Chapter 35 #2
“Mio Dio.” I fell onto my back, a hand on my forehead to ease the sudden ache in my temples.
A myriad of images rolled through my mind.
The least frightening was Luca holding his gun.
He did unspeakable things for my family.
Just the idea that he’d be caught and questioned by the police for one of them stole my breath and silenced my heart.
The mattress dipped, and a wash of the sun—that sweet scent of sweat, fresh air, and exhilaration—met my nose. “Breathe, Vivi.”
I shook my head, squeezed my eyes closed, and moved my hands to his cheeks. “I’m so afraid.”
“Of what?”
A crater opened in my chest, nearly swallowing the next two words. “Losing you.”
“Hey.” His tone softened, and when I looked at him, amusement twinkled in his gaze. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me for eternity, remember?”
I groaned. “But Vigo has you do these things. These terrible things that could get you in so much trouble.”
“With who?”
“The New York State judicial system.”
The corner of his mouth curled, and arrogance replaced amusement. “You married the ghost. I’m invisible. No one will ever place me at a scene.”
“That’s not true.” I ran my thumb over his scar, evidence he wasn’t invincible.
“You’re flesh and bone with fingerprints and a woman with years of insider information who has plotted against my family on the loose.
God only knows what she’s done. We both know it wasn’t the Angelinis who crashed Sofia’s wedding.
She could be talking to anyone. The cops, or worse—the feds. ”
A shiver rolled through my shoulders, but Luca’s grin grew, and he pressed it against my mouth. Then he rolled off me to grab a clean pair of pants from the closet. “I’ve got everything under control, uccello. Trust me?”
“You know I do.”
He dragged his pants on, leaving the fly open while he went for a shirt.
Good Lord. That scene flashed in my mind on repeat like a soft-porn GIF, proof I was addicted to my husband’s body.
How could I not be, though? His eight pack of abs were a veritable arrow pointing to the promised land, which sent sparks off between my thighs.
When I blinked him into focus, he buttoned his shirt and winked at me. Winked.
“I can’t help it,” I groaned. “You’ve ruined me. I’m like a sex addict or something.”
A dark cloud passed over his eyes, that grin curling into conceit.
“Come here,” he demanded in the tone that set my blood on fire.
That he pointed in front of him didn’t ruffle my feathers as much as that I did what he asked without a single thought, naked as the day I was born.
My pulse raced. Luca’s gaze touched my body like a caress as I walked toward him and fell to the floor by his feet.
I looked up while rubbing my cheek against his semihard length, a purr tickling my throat.
He pinched my chin, holding me still. “You’re perfect and so beautiful on your knees, begging, il mio dolce uccellino. You tempt me in ways no other could ever do.”
My heart warmed in my chest. “Then stay. Let me show you how much I love you.”
His expression softened. “Later, amore mio. Duty calls. Until then stay warm and wet.”
A thudding anxiety pierced my heart. He stepped past me, walking toward the door and my father, and God only knew what waited for him outside these walls. We needed to get out of here.
I caught his wrist. “If you’re in his office, look for my mother’s locket. I need it.”
Lines formed between his eyes as he studied me. “It’s important?”
“Sì.”
“Then I’ll see what I can do.” His fingers brushed my cheek, relighting the fire in my blood. But the one man who could engulf my flames disappeared.
He left, and I lazed around in our bed, waiting for his return, and growing angrier each second he was away.
After an hour, I grew tired of wallowing in his absence, cursing Dami who was no doubt by his side, assisting Luca disobey the word of God and the law.
A shower washed away the jealousy, replacing it with the same anxiety that had been pumping through my veins for days.
Images of Luca caged behind bars bombarded my mind.
I convinced myself while drying off and dressing that the feds would arrest him.
Oh, God. I rushed into my dressing room and grabbed the waterproof backpack Sam gave me for my birthday, throwing in everything my mother had left and that I had found, her note, the Bible from my nightstand, what money I’d saved, and the Glock for good measure.
A change of clothes for me and Luca rounded out the contents.
Then I brewed a pot of coffee and sat on the edge of the couch, bouncing my knee and waiting.
The urge to swim swelled in my chest and tickled my fingers.
But my suit was in shreds, and my backup was worn into threads.
After thirty minutes and three cups, I paced and paced, until finally the door to our suite opened, and I threw myself at Luca.
He grunted and held out his hands, which were full of food.
“What’s this, amore mio?”
“I worried.”
“I told you not to.”
I bit and sucked his neck, then slid down his chest. His abs bunched under my fingers as I fisted his shirt and pulled him down to my mouth for a kiss. “You know I don’t do everything you say. It’s against my genetic makeup.”
He grunted again and nipped my lips. “This.” He held up the plates in his hands. “Is not a request. You will eat, or I’ll tie you down and put the food in your mouth myself.”
Sparks lit between my thighs. “With a rope or your neckties?”
A dark laugh rumbled through him. “Ragazza sporca e bella. I’m sorry I gave you ideas. As tempting as it is for me to put you in restraints, I’m serious, you need to eat. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’ve skipped meals.”
My stomach piped in at that exact moment with a rolling growl. His brow arched, and the heat in his eyes was replaced by that knowing arrogance.
“Fine,” I said, turning to the kitchen. “I’ll get the wine.”
We ate outside under the sun, a warm breeze ruffling Luca’s hair.
He was such a beautiful man, and he’d always been way out of my league.
Over the years, I was just one of a thousand women who coveted him, without a chance in hell that he’d ever be mine.
Thank God, I was wrong. Now I knew how the rough pads of his fingers felt against my skin, how he kissed, and the sounds he made when he came.
I knew what it felt like to be loved by him.
Pride filled me in ways food never would, the feeling intensified by my ring gleaming on his finger as he bit into his sandwich.
“Eat,” he said around a mouthful, watching me as I did him.
“I am.” I took a bite and chewed slowly, putting off the one question that churned my stomach. Finally, I swallowed the tasteless lump and asked, “What did he have you do?”
“Not what you think. We weren’t in your father’s office, so I have nothing to say about Simone’s necklace.”
“Where were you then?”
“The cellar.”
I dropped my panini. The air was hot and humid, but my blood ran cold. “Why? Who? What happened?”
“As you and I know, the men at Sofia’s wedding were not Angelinis—”
“Now my family knows this too?”
He nodded and watched me while he finished his sandwich. Always watching.
“And how do they know this?” I prompted.
“Stefano befriended an Angelini guard.”
“By befriend, you mean kidnapped and carried into the cellar.” The dank room in the catacombs I was forbidden to see.
But I was a lonely kid who wandered the house to keep my mind occupied, so I knew every square inch of this place, including the wall displaying a macabre mosaic of weapons.
I shivered, and it was not from the wind.
“Bird.” Luca’s tone held a warning that forced my chin up in a defiance he was familiar with.
“I’m not a child.”
The corner of his mouth curled. “That you are not, but these are details you shouldn’t think about.”
I pushed back my plate and leaned forward, tapping my finger onto the teakwood table. “I know what this family does to gather information, and I also know how Stefano enjoys the exertion. I’d rather that we not have any secrets between us, even if they’re disturbing.”
His jaw twitched. Then he nodded again. “Eat and I’ll talk.”
I bit into the sandwich.
“Last night he brought the guy in, and this morning we worked him over.”
I leaned over my shoulder and heaved. When I was done, he held out my glass, and I downed half the wine. I covered my stomach with my hand, praying it stayed down, and when it did, I asked, “What did he say?”
“That Carlos Angelini wouldn’t send a few men to do what called for an army.
Too many have questioned his authority after his father’s death.
Carlos is seen as spoiled and weak, so there’s dissension in his ranks.
He’s ready to fold and join the families together, not strike out against your father. ”
“Does Vigo trust this information?”
He continued eating and motioned for me to do the same. “It’s under advisement,” he murmured. “I think his biggest concern is learning who’s behind the attack.”
“Catarina.”
“A dead woman,” he confirmed.
“Her family, then,” I offered.
“For almost thirty years, they’ve done nothing but wait for this moment to avenge her death?”
I shrugged. “Maybe. Seems like the only plausible explanation knowing what we do.”
“What do you know of them?”
“Not much,” I mumbled, thinking of the tidbits I’d learned over the years from Francesca. “Francesca—” A fissure cracked open in my chest. The wind stung my eyes, and I batted the pain away. “Francesca would’ve known.”
Luca’s hand covered my fist on the table. His thumb rolled lazy circles into my skin as I took a deep breath. “Mi dispiace,” he murmured.