6. Isabella
6
Isabella
T he elevator doors slide open to reveal Nico's penthouse.
My new home . I remind myself.
After two days in that cramped safe house, the modern luxury apartment feels almost surreal with its floor-to-ceiling windows and sleek furnishings.
I step inside, trying to ignore how his presence behind me makes every nerve ending tingle. A week ago, this was just Nico Moretti's bachelor pad.
Now it's where I live. With my husband.
The word still feels foreign.
"I had my things moved in while we were away," I say, gesturing to the boxes scattered around. "Hope you don't mind."
His eyes scan the room like a soldier, always looking for threats. "It's your home now, too."
Later in the day, I lead him to where I've set up my workstation, explaining the systems I used to manage the legitimate side of our operations.
If we want to work together and catch this mole on time, we need to give each other the information.
"Everything runs through here," I explain, pulling up files on my laptop. "All properly licensed and taxed: the nightclubs, restaurants, real estate."
He leans over my shoulder to look at the screen, and his cologne hits me like a drug.
Spice and leather and pure male. Fuck.
"Smart," he says, his breath warm against my ear. "Who has access to these records?"
I force myself to concentrate on the question. "The family, obviously. Some trusted employees. Angelo handles most of the financial side."
"And you trust all of them?"
The question hangs heavy in the air.
Do I?
After Viktor's warning shot, can I trust anyone?
"Yes," I say firmly, but doubt gnaws at my certainty. "Maybe. I don't know anymore."
His hand lands on my shoulder, warm and steady. "We'll figure it out."
I check my watch, grateful for the excuse to move away from his touch. "I need to get to Velvet. Monthly inventory check."
"I'll come with you."
The offer catches me off guard. "You want to... come to work with me?"
His lips quirk. "Problem?"
Yes. No. Maybe. Having him there will distract as hell, but... "Fine. Just don't get in my way."
Velvet is already buzzing when we arrive, even though it's barely nine. Music pulses through the walls as I lead Nico through the VIP entrance.
This club is my baby, the first business I built from the ground up, and pride swells in my chest despite everything else.
We're barely through the door when one of my bartenders appears in front of us, smiling too brightly. "Nico? Oh my God, it's been forever!"
My stomach clenches as recognition flashes across his face. Of fucking course. One of his conquests. Who works for me.
"Melissa." His voice is polite but distant. "How are you?"
She steps closer, either ignoring or forgetting that I sign her paychecks. "Missing you, obviously. We should catch up sometime..."
"I'm married now," he cuts her off firmly.
His hand finds the small of my back, warm through my dress. "To Isabella. Your boss."
The color drains from Melissa's face as reality crashes in. "Ms. Bellanti–I mean, Mrs. Moretti, I..."
"Back to work, Melissa," I say coolly. "Those drinks won't serve themselves."
She practically runs away, and the surge of satisfaction that runs through me is unexpected and unwelcome.
I don't care who Nico slept with. I don't.
But watching him shut down my flirty employee makes something hot and primal purr in my chest.
The next day, we end up at my parents’ estate on my mother's request for us to come for dinner.
Papa sits at the head of the table, every inch the don, while Mama is working overtime to keep the conversation flowing.
"How's married life treating you both?" she asks, her warm eyes twinkling with concern. “Are you settling in okay? "
"It's... different," I admit, softening under her gentle scrutiny.
No matter how old I get, Mama always knows how to read me. "But we're managing."
Diana's presence helps lighten the mood. My best friend has always been good at diffusing awkward situations, and tonight is no exception.
She keeps everyone laughing with stories from college, carefully avoiding anything too controversial.
I watch as Nico charms my family one by one. He talks business with Angelo, discusses recent cases with Olivia, talks about weapons with Lorenzo, and even gets a laugh out of Papa. Only Matteo remains cold, but that's nothing new.
When I excuse myself to grab more wine from the kitchen, Olivia follows, Diana hot on her heels.
"Spill," my sister demands, cornering me by the wine rack. "And don't give me that 'we're managing' bullshit you fed Mama."
Diana perches on the counter, grinning. "Yeah, we want details. How's the forced marriage going?"
"It's going fine," I mutter, focusing very hard on selecting a bottle.
"Fine?" Olivia's perfectly shaped eyebrow arches. "The sexual tension between you two could power half of Manhattan."
"Shut up," I hiss, but I can feel the blush creeping up my neck.
“Oooh, she's blushing!” Olivia squeals.
I shake my head and exit the kitchen.
The wine flows freely, and somewhere between the main course and dessert, the atmosphere shifts from tense to almost pleasant.
Almost normal, if you ignore the fact that everyone at the table is involved in organized crime.
Except, the heat between Nico and me has been building all night, crackling like electricity every time our eyes meet.
The air between us thickens as Nico’s gaze catches mine across the table. My skin prickles. He reaches for the salt, his fingers brushing mine, lingering a bit too long.
I pull back, my pulse quickening. His lips curve into a smile that doesn't reach his eyes, which remain fixed on mine, dark and intent.
The conversation around us fades to background noise and I feel a sheen of sweat coating my skin despite the air conditioning being on full blast.
I excuse myself to use the bathroom, needing a moment to breathe. To get my head straight.
After using the bathroom and giving myself a much-needed pep talk, I step back into the hallway, but then I hear it.
A soft groan from behind the guest bathroom door, left slightly ajar.
I should walk away. I really, really should.
I peek inside instead.
Nico stands at the sink, one hand braced against the counter, the other inside the zipper, working his cock in long, firm strokes. With his head thrown back and muscles straining beneath his dress shirt, the sight nearly brings me to my knees.
He sees me in the mirror before I can move. Our eyes lock, and neither of us breathes for a long moment.
Then I'm inside, the door locked behind me, and his mouth crashes into mine.
The first kiss at the altar was vicious, as if Nico was making a point. Claiming me. It was punishing, and decisive, and yes, it made my heart skip and my pulse run hot.
But it’s this second kiss that turns my blood to fire and has my toes curling against the floor as the world explodes around me. Because this one isn’t about proving a point. It's a pure, possessive, consuming, incendiary need.
Our mouths crash together, and I whimper when his tongue delves past my lips to dance with mine.
I shiver as my body melts against his, the roaring heat of his skin and the rippling power of his muscles turning me into a puddle as I moan into the kiss.
His hands cup my face and grip my hip possessively, pinning my pelvis to his and making me shiver when I feel the throb of the bulge beneath his pants.
He lifts me onto the bathroom sink like I weigh nothing, spreading my thighs to stand between them.
I shiver, moaning into his mouth as my palms press to his rock-hard chest, feeling the heat through his shirt.
He growls, his grip on me tightening, his tongue even more demanding as my fingertips trace down to his belt, eagerly unbuckling.
His pants drop to the floor, and there’s no way I can even attempt to stop my eyes from looking down. Where they immediately just about pop right out of my head.
Holy. Fuck.
Nico is freaking huge. Like “how the fuck is that going to even fit inside of me” huge. Thick, swollen, gorgeous, making me shiver as it pulses against my thigh.
“A little bigger than expected, yeah?”
“Uh, yeah…” Shit.
I blush fiercely as my eyes snap to his and take in the cocky smirk on his face. Quickly, I force myself to scowl back at him.
Like hell am I giving Nico Moretti the satisfaction of seeing me drool all over his dick—metaphorically speaking, of course.
“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want me to stroke your ego and tell you how big and hard your dick is?”
He rocks his hips, letting his swollen cock drag hotly against my pussy through my panties, which are getting embarrassingly wet.
And no force on earth could stop the pathetic whimper that falls from my lips.
“Sorry, what was that? I didn’t quite catch that.”
I open my mouth to throw something sharp and bite back at him.
But then the fucker does it again, grinding his huge cock against my now completely slick panties, making the lacy material rub electrically against my clit.
Which, of course, makes me moan. Again.
“Now, what exactly were you saying about my big, hard dick?” he growls thickly, lowering his mouth to my neck.
“I wasn’t—fuck!”
The fucker fucking bites me—hard. I’ve never had that happen to me before.
…And I really like it.
A lot.
Pleasure hums through my core and heat pools between my thighs as he does it again, raking his teeth over the tender skin and dragging another deep moan from my chest.
Nico yanks my panties the rest of the way off and then shoves my knees back and apart, lewdly spreading me open to his hungry gaze.
Then he slides into me. Every. Single. Thick. Inch of him, in one smooth, powerful thrust.
My eyes roll back. My body clenches.
And suddenly, I’m coming, harder than I ever have in my entire life, by a fucking country mile.
It’s like leaving earth. It’s like every cell in my body comes apart and ignites like fiery embers all at the same time. An out-of-body experience.
Ego death. La petite mort. Entering a new dimension.
Oh, forget the flowery fucking metaphors—I’m having the biggest, most explosive orgasm I’ve ever had. And it’s literally just from him entering me.
Suddenly, his mouth is crushing against mine, and before I know it, I’m kissing him back, desperately. My arms encircling his neck, but he grabs my wrists and shoves them against the sink, pinning them there.
I moan, straining against his grip as the aftershocks of my orgasm flicker like a mini explosion through my core.
“Wrap your legs around my hips,” he orders.
I want to defy him, because, well, that seems to be our thing: he tells me to do something, I tell him no in creatively crude ways.
Except now, it’s like he’s flipped a switch on me.
He reached in deep within me and turned off the defiance.
And all I want is for him to keep making me feel like he just did.
I shiver as my legs wrap around his muscled, grooved hips, my ankles locking at his back.
“That’s my principessa,” he groans.
Fuck.
I whimper, shuddering as his cock flexes deep inside of me. His hips pull back. As I moan and drop my gaze to where we are connected, I watch in awe as he eases every inch of his slick, glistening cock out of my eager pussy, leaving only the swollen head inside.
My eyes raise to his, and I shiver at the intensity I see there, holding my gaze, captivating me. All of me.
And then he drives into me, hard.
I cry out, my thighs squeezing his hips as my eyes roll back. I moan in sheer unadulterated pleasure as he does it again and again, until his hips roll like pistons, pounding his huge, gorgeous cock in and out of me as I come apart beneath him.
Nico groans loudly, and God, is it hot? He does it again, hissing in pleasure as his mouth drops to the crook of my neck.
“Fuck, does your pretty pussy feel so fucking good milking my cock?”
That is the lit match that drops on the pool of gasoline boiling in my core.
And when it catches, my entire world explodes.
All I see is white. All I feel is pure ecstasy shattering through every nerve in my body as I absolutely shatter.
My body arches and my hips rock up from the bed, my arms still pinned fast as the orgasm detonates through me.
Nico groans, biting down hard on my neck as he drives his fat cock deep inside me and lets go. I can feel him throbbing and pumping violently, and what feels like gallons of his hot cum spill into me as my vision blurs and the air leaves my body.
What. The. Fuck. Was. That.