Chapter Twenty - One – Severo
Marrazzi Estate, Legal Study
Her hand cracks across my face.
The force tilts my jaw, and my temple burns as I stumble sideways in the chair. The sound echoes in the wood-paneled silence, but I barely register it. My eyes find hers.
She’s standing above me. Torn black dress. Hands still bruised. Hair tangled. Eyes bloodshot and brimming. She looks like hell. She looks like fire. And she’s never looked more like my wife.
My chest tightens. I want to stand. I want to reach for her, touch her fingers, tell her it's over—she made it. But she’s already turned from me.
Her back is straight. Chin up.
“I don’t know what this is about,” she says, voice even but sharp. “But you are not taking what belongs to me that easily.”
Mina stiffens where she stands behind the table. Her hand clenches around the stem of her wine glass.
“You shameless slut,” she snaps.
Lira doesn’t even flinch. A short breath escapes her, not a sigh—laughter. Bitter and amused.
“Is that the best you’ve got?” she asks, almost bored.
Maksim steps forward beside his sister, shoulders square, jaw locked. “Stay out of this.”
She ignores him. Turns toward the two lawyers frozen near the head of the table. Her voice cuts.
“Who holds legal authority over the estate?”
The older one—Hernandez—fumbles, papers slipping from his folder. He glances toward me, then clears his throat.
“The shares and estate are held jointly,” he says cautiously. “Between Mr. Dantés and Miss Falco. No final transfer has been executed.”
Lira turns back, slow, deliberate.
She squares her shoulders. Her eyes land on Mina first, then Maksim.
“It’s me and him against you both,” she says clearly. “Try me one more time. I dare you.”
Mina’s chair scrapes the floor as she lunges.
But Lira’s faster. Her shoes scuff marble as she sidesteps and seizes Mina by the hair. Fingers tangle deep in the glossy curls and yank down, hard. Mina cries out, knees buckling. She hits the floor with a wet smack.
Before the others can react, Lira lifts her foot and kicks—right into Mina’s ribs. The thud is flat and brutal. Mina gasps, folding on herself.
Maksim curses. “You bitch—!”
He charges, suit coat swinging, his hands curled into fists.
I move before he finishes a step.
My chair crashes backward as I stand. My fist connects with the side of his face—solid, knuckle to bone. His body twists with the blow, stumbling into the corner table. A vase shatters. Water spills across the marble.
He hits the ground. Groaning. Dazed.
Mina wheezes on her side, clutching her stomach.
I turn back to Lira.
She’s breathing hard. Her hands tremble at her sides. Her lip is cut—maybe from the struggle. Her cheeks are streaked with salt. Her fingers flex and curl again.
She looks at me. Not with fear. Not with doubt.
But with fury. And something else—something mine.
Around us, silence settles. Chairs stand knocked askew. Shards of glass glitter under the table. Hernandez and his assistant stand frozen, white-knuckled and silent.
I step toward her.
And I swear, nothing else in this room matters.
She shudders out a breath, turns on her heel, and pushes past me.
Her shoulder brushes mine—rough, deliberate.
I reach for her wrist, but she pulls it free without a word, her jaw set, her gaze fixed straight ahead.
Her heels click hard against the floor, a sharp rhythm echoing off the wood panels.
She mutters something under her breath, clipped and angry, and disappears through the open doors without looking back.
Behind her, the room is a mess of silence and wreckage. Mina still wheezes on the floor, curled in on herself. Maksim groans against the wall, one hand pressed to his temple. The lawyers fumble to gather their briefcases and files, heads ducked low, backs hunched like schoolboys fleeing a storm.
I don’t stop them. Let them run.
I turn.
Matteo leans against the far wall, arms folded, his jaw tilted slightly to one side. A red print blooms on his cheek. He’s been silent through it all, watching.
I walk up slowly and nod at his chin.
“You got slapped too?”
His mouth twitches like he’s going to say something dry—something biting—but then he drops his head. His shoulders stiffen, and a sharp breath escapes him.
Then—of all things—he chokes on a sob.
“I didn’t even do anything,” he blurts, voice thick and uneven. “It was all you. And I still got hit.”
His hands come up to scrub at his eyes, as if embarrassed. He sniffs , and glares down at the floor like it insulted him.
I blink at him. “You crying?”
“No,” he mutters. “Yes. Shut up.”
He pushes off the wall and swipes the back of his hand across his cheek, sniffling again.
I chuckle. She chose me.
I reach out, plant one hand over the side of his neck—right over the mark. His skin’s warm. His pulse kicks.
“Want me to kiss it better?” I ask dryly.
His head lolls back against the wall. He nods solemnly. “Yes, Don.”
We both laugh.
For a second, we’re just two tired bastards in too-tight collars and ruined pride.
I clap a hand against his shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get a drink.”
He sniffles again and wipes his nose. “Your wife scares me, man.”
I start walking. “Don’t be dramatic. She is just a little mad.”
“Then why aren’t you going home with her?” he asks following behind me.
I gulp. Maybe she scares me just a little.
****
The sky hangs low, streaked in bruised lavender and steel blue. It’s the kind of evening that settles quiet across the land, touching every stone and treetop with hush.
We’re home.
She stands by the railing, arms folded, back straight. The breeze moves her hair gently, pulling strands across her cheek. She hasn’t said a word since we returned.
I watch her from the threshold with Matteo beside me, both of us silent. She doesn’t glance our way.
“How long do you think she’s going to be mad?” Matteo asks, voice low, unsure.
“I don’t know,” I answer, honest for once.
There’s a beat of quiet, then Matteo exhales. “I’m going to tell her it was all your idea.”
I glance sideways. “Rat.”
“Call me what you want,” he mutters, fixing his collar. “I’m not dying for your sins.”
He starts forward, takes two bold steps—then hesitates. Her silhouette stays still against the fading light, statuesque and simmering.
Matteo freezes, then backpedals in a blur and turns sharply to me. “Nope. Nope. Too scary. You’re on your own.”
“Matteo—” I begin.
He’s already disappearing down the corridor.
“Don’t look at me!” he calls over his shoulder.
I sigh.
My hand tightens briefly on the marble pillar beside me. I wait one more second. Then I inhale , deep and full, and make my way to her.
Each step feels like approaching a cliff’s edge.
I stop beside her, keeping my distance at first. Her eyes are on the horizon, unmoving.
“Lira,” I say quietly.
She turns her head slowly. Her face is unreadable.
I search her expression. “Why did you come back?”
She looks away, toward the last edge of light over the trees. The sky glows faintly orange before it drowns in blue.
“I like it here,” she says after a breath. “I like this life.”
“With all the madness?” I ask. “The danger?”
Her answer is soft. “Yes. It has you in it.”
I freeze.
She doesn’t look at me when she says it. Her voice is steady but low, like it took effort not to break.
“If you don’t want me,” she continues, “I understand. But this life—I have to have it. I can’t go back to being nothing.”
I step closer. The space between us closes in seconds. My hands rise carefully to her waist. She doesn’t pull away.
“I want you,” I say.
Her brow lifts. A flicker of doubt, hesitation. I press closer, arms anchoring her gently.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur. “For all of it. For not telling you. For making you fight alone.”
She looks up at me, and her face softens—not completely, but enough. “We’re a team, Severo. If it’s too much, you can tell me. We fight Maksim and Mina together.”
I nod. “Two of us against them?”
She nods back.
I cross the distance and take her face in both hands and kiss her like I’ve been starving for it.
Like her mouth is the only thing that could keep me breathing.
Her lips part for me with that small gasp I love—open, soft, eager—and I press harder, kissing her with teeth, tongue, with everything I didn’t say when I left her waiting.
She groans into me, fists curling in the front of my shirt, dragging me closer until we’re chest to chest, breath tangled, her thigh grazing mine.
Then she pulls back, her mouth kiss-swollen and her eyes shining like war.
“You ditched me,” she says, voice low and dangerous. “You deserve to get punished.”
My heart kicks hard. I gri but keep my mouth close to hers. “Yes,” I murmur, lips brushing hers. “I was bad.”
Her nails dig into my chest through the fabric. I feel the challenge in her grip.
Good.
I don’t give her the chance to think twice—I lift her, arms strong under her thighs, her legs wrapping around me without hesitation. She’s not light, she’s perfect. Mine. I carry her inside, across the polished floor of our suite, her kiss still fresh on my tongue, her breath hot against my throat.
When I step into the bedroom, I don’t speak. I lower her to the bed with care, but not softness. Then I go to the drawer.
I take out the black lace blindfold.
She watches me as I walk back over. Her gaze drops to what I’m holding, and a slow, dangerous smile curls her lips.
But I don’t offer it to her.
I kneel on the bed instead. I hold it out.
To her.
Her brows lift, the shift of power crackling like electricity . Her hand wraps around the lace and her eyes flick to mine—searching, deciding. Then she moves, pushing me gently back until I’m sitting against the headboard.
“Hands up,” she says.
I obey.
She leans in, close enough that her breath brushes my ear. “If you so much as twitch,” she whispers, “I stop.”
My cock throbs against the inside of my pants.