CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
LUCA
“So… Allie told me some things…” Eden’s hesitant voice fades in the quiet room. Our breathing has finally slowed to a normal pace after the frenzy of our lovemaking, and her head rests on my chest, her soft waves tickling my skin.
I’ve dreamed of moments like this for so long that I can hardly believe it’s real. Eden is mine. My wife.
“What things exactly?”
“Like you… stalking me?”
A burst of chagrined laughter puffs out. “Damn Mathias and the rest of them.” Their meddling is the reason my personal business has been bandied about the manor like we’re in fucking middle school.
“So, it’s true,” she says flatly, and I half expected her to roll away from me in fear. It’s one thing to be forced into marriage after I kept her secured at Blackchapel; it’s another to add stalker to the list of warden and husband .
“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t make a habit of stalking women.” I scrub a hand over the scruff on my face. I haven’t trimmed since yesterday, but Eden didn’t seem to mind the unruly scrape on her inner thighs as I ate her out, and frankly, my marks on her body makes me a bit feral.
My cock hardens in agreement, but now’s not the time for round two.
Eden wants answers, and I’ll do anything to ease her concerns.
“You caught my attention at Enzo’s birthday party,” I start. “A beautiful woman reading on the fringes of a crowded room. You never noticed how often I circled around you, trying to keep you in view amidst Enzo and his friends’ interference. What was so intriguing about that book, Butterfly?”
“ The Mafioso’s Heart ,” she says in a sheepish voice. “Sometimes I like reading about happily ever afters in the mob since reality is so different.”
“It doesn’t have to be.” Happily ever after is exactly what I want for us.
“Perhaps…” Her finger traces my pec then pokes it. “What happened after the party?”
“It didn’t take much to figure out who you were, where you lived. The trees surrounding your home provided ample cover for—” I cover a cough of embarrassment. Admitting to spying on Eden is uncomfortable as fuck.
“Invading my privacy? Did you ever enter my apartment? Is that why Beanie likes you so much?”
“She has good taste? I only broke in once, but it was to check on you. Your patio door was left unlocked,” I say as if that’s a good excuse for breaking into her home while she slept.
“Why were you checking on me?”
“You cried for three days straight. I’m guessing this was after you found out about the arranged marriage to Fabian.” The mention of my half-brother puts my teeth on edge. He has no place in our marriage bed.
“Yeah, it was. I thought I dreamed somebody had been in my room, but you were actually there. And the gifts?”
“Guilty,” I admit.
“What about fixing my dishwasher? How did you know about that?”
“I installed monitoring software on your computer months ago. So, when your request came through, I hacked into the property management company’s maintenance system. I didn’t want strange men hanging out in your apartment while you were alone.”
“Versus one man watching my every move. God… I’ve been so clueless. It’s a miracle I’ve only been kidnapped once in my life since I never noticed having a freaking stalker.”
“Don’t beat yourself up. I took great lengths to stay hidden.
And you shouldn’t have been kidnapped even once.
That’s on me not protecting you better.” I’d considered placing a tracker on her phone along with cameras around the apartment complex, but the war between allowing Eden a semblance of privacy and my overbearing protectiveness stopped me from doing so.
And my girl paid for it.
Eden sighs. “Is there anything else I should know about? Speak now, then we can move forward with no more secrets…”
“That’s all, I promise. Unless you want to know more about the plans to dismantle the Boston Mafia Family along with their ally, The Syndicate. Allie only ever wants to know the basics, but if you’d like details…”
“No, I’m good for now, but thank you.” She covers a yawn. Her lashes flutter closed. “And thanks for the gifts, even if their delivery was questionable. You didn't have to do that.”
I stroke her hair as she falls asleep in my arms.
Eden's wrong.
I did have to send those gifts. Because she's my girl, and every instinct inside me says to spoil her. To protect her. To provide for her every need.
Those few presents were only the beginning, a fraction of what my wife deserves.
***
DAYS LATER
“Why do you watch these?” My palm rests on Eden’s stomach, the warmth of my hand helpful for her cramps. It sucks that her period started on our honeymoon, but it’ll take a lot more than some blood to stop me from fucking my wife every chance I get.
Something she'll learn soon enough.
“ASMR videos help me relax. They’re soothing.”
“Lounging on the beach isn’t relaxing enough for you?
” The villa boasts a private beach where we've spent several hours this afternoon on a massive canopied bed. House staff set up a small table full of fruit, cheese, wine, and water, and I’ve been vigilant with ensuring Eden’s pale skin is properly covered in sunscreen.
“It all works in tandem.”
I'll take her word for it as I leave Eden to her videos and focus on rubbing soothing circles over her lower abdomen.
“Why did you skip that one?” I ask several minutes later.
The previous video had two young women in low cut tanks. One girl began massaging the other’s shoulders and chest. It verged right on the line of inappropriate for a public forum, though based on the number of likes I saw before Eden swiped up, viewers didn’t mind.
“Videos like that one make me uncomfortable. The women are overly exposed unlike the usual clips, and there’s almost this dead look in their eyes.
” Eden shrugs a shoulder. “Maybe I’m reading too much into a sixty-second shot, but I’d rather watch something that gives me positive tingles rather than negative vibes. ”
“Positive tingles?”
“That’s what all the ASMR people call it. Tingles. I liken it to goosebumps from feeling good.”
We watch a few more videos when Eden shifts with a quiet groan. Her phone falls to the bed as she rolls to her back and scrunches her eyes closed.
“Cramps still being a bitch?” My hand adds a little more pressure to her stomach like I can physically stop her pain.
“Yeah. I wish the ibuprofen would kick in already.” She'd popped a few pills about a half hour ago when the pain ratcheted higher.
“Would a different kind of distraction help?”
“Like what?”
“Like orgasms.”
“I'm on my period, Luca.”
“I know. That's why we're having this conversation.”
She shades her eyes as she looks up at the clear sky, her brow wrinkling in confusion. “We're outside.”
Oh, my innocent little Butterfly.