Chapter 22
LUNA
What.
The.
Actual.
Fuck?
I blink myself awake, aware that I’m naked in bed, my body thoroughly sated from the utter insanity that went on the night before, and that I once again caved to my massive weakness for the sexy asshole I was forced to marry.
What the hell is wrong with me?
As usual, I’m alone. Priest’s side of the bed is empty. Instantly, it strikes me.
He has a side of the bed.
Without my realizing it, we’ve established a routine that’s not all that different from regular married couples. And when he’s gone, I miss him. Which is why I’m rolling over onto my belly and burying my face in his pillow right now. His scent lingers—citrus and pine.
Instantly annoyed with myself for my weakness, I climb out of the bed. It’s official. I’m an idiot. I’ve never been this destroyed by a man before. Why does it have to be him?
I head to the shower, crank it to as hot as I can stand, and spend way too much time hiding from what awaits me when I step out of the room. I soap myself up, shampoo my hair, and then I linger in the steam, back pressed to the slippery marble wall.
I tell myself this is temporary and that the feelings burning inside me are some kind of psychological response to the trauma I’ve experienced.
If I could see a therapist, I’m sure she would explain it all.
But psychology wasn’t my major, and unfortunately, almost achieving an MFA in Creative Writing didn’t equip me for being forced into an arranged marriage with a hot gangster who moonlights as a sex god.
I’m so screwed.
So in over my head.
When I decide I can’t keep hiding in the shower, I finally turn it off and emerge. As I towel myself off and head back into the bedroom, I discover a tidy pile of my clothes, folded neatly on one of the dressers.
Apparently, more of my things have arrived, courtesy of the thugs who raided my apartment in Iowa.
I still hate the thought of them going through my private space and dismantling the little world I created for myself.
But I am glad to finally have something to wear beyond the handful of outfits—mostly pajamas—that I stuffed into my carry-on when I left.
I settle on a lacy black thong with matching bra and a red poplin dress that’s equal parts cute and comfy. I let my hair down and then, barefoot, leave my gilded cage. But I can only fly so far, of course. I’m still locked in the safe house, even if I now am allowed free rein.
The kitchen is empty. I spy a note on the counter, settled atop a stack of journals and pens.
Luna,
Breakfast is in the fridge. These are for you. We’ll be back by 5.
M
I realize three things in rapid succession. First, Priest signed the note M for Matteo. It feels somehow more intimate. Second, he brought me writing implements. The pens are my favorite kind, fine and felt-tip. I could fall in love with him for all these blank pages. And third, I’m alone.
Those bastards left me here in the safe house on my own.
“Saint?” I call out just to be sure. “Priest?”
Crickets.
“Shit,” I mutter, last night’s anxiety eagerly crowding in.
I take a deep breath and then exhale, willing it to abate. I can do this. I can distract myself and keep calm. When Priest shows back up, he’s going to get an earful from me.
If he shows back up.
A shiver goes down my spine at the thought. Because, like it or not, I’ve become rather fond of that arrogant, sexy gangster. And whatever he’s facing in the outside world, I know it must be dangerous.
Swallowing hard against a rush of emotion I don’t want to feel, I make myself an espresso, grab a pastry from the refrigerator—thank you, Zia Maria—and settle in with my pens and notebooks.
It feels like a lifetime has passed since I last wrote a poem, and the words are burning up inside me, a fever I need to get out.
Priest
I should have known that Amedeo the Animal was going to be fucking trouble.
He’s smoking a cigar, flanked by his number two and number three—Little Sal and Jimmy Greco, both notorious goons, a glass of whiskey untouched at his elbow. He was three hours late showing up for this meeting, and I know exactly why.
The prick is trying to put on a show of power.
“We’ve been talking, Squeaky and I, along with some of the other capos,” Amedeo says. “And we’ve all come to the agreement that, as I’m the senior blood member of the Revello family, Club Venere should be mine.”
His statement doesn’t surprise me. He’s spent the last twenty minutes tap-dancing around the subject like some poor man’s Fred Astaire. But this piece of shit can play all the games he wants. The outcome’s going to be the same.
I pin him with a look that ought to have him quaking in his fucking loafers. “Club Venere belongs to my wife.”
Amedeo flashes me a smug grin and takes his time puffing on the fat cigar, filling the air around him with a cloud of thick smoke. “It isn’t that simple.”
I clench my jaw. “Yes, it is. Club Venere is part of Tomasso Revello’s holdings. Luna Revello Andriani is his sole living heir. I’ve had my lawyer take a look at the will. It’s airtight.”
“Cousin Luna,” Amedeo drawls, lingering on her name in a way that makes me want to punch him in the face. “How is she, by the way? It’s been a while since anyone has seen her. Not since the wedding, from what I hear. The family is worried about her.”
“Keep my wife’s name out of your mouth,” I growl, not amused by his tactics. “Luna is as well as can be expected, given the loss of her father and the way it went down—Tomasso getting clipped in her arms.”
I hope my stare is boring all the way into this bastard’s soul. Because if I had to put my money on the Russians being behind Tomasso Revello’s murder or Amedeo the Animal, it would be the ugly fucker looking me in the eye from across the table right now. Every. Damn. Time.
“It was rough, what happened to her,” Amedeo agrees without a hint of sympathy. “All that blood on her pretty wedding dress.” He pauses to inhale his cigar, then slowly exhale. “Could’ve been worse, though. Could’ve been her too.”
There’s a thinly veiled threat in his words.
Unlike our last meeting, I’m armed. So are my brothers and the other soldiers we’ve brought with us.
I discreetly move the lapel of my suit jacket, allowing it to fall open just enough that my piece is visible. “I don’t think anyone would dare to fuck with what’s mine.”
“That why you’re keeping her locked away?” Amedeo wants to know. “Look, Don Andriani, I’ll cut to the chase. Some of the family have come to me after our meeting, and they have concerns. Legitimate concerns.”
My shoulders tense. I expected opposition, but not already. Not with the families so newly joined.
“What are they?” I ask.
“This club, for one thing. What does a pretty little thing who’s spent the last few years in the Midwest getting some kind of goody-two-shoes degree know about running a business like this?
She’s not going to want to get her hands dirty, and you and I both know there are enough drugs running through here to supply half the city. ”
I force a calm smile. “Naturally, my wife will be otherwise occupied. She’s entrusted me and my brothers with the daily operations of the club.”
“That’s the other thing, though. No one’s seen my cousin since the wedding. For all we know, you clipped her and you’re making all these decisions on her behalf. Not that I’d accuse you of doing something like that.” He sucks on his cigar.
I consider stuffing it down his windpipe and letting him choke on it. I can feel my brothers tensing around me—none of us are liking the way this meeting has progressed so far.
“Are you accusing me of hurting my wife, Revello?” I bite out.
Amedeo the Animal holds my stare for a few beats, then puffs out a halo of smoke. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just bringing you the concerns that some of the family have brought to me.”
“What a fucking statesman you are.”
I’m being sarcastic, but Amedeo doesn’t care.
He shrugs. “Eh, I do what I can. I have a duty to this family. Blood ties are the strongest ties there are. I’m obligated to look after Luna now that her father’s gone. Me and Squeaky both, seeing as how we’re the only cousins Luna has left.”
“Hate to break it to you, but since I’m her husband, that fucking trumps cousins.”
Another shrug and a slow, meditative puff on his cigar, like this asshole has all the time in the world.
“Family’s still family,” he says. “We need to make sure Luna’s happy and well taken care of. It’s important to us.”
“Squeaky vouched for us,” I argue, staring pointedly at him.
Squeaky’s pale, and he won’t meet my gaze. I can tell instantly that Amedeo’s got something on him. The shifty bastard.
“Yeah, see,” Squeaky starts, squirming a little on his seat as a bead of perspiration pops out on his forehead. “That’s the thing. I haven’t seen Luna since the wedding either.”
Squeaky Revello got his nickname from his unfortunate voice, and when he’s nervous, it’s even more high-pitched than usual. There’s no doubt about it. Amedeo somehow got to Squeaky and is putting pressure on him. Do they actually think I’ve murdered my wife? Hard to say.
My reputation is bad, and I know it. But I’ve never killed a woman before, and the only thing I want to do to Luna is protect her.
And fuck her in as many ways as possible, but I don’t want to think about that right now because getting a boner while I’m negotiating with these pricks is out of the question.
“Let’s get to the point here,” I tell them both, my voice cold. “What is it that you want?”
Amedeo blows a new cloud of smoke. “What I want is for this alliance to go well. I’d hate to see it undermined by a lack of trust.”
Maybe instead of jamming that cigar down his windpipe, I’ll shove it up his ass. While it’s still lit.
“You saying your capos don’t have faith in me, Revello?” I ask quietly.
There’s no good answer for him. He has to tread with care, and he knows it.
“What I’m saying, Don Andriani,” he says slowly, “is that if you want the alliance to proceed smoothly, we need to know that Luna is alive and well.”
I don’t like the idea of bringing her out of hiding too soon, but Amedeo’s leaving me with little choice.
Besides that, I know I can’t keep her locked away from the outside world forever.
She’s not my prisoner. She’s my wife. I’ll bring in more guards.
Do everything I can to keep her as safe on the outside as I did on the inside.
“I’m sure my wife would be happy to join us all for dinner,” I concede. “Will that suffice?”
“It’ll go a long way.” Amedeo can’t hide his smug smile. “But about the club…”
“It’s hers,” I snap. “My wife’s inheritance isn’t up for debate. She gets what’s owed to her as the daughter of Tomasso Revello, and anyone who tries to stop that is going to have to answer to me.”
It’s the closest I’ll come to an outright threat. I’m not here to start a war so soon after brokering a tentative peace between our families. But I’m also not about to let this fucking snake take what belongs to Luna. I’ll put a bullet in his head first. He needs to know it.
Amedeo watches me with those dark, glittering eyes that are almost black. Shark’s eyes.
“Understood,” he says at last. “If my cousin needs any assistance with Club Venere, I’m here.”
“I’m sure she’ll be overjoyed to hear it.” I stand. “I’ll have my men let you know when and where for the dinner. In the meantime, it’s time for you all to get the fuck out of my wife’s club.”
Amedeo and his men stand, Squeaky looking down at his feet and refusing to make eye contact. Fucking rat.
One by one, they file out of the room until the only ones remaining are my brothers and me, our guards escorting Revello and his crew to the door.
“I don’t like the focus on Luna,” Saint says quietly when they’re gone.
I sigh, a knot tightening in my gut. “I don’t like it either, but they don’t leave us with any other options. If the only way we can cement the joining of the families is for the Revellos to see that Luna is fine, then let them see her.”
“Or they could be luring her out, like a lamb for the slaughter,” Scorpion points out.
“If the Animal is behind Tomasso getting clipped, Luna could be next,” Lucky adds.
My chest seizes. My brothers aren’t saying anything that hasn’t already occurred to me, but that doesn’t change the fact that the mere thought of any harm coming to Luna makes me want to set the whole fucking world on fire.
“I’ll protect her,” I grind out.
“Priest,” Saint says, a note of warning in his voice.
She’s not his to protect. She’s mine.
“I said I’ll protect her,” I repeat. “I’ll protect her, and we’ll do what we have to fucking do. Unifying the families is what we’ve been working toward for the last year, and I’m not going to allow anything to jeopardize that now.”
“Not even her?” Saint asks.
And I know what he’s really asking. What his eyes are saying.
If I cared about Luna, I wouldn’t let her become a pawn in this sadistic fucking game Amedeo’s playing.
But I’ve been handed the keys to the castle, and I’m not going to turn my back on them.
Our father raised us to be cold, heartless, brutal.
To feel nothing except loyalty to the family, the need for more. That’s who I am.
I’m the don.
And you don’t get to remain the don by being soft. By falling in love. By making yourself vulnerable. Fuck that shit. I can do this, and I can do it my way.
I pop my jaw. “Not even her.”