“I’ve been busy while you were gone.” A slight smile plays at her lips. “Your security protocols need updating. Isabella and I found three blind spots in the east wing camera coverage.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You’ve been analyzing my security systems?”
“Among other things.” She turns and walks into my office, expecting me to follow.
When I enter, I’m struck by the transformation. Papers are spread across my desk in organized piles—surveillance photos, financial documents, tactical analyses. My laptop displays a detailed map of Moretti holdings across the Northeast, color-coded and annotated with notes in Carmela’s neat handwriting. But it’s the weathered leather portfolio sitting open that draws my eye—the one she told me about on the phone last night.
“You’ve expanded on what you found,” I observe, picking up her analysis of the attack pattern. She’s mapped every Moretti strike against locations significant to Salvatore and Maria’s relationship—their first restaurant, the church where they married, even the hotel where they spent their honeymoon.
“After we talked last night, I couldn’t sleep.” Carmela traces the route on the map. “Once I understood the Maria and Vincenzo connection, everything else fell into place. The Morettis aren’t just attacking us—they’re erasing your family’s history with her. Symbolically destroying everything Salvatore built with the woman Vincenzo loved.”
I stare at the meticulous work spread before me. In four days, she and Isabella have compiled intelligence that would take my men weeks to gather. “This is incredible, Carmela. The tactical insight here?—”
“Is personal, not just strategic,” she interrupts softly. She picks up the photograph of Salvatore and Vincenzo as young men, arms around each other. “They were brothers in everything but blood. And Maria destroyed that. The Morettis see every De Luca as a reminder of that betrayal.”
The weight of seventy years of hatred suddenly makes terrible sense. This isn’t about territory or power—it’s about a wound that never healed.
“You’ve uncovered the heart of it,” I say, genuine admiration in my voice. “My father, my grandfather—none of them understood why the hatred ran so deep. They just knew it did.”
She meets my eyes, unflinching. “I’m a De Luca now. If they’re coming for this family, they’re coming for me, too. I needed to understand why.”
I groan, my body responding to this new side of her before my brain can catch up. “Fuck, you’re so sexy like this.”
Her eyes flash at my words—part defiance, part something else. I’ve come to recognize the subtle shifts in her expressions. The slight parting of her lips. The way her chest rises and falls more rapidly. And there it is—that telltale sign of desire as her thighs clench together unconsciously.
“Is that all you have to say?” Carmela challenges, but her voice has dropped an octave lower. “I spend days building actionable intelligence, and you just want to?—”
“Fuck you on this desk?” I move around it, closing the distance between us in three long strides. “Yes. Absolutely yes.”
The papers on the desk flutter as I approach, but I couldn’t care less about strategy right now.
“You want more words?” I grab her waist, pulling her against me roughly. “How about this—seeing you take charge, stepping into this life without fear, uncovering secrets my own family never understood—it drives me fucking crazy.”
Her hands press against my chest, not pushing me away but feeling the thundering heartbeat beneath my shirt. “I’m not afraid of who you are anymore,” she whispers. “Maybe I’m more afraid of who I’m becoming.”
That confession breaks something loose inside me. I crash my mouth against hers, kissing her roughly, desperately.
She responds immediately, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling just hard enough to send sparks down my spine. I lift her onto the desk, shoving papers aside, not giving a damn about the hours of work scattered across the floor.
Carmela wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me closer, matching my passion with her own. Her teeth nip at my bottom lip—a challenge, a claim. I groan into her mouth, my hands sliding down her back to grip her ass, pressing her against my hardness.
“I missed you,” she breathes against my lips, the confession seemingly torn from her unwillingly.
I kiss her harder in response, unable to form words for what I’m feeling. This isn’t just lust—it’s something deeper, more dangerous. Something I never expected from our arranged marriage.
I tear down the zipper of her dress, the sound echoing through the office. As the fabric falls away, revealing her black lace bra and matching panties, my cock throbs painfully against my pants.
“Look at you,” I growl, tracing my finger along the curve of her breast. “So fucking perfect.”
Carmela shivers under my touch, her nipples hardening beneath the thin lace. I unsnap her bra with practiced ease, letting it fall to the floor among the scattered papers.
“I made you a promise on our wedding night,” I remind her, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “And I always keep my promises.”
Her breath catches as I press my lips to her ear. “I’m going to breed you properly, Carmela. Fill you up until my seed takes root.”
Instead of the resistance I half-expected, she moans, her hips bucking against mine. But then she presses a hand to my chest, pushing me back just enough to create space between us.
“Not so fast,” she purrs, her fingers trailing down to my belt. “My turn first.”
