Chapter 12
Saint
I watched Luciano walk out, then turned my attention to Aria. She stood by the window, wearing that infuriating, knowing smirk.
“Why do you always provoke him?” I asked. If I didn’t know that Aria purposely antagonized Luciano, I would have reacted differently to the way he spoke to her.
She turned to me, amusement filling her eyes. “Because that’s the only time he talks or shows any emotion. He’s usually acting like a robot. It’s for his own good—you heard him. I’m saving lives,” she said, her voice light, almost mocking. “Plus, I like pissing him off. He’s another one of these mob motherfuckers who think I’m making you weak.”
I stood, the chair scraping against the floor as I pushed it back.
“If anything,” she said, stepping closer, “I make you stronger.”
I caught her wrist before she could touch me. “Exactly,” I said, my voice like gravel. “But you don’t need to prove that to him. Or to anyone.”
She laughed, the sound sharp and bitter. “It’s fun, though. He’s so easily roused. Like a dog on a leash.”
I sighed. Aria was chaos incarnate, a storm I couldn’t control, no matter how hard I tried. And I had tried. God, I had tried.
She grew quiet, her smirk fading as she stared at the door Luciano had just walked through. I could see the wheels turning in her head, that sharp, calculating mind of hers working overtime.
“Do not involve yourself in whatever is transpiring between Ava and Luciano. She is not you, and he did not take her. It is none of your concern.”
I was relieved that Luciano had exercised discretion, refraining from mentioning that I had advised him to take Ava when Aria questioned him. He was typically direct—painfully so—whenever he chose to speak at all.
“I wasn’t going to do anything.” She lied. I could see it in her eyes—her pupils were blown open. They only did that when she wanted to fuck or when she lied. I had learned to read her well for my own sake.
“Are you sure?”
Her eyes snapped back to me, dark and unreadable. “You don’t trust me?”
“No,” I said flatly. She knew I didn’t trust her.
She didn’t respond, just walked over to the intercom on my desk and pressed the button. “Tell my guards to come up,” she said, her voice clipped. “I want to go home.”
She instructed, then turned to face me. I stepped closer, my hand cupping her cheek, my thumb brushing over the curve of her jaw.
“I love you, “Dolcezza” I said, meaning it. “Despite the fact that everything Luciano said about you was correct.”
I wasn’t na?ve about who she was. Aria was the best liar I had ever met, and I had been raised by men who lied for a living. She told me what I wanted to hear, what I needed to hear, just enough truth laced in to make me doubt my own instincts.
And I let her do it.
Because I loved her anyway. She was the most reckless thing I’d ever done. And I’d do it over and over again.
She laughed, low and throaty. “I’ve apologized to you a million times, and you still won’t let that dark part of our history go.”
I opened my mouth to rebut, but she snatched her hand free, grabbed my jaw, and rose to her tiptoes, sliding her tongue into my mouth, cutting off whatever I was about to say.
This was her being manipulative.
I kissed her back, hard, my grip tightening on her jaw. Her mouth tasted like expensive pickles and strawberries, a weird pregnancy craving of hers.
Aria pulled away first, her lips swollen, her breath uneven. Her eyes flickered with something dangerous. Her hand went to my belt.
I grabbed it, stilling her. Though my dick ached, painfully hard and was pressing against my zipper, I had work to do.
She pouted so pretty for me I almost gave in. I dragged a hand down my face, then exhaled sharply, adjusting myself through my slacks.
Pressing my forehead against hers, I lingered for the briefest moment before I reluctantly let her go. “Go home, Aria. I have several meetings.”
She gave me a soft, teasing look. “Yes, boss.”
My dick jumped.
Fucking hell. She knew exactly what she was doing. I reached for her, but there was a knock at the door that stopped me.
“Come in.”
Her guards stepped in, all in suits with cold eyes. Aria had picked them herself. She didn’t acknowledge them right away. Instead, she dragged her fingers down my chest, resting her palm over my heart for just a second before stepping back.
“I do love you. You know that, right?”
I nodded. “Kiss Chiara for me,” I said, referring to our two-year-old daughter, who was back at the house with her visiting grandmother. “I’ll be home on time.”
Aria nodded, turned, and walked out the door. The guards fell into step behind her, their presence a reminder of the world we lived in—a world where even love came with a price.
I sank back into my chair. Aria was right about one thing—Luciano was easily roused. But she was wrong about another. He wasn’t a dog on a leash. He was a wolf, and wolves were unpredictable. I wished she would leave him alone.
But I knew she wouldn’t. She was going to interfere somehow.
I pulled out my phone and dialed one of the guards who had just left with her. He answered on the first ring.
“Make sure you call me if my wife goes anywhere near the Genovese estate,” I ordered, my tone leaving no room for argument.
“Yes, sir.”
I ended the call and leaned back in my chair, exhaling slowly. I needed a suit.