The words come out on autopilot, like volunteering to put myself in danger is still the only language I speak when it comes to him. Only this time, something makes me wince as soon as I’m done saying them.
After being away from my wife so often, I’m in no rush to leave her again. Not after what happened last night, and especially not before I sink my cock into her pretty pussy for the first time.
She was breathtaking this evening.
She wore a long, crimson dress with an open back, and when she sat at the piano to play, she wrapped all of us up in her spell. I didn’t think my obsession could grow any more, but I was dead wrong. Those hands of hers—those slender, beautiful hands that kept her cunt spread open for me last night—hit the notes so calmly, yet so full of emotion. Her sweet soul flashed through every stroke and every sway of her body.
I’ve never been so enthralled by someone, but in that moment, when she played, it sounded like words echoed down an invisible bond. I understood her, and she trusted that I would.
And when she clapped back at Sergei for insulting her family, I’ve never been more proud. Not because I love her—my heart is a cold, dreadful pit with no walls to house anyone—but because in a strange, fucked-up way, we’re…helping each other.
She’s soft, tender, and makes it easy for me to care for once. I’m the opposite, my assertiveness exactly what she needs to tap into sometimes. She’s too kind for her own good.
“If I’m sending anyone, it’s not going to be you,” Wolf says, jaw clenching, “I need you alive.”
And there it is again. That ugly fucking feeling I never want to look at pulses somewhere in my skull, demanding attention. He might as well have asked me to walk a tight rope above croc-infested waters—that’s what being asked to stay feels like when every instinct I have says distance is safer.
I run a hand through my hair. “If Remus is attacking Antonio soon, the Ferrara soldiers won’t have enough of his attention to stop us from reclaiming Chicago. It would be good to know an exact date.”
Wolf nods. “Ask Niko to go to LA then. He works quietly, and I don’t want Remus to know we’re on his trail.” His mouth opens to say something and then closes without another word.
I quirk a brow. “What is it?”
“Nothing. Just that he probably knows you married Cecilia. Your public displays have been pretty telling.”
“Meaning?”
He shoots me a knowing look. “You care about her. And I have Victoria. I’m just saying, if shit hits the fan, he might go after them, not us. Come tomorrow morning, they’re both getting more security.”
I snort an incredulous laugh, but it tastes bitter on my tongue. He’s not wrong. The thought of my wife being at the mercy of anyone who isn’t me sends pure rage crawling up my skin.
“Which is why it would be better ifIwent, not Niko,” I protest.
“I said no. I need you here, and if you really want to help, you’ll stay.”
I roll my eyes, getting up to stand. “When are you anointing yoursovietnik? I can’t be acting like one every time you call for me. It’s not what I do.” And he knows it. Offering advice when I’m constantly living on the edge of chaos isn’t helping anyone.
He nods. “Soon. And don’t sell yourself so short. You’ve been doing great work lately.”
“Ah, yeah? Well. What a good time to let you know I’m killing your treasurer tonight, lest you think I come into these meetings free of charge.” I wink.
To my surprise, he just waves a hand in the air. “Have at it. I wanted him replaced anyway. Found him stealing.”
I tsk, leaving the office as a message vibrates in my pocket.
Later in the night,I’m back home, knuckles bloody and head lighter than when I left. Without turning on the lights, I enter the bedroom where my wife lays on her side, all bundled under the sheets. She was quiet after we left the party, and I hate that she didn’t get to fully enjoy her evening because of what that fucker said to her.
I go into the en-suite bathroom first, washing my hands of the treasurer’s snot, blood, and tears. When I approach the bedside again, Cecilia’s head peeks up.
“You’re back,” she whispers in a husky, sleep-laced voice. My cock instantly grows hard.
I pull my sweatshirt over my head, dropping it to the floor, then unbuckle my belt. “Of course I am.”
“Where were you?”
“Out.” I get rid of my pants until I’m only in my Armani boxer briefs.
She lets out a small, frustrated sigh. “That’s all I get?”
