when he closes his eyes and places his forehead on mine. Just as I thought he would stop, he grabs me by the waist and places me on the counter. A squeal escapes me.
“You're driving me fucking crazy.” He pushes my knees apart, hands gripping my legs through my sheer tights. I shouldn’t react to his anger, but I do. How could I not when all I’m obsessed with is clawing up my spine like it wants to devour me?
“These,” he growls, fingers sliding up my legs, “are driving me crazy.” His hands reach the edge of my leather shorts, and he runs his hands upward. My breath stutters. I’m already trembling before he even reaches the buttons.
“These make me want to kill anyone who looks at you,” he snarls. “Because they barely cover your ass.”
My pulse skips. The violent want in his voice shouldn’t make heat curl my stomach, but it does.
He yanks the shorts down my legs and lets them fall on the floor. Next, he hooks his fingers in my tights and pulls them down until I’m left in nothing but my panties, with a thrum of want pounding in my veins.
“You know what the irony in this whole situation is?”
I don’t answer. I can't. My mouth is parted, my brain fuzzy. I lean on my hand, eyes glued to him because I can’t look away when he’s like this. Angry, hungry, and laser-focused on the space between my legs. His gaze is sharp, narrowed, a mix of fury and lust so hot it steals the air from my lungs.
“I agreed to this marriage in the name of alliance; a perfect, tactical marriage. Something that will not affect my work or my decisions.” He lifts his gaze to mine, and my heart slams against my ribs like it wants to escape. “You weren’t even in the picture when your brother considered the brides I could marry.” His voice drops lower. “And I was relieved. Relieved that I could make a deal with the woman I married, and then I was told you were going to be my wife.”
Everything inside me tightens, burns.
“All I could think about since I met you was goddamn cherries. Like a forbidden fucking fruit. And no matter how many times I have you… I want more and more.”
My heart leaps into my throat so hard it hurts. Want coils so violently that I swear I forget how to breathe. Hearing him admit that, the man I’ve been obsessed with, the man I would burn my world for, sends every part of me spiraling.
His eyes meet mine. I gasp when he grabs me, dragging me to the edge of the counter with effortless strength. His arm curls around my waist, the other around my neck, drawing me into him like he can't stand a single inch of distance.
“And then you do something stupid, impulsive, and dangerous.” His voice is sharp against my mouth. “I thought we had a deal. Wherever you go, you take Renzo or Samuel with you.”
I purse my lips, but my heart is still racing from everything he said, everything I secretly craved to hear. “I went only to the store down the street.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “What was so important that you had to slip out and go by yourself?”
“I just wanted some damn ice cream.”
His brows shot up. “What?”
“Ice cream.” I grab the box from beside me and lift it between us like evidence.
He stares at me for a few long seconds, disbelief written all over his face. “And you couldn’t send any of the guards?”
