I grip her bare thighs. I lift her higher, securing her against my thick chest. My cock remains fully exposed, slick with our shared fluids.
I carry her away from the kitchen island. My heavy bare feet leave large, flour-dusted footprints on the dark hardwood floors of the penthouse.
I walk us directly toward the reinforced master suite.
The heavy steel shutters remain securely locked over the massive windows. The red emergency lights continue to bathe the secure apartment in a dark, bloody glow. The world is shut out.
The war raging in the streets below belongs to Dominic and the Costa soldiers. The twenty-year silence belongs entirely to me.
I kick the heavy oak door of the master bedroom open.
The California king bed sits perfectly in the center of the dark room.
I lay her down gently on the dark silk sheets. The white flour on her pale skin contrasts violently against the black fabric. She is a total mess of baking ingredients, sweat, and my thick seed.
I crawl onto the bed, crowding my heavily built frame over her delicate body.
"You burned the contract," she says softly, her wide eyes tracing the sharp lines of my heavily bearded jaw.
"The contract was a transaction," I state simply, my voice an unyielding rumble in the quiet room. "You are not a ledger entry. You are not a debt. You are my permanent obsession."
She reaches up, grabbing the heavy gold medallion resting against my chest. She pulls me down.
"Good," she declares.
I crush my mouth against hers. A deep, wet, devouring kiss.
I run my large hands down her soft sides, worshiping the heavy curve of her wide hips. She belongs entirely in my bed. She belongs entirely in my life.
The Bellantis will burn for coming after what is mine. Arthur Reeves will bleed for betraying his own flesh and blood. Every single enemy of the Costa family will face the brutal, uncompromising slaughter of my wrath.
But inside this locked steel vault, there is no violence.
There is only my feral need to consume the curvy, defiant woman who completely silenced the endless war in my mind.
I spread her thick thighs open once more. I position my rapidly hardening cock at the slick entrance of her wet pussy.
"Again," I command softly.
"Always," she replies.
I thrust forward, sinking completely into her tight, welcoming heat, claiming my permanent territory all over again.
Epilogue
CLARA
Sunlight bleedsthrough the heavy steel security shutters, casting thin, brilliant stripes across the king-sized mattress.
Dust motes dance in the fractured light. The penthouse is entirely silent. No alarms blaring. No gunfire echoing from the restaurant levels below. Just the steady, rumbling exhale of the massive man currently crushing half my body beneath his.
Matteo lies face down, his face buried in the crook of my neck. His thick, coarse beard scratches pleasantly against my collarbone. The heavy, brutal weight of his arm is thrown across my waist, pinning me to the mattress with territorial authority. His left shoulder is bare, the dark tattoos stark against his warm skin. A thick gold chain with a heavy medallion tangles in the sheets just beneath my chin.
He smells like spice, dark rum, and the deep, musky scent of a man who spent the entire night claiming what belongs to him.
My old life is gone. Smashed to pieces by a hit squad, sold to the mob by my own father to cover a gambling debt. A week ago, I was a public school teacher grading spelling testsand complaining about the broken radiator in my cramped apartment. Today, I am entirely owned by the underboss of the Chicago mafia.
And the absolute insanity of it all?
