Chapter 39 #3
“I appreciate you taking the time to drive me to see Nina, Mr. MacBrady,” Aunt Cathy says stiffly. I’ve noticed she hasn’t used his first name once since learning his last name. “It was nice meeting you... under these circumstances.” I’m sure Cyan doesn’t miss the slight.
“You’re welcome anytime, Cathy. But such formality isn’t necessary,” he says. “Aria will soon be my wife, making her family mine. I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure her happiness.” Aunt Cathy blinks at his possessive tone, before turning to me.
“Aria, may I have a word? In private. Walk me to my car. We can talk there.”
“Sure, Aunt Cathy,” I hesitate and look at Cyan.
“Go on, Dove.” Cyan’s tone is calm but laced with an unspoken warning. “Don’t take too long.” I gulp, reading his meaning between his words, and follow my aunt to her car. Once inside, she locks the doors and spins to face me.
“Aria, have you lost your ever-loving mind?”
Feigning innocence. “I know you think we’re rushing into marriage, Aunt Cathy, but life is short.” I force brightness into my words, desperate to end this conversation. Cyan’s warning from last night flashes through my mind. Would that include my aunt?
“Aria, don’t treat me like a fool. Do you even know who that man is?”
“Yes, I’m marrying him. Of course, I know who he is.”
“Child, that man is dangerous. Ethan told me about that family and him—he’s the Capo Bastone of Boston. So again, I ask… what are you doing with that monster of a mobster?”
Fucking Ethan, the man like a tick that’s hard to dislodge.
Her words light a fuse in me. Yes, I’ve seen Cyan’s monstrous side.
But I’ve also watched him build an entire village so my grandmother could live with dignity.
I’ve seen him with Rosa, with his crew of brothers, with that same twisted, fierce loyalty.
“Aunt Cathy, I thought you, of all people, would know not everything you hear is true.” My voice shakes. “Because of this so-called ‘monster,’ Nonna isn’t strapped to a chair or drugged into oblivion.”
“Aria, painting a black cat with white stripes doesn’t make it a white cat.
For the first time since your grandmother’s accident, I’m glad she can’t recognize you.
She’d be as disappointed as I am.” Her statement hits like a slap.
My fingers dig into the cool metal of the door handle to stay grounded.
“I know you’re worried,” I manage. “Aunt Cathy, I appreciate it. But please understand—my feelings for Cyan scare me as much as they thrill me. I know this is complicated. I need you to trust me.”
“Aria, he’s a criminal,” her voice is breaking. “You do not know what you’re getting into. You’re throwing your life away for a mobster. What happened to the sensible girl I helped raise?”
“I need you to accept my choices.”
“End it now, Aria. Or else.”
“You’re not listening,” I snap. “You’re dictating my future based on your fears, not my reality. If you love me, trust my judgment. Let me make my own decisions.”
“I won’t watch you make a colossal mistake.
Get out.” That cuts deeper than any insult.
For a heartbeat, I can’t move. “Get out,” she yells.
I scramble to open the door and jump out.
The engine roars, tires squeal, as she drives away.
I stand on the sidewalk, watching her taillights vanish, grief clawing at my chest, before turning back toward Cyan’s waiting car.
Johnny stands by the open door, his expression neutral.
I climb in, the weight of the confrontation settling over me like lead.
“Where to, Capo?” Salvo asks.
“Head home, Salvo.” Cyan turns to face me, features etched with a grimace, hardening his jawline.
He’d held it back for Aunt Cathy’s sake, but now, the Capo of Boston simmers just beneath the surface.
Is he angry about what she said? Or what I didn’t say?
Despite her reaction, I know Aunt Cathy’s anger came from love.
“Cyan, look, Aunt Cathy is looking out for me. Like Rosa does for you.”
“I don’t give a flying fuck about your aunt’s reaction. In fact, I respect her for it.”
“Then what’s that expression about?”
“Who else have you told that you’re dating that piece of shit?” Right. Ethan.
I wince. “I didn’t tell her I’m dating Ethan,” I whisper the last bit.
“Just... never corrected her assumption.” Cyan stares at me, silent.
His stormy glasz eyes, turbulent as a hurricane, never leave mine.
As the car glides toward the estate, I wonder if he’s turned to stone.
The only sign he’s still human is the rise and fall of his chest.
When we arrive, Cyan undoes his seatbelt; only then does he speak. “Johnny. Salvo. Get the fuck out. Aria and I have unfinished business.” They exit without a word. The doors click shut. We’re alone. Tension crackles in the air, sharp as static. I’m tethered to my seat, pulse racing.
“Come here, Dove,” Cyan says, each word a dark promise.
I unclip my seatbelt. “I get that you’re obsessive, but this isn’t the place—”
“Aria...cut the sass.” His voice drops an octave. “Or I find Ethan and carve my name into his fucking chest.”
My stomach drops. “No—don’t,” I snap out, faster than I mean to.
Not to save Ethan. To save myself. Because if Cyan learns the truth about that alley… everything detonates.
His gaze sharpens. “Tell me, why are you so bloody eager to protect that feckin’ bastard?”
“I’m not protecting him.” I swallow. “Forget Ethan. I’m already yours.
It’s only your cock I want.” What I don’t say: If you knew what really happened that night, you might not trust me, and that terrifies me more than you ever could.
His eyes darken into pools of possessiveness and fury.
That makes my thighs clench. I know exactly where this is going.
I want it, want him inside me. So, I climb willingly onto his lap.
“Forget him?” Cyan repeats, his accent rough enough to scrape bone. “Aye, I’ll make you forget every man who’s ever looked at you, ever imagined touching you.” His mouth crashes onto mine; savage, hungry, and claiming. When he pulls away, he’s growling orders. “Legs open.”
Biting my bottom lip, I hike my dress up and straddle him.
Heat flares through me the second my core meets the hard length straining under his slacks.
“Now Dove, show me you’re mine.” His thumb brushes my lower lip and tugs it free of my teeth.
Parting my lips and taking that finger into my mouth, I suck on it slow.
Deliberately keeping my eyes glued to his.
That breaks him. He kisses me, tongue-devouring.
I feel his hands fist the front of my dress and rip it open, bra tearing with it.
Cool air hits my bare skin, but I don’t care.
I’m too far gone. “Hands behind your back,” he orders. “Let me see you obey.”
I comply instantly, arching forward, offering breasts to him. My tone is submissive. “Cyan… after last night… I’m yours.”
His mouth descends on my nipple, and I gasp as his tongue plays mercilessly across my puckered nubs. When he draws away from me, it’s with great effort.
“Up.” I lift my hips, and the sound of his zipper echoes through the car—then another ripping sound: it’s my underwear. “Down.” I stare down between us at his already leaking cock and gasp out a whimpered moan.
I take too long because his hand closes around my throat and guides me down onto him, inch by stretching inch. My breath shatters. He fills me all the way, a perfect, obscene tight fit.
“I shouldn’t crave you like this, Cyan, but I do.”
His fingers tighten slightly on my throat. “Then never stop craving me?” he growls. “That’s not weakness, Aria. That’s instinct. Your body knows who it wants. Say it.”
“I want you, Cyan.”
“Ride me, love.”
I rise and fall on him, grinding, taking him to the hilt each time.
The car rocks with the rhythm, leather seats creaking.
His grip on my throat keeps me tethered to the moment, sharpening the pleasure into something dizzying, intoxicating.
My orgasm hits like a wave, violent and consuming.I’m shameless, shaking.
He flips me onto my back, reclines the seat, throws my legs over his shoulders, and drives into me—hard, punishing, and relentless.
Each thrust is a claim. “There’s no running from me,” he snarls. “Who do you belong to?”
“You,” I gasp. “You, Cyan… only you. Harder, babe, don’t stop.”
His hand tightens; just enough to make my pulse spike, as my vision blurs.
A brutal thrust. “This… is only for me.”
Another ram. “Your pussy?” He slams deeper. “Mine.”
“Your pleasure?” A slow, devastating grind. “Mine.”
The vehicle rocks, anyone close by will know what’s happening inside.
“Your whole fucking body answers to me.” Another climax detonates through me, my cries echo off the windows.
Cyan follows with a ragged roar, hips jerking as he spills inside me.
My pussy milks him dry as his cock pulsates in my core.
We collapse in a tangle of breath and sweat.
He pulls out; I feel his release drip obscenely onto my inner thigh.
I look on dazedly as he tucks himself in, zipping that gorgeous cock away and pulling off his jacket.
Cyan wraps it around me, shielding my shredded dress.
My arms slide into the sleeves without thought.
He straightens the collar, buttoning the front.
Then he opens the door, steps out and scoops me into his arms, bridal style.
We’re halfway to the house when the sharp click of heels breaks through my sex fog.
Lucilla steps into view, polished as ever, hair smooth, coat pristine, makeup flawless.
But the moment she spots Cyan carrying me, her expression falters.
She stops; her eyes linger on him, holding me a beat too long…
and I see her loneliness and envy. She masks it fast, pasting on her bright, practiced smile.
“Cyan,” she sings lightly, “I’m here to pick up Evie. Rosa mentioned she’d be with her.”
“Rosa isn’t here today,” Cyan replies, tone flat.
“Oh... Okay, thanks.” A tiny stiffening ripples down Lucilla’s posture. If I weren’t paying attention, I’d miss it. She smooths a hand down her blouse, a nervous tell, then turns her concern on me.
Her gaze flicks over the state of me in Cyan’s jacket, my torn dress, the way I’m wrapped in his arms.
“Aria, honey… are you okay? Did you slip?” Her tone is soft, sympathetic. But again, her eyes betray her. They’re cataloging everything.
“Nah,” Cyan answers before I can. “Just carrying my lass. I like feeling her in my arms.”
Lucilla’s smile cracks, a twitch in her cheek, and a tightening around her eyes.
A pang of something vulnerable etches into her expression before she forces it away with a brittle laugh.
“Right. Well… enjoy your day.” She lingers a second too long, watching Cyan adjust me against his chest. Then she turns on her heel and walks away, spine straight…
but I see her shoulders tremble it’s minuscule, the only slip in her perfect facade.
Rosa’s warning hums in my mind. Trust is everything in this family, Aria. Don’t let the wrong person play with yours.
Now I see it clearly. Lucilla didn’t let the information slip out about Cyan and Elana.
Sadness for her tightens in my chest. Because beneath the jealousy, beneath the bitterness, I saw it, the flicker of a woman starving for her husband’s devotion.
The kind Thomas never gives her. For one awful moment…
I feel guilty. Guilty that I have what she aches for, guilty that she looked at me like I’m holding something she’s been begging the universe for and never receives.
As we step inside, the truth settles in my mind. This world–its dangers, its masks, its secrets–belongs to me now, and I need to learn how to survive in it. Because I’m about to become a mobster’s wife.