Page 65 of Revenge on the Mafia

New York traffic hummed in lower Manhattan. I was a married man.

Enzo brushed my shoulder. “You should consider not parking in a no-park zone.” I nodded at his car parked across from us.

“Why the rush?”

“Didn’t want to wait.”

His observation burned my face. “We could have had a party.”

“Because I’m the type to mix with people I don’t give a shit about?”

“No,” he answered thoughtfully. “But you’re the type to wait.”

I’d done that. For four thousand four hundred and ninety-nine days.

I held my silence. The last thing I wanted to do was lie to my brother, but I would have to. Thankfully, Daria stepped into our bubble, my wife trailing behind her. I’d seen the shadow of her fuchsia thong under her chemise. I had her wedding gift all set. Mine, I’d decided, was to curl my fingers around the band of her thong and rip it into two.

“We should at least have a party,” Daria said.

My wife faltered six feet away. The smart girl that she was, she sensed the hunger prowling in my chest. Our gazes hooked. Nearly twelve years of pent-up frustrations roared inside me. I wanted to consume her. Right there. Right that second. Once I started, I wouldn’t stop until death came for me.

“We’re having a party, alright.”

ANNA

Mid-August air around us. Coiled tension, ready to snap at one second's notice. His gaze, loaded with lust and desire.

We’re having a party, alright.

Five words. Spoken in his slow, rough voice. It settled between us like silk sheets. Hidden underneath them, a sinful promise. A yellow cab honked. A garbage truck reversed. He took one step closer. I might have taken another. If I leaned forward and he did too, we would have touched. The way he looked at me. Like he’d lived for this day. For this moment, with a hunger that could only be sated when he’d eaten me alive…

“Maybe you should eat something.” Daria’s voice broke into the tension. His gaze slid away. He dropped his attention to the sidewalk. My heart pounded in my ears. I licked my lips nervously. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go home with him.

“You okay?”

Forcing my gaze away from him, I gave Daria the barest nod. What other choice did I have but to walk into the lion’s den? I sucked in a deep breath and pasted a smile on my face. But when I turned again to look, it dropped to my feet, along with my heart. He’d slipped on his mask again. I let myself fall for it. I had to because that was the only way to find my courage. I harnessed that thought. Even if I’d seen his foot tapping on the footpath. There was a pattern in it somewhere. I should have known it wasn’t a good thing if he needed to calm himself down.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

ANNA

The door slid closed, softly falling into its frame. Locking me inside the house with him. The absence of Magda and Isidora hung like a heavy weight. He didn’t wait for me before walking away. A beat of hesitation later, I followed him. My heels click-clacking on the wooden floor sounded like Morse code signaling out SOS. When I passed the kitchen, I stalled, lost in my new reality. I’d wondered what they had to do that they couldn’t join us for the car ride back. Foolishly, I’d thought they would have reached home before us. But I should have known. That behind Isidora’s evil grin, there was a plan. My downfall.

My courage sank away with each breath. Filling a glass of water, I drank it in one go. I placed my hands flat on the counter. Commanded my trembling hands to stop. I got this. Then I took off my heels and carried them into the living room.

He stood there like he’d timed my entrance, his gaze already on me. He’d lost his coat to the armchair behind him. Standing framed in front of the window, one hand in his pocket, the other holding an amber liquid, I could almost hear the clatter of metal as the bars of the cell that held him imprisoned crashed to the floor. The king of the jungle was out for his prey.

I didn’t let him scare me. I couldn’t. “Tell me.”

His eyes fell on my feet. Brushed each naked toe like he’d colored them with nail polish. When they traveled up my body, he did it so sluggishly that it filled me with heat and unease. Like a rough touch that stopped at every curve and dip. My thighs clenched. Stomach tightened. My breasts perked. But when he met my eyes, he had the audacity to cock his head, indifference framed in his gaze.

Frustration bubbled inside me. “Dios mío, I’ve taken your name. Now start spilling details.”

Like the clear blue ocean filling with the thickness of black oil, his eyes filled with darkness. A spark of fear lit in my chest. I shoved it right down into the emptiness it had come from. “You told me I—”

“The marriage was just the instigation.” The sharpness of his tone sliced through the air. “You haven’t pleased me yet.”

I swallowed. That was inconvenient. “Then tell me, signore, how do I please you?”