29. Tristan
TRISTAN
T he gunshot echoes through the warehouse, reverberating off the metal walls.
For a moment, everything is perfectly still.
Sal's body slumps forward in the chair, blood pooling beneath him, and my wife stands there with the smoking gun in her hands, her chin lifted, her dark eyes blazing with a fury that makes my cock twitch despite the circumstances.
Jesus Christ.
I've seen violence before. I've dealt it out myself, countless times.
I've tortured men, killed them with my bare hands, watched the light fade from their eyes without feeling a goddamn thing.
But watching Simone pull that trigger, watching her take her revenge on the man who threatened our child, who tried to destroy our future—it does something to me that I wasn't expecting.
It turns me on. I’m harder than I’ve ever been in my fucking life, looking at her. And if Damian weren’t in the room right now, I’d have her up against the wall and my cock in her before she could put the gun down.
She's magnificent like this. Deadly. The polished mafia princess facade has been stripped away completely, revealing the woman underneath—the one who's been fighting me from the very beginning, the one who never backs down, never submits unless she chooses to.
The one who just put a bullet in a man's head without flinching.
I should have known. Given the way she fights me, the fire in her eyes when she's angry, the way she never lets me win anything easily—I should have known she had this in her. This capacity for violence, for taking what's hers and protecting it with blood if necessary.
She's perfect.
She’s mine.
I’ll never let her go a day without knowing what she means to me again.
"Simone," I breathe, and she turns to look at me, the gun still in her hands. There's no regret in her expression, no horror at what she's just done. Just satisfaction, cold and complete.
"He crossed a line," she says simply, as if that explains everything.
And maybe it does. In our world, there are rules.
Boundaries that shouldn't be crossed. Sal crossed them all when he put his hands on my wife, when he threatened our child. I would have killed him for it, but Simone demanded his life at her hands instead. And I find, despite all my fantasies of taking him apart piece by piece, that I’m happy to give her this.
I move toward her, my heart pounding, every instinct I have screaming at me to take her, to claim her, to show her exactly how much her violence affects me. She doesn't back away as I approach, doesn't lower the gun. She just watches me with those dark eyes, waiting to see what I'll do.
"I always should have known," I tell her, reaching out to take the gun from her hands. She lets me, her fingers brushing against mine as I set it aside. "Given the way you fight me. The way you never give in without making me work for it."
Her lips curve into the faintest smile. "You like it when I fight you."
"I fucking love it." The words come out rougher than I intended, but I don't care. It's the truth. I love her fire, her defiance, the way she challenges me at every turn. I love that she's not some simpering, obedient wife who does whatever I tell her to do. I love that she's dangerous.
I love that she never gave an inch until she was ready to, even though it drove me mad.
I cup her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing over her cheekbones.
"You're incredible," I murmur, and then I'm kissing her, hard and desperate, pouring all of my admiration and desire and love into the pressure of my lips against hers.
She kisses me back just as fiercely, her hands fisting in my shirt, pulling me closer.
She tastes like power. Like violence and vengeance and everything I've ever wanted in a woman.
I want to take her right here, against the wall of this warehouse, on the fucking floor if need be, with Sal's blood still warm there.
I want to show her exactly what she does to me, how much I need her, how perfect we are together.
My hands slide down to her waist, pulling her against me, and she makes a soft sound into my mouth that goes straight to my cock. I'm hard as steel, aching for her, and from the way she's pressing against me, I think she feels the same way.
"Boss." The voice cuts through the haze of lust and violence, and I reluctantly pull away from Simone to see Vitto trying very hard not to look at us, his gaze fixed somewhere over our heads. "Sorry to interrupt, but we've got cleanup that needs to be done."
Right. Sal's body. The blood. The evidence that needs to be disposed of. I take a deep breath, forcing myself to focus on the practical matters at hand instead of the way my wife looks with her lips swollen from my kisses and her eyes dark with desire.
"Handle it," I tell Vitto, my voice rougher than usual. "Make sure there's nothing left to find."
He nods, still not quite meeting my eyes. "Already on it, boss."
I turn back to Simone, who's watching the exchange with interest. She's not squeamish about the cleanup, doesn't seem bothered by the fact that we're discussing the disposal of a man she just killed. If anything, she looks satisfied, like a job well done.
"Come on," I tell her, taking her hand. "Let's go home."
She nods, allowing me to lead her out of the warehouse and toward the car.
The Miami heat hits us as soon as we step outside, the sun bright despite the time of year, but I barely notice.
All I can think about is getting Simone home, getting her alone, showing her exactly how much her display of violence has affected me.
The moment we’re in the car, my mouth is on hers, my hands roving over her as I pull her into my lap. She’s wearing jeans, which is the only reason I’m not already inside of her as I grip her hips, pulling her down against my aching cock as I claim her mouth again.
I can’t keep my hands off of her. I can’t stop thinking about everything I want to do to her. I'm thinking about how beautiful she looked with that gun in her hands, how powerful and deadly and perfect. I'm thinking about how much I love her, how much I need her, how grateful I am that she's mine.
That she’s alive, and so am I, and that I get another chance to do this right.
We pull into the circular driveway of the mansion, and I'm out of the car and around to her side before she can even reach for the door handle. I help her out, my hands lingering on her waist, and she looks up at me with an expression I can't quite read.
"Tristan," she starts, but I shake my head.
"Not here," I tell her. "Inside."
We head straight for the stairs, up them like teenagers desperate to get their hands on each other, all the way to the bedroom I once intended to share with her.
The bedroom that I hope will be ours now.
I close the door behind us, and I see Simone standing next to the bed, looking at me with hunger in her gaze.
A look that I never thought she’d willingly give me.
I walk toward her, and as I stop just in front of her, my heart pounding in my chest, my eyes widen as Simone sinks slowly to her knees.
“I’d never do this for anyone else,” she murmurs, her voice low and husky as she reaches for my belt.
“But for you, Tristan, I’ll get on my knees.
I’ll submit and let you see me like this, just for a little while, so long as you remember that when we leave this room, I’m at your side.
Not behind you, not beneath you. Next to you. ”
My chest tightens. I remember the way I pushed her, the way I tried to force her submission instead of earning it. I'm not proud of how I handled things then, but I can't change it now.
“You don’t control me,” she murmurs, her gaze fixed on mine as she drags my zipper down.
“But I’ll be yours if you’ll be mine. And if this turns you on—” A wicked gleam enters her eyes as she slides my cock free, her hand wrapping around me and tearing a groan from my lips.
“Then I’ll do this just to see that look on your face. ”
She leans in, brushing her lips against the head of my cock, and when she wraps them around me, it feels like fucking heaven.
I bury my hands in her hair, pulling her closer, deeper, relishing the wet heat as I slide into her throat, as I thrust over her tongue, as I take her mouth while she gives it to me willingly.
I let myself get to the edge, holding back my orgasm with effort as I savor the exquisite pleasure of her throat tightening around my length, before I pull free and reach for her, lifting her up and setting her on the edge of the bed.
I have us both naked in moments, clothes scattered across the floor as I spill her back onto the bed and spread her legs, sliding down her body until my mouth is pressed between her thighs.
I touch her the way I’ve learned she likes, licking and sucking, my fingers buried inside of her until she comes for me, and only then do I join her on the bed, rolling onto my back as I pull her astride me.
“Ride me, célie ,” I growl, my hands digging into her hips. “Make me come.”
Simone tosses her hair back, elegant and beautiful as she starts to ride my cock, the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen.
The only thing more beautiful is when her hand slides between her thighs, when she touches herself for me, pushing herself to another climax before the sight of her coming on my cock and the feeling of her rippling around me pushes me over the edge.
I moan her name as I come inside of her, filling her up, watching my goddess of a wife as we come together. As I give her everything I have, the way she’s finally given herself to me.
Afterward, we lie tangled together, her head on my chest, my fingers combing through her hair. The late morning sun streams through the windows, casting golden light across our skin, and for the first time in longer than I can remember, I feel completely at peace.
"We're safe now," I murmur into her hair. "Sal is dead. Enzo is dead. No one else will come for you."
She lifts her head to look at me, her dark eyes serious. "And if they do?"
I cup her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. "Then we'll handle them. Together."
She smiles at that, and it lights up her face, making my chest ache with how beautiful she is. "Together," she agrees.
I pull her up for another kiss, slow and sweet this time, and I can see our future stretching out ahead of us.
A future where we don't have to look over our shoulders, where we can raise our child in safety, where we can be the partners we were always meant to be. A future where I’m as powerful as I always imagined I’d be, feared and respected enough to keep my family safe… only now, my wife is at my side.
I have more than I ever imagined possible. More than I dreamed I’d ever be allowed.
And Simone is mine, not because I chained her to me, but because she’s chosen to stay. Not because I own her, but because she wants to be mine.
"I love you, Mrs. O'Malley," I murmur against her lips.
"I love you too, Mr. O'Malley," she whispers back.
For the first time since this all began, I know with absolute certainty that everything is going to be okay.
We're equals in this marriage, partners in every sense of the word.
We've both given in to our passion for each other, and there's no going back. I’ll spend every day earning Simone’s love, and for the rest of our lives, that will always be what I want, above all else.
This is our beginning. Our real beginning. And I can't wait to see what comes next.