Chapter Eight
Royal
A week has passed since everything fell apart, yet my apartment still feels strangely unfamiliar. The city continues to move outside my windows with complete indifference while my own life has been rewritten in the span of a few days.
My father is dead. Officially, the police believe Marco Madera took his own life after realizing the authorities were closing in on him. The overwhelming evidence of bribery, racketeering, fraud, murder, and countless other crimes that surrounded his body leaves little room for public sympathy.
We gave law enforcement everything required to expose his crimes. While making certain there would be no lingering questions about how justice ultimately found him. The world believes Marco Madera died by his own hand, and perhaps that’s the cleanest ending a man like him deserved.
None of that changes the fact that he was still my father or that learning he murdered my mother has left a wound I doubt will ever fully heal.
Riccardo pours two glasses of whiskey before handing one to me. He takes his usual seat across the living room without saying anything for several moments. We’ve both changed this past week. He’s inherited everything Father spent decades building.
Although neither of us considers it much of a prize anymore. Instead of celebrating becoming head of the Madera empire, he’s spent every waking hour cleaning it up. Terminating corrupt executives. Opening the company books to investigators.
And making certain legitimate employees aren’t punished for the sins of one man. Watching him shoulder that responsibility has reminded me why he’s always been the older brother first and everything else second.
“How are you holding up?” he finally asks.
I look into my glass. “I’ve been better. You?”
He smiles without humor. “I’m suddenly running an international corporation I never actually wanted.”
“I thought this was your dream.”
“It was.” He leans back. “Before I learned what it had been built on.”
Neither of us speaks for a while. There isn’t much left to say. Eventually, I ask the question that’s been bothering me all week.
“Have you heard anything from Sierra?”
He slowly shakes his head. “No.”
I nod, pretending the answer doesn’t hurt as much as it does. “I keep thinking she’ll call.”
“Maybe she’s waiting for you.”
“I told her things that can’t be taken back.” I stare toward the city skyline stretching beyond the windows. “And I don’t even blame her for needing space.”
“You still love her.”
It’s not a question. “I always will.”
Riccardo studies me quietly before letting out a small laugh. “You know... None of this actually surprised me.”
I frown. “What are you talking about?”
He points toward me with his glass. “The tattoo shop. I know it’s a cover for you and your friends. I’m not that stupid, little brother,” he says with a smirk.
I say nothing for a while. “You knew?”
He nods once. “For years.”
My eyebrows shoot upward. “How?”
He shrugs. “I’m your older brother. Besides, you suddenly moved to Atlanta and opened a tattoo shop with your friends almost ten years after college.
It seemed suspicious. I started to put things together.
” He raises a brow. “And you made it easier by leaving everything in the open whenever I visited.”
I shake my head. “And you never said anything?”
“You never volunteered the information.” He becomes serious again and sets his drink down. “I approve.”
That wasn’t the answer I expected. “You do?”
“You and your friends target the scums in our world. And you protect people who otherwise wouldn’t have anyone protecting them.”
“We’re not perfect.”
He nods. “But you’re trying to make the city better.” A thoughtful expression crosses his face. “I’ve actually been thinking. You need legitimate funding.”
“We’ve managed.”
“Barely.” He’s right. “For years you’ve relied on personal money, investments, and whatever the rest of you contribute.” I nod. “What if you didn’t have to?”
I raise an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”
“We establish a nonprofit. A genuine charitable foundation.” He leans forward. “Victim advocacy. Community outreach. Support for families affected by violent crime.”
The idea begins taking shape almost immediately. “It would be legitimate.”
“And it would give you perfectly legal funding streams for technology, investigations, rehabilitation programs, and everything else you actually do.”
I can’t stop thinking about it. “You’ve already planned this.”
“I’ve had time.”
I laugh for what feels like the first genuine time in days. A knock interrupts us. Neither of us is expecting company.
“I’ll get it.”
Riccardo stands while I remain seated, only half paying attention until I hear the apartment door open. Then, silence. Long enough to make me look up. Riccardo is smiling. Not at me.
“I’ll leave you two alone.”
Confused, I turn toward the doorway. Every thought in my head disappears. I watch her standing in my doorway, and for a moment I think I’ve imagined her. Seven days of silence, seven days of wondering if I’d lost her forever, and now she’s here in jeans and a simple cotton top.
Her hair is loose around her shoulders, her eyes red-rimmed, her face pale. She looks nervous. Hopeful. Terrified. Beautiful.
Riccardo gives me a subtle nod as he passes. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
The front door closes behind him. Neither of us moves.
“I wasn’t sure you’d answer if I called,” Sierra says softly.
“I would’ve answered every time.”
She lowers her eyes briefly before looking back at me. “I’ve been thinking. For days”
“So have I.” I wait.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
Neither could I.
“I kept replaying everything.”
“So did I.”
A sad smile touches her lips. “I think we’re becoming predictable.”
“I don’t mind.” And I don’t care.
She takes a hesitant step closer. “When I left your apartment that night, I was scared. Not of you,” she quickly corrects.
Relief loosens something inside my chest.
“I was scared because everything I believed about the world changed in a matter of hours.” I nod silently. “I grew up believing there were only two kinds of people.” She takes another step. “Good people and criminals. Then I met you.”
She stops only a few feet away. “You and your friends live somewhere in between.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing.”
“I do.” Her answer comes without hesitation. “I spent the last week asking myself whether I could accept what you do.”
She smiles faintly. “You only go after people who’ve escaped justice. You protect innocent people. You risk your lives for strangers. I can’t pretend I’m completely comfortable with it. But...” She reaches for my hand. “I understand why you do it.”
Our fingers intertwine naturally, as though they were never meant to separate. “I also spent the last week trying to convince myself I could live without you. I failed.”
A quiet laugh escapes me. “So did I.”
Tears fill her eyes. “I love you, Royal.” The words settle into every broken place inside me. “I’ve loved you for weeks.” She laughs through those tears. “I think I loved you the day I watched you teasing Roman at the tattoo shop.”
“I knew. I saw the way you looked at me afterward.”
She shakes her head. “I thought I was hiding it.”
“You were terrible at hiding it.”
She gently swats my arm. “I was doing my best.”
I lift my free hand and brush away a tear slipping down her cheek.
For the first time in a very long time, the future no longer feels uncertain. The words unlock something in me. I pull her into my arms, burying my face in her hair, breathing her in. “I love you too,” I murmur against her temple. “God, Sierra. I love you so much it terrifies me.”
She pulls back, her eyes shining with tears. “Then show me.”
I don’t need to be asked twice.
I lift her into my arms, and she wraps her legs around my waist, her mouth finding mine. The kiss is desperate, hungry, weeks of longing compressed into a single moment. I carry her to my bedroom, laying her down on the sheets, following her down without breaking the kiss.
I pull back and look at her, really look at her. She’s beautiful, flushed and breathless, her hair spread across my pillow like spilled honey. Mine. She’s mine, and I’m never letting her go again.
“I missed you,” I say, my voice rough. “Every second. Every breath.”
“I missed you, too.” She reaches for me, her fingers tangling in my shirt. “Don’t make me wait anymore.”
I strip her slowly, reverently, peeling away her jeans, her top, her underwear, until she’s bare beneath me. Then I remove my own clothes, watching her eyes darken as she takes in the ink covering my skin. She sits up and traces a pattern on my chest, her touch feather-light.
“You’re beautiful,” she whispers.
I push her back down and settle between her thighs, kissing my way down her body. I need to taste her, need to feel her come apart beneath my mouth. It’s been too long, far too long, and I’m starving for her.
“Royal,” she gasps as I spread her open. “We don’t have to… I just want you inside me…”
“Shh.” I look up at her, meeting her eyes. “Let me. I’ve been dreaming about this. Let me make you feel good.”
I lower my mouth to her, and she cries out, her hips bucking against my face.
She’s already wet, already ready, and the taste of her floods my senses.
I lick into her with long, slow strokes, circling her clit, teasing her entrance with my tongue.
She moans, her fingers gripping the sheets, her head thrashing side to side.
I slide one finger inside her, then two, curling them to find that spot that makes her see stars. She gasps, her body going rigid, and I know she’s close. I back off, slowing my pace, drawing out her pleasure.
“Royal,” she whimpers, frustrated. “P-please…”
“Not yet,” I murmur against her thigh. “I want you desperate. I want you begging.”
I return to her, building her up again, feeling her climb toward the peak. And again, I pull back, denying her release. She sobs, her hands fisting in my hair, trying to pull me closer.
“You’re cruel,” she breathes.
“I’m hungry,” I correct, and dive back in.
This time I don’t stop. I suck her clit into my mouth and pump my fingers hard, and she shatters, her orgasm crashing through her like a wave. She cries out my name, her body convulsing, and I keep licking her through it, prolonging her pleasure until she’s limp and gasping.
But I’m not done.
I kiss my way up her body, pausing at her breasts, sucking each nipple into my mouth until she’s writhing again. I slide my hand between her legs, finding her still sensitive, still swollen, and I stroke her gently, building her back up.
“Royal,” she moans, her eyes glazed. “I-it’s too much…”
“It’s not princess,” I insist, my fingers moving faster. “Give me another one. Give it to me, Sierra.”
She comes again, harder this time, her back arching off the bed, her nails digging into my shoulders. I watch her face, memorizing every expression, every gasp, every shudder. She’s magnificent, and she’s mine.
I position myself at her entrance, my cock throbbing with need, but I pause. “Tell me you want this.”
She looks up at me, her eyes dark and dazed. “I want you,” she whispers. “Always. Only you.”
I push inside her slowly, feeling her tight heat envelop me inch by inch. We both groan, the sensation overwhelming after so long apart. I settle deep, my forehead dropping to hers, and we stay like that for a moment, connected, complete.
“I love you,” I say, the words torn from somewhere primal.
“I love you too,” she breathes. “Now move. Please, Royal. I need you.”
I start to thrust, slow and deep, angling my hips to hit that spot inside her that makes her gasp. She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper, her hips rising to meet mine. I keep my weight on my forearms, caging her in, watching her face as I move inside her.
“More,” she begs. “Harder.”
I increase my pace, my hips snapping against hers, each thrust driving us both higher. She’s so tight, so hot, and the feel of her surrounding me is heaven and torture combined. I want to make this last, want to stay inside her forever, but I can feel my control fraying at the edges.
“Look at me,” I command. “Don’t look away.”
She meets my eyes, hers dark and wild, and I see everything in them. The love, the trust, the surrender. It undoes me. I thrust harder, deeper, angling to hit that spot that makes her moan.
“Royal,” she gasps, her body tensing beneath me. “I’m going to… I think I’m going to…”
“Come for me,” I growl. “Let go, princess. I’ve got you.”
She shatters, her orgasm ripping through her like a wildfire. She cries out, her body convulsing around me, her nails raking down my back. The feel of her coming apart, the tight pulse of her around my cock, pushes me over the edge.
I bury myself deep and follow her, my release flooding through me like a tsunami, endless and overwhelming. We collapse together, tangled in sheets and sweat and each other. I roll to the side, pulling her with me, not willing to break our connection yet.
She nestles against my chest, her heart hammering in time with mine. “I missed you,” she whispers again.
“Never again,” I promise, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Whatever comes, we face it together. No more secrets. No more running.”
She looks up at me, her eyes soft and sated. “Together.”