36. Elio
36
ELIO
W e ate in the dining room in front of the stunning views of the water. We talked about nothing, simple and easy, something I hadn’t experienced in a long time.
When the dishes were cleared, Georgia’s smile dropped, and she sighed.
“So, I found out about my father. Were you listening?”
“Do you think I was listening?” I was genuinely curious if Georgia had any idea how much surveillance I had on her. From CCTV to the GPS chip, to bodyguards who would follow her when she eventually started to leave the house without me, she’d never be far from my eyes.
She lifted a shoulder, uncaring. “He promises that the De Sanctis family won’t be used in his deal with the state. He’s going to snitch on the Ravellis instead, just like you wanted.”
Her expression was grim.
“And that upsets you?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Not really. I guess the alternative was never going to happen.”
“The alternative being…”
“He doesn’t snitch on anyone. He pays for his wrongdoings with honor. He doesn’t put me in danger just to shave a little time off his sentence. He did things wrong; he should pay. He’s a cheater and a coward. He loves himself more than me,” she finished.
Ding-ding.
I took no pleasure in seeing Georgia finally realize what a reprehensible piece of shit her father was. Before she’d come into my life, I hadn’t taken pleasure in anything at all.
Now, my pleasure lived in her smile.
“It doesn’t matter what he does now. Salvatore wanted it taken care of so he could die gracefully. That mission has been accomplished.”
She nodded and bit her lip, holding her words inside until she couldn’t anymore.
“So, does that mean… you don’t need me anymore? Is the hostage situation over?”
I pinned her with a look. “Do you feel like a hostage?”
She shrugged. “I promised not to run away, but I can hardly call who I want or go for a walk if I want to. Sounds like being a hostage to me.”
“Forgive me for being cautious. The Ravellis did try to kill you last night. And may I remind you that you yourself threatened to kill me in my sleep only a few nights ago?” I quipped.
She rolled her eyes. “And you told me that I was nothing to you and nothing could tempt you to touch me… Seems like we’re both liars.”
“You think because of last night… You have some irresistible temptation over me?” I asked, arching an eyebrow at her.
Sparring with her was more enjoyable than I remembered, but I had to be rusty at it, as my words sent heat flooding to her cheeks. She pushed her chair back and stood.
“Whatever, I’d say there’s no need to be an asshole, but we both know that just comes naturally to you,” she snapped and made to stride away.
She didn’t get far. I stood, and in a fluid motion, pulled her to me, turning her so her back was to the table. Her eyes were bright and embarrassed. Her cheeks were red, the shame trailing down her neck. I’d left marks. It thrilled me to see that I’d left love bites on her skin. Good.
“You do.” I sank a hand into the hair at the nape of her neck and gripped the back of her head. “You win… topolina . You do tempt me. You do torment me… you always have. I’m tired of holding back. You’re not my hostage. You’re my wife, and I’ll treat you as such.”
I tipped her head back, forcing her lips to be presented to me, a feast for me and only me. Then I kissed her, hard and ruthlessly, softly and carefully. I kissed her all the ways I’d missed kissing her for so long.
I pulled my lips from hers as I lifted her on the table, pushing her knees wide so I could press my body in between.
I kissed her again and guided her back so she was supine on the polished wooden surface, her legs open, her hair a dark cloud around her head. Her eyes were fixed on me. Excited or scared, I couldn’t tell. I no longer cared.
“Everything comes to he who waits… and I have waited a lifetime for you, and I’m done. From now on… I will not hold back.”
Her breath hitched in her chest, her dark eyes full of excitement. “I’m not asking you to,” she told me.
I tugged her panties off, then balled them up and tucked them into my pocket.
“What are those for?” She raised an eyebrow at me.
“No one touches your panties but me,” I told her thickly, stoking a finger down her pussy. God, she was beautiful. “Not even the cleaning staff,” I added.
“You’re crazy,” she breathed as I leaned in and smelled her musky, sweet scent.
“Hmm, you seem to have that effect on me,” I agreed and then licked her.
My tongue worked her from her hole up to her clit, where I stayed. Licking and nibbling on it, I had to hold her hips down on the table to get her to stay still. Her hips danced.
Her hands sank into my hair, tugging at the short strands.
She was rising. If I weren’t such a jaded cynic, I’d almost believe that she hadn’t been with anyone in a long time, she was so responsive.
I laved her clit hard, eliciting a scream, and she rose toward her orgasm. I pulled back.
“No!” she protested hotly.
I straightened up and dragged a hand down my face. I dropped my pants and took my cock out. Now that I’d crossed that line and been inside her, there was no going back. I needed to be there as much as possible. The world made more sense when I was inside her. My demons weren’t as loud, and the past no longer breathed down my neck when I was home, deep in Georgia.
I pushed, parting her tight muscles. She leaned up on her elbows and watched me enter her. Her gaze was riveted to the place where my cock disappeared into her perfect cunt, and my eyes were riveted to her.
My wife.
Finally.
I slid right in, deep as I could, and fought off the lethal grip of her muscles trying to expel me. I wasn’t going anywhere. Lowering a hand to her wet, swollen clit, I rubbed my thumb across it, and she groaned, falling back to the tabletop and surrendering completely.
Her muscles loosened, and I thrust, thumbing her clit the entire time. She raised her hips to meet my every movement. I should have put a pillow beneath her hips. She’d lost some of her lush curves in the years we’d been apart. Her lifestyle in LA had left her poor and hungry. I was well familiar with that feeling. I’d never forget it. I wouldn’t let Georgia feel it again. She’d never be poor again, in debt, or hungry. Never. As long as I lived, and beyond. She’d never want for anything.
She was rising once more, her beautiful face twisting with pleasure. Red and sweaty, she was more beautiful in her honest reactions than anything I’d ever seen.
“I’m going to come,” she panted, her eyes flying to mine. She looked almost scared.
I simply nodded. “Yes, you are, and I’m right behind you.”
“It feels so full,” she said, biting her lip.
“It is full… full of me, your husband,” I added, my balls drawing up. God, I was close.
She gave a strangled cry, her hands scratching at the wood of the table.
“Elio!” My name on her lips when she came was a benediction.
No matter what horrors had passed between us, or trespasses that had occurred, I knew at that moment that we could live again. Despite all odds… suddenly, there was a sunrise on the dark horizon after more than a decade of night.
Beneath the frozen river, currents still run.
Her pussy closed around me, holding me in place so tight, undulating inside, drawing my cum from me ruthlessly.
Liquid burst from her, soaking the table and showering my cock. I rubbed her clit and drew it out, the spray a glorious fucking sight to see.
“Oh my God, oh my God,” Georgia sobbed through it.
I pulsed inside her, coming hard. Her tight cunt milked me, pulling every last drop from my balls. I was breathing hard, the pleasure a rush I’d long forgotten. My heart was pounding. Undeniable.
“What the hell? Oh my God,” Georgia muttered.
I pulled free on a rush of her juices and my cum. She looked embarrassed and stared at the pool on the table below her.
“No, not your god… your husband made you squirt, topolina ,” I said.
She flushed scarlet.
I stroked her wet, sweaty hair back. “But you can call me your god if you want.”
I bent down, positioning my face near the table, just beyond her cunt. I licked a long stroke against the wood, tasting her cum.
Her breath hitched. I licked the liquid again, and again, leaning forward to place a kiss on her twitching pussy.
“Every single bit of you… every single drop, inch, strand of hair, freckle, and nail… is perfect… and mine. Got it?”
She stared at me, mesmerized.
“I said, got it?” I repeated, straightening up.
She followed in a daze. I lifted her off the wet table and placed her on the floor.
“I got it,” she said.
Her dark eyes were luminous, her cheeks rosy, and her hair a mess. I wanted to pull her close and consume her, take her to bed and spend the rest of the day there, but there was work to be done.
“Now, you have something else of mine, and it’s time to hand it over,” I told her. I stepped back and pulled my pants up, tucking my shirt in and returning myself to normal as best I could.
She leaned against the table. “What is it?”
“The flash drive. Your father’s insurance. It’s time to hand it over.” I held my hand out.
She stared at me, surprised I knew about it, but somehow not upset. She felt around in her pocket and took it out.
“Here. I was going to give it to you. I don’t care what’s on it. I wish he hadn’t sent it to me.”
I took the flash drive. “Forget he did. You don’t have to worry about it anymore.”
“What are you going to do with it?” she asked.
I slipped it into my pocket. “Nothing too nefarious. As long as Alfredo does what he’s promised and keeps the De Sanctis name out of his mouth, there won’t be any problems.”
“And if he doesn’t? What if he decides to tell on Salvatore anyway? This whole marriage thing will have been pointless… What if he doesn’t care about me as much as you think he does?”
“Impossible,” I said shortly and grabbed my jacket.
“Why’s it impossible?” she asked and followed me.
“Because loving you isn’t something a man can recover from — or forget. It’s a lifelong condition.”
Her eyes widened at my words, my confession sitting starkly between us.
“I’ll see you later,” I bit out before leaving.
I met Giada at La Leonora and handed over the flash drive. She sat at her desk and plugged it into her computer.
“Now that we know that Bellisario is singing to the prosecution about the Ravellis, the question is, why are they still coming after us? Last night they nearly hurt her, Giada. It can’t happen again.”
Giada slanted her eyes toward me. “And this is the woman you hate, right?”
“Giada,” I growled at her.
She just laughed then sobered. “About that. We need to talk. My little electronic birdies have found something regarding the Ravellis. I’m not sure this is about Bellisario anymore… it seems more personal than that.”
“Personal? What could be personal? I’ve never met a Ravelli before.”
Giada wagged her finger. “That you remember… Take a trip down memory lane with me. You were twenty years old and incarcerated in Poggioreale Prison. You had a cellmate…”
The memory hit me like a ton of bricks. Sergio Ravelli. My cellmate when I was inside before Renato got me out.
“Fuck.” I sank onto the sofa across from her.
“And there it is. Apparently, Sergio rose through the ranks in the family after he served his time… and he holds a grudge against you. What happened? Did you spurn his advances?” She smirked.
“I didn’t get him out when Renato offered me an escape… I left him to serve his sentence.”
I knew in my gut now that was what had started this. That was why they hadn’t stopped. Sergio wanted payback for that slight, and however many years he’d had to serve after I’d left. I’d never had the possibility of getting him out, of course, but he wouldn’t care about that.
“Hmm, so you betrayed him back then, and now, you’ve gotten between him and the woman he needed to get a hold of to protect his capo. Looks like you’re really on his shit list.”
“I’ll take him out. If he’s here in the US, then he’ll die here.”
Giada nodded. “What if it’s more complicated than that?”
“Complicated how?”
“I heard rumors of a Ravelli engaging the service of a certain mercenary… L’Ombra.”
L’Ombra. The Shadow.
An assassin of the highest order. He had quite the reputation in Naples. Very few knew his real name, though he made no effort to keep it a secret. Massimo Lucciano. He held no alliance to any family. He worked for the highest bidder, or when he felt like it. The guy was like smoke. One of the best.
If Sergio Ravelli had sent L’Ombra after me, then Georgia would be caught in the crosshairs. It would be impossible to keep her separate.
“I’m sure Sergio would love L’Ombra to take both you and your new wife out… After all, Prosecutor Bellisario could still recant his testimony. No one has been charged in the Ravelli family yet,” Giada voiced my thoughts.
“Which means this isn’t over,” I stated flatly.
“If L’Ombra is involved now… then it might just be beginning.”
I thought of Georgia safe in the penthouse but longing to go outside. Her unfinished clothing line, and all the things her decisions had ended up costing her.
“It doesn’t matter. L’Ombra or not. I’m going to finish it. If Sergio wants me enough to hire L’Ombra, then I’m more than happy to make their job easier.”
Giada studied me. “You’re going to them.”
I nodded decisively. “I’m not waiting around for Sergio’s henchmen and hired killers to come after me. I’ll take the head off the snake and deliver that flash drive to the prosecution while I’m at it, once you scrub our name from it, of course.”
“And Georgia?”
“She’ll be safe at Casa Nera. The might of the De Sanctis family will protect her against those inept Ravellis.”
Giada sighed. “If you want me and Bran to stay over there while you’re gone… just ask.” She smirked at me, but her smirk dropped when I nodded.
“I’d appreciate that.”
“You’re serious!” She gaped at me. “You never ask for help from the O’Connors!”
“That’s because they are a bunch of wisecracking, bare-knuckle thugs with no finesse,” I told her. “That being said… Brandon isn’t without his strengths, and he puts family first. I’d appreciate extra eyes on my wife.”
Giada beamed at me.
“What?”
“You just said it,” she teased.
I blew out a breath and headed out of the room, my little sister right on my heels.
“You said it! I can’t wait to tell Georgia. Damn, I wish I’d recorded it!”
“Giada!”
My driver pulled to a stop in the underground parking garage beneath the building where my wife was sitting in her studio. I knew that for sure because I’d indulged my little hobby of watching her on the CCTV to placate my anxiety.
Anxiety was distracting. It allowed mistakes to slip through. Unfortunately, a threat to Georgia filled me with the kind of gut-twisting anxiety that was impossible to ignore.
Just one more reason why she needed to be locked away at Casa Nera.
The full presence of De Sanctis men, who I’d personally trained, would be looking after her, as well as my most capable sister and her husband. As much as Bran O’Connor might irritate me, I couldn’t deny his skills or his strength.
I got out of the car and slammed it shut behind me. In the corner of my eye, a shadow moved. I froze for a second.
My driver was walking ahead of me, and two security men flanked my sides. Since the threat of L’Ombra had entered the picture, it wasn’t the time to be lax with security. I could take Massimo on one-on-one anytime, but not like this, surrounded by uncontrollable variables, civilians, and too fucking close to where Georgia was.
I continued, my awareness snapping and biting, searching every corner, my ears straining for any sound. I whistled a jaunty tune beneath my breath, and the conversation among my security team stopped.
It was a little signal that something was amiss.
Silence fell, punctuated only by the echo of our footfalls. I nodded to one side, and the two security guys flanking me peeled off. I discreetly drew my weapon. A few lanes over, a couple had just gotten out of their car and were talking loudly.
When assessing the chances that Massimo would fire on me here and now, the couple lowered those chances significantly. L’Ombra didn’t do witnesses, and he didn’t kill anyone outside his contract either. As much as an assassin could have a code, he had one.
I walked steadily toward the double glass doors that housed the elevators. The couple was just behind me. I held the doors open and turned, looking out at the garage. All seemed still.
I could see my own security circling around the sides of the parked cars a few aisles over, checking from behind to see if they’d fine anyone hiding.
I knew they wouldn’t.
I could feel that the eyes had been watching were gone. This was a warning. He was collecting information, making his plan. This was a reminder that he could get to us anywhere and anytime.
“Boss, we didn’t find anyone, but this was sitting on the second reserved parking space for the penthouse.”
It was small. Nothing more than a broken game trinket… to anyone else. To me, it was a warning, and its meaning was clear.
Not just a plastic little nothing… a sign that you’d been marked for death.
A broken hourglass… with no sand remaining. The calling card of L’Ombra.
Sitting in the second reserved parking space for the penthouse.
Georgia’s spot.