Chapter 12
CHAPTER
TWELVE
LEO
“You look amazing,” I blurt out. “But where are the cowboy boots?” Her cowboy-chic outfit took center stage in my fantasies last night.
“They weren't all that comfortable,” she responds, a shy smile playing on her lips. She runs a hand down her dress, and I notice a steady flush creeping up her neck. “You don’t look too bad yourself. If you overlook those too-tight pants.”
With a parting smirk, she strides down the gangplank towards the dock, and I have to take a minute to breathe, not only because of the chinos clinging to my thighs, but because watching the sway of Aly’s ass is making my dick lengthen against the zipper.
Man, I really need some new clothes.
Aly however, is a different story. Given the chance, I’d happily buy her the entire yacht’s wardrobe, because not a single day has passed when she hasn’t looked like a queen. Then again, I am biased. She could wear a paper bag and I’d probably be bowled over.
Aly strolls towards the harbor area without looking back, knowing I’ll follow her lead. And I do. There’s something different about her today, a new energy I can’t quite put my finger on.
Earlier, when she was in my office, she thanked me for keeping her safe. My jaw nearly dropped to the floor. This is the woman who nearly clawed my eyes out, who was throwing random shit at my head a few days ago.
And now? Well, I can’t say we’re the best of friends, but she doesn’t seem quite as hostile. Whatever her reasons are, I’m just grateful for it.
“You gonna hurry up or what?” Her voice breaks through my thoughts. She’s standing, waiting for me to catch up, on the edge of the harbor, one hand perched on her hip.
“Just enjoying the view,” I tell her, a suggestive eyebrow raised. She throws me a mock scowl, but there’s no sting in it. It’s almost … teasing.
We stroll past the bustling cafes and bars dotting the port area, veering towards the winding streets that head into the old town.
I wouldn’t dare reach for her hand, but I do offer her my arm like any gentleman would.
After a moment’s pause, she takes it, and we walk together, looking like any other loved-up couple on holiday.
“You’ve been to Lipari before?” Aly asks me.
“A few times over the years. Mostly for business. We have connections with the Cosa Nostra in Sicily, but Kira drags me here if we can spare a day or two. There’s something about this island that feels off the grid.
” My familiarity with Lipari has worked out in my favor; I have contacts with the best shopkeepers on the island.
Aly’s lips curl into a soft smile. “I’m glad Kira forces you to take a break now and again. You’ve all been working so hard since your papa died. May he rest in peace.”
A sick feeling crawls up my spine. Even in death, my father doesn’t deserve her respect.
“We’ve modernized the bratva,” I admit. “It’s not like when our fathers ran it.
We’ve expanded the legitimate side of the business, and we use the casinos for laundering.
Online is the new battlefield, and cybercrimes are my domain.
” I smile bitterly. “I did go into tech after all, just on the other side of the law.”
My gaze flicks to her face, trying to gauge her reaction. When I was with Aly, I dreamed of being a video game designer or something else equally cool. But, of course, that was not an option for the pakhan’s son.
Aly twists her head to look at me, her voice sincere. “I guess it’s all worked out for you in the end. How does the expression go? All’s well that ends well.”
I press my lips together. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“No, seriously, you should be proud. If there is an organization that needs modernizing, it is the bratva. Presumably with cybercrimes, there’s less violence. Or at least, I assume there is,” she adds with a shrug. “I don’t keep on top of bratva business.”
Pride is the last thing I feel but admitting that is a confession I’m not ready to make.
Soon enough, we close in on Giuseppe’s tucked-away shop. I rap twice on the door, pause, then knock twice more. It’s after business hours, but he’s opening as a favor for me. I didn’t tell him the reason for my visit, but I think he’ll be pleased by the money I’m about to drop.
How Aly will take it is another question entirely.
A moment later, the door swings open to reveal Giuseppe. He’s a short man sporting an impressive white mustache that reaches down to his chin. The first time I met him, he struck me as a real-life Geppetto, the toymaker who brought Pinocchio to life.
The shop is small, and while nothing special to look at, Giuseppe is known as the finest jeweler in the region. It’s not like I’m a regular client, but Kira is, and she’s hauled me in here more than once. And let’s just say Giuseppe has a soft spot for repeat customers with deep pockets.
Giuseppe greets me heartily, before dipping to plant a kiss on each of Aly’s cheeks in true local style.
He lets loose with a torrent of Italian, welcoming her to his modest shop.
I bet she hasn’t a clue what he’s saying—I can barely keep up, and my Italian isn’t half bad.
But her eyes find mine, and she gives me an amused shrug.
Once Giuseppe finally gives her some space, her gaze sweeps across the room in surprise, taking in the glass-encased jewelry and displays. “I thought we were going clothes shopping? Why are we here?” she whispers.
“I had a personal shopper pick out the clothes and deliver them here earlier.” I point to two massive paper bags in the corner. “But when you’re passing by the finest jeweler in Southern Italy and your fiancée is without a ring, you stop by and get her one.”
Her hands fall to her hips and she fixes me with a narrowed gaze. “You lured me here under false pretenses.”
“Did I?” I scratch my chin, a small smile on my lips.
“I didn’t agree to ring shopping. I just agreed to help you find some damn clothes that fit. I’m sick of seeing your ass shrink-wrapped in Dad pants.”
“So you admit you’ve been checking out my ass?”
Her lips twitch. “Don’t deflect. And a ring is hardly worth the money if we only have a few more days on the yacht.”
“There are no guarantees.” I shrug. “The least we can do is take a look around since Giuseppe kept the shop open for us.” Our gazes clash, but I’m not backing down. Even if it’s fake, even if it’s just for a short while, I want to see her wearing a ring I bought for her.
Finally, she leans in, jabbing a finger into my chest. Her eyes hold a naughty glint. “Remember this moment when I choose a four-carat beast.”
Giuseppe takes that as his cue to step between us.
Like the Italian grandfather he is, he takes Aly’s cheeks between his palms, even though he has to reach up a good few inches.
In Italian he asks, “Who is this lovely woman? I’ve never known you to have a girlfriend.
You always come in here with your sister. ”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” I answer, “she’s the woman I’m going to marry. My fiancée.”
The smaller man claps me on the back, a grin splitting his face. “You’re getting married! Congratulations are in order. She’s very beautiful, I can see why she captured your heart.”
“She is very beautiful,” I agree, drinking in the curve of her neck, the swell of her breast, those legs that go on and on. “But she’s much more than that. She’s strong, beautiful, brave. I’m a lucky man.” I mean every word I say.
Aly is oblivious to our conversation. Her eyes sweep over every detail of the shop. From the glass cases, brimming with glittering baubles, to the quirky wrought-iron chandelier, casting a moody light over the room.
“Perhaps you two will return to Lipari for your wedding. We will throw you a beautiful celebration here,” he chuckles.
I smile to myself, picturing getting married in one of the many ancient stone churches on the island. Only our closest friends and family there. Aly walking down the aisle towards me in a simple white dress with wildflowers in her hair. Happy. Glowing. In love.
The fantasy digs a painful cavity in my chest, reminding me of all that can never be. The what-if game is a terrible thing to play.
What if I found another way?
What if I went to war?
What if, what if, what if.
But what-if doesn’t change reality. So instead, I smile politely at Giuseppe and say, “Maybe, we will see.”
At Giuseppe’s urging, Alyona wanders around the shop, admiring the various rings, necklaces, and bracelets displayed, commenting on his fine designs and the quality of his craftsmanship.
I do my best to translate for Giuseppe, who seems pleased just watching her wander around and gush over his creations.
After a few minutes, Giuseppe takes her left hand into his own.
Murmuring to himself, he scrutinizes the slender expanse of her fingers, while Aly looks on with interest. I don’t know what he is doing, but after a thorough inspection, he releases her hand, reaches into one of the cabinets and pulls out a single ring, presenting it delicately between his two fingers.
“This is the one,” he declares, nodding decisively.
Aly swallows visibly as Giuseppe slides a brilliant diamond solitaire onto her finger held aloft by a sleek platinum band.
The cut of the diamond catches the light, a prism of colors dancing around the room.
Giuseppe, confident in his selection, retreats to the back of the store, plunging us into a heavy silence.
“If you want something bigger …” I try to make a joke of it.
“It’s perfect,” she says quietly, shaking her head. Her gaze remains fixed on the ring sparkling like a beacon on her finger. “But … this is crazy Leo, this diamond is … you can’t spend this kind of money to prove a point to the yacht crew.”
But it’s not about the money. She knows the money is nothing for me. She’s getting cold feet, because this cuts too close to the bone. Once upon a time, this is what we would have done together … ring shop in a charming little jewelry store like this one.
Even though I can admit that this is all kinds of fucked-up, I’m still desperate to see her wearing my ring. I lean in close to her, my breath brushing her lips as I murmur, “Are you really going to tell me what I can and can’t do?”
She huffs, her shoulders hitching up towards her ears. “Be reasonable,” she says, but her eyes drift down to my lips and linger. The air between us crackles with intensity so volatile a single spark could ignite it.
“I’m buying it,” I say with finality.
Her brows furrow, a sign that she’s about to argue with me, so I do what any possessed man would do. I swoop down and capture her lips in a devouring kiss.
The kiss is a storm—violent and consuming.
The moment her tongue slowly dances with mine, I am lost. I swallow up her taste, her smell, her very being, desperate for more of her.
My hand moves to cup her jaw, and I flick my tongue into her mouth again, then pull back to suck on her bottom lip because I know she loves it when I do that.
Her hands dig into my shoulders, and she releases a soft gasp of pleasure.
Fuck. Hearing her pleasure has my cock throbbing in response.
This is nothing like the kiss we shared a few days ago, that was for show in front of the crew. This one is pure, unfiltered desire. It’s like I need her lips more than my next breath.
When she pulls away, I’m snapped back to reality. We’re both breathing hard and fast, my hand still wrapped around her jaw, when I say, “You gonna argue with me some more, butterfly? Because if so, we should probably get a room.”
“You’re impossible,” she snaps, but there’s no real fight in her words. Her cheeks are flushed and as her finger traces her swollen lips, I know I’ve affected her. She liked that kiss. Not nearly as much as I did, though.
And my point is made—I’m buying that ring, and I want it on her finger.
Moments later, Giuseppe reappears. He doesn’t bother with pleasantries; instead, he snatches Aly’s hand and admires his handiwork.
“Perfect for her, isn’t it?” he says, absolutely sure that we feel the same way.
Presenting his open palm to Aly, he looks my way to explain, “I am going to polish it and make a small alteration for fit. It’ll be ready in an hour. ”
Then, in painstakingly slow Italian, as if addressing a child, he says to Aly, “Congratulazioni per il tuo prossimo matrimonio.” Congratulations on your upcoming marriage.
I’m about to translate for her when Aly leans forward and in perfect fucking Italian says to him, “Thank you for your hospitality. You have a lovely little shop, but sadly, Leo and I won’t be coming back here for a wedding. I’m actually just using him for his body.”
She punctuates her words with a wink and then, with a sway of her hips that has me swallowing hard, she saunters out of the shop.
I stand there, stunned into silence for a moment before shocked laughter rumbles in my chest.
Well played, Alyona. Well played.
Giuseppe claps me on the shoulder. “You’re a lucky son of a bitch,” he says before closing the door behind me.