20. Everything
twenty
Cristiano found a phone in Tristán’s zippered pocket and used the groaning bastard’s thumb to unlock the device. He took a moment to forward what looked like useful information to Mikey’s dummy account, then looked over at the piece of shit still slumped on the ground. He’d finally gotten permission from Dante to be the one who killed the asshole, and then the asshole went and got himself hit upside the head with a metal pot. And shot in back. He’d be more upset about both things, and the overall lack of purpose behind a slow death, if not for the fact that the worst of it had been delivered by Felicity herself.
If there was one person who had the right to usurp the honor of Tristán’s death, it was the woman who’d been tormented by him for so many years.
Still, Tristán currently existed in a satisfyingly painful yet unacceptably alive state of semi-conscious and probably paralyzed. He needed to be finished off and in a way that, in lieu of satiating the De Salvo’s cumulative bloodlust, would send an efficient message. For which Cristiano had an excellent idea.
He turned, kicked aside the rope string of knocked-over canned goods and the coffee maker, and hollered out the door, “Someone bring me something that burns and a lighter!” Turnabout was fair play, after all.
While he waited, he poked around in the phone some more and crouched in front of Tristán. “You really shouldn’t have run, Garcia.” He lifted his gaze from the screen, finding the other male’s swollen-eyed gaze attempting to watch him. Good. “Then again, I would have done a whole hell of a lot worse to you than this if I’d had free reign. Especially once I heard what you did to my sweet Felicity.”
Tristán’s brow twitched and he made a choking, almost gurgling sound that finally culminated in unintelligible gibberish. Too many hits to the head, apparently.
“Sir,” someone said behind him.
Cristiano stood and adjusted as two men stepped into the room. One lugging a pair of gasoline cans, another with an armload of paper goods. He nodded. “Perfect. We’re sending a return message to the rest of the Ink Blots, and we’re using the asshole who kicked this all off to do it.” He gestured to the four-poster bed in the center of the room that he very much wanted to destroy. “This will be our stage, so let’s make sure it’s extra fucking flammable.”
Both men smirked with enthusiasm and set about arranging the paper goods across the top of the bedding. It didn’t have to be pretty, it just had to catch. They doused the pile in gasoline while Cristiano stood back, making sure to get each post before draining the first can. Then Cristiano stepped up, hauled Tristán’s broken but wonderfully still aware form up off the floor, and dumped him on the bed. The couple of papers that fluttered away were replaced on top of his body, tucked into his belt.
Cristiano stepped back again and raised the phone, opening the record function. Unlike the dumbass now on camera, he made sure to keep his hands out of the frame—not that he had any visible tattoos to be used against him, anyway. He motioned for the second gas can to be opened, and the man splashed some across Tristán’s groaning, weakly protesting form.
The other man pulled a lighter from his pocket and flicked it twice until the flame caught.
Then, and only then, did Cristiano speak. “Remind Coughlan he better think twice before he comes for us.” He tilted his head, keeping the video steady, and as the first man slipped from the room the other tossed the burning lighter onto the bed. It landed directly on Tristán’s lower abdomen, catching his soaked shirt and the pre-soaked papers in a woosh of flame.
Cristiano stepped backward out of the room, lingering just long enough to let the rapidly escalating fire show on video. Once Tristán and his flailing arms were completely consumed, along with most of the bed, he ended the recording and ducked into the hallway. “Clear out!” To the man with the remainder of the gasoline, he added, “Leave a trail. The cleaners are getting a nice check out of this.”
They’d dropped nearly a dozen bodies at this facility. There would be no perfect cover-up, but destroying and contaminating evidence was an acceptable alternative. Everyone around him knew what to do to make that happen. He forwarded the video to the numbers for Ramires and Barros, no other message, and then separately sent it to Mikey’s third dummy account with a note to open with caution. Not because Mikey was into that shit, but because Dante would want to see. He waited as the heat built until the last message sent, then cleared all the open tabs, dropped the device beneath his foot, and tossed the shattered object into the searing flame.
He was sweating by the time he was out of the building, but that was fine. It was worth the effort. And, he noted, not a single man had fled the scene yet.
Felicity stood beside his car, her hand now bearing a much less obnoxious—though still infuriating—gauze wrap, Ryōma and three other men surrounding her.
“Time to go,” Cristiano said to the group. He made a single motion with his hand. He met Ryōma’s stare. “Call it in.” He opened Felicity’s door for her as the men darted for their respective vehicles, because they all understood they needed to be on the road and decently away from the building before emergency services got within eyesight.
Felicity was quiet until the building was behind them. “Is he gone?”
Cristiano reached over and settled his hand on her thigh, forcing himself to be content with that until they were home. If he was realistic, he needed to speak with Dante, too. “Yes, baby. He’s gone. None of them can hurt you anymore.”
She dragged in a breath and carefully lowered her wounded hand over the top of his. “C-can I stay with you … while you finish whatever you still have to do?”
He gave her thigh a squeeze. “My phone’s in the glove compartment. Mind dialing Dante and putting him on speaker?”
She found the device easily, connected it to the car as she’d done before, and Dante answered on the first ring.
“Mikey says he got some interesting messages. That you?”
“Thought you’d like to see for yourself,” Cristiano said.
“And Felicity?”
“I’m here,” Felicity said, her voice still weaker than it should be. But she was trying at least to talk through her tears. He couldn’t begrudge her the tumultuous emotions.
“Good.” Dante paused. “I assume Barros was absent when you hit the location?”
“Probably for a while,” Cristiano replied. “I shared the video with him and his buddy. They’ll get the message.”
“Never pegged you for the poetic type.”
“I was motivated.”
Dante hummed. “Take Felicity home. We can handle the rest. Do you need a doctor?”
“I’ll call you back on that,” Cristiano said before Felicity could respond. “Maybe.”
Dante disconnected the call with a sound of acknowledgment.
“There,” Cristiano said, turning to offer her a quick smile and resettling his hand on her thigh, “now I’m all yours.”
She was dreaming about sitting on Cristiano’s cock, squirming in his lap and trying desperately to take him deeper, to get him to move more. It had become her sole focus, yet for some reason remaining frustratingly out of grasp, when burning pleasure burst through her. Felicity woke with a gasping cry, her back arching, the sensation of fingers at her clit and a delightfully hard, thick cock rocking inside her body.
“Sorry, baby,” Cristiano murmured behind her, his lips grazing along the side of her neck. “I couldn’t wait any longer.”
Felicity rolled her hips against his, still catching her breath, and reached down to drag his hand from her clit up to her chest. She held him there as he curled his fingers into her boob, kneading with the perfect bite of roughness. “It’s so hot when you wake me up like this,” she panted. “You’ve barely touched me all weekend … I missed you.”
His hand slid up, between her breasts, and curled around her throat as his lips moved to her ear. “You were hurt,” he said. His husky timbre raised wonderful goosebumps on her skin. “I wanted to let you heal. But I’ve missed you, too, Foxglove.”
She smiled. “Don’t stop now.” The room was dark, but not so dark that she couldn’t see the outline of the curtain on the far wall. “Open the curtain, babe. Fuck me against the glass. Fuck me to the backdrop of the city lights.”
His hand tightened and he ground himself deeper inside her, both of them groaning. “Yeah,” he said after a long second. “I like the sound of that.” He lifted her into his arms, rolled from the bed, and she got a fleeting glance of the middle-of-the-night downtown lights from their position so far above it all before he spun her around and pressed her back to the glass.
The glass was cool against her overheated skin and Felicity curled her legs around his hips, her arms around his neck, another moan escaping her.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” he murmured against her lips. Then he plunged his tongue into her mouth and sheathed his cock in her pussy, swallowing her outcry as his hands glided up and down her sides. It was as if he didn’t know where to touch first, where to squeeze or linger, because he wanted to touch her everywhere.
She loved it. She loved all of it.
The kiss broke as he picked up a hard pace, thrusting into her relentlessly. She was already teetering on the edge again. “Cris, yes, Cris, more!”
He moved one hand back to her throat and squeezed again, applying just enough pressure to restrict her airway.
Felicity dragged her unfocused gaze back to his, raking her nails down his scalp. And she saw in his eyes a sentiment that matched her own desires. Her mouth popped open on a breathless scream as he dragged against that spot inside her, teasing.
“Not yet, baby,” he said. His fingers flexed, releasing for a second before tightening again. “You look like a goddamn angel with all those glowing lights behind you.” He rubbed his thumb along her jugular before finally pulling his hand away. “Show me how angels fly.” He grabbed her legs and lifted both over his shoulders, sinking himself deeper. “Now, baby, come on my dick and take me flying.”
She might have laughed at his silly analogy if she weren’t so overwhelmed with pleasure. But he was doing everything right and she couldn’t do anything other than let go, a beautiful, all-consuming heat coursing through her. She heard herself scream for him as her inner walls clamped down around him, and she heard his deep, guttural groan as he followed her into ecstasy. His hands slid over her thighs to settle in the curve of her hips and his forehead dropped to her shoulder, his body shuddering briefly with the force of his release.
Felicity let her head tip to the side, her eyes drawn by the light of the city below. It really was kind of magical, in a fun way. She certainly felt like she was having a magical moment, at least.
Cristiano straightened slowly, easing her down while raining tender kisses up her neck to her lips.
She cupped his face as it hovered over hers. “Cristiano,” she whispered, “you don’t have to keep worrying about me. I’m fine.” She smiled for him. “I’m happy.”
He tugged her against him, hands over her back. “I intend to keep you that way.”
Her heart fluttered and Felicity let herself snuggle into him. “We have to wash up again. Or you could wear me out some more first.” She trailed her fingers over whichever muscle was beneath them. “Tomorrow, I’d like to talk to you about … a couple of things. If you aren’t too busy.”
He rumbled and scooped her up. “Let’s take a bath and talk while we soak.”
Of course, they had to wait for the tub to fill up. Time they spent with her arms folded over the counter and Cristiano driving into her greedy pussy from behind, murmuring words of appreciation against her skin whenever he bent forward to fondle her boobs.
She was still breathing hard, and aching in all the best ways, when they finally stepped into the tub. She wasn’t about to complain. Cristiano almost never used the tub—to the point that she’d wondered why he had it at all. So getting to lounge in it with him, particularly after multiple orgasms, was an opportunity she would not shun.
He made sure everything they might need was lined up on the side and pulled her close, bending to kiss her shoulder as he rumbled, “What’s on your mind, Foxglove?”
Felicity wanted to melt into him. How this man, who she knew could be so dangerous, could also be so sweet, was a mystery even to her. “Since the things I was hiding from have been dealt with,” she said quietly, “I was wondering if I still have to spend my days mostly locked away?”
Beneath the water, Cristiano’s fingers rubbed gentle circles over her hip. “There will always be some degree of danger,” he said. “But no, you don’t have to stay in hiding anymore. Though whenever possible I’d prefer you take an escort if I can’t be with you.”
She squinted at him. “Does the family have its own Uber service or something? Because, you know, I wouldn’t know how to arrange that.”
He chuckled. “After we get back from California, I’ll arrange some interviews with a few options. They’re men whose job it would be to chauffer you around and protect you if anything happened. Most of the time, you’d probably only need one.”
Felicity gave herself a moment to think on that. She didn’t feel like she was anyone special enough to require that sort of treatment, but she recognized that Cristiano wouldn’t be around every moment of the day. If it’ll make him feel better… “I can live with that.” She released a breath. “But, I was asking really because I feel like I need to do something. You know, contribute somehow. I never liked the grocery store, I’m not sad about that job, but I don’t know how I feel about being a kept woman, either.”
“The term is ‘housewife,’ first,” Cristiano replied, still sounding amused, “and second, I never said you had to be one. Hell, Iris is working on building her own business, even.” He gave her a squeeze. “Before you decide on a job, I’ve got another option for you to mull over.”
Felicity blinked up at him. “And what’s that?”
“You never got to finish your degree, right?”
She stared at him. That was true. Her mother had guilted her home before she’d finished her semi-randomly chosen degree, and she hadn’t had the money to try again. “That’s right….”
“Did you want to?”
“That’s—”
“Most universities offer online courses these days,” he said. “We’ll be traveling a lot, because you can bet your ass, I’m taking you with me when I’m sent out of town. That means you would probably want to look into the options for that. But if it’s something you want, I’ll help you make it happen.”
Her throat swelled and Felicity rolled into him, pulling him down for a wet kiss. “I love you,” she breathed against his lips. “I love you so much.”
He groaned, hands on her hips. “Felicity.”
She smiled at him. “I don’t feel like I deserve you, but I’m not going to let you go now, either. Just so you know.”
He huffed out a laugh and hauled her into his lap, kissing her again. He rolled his tongue through her mouth and said, “I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you, baby. But as long as we agree we’re not letting go, that’s what matters.”
Felicity curled her arms around his shoulders. “How long are Dante and Iris going to be away for their honeymoon?”
“Ten days.”
“Then, on the twelfth day, can we get married? I know that’s fast, but you said before winter. That’ll be, what, late October?” She licked her lips. “I don’t care about the fancy stuff. I just want to marry you.” She’d suggest going to the courthouse in the morning if they didn’t have to wait for Dante to get down the aisle first.
Cristiano grunted and kissed her again, deep and lingering. By the time he retreated, her body had forgotten it had been sore and tired minutes earlier. Judging by the erection under her butt, so had his. “I’ll give you both, baby. I’ll give you everything.”