Chapter 26
Constance
The hot spray of the shower washes over me, but I know it can’t clear the thoughts tangling in my mind.
My skin still hums from Maximo’s touch, my body remembering him even as I try to steady myself.
He’s been… everything. Gentle, commanding, attentive, more than I ever knew a man could be. And yet the contradiction gnaws at me.
Because he isn’t just a man. He’s the king of this city’s underworld. The most powerful gangster in a place drowning with them.
I want to see him as he sees himself, though. Not the way the newspapers paint him, or even the way other people whisper about him, but through his own lens.
When I get out of the shower, I wrap my robe around me, reach for my phone, and send a quick text to Melissa letting her know that I’m still at Maximo’s, and that I’m doing well. Then, I go to the link he gave me.
I scroll through images of him in tailored suits, standing before landmarks in Rome, Paris, Dubai.
I notice how he always seems so composed, calm, and guarded.
And that he’s never pictured with a woman.
In every photo he’s only with his men; dark-suited, watchful, shadows that follow him like bodyguards but carry themselves with the same air of quiet danger he has.
Further back in the archive, I find a video clip he posted of a local news report.
A female reporter interviewed him outside a ribbon-cutting ceremony, the gleaming glass of a skyscraper stretching into the sky behind them.
I recognize the building as the Luciani Financial Group’s new business management headquarters.
The reporter smiles too brightly as she asks, “How do you respond to rumors that you’re not just a businessman, but the head of a crime family that’s turned the entire city into one giant protection racket?”
In the video clip, Maximo doesn’t flinch.
He only tilts his head, eyes glinting with amusement.
“Is the police union a protection racket? Is the Bar association? Both take dues from their members, and in exchange, offer benefits, resources, and yes, sometimes even protection. My corporation is no different. We protect the businesses under our umbrella, promoting unity through collective action. Businesses which are part of our association enjoy the stability of working with us. The ones who don’t…
well, they take their chances going uninsured in a city of this size. ”
Then, smoothly, he adds, “But I appreciate the question.” And the clip ends.
I set my phone aside, my heart feeling unsteady and heavy in my chest. Maximo answered without answering, defended without defending. As if the entire city really does exist at his pleasure.
And as I stare at image after image of the man I’ve been sleeping beside, someone so untouchable, composed, terrifyingly self-possessed, I feel something inside me shift.
Wanting Maximo is dangerous. Needing him is worse.
But I can’t stop.
Later that night, lying in the dark beside Maximo, I turn my face toward his sleeping profile. Strong, unyielding, and… mine in a way I wasn’t expecting.
I had fought it, argued with myself, listed every reason why it was foolish, dangerous, impossible. But none of it mattered anymore.
I’m in love with him.
The next morning, I wake up when the mattress creaks and shifts as Maximo gently disentangles himself from me.
My eyes crack open to see he’s already out of bed, his bare backside disappearing into the closet where he keeps his army of suits.
I glance over at the clock to see that it isn’t quite six a.m. His early rising must be habitual which is going to take some getting used to.
Maximo moves like a man who’s always lived by discipline, as if even sleep dares not delay him for long.
I lay there for a moment, listening to the sound of the shower starting in the adjoining bathroom before slipping from the bed myself.
I pull on the bathrobe that I’ve come to adore and then go downstairs.
The kitchen’s calling me this morning. For reasons I hadn’t expected, I find that I like making breakfast for Maximo.
The way he looks at me as though trying to figure out why I would bother making food for him without being paid, makes me realize that no one does anything for Maximo without expecting something in return.
Even cooking for him, just for the joy of it, seems to puzzle him.
By the time he comes downstairs, his black hair damp, shirt crisp, the smell of coffee, sausage and eggs fill the kitchen.
“Morning,” I say as I slide a plate across the counter toward him.
He sits, the faintest curve of a smile tugging at his lips. “Thank you. Did you sleep well last night?”
“I did, until someone left me cold and lonely at the crack of dawn,” I remark.
“I’ve never been one for sleeping in,” he says. “As soon as I open my eyes, I’m ready to face the day.”
“That’s going to take some getting used to.”
“Did you enjoy going through all my photos yesterday?” he asks.
My fork freezes on the way to my mouth, heat rushing into my cheeks. “You saw what I was looking at? How?”
“I just checked the activity. You left fingerprints everywhere, especially around the ones of me at the beach.”
I narrow my eyes at him, smirking despite myself. “Who’s taking all those thirst-trap photos for you anyway?”
He chuckles, low and unbothered. “One of my men. Now, before you judge me too harshly, I have a good reason for doing those. It humanizes me to the public. I’m well known in the city as the owner and operator of the Luciani Financial Group.
I have to cultivate an image of an elite businessman in public, not… well, not what I really am.”
“So that’s why you pose like a man who owns the city and knows it?”
“Well, I suppose if I’m being completely honest, it’s my one vanity, showing off my wealth, my physique I work hard to earn. I enjoy it.”
“Mm.” I arch a brow. “And wanting women to slide into your DMs? That was a plan too, wasn’t it? To enjoy the attention?”
He doesn’t hesitate; his gaze locks with mine, sharp and certain. “Before you, yes. But now? There’s no one else. You’re the only woman I want in my life.”
Something in my chest loosens at the certainty in his tone. Still, Maximo leans forward, as though determined to seal the promise.
“In fact,” he goes on, “I changed my mind. I want you with me today at the press conference. I want the public to see us together.”
I blink at him, surprised by the offer, then feel warmth bloom deep inside me. It’s reassurance, protection, and something else. It’s an acknowledgment of our relationship. He may be publicly putting a claim on me, perhaps, but it’s one I find myself wanting.
“All right,” I agree.
“Now, I still want to be smart about this. One of the outfits I brought for you is a pantsuit, which should cover up body armor. I’ll be wearing some too, under my dress shirt. I know those ballistic vests aren’t exactly stylish, but with our current situation…”
“I’d rather be safe than sorry,” I assure him.
After we finish eating, I clean up the dishes, my heart lighter than it’s been in days. Upstairs, I begin to prepare, carefully wrapping the flexible vest around me before slipping into the dress shirt and smoothing it down.
Agreeing to go with Maximo felt easy. Dressing for it feels harder.
Standing beside him publicly means stepping into his world completely, and into the spotlight that could get me killed just as easily as it could protect me.