Page 138 of Unlock My Heart

“Sorry, baby. This isn’t how I envisioned our party going,” I admit.

She cocks her head. “How did you envision it going?”

“Parading my beautiful wife for the world to see. Maybe pissing on my old man’s grave while I’m at it,” I admit quietly.

“Revenge on a dead man,” she muses. “How does that work, exactly?”

I release a heavy breath. “Don’t know.”

“You vowed to place me above everything, and yet the man who ordered my kidnapping is a guest at our party,” Sienna says quietly, hurt flashing in her eyes for the briefest of moments.

“Was a guest.” The ice pack slides off my hand as I shove it inside my jacket, retrieving my gun. Cocking it, I begin marching to the door.

“Fabien, wait!” She chases after me, grabbing my left hand, and I flinch in pain. “What the hell happened to your finger?”

“Part of the peace deal,” I tell her quietly as she examines my splinted index finger.

“Is peace even possible with this family?” She pries the gun from my hand, slipping it back into its holster; I let her be the voice of reason, only because I’ve already made a mess of tonight.

“If you want retribution, it’s yours.” A peace deal that creates war with my wife is no peace at all.

“And what if I still want retribution from you?” Sienna challenges.

“Then I would say meet me downstairs in the guest bathroom.”

Sienna

The present

My heart beats like a snare with each step. First, taking care of Fabien with the ice pack, and now this? All the excavation I’ve done on that second grave, and here I am, shoveling dirt into the hole with a shovel.

And I hate manual labor.

But I can’t deny the thrill that’s humming beneath my skin as I slip inside the bathroom. Fabien’s leaning against the vanity, and I’m keenly aware of the cell phone hidden in the tissue box behind him.

My fingers tremble as I work the lock on the door, and Fabien’s on me in a flash. Caging me against it, he leans in, examining me silently. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the little fox is nervous.”

“Please, don’t flatter yourself.” I duck beneath his arms and hop up on the vanity, hiding the tissue box behind my body. “Less talking, more crawling.”

With a smirk, Fabine falls to his knees and crawls across the marble floor, rising to his knees and sandwiching himself between my legs.

His hands squeeze my thighs. Big, sexy hands with those veins popping, and needing some semblance of control, I goad him, “Look at the big bad mafia boss, on his knees for a whore.”

Fabien rises to standing, gripping me hard by the chin. “What did I tell you? Don’t fucking talk about yourself like that.” He jerks my face to his, and I gasp in surprise as he steals a kiss.

That semblance of control is drowned out with lust, but in my defense, the man’s just as good a kisser as he was back when I was eighteen.

Fabien's tongue flicks my lower lip, and I open for him. His groan against my tongue sends a shot of heat between my thighs, and I find myself sighing into his mouth.

He swallows it. If I’d let him, I’m afraid he’d swallow me whole. And then spit me out, because that’s the Calvani way.

Unfortunately, I don’t heed my own warning as his tongue wraps around mine.

Need takes over, our kissing becoming frantic; wild tongue and teeth and the slightest bite of pain.

I’m a panting mess when he pulls back, his eyes having a feral look that’s driving me crazy. Without a word, he lifts my ass, hiking up my dress to my waist and ripping my panties off by the bands. My naked lower half is not so gently deposited on the cold marble, and I shiver.

Fabien silently begins working his belt, and I help him unbutton his pants and yank them and his boxers down.