His mouth trails kisses down my neck, and he nuzzles my pulse point, sucking.
The sensations are overwhelming, and I rock my hips faster, chasing the pleasure that’s building. Silvo meets my movements, his hands gripping my ass.
“You like that, don’t you?” he breathes. “You like being mine.”
I whimper as he nibbles my earlobe, his tongue teasing the sensitive skin. His hands caress my ass, stroking and squeezing as I grind against him.
“Yes,” I admit, my voice breathy. “I love being yours. Only yours.”
His mouth curves into a satisfied smile, and I feel him thrust deep within me, his cock so hard. “That’s it, baby,” he urges, his voice thick with desire. “Ride my cock. Let me feel you come around me.”
His words spur me on, and I rock my hips harder, chasing the peak that’s building within. Silvo meets my movements, his hands sliding up my back to tangle in my hair. He pulls me down for a passionate kiss, his tongue dueling with mine.
Our kisses grow more intense, mirroring the rhythm of our bodies. My climax builds, coiling tighter and tighter, until suddenly, I shatter into a million pieces.
“Silvo!” I cry out, my body shaking as wave after wave washes over me.
He groans, and his thrusts become more erratic. With a final, deep thrust, he finds his release, his body shuddering against mine.
Collapsing against him, his arms wrap around me, holding me tight. We’re both breathless, our hearts pounding.
This, I realize, is what it means to truly be intimate with someone. To bare your soul through the act of loving them. And in this moment, I feel a connection to Silvo that goes beyond our arranged marriage. A connection that is profound, and deep, and scary beyond measure.
24
SILVO
Ipace back and forth in my study, the weight of the situation bearing down on me. The phone rings, shattering the tense silence.
“Yeah?” I answer.
“Boss, we got a problem.” It’s Paulie, one of my top lieutenants. His voice is laced with urgency.
“What is it?” I demand, my grip tightening on the receiver.
“It’s the Morettis. They made a move on our shipment coming in from Miami. Two of our guys are down, and the merchandise is gone.”
White-hot anger surges through me. “How do you know it was them?”
“They left their calling card, boss. Tommy and Rico were both shot execution-style—a single bullet to the back of the head. And they left Moretti family crests spray-painted on the warehouse walls. Big as day, can’t miss ‘em. They wanted us to know it was them.”
My knuckles turn white as I grip the phone. That’s Nico Moretti’s signature move—making sure everyone knows who struck the blow. “Details. Now.”
Paulie launches into the report. “They hit the dock warehouse around midnight—killed Tommy and Rico, both with that distinctive Moretti MO. Took three hundred keys of product and torched the building. But before they torched it, they spray-painted those damn Moretti crests everywhere—on the walls, the loading bay doors, even on our delivery trucks. Local cops are all over it now, and our Miami capo, Lorenzo, is scrambling to contain the situation.”
“Those arrogant bastards,” I snarl. The Moretti family crest—a crowned lion—has been their symbol for generations. Leaving it at a crime scene is a blatant declaration of war.
“Lorenzo says the suppliers are spooked,” Paulie continues. “Word’s spreading fast that the Morettis are making a play for Miami. They’re hitting our clubs next, boss. We need you down there.”
My jaw clenches. This isn’t just about one shipment. This is a coordinated attack on our entire Miami territory, and the Morettis are making damn sure everyone knows they’re behind it.
“Tell Lorenzo I’ll be there tomorrow,” I say. “And Paulie? I want photos of those crests. Document everything. The Morettis want to make this personal? We’ll give them personal.”
When Paulie confirms and hangs up, I slam the phone down, my mind racing. The audacity of leaving their family crest—it’s not just an attack, it’s a taunt. Nico’s telling me he’s not afraid, that he’s coming for everything we’ve built.
Miami is our gateway to the Caribbean and South American markets. If the Morettis establish a foothold there, they could choke off half our revenue stream. And those damn crests spray-painted everywhere? That’s Nico making sure every criminal organization in Miami knows the De Lucas are weak, vulnerable.
I need to go personally—show our people we’re not backing down, shore up our defenses, and send the Morettis a message that this aggression will be met with overwhelming force.
