Chapter 18
Eighteen
JULIAN
Wife: I know you just left, but I forgot to ask if it’s okay if Lulu comes over next week to show me how to use your super fancy kitchen and maybe cook something that won’t kill you?
I grin and feel some of the tension leave my shoulders as I read my wife’s words.
I fucking hate that I was pulled away from the rest of the evening with her, and someone is going to die for it tonight.
They’re going to suffer for the fact that I’m not nine inches deep inside of my perfect Angel right now.
Instead, I’m on my plane, headed to LA with my brothers and our men. Because something went very wrong at my port, even though the entire operation was planned meticulously. It should have been a flawless transaction.
Me: It’s your super fancy kitchen too, Angel. Lulu’s always welcome at our house. You don’t have to ask for permission to spend time with your friends. However, if you ever invite a man to our home, my men will be instructed to kill him on sight.
I lean back in the seat and grin when I see the dancing bubble appear on the screen, and I wait for her response.
Wife: So murderous tonight! Someone pissed you off. I’m sorry. Please stay safe, okay? Also, I don’t know any men to invite to our house. I haven’t gone home yet. Scarlett, Lulu and I are eating too much ice cream, drinking wine, and talking about you.
I smirk and ignore Mateo when he says, “Someone is smitten with his new wife.”
Me: I hope you’re saying good things about me. Just tell Benji when you’re ready to go home, and he’ll escort you. You’ll have a team of four with you.
“You’re grinning at your phone, man.”
I glance up at Rome and then flip him the bird. “Like I haven’t caught you with a stupid-ass smile on your face when you’re talking to your wife.”
“I’m just pointing out the glaring fact that you’ve been insisting to anyone who will listen that this is just a business arrangement.”
“It is.”
It’s not.
“Right.” Rome smirks, and I return my attention to my phone.
Wife: Four men feels excessive, Julian. I’m sure one will be fine. I just need a ride.
Me: Four men, Angel. Don’t argue with me. Text me when you get home.
Wife: Is it too needy of me to ask you to text me when you land in LA?
Me: You can never be too needy. I’ll keep you posted. Don’t worry about me, just have fun tonight. I should be home tomorrow.
Wife: *kissy face emoji*
“Fuck.”
I’m too fucking pissed off to agree with Carson as we stand in my building. My empty motherfucking building.
Empty aside from ten of my men who are all dead, all gutted. I know every single one of the men who works for me. I know their families. I visit them on holidays and invite them to my home for cookouts. These men were my family.
And someone slaughtered them and took my product.
“Jesus Christ,” Jack says, his usually stoic face haggard as he kneels next to Theo, one of the men who’s been with us the longest. Theo was in charge, and when shit went down, he had time to press Call on his phone, so we could hear what was happening.
“I found something,” Diego calls out, and I turn in surprise.
“How? The place is fucking empty.”
Millions worth of stones are gone.
Rage fuels me as I stride to where Diego’s holding an envelope in his gloved hand, and he passes it to me.
My name is written on the back.
Thanks for the heads up.
“The fuck does this mean?” I ask, showing it to the others. “This doesn’t make any fucking sense.”
“No one knew about this shipment but our people,” Jack says, shaking his head. “There’s no way that word got out to any of our enemies.”
“We’re going to scour this fucking city, and I’m going to kill every single person who knows about this. It’s about to be a long fucking night.”
“Just the way I like it,” Carson says with a gleam in his eye. “Let’s go hunting, boys.”
More than forty-eight hours later, well past midnight, I stride into my house. I’m ready to fall into bed with my wife and sleep for a solid six hours before I fuck her for a week straight.
We’ve been married for almost a week, and I haven’t been inside her yet.
I should be fucking tortured for that.
Music fills the air as I close the door behind me, and all the tension that I’ve been carrying since I received that call at Rome’s place slowly eases out of me. Natasha is sitting at the piano, playing a song I know well, and fuck if it isn’t the best homecoming I’ve ever had.
Before I reach her, I shed my jacket and tie and roll my sleeves on my forearms, then slip out of my shoes, making myself comfortable and giving myself a moment to listen, to take in every note as my girl plays.
This woman is fucking talented.
She pours her heart out into the music. I can feel it in my soul as I stride into the room and spot her in the darkness.
The only light comes from above the stove in the kitchen.
I can see Natasha’s refection in the dark windows next to the piano.
Her eyes are closed as her hands move over the keys, not missing a note.
Not wanting to startle her, I stand back, hands in my pockets, and listen to her play. Finally, after the final note disappears, she folds her hands in her lap and opens her eyes, seeing me in the window.
She doesn’t jump.
She smiles.
And I can’t stay away from her for another second.
I cross to her, and she slides over on the bench, making room for me to join her. When I sit, she tips her head onto my shoulder and exhales, as if in relief.
“You’re home.”
“I’m home, Angel. I texted you when I landed.”
“I must have left my phone in the bedroom after my shower.” She turns her face and kisses my biceps, and the fact that she’s touching me so freely is not lost on me. “Are you okay?”
“Just tired.”
The truth is, I’m fucking exhausted. I haven’t slept in two days. We tracked down eight men that we know for sure were there the other night but didn’t get much information out of them.
It was frustrating as fuck.
And I missed being here, with my wife.
She lays her fingers on the keys but doesn’t play, and I kiss the top of her head.
“Play for me,” I whisper to her as I breathe her in. “Whatever you want.”
She takes a breath, and then her hands move again, this time playing an Adele song that I recognize, and after a few moments, I join her.
Her eyes are wide when they shoot up to mine, and then a smile transforms her beautiful face, and we play the song together.
It’s sexy, sitting here with her on this bench, playing a song so in sync with each other. This might be the most intimate I’ve ever been with anyone in my life.
And when the song is over, I lift her onto my lap, cup her cheek, and cover her mouth with mine. Her lips are so fucking sweet, I don’t know how I lived without them for the last forty-eight hours.
Definitely not a business arrangement for me anymore.
I’m not sure if it ever really was.
“I missed you,” she whispers against my lips as my hands glide over her ass, pulling her closer. “This big house is lonely without you in it.”
“You’re the sweetest thing,” I murmur, brushing a few strands of hair off her cheek and hooking them behind her ear. “I don’t deserve your goodness, Natasha. But I’m never letting you go.”
I crush my mouth to hers and lick over the seam of her lips, and when she whimpers and opens for me, my immediate thought is now I’m home.
Her arms wrap around my neck, and she pushes her hot pussy against my already hard cock, and that’s all the invitation I need.
“I’m not waiting one more fucking minute,” I growl against her lips. “I need to sink inside your perfect pussy and live there for the immediate future.”
She lifts an eyebrow.
“Good because you’ve been torturing me with your amazing, muscled forearms playing this piano, and I’m all kinds of turned on right now.”
Without another word, I lift her, wrap her legs around my waist, and carry her back to our bed. My first instinct was to spread her out on the piano and eat her, but I want her in our bed.
All fucking night.