CHAPTER 22
MIA
I swear to God , if I have to attend one more mafia event, I might just gouge my eyes out.
At least then, I wouldn’t have to witness so much filth. The number of men I recognize from frequenting the brothel—who now sit beside their wives, smiling like they deserve an ounce of respect—makes me sick.
But this time, I couldn’t escape. Because, you know… it’s my engagement party .
I watch my father chatting with people, acting like he’s some upstanding guy, but we all know it’s just a matter of time before he disappears with some escort or someone married just to keep his reputation intact. Typical.
And Paulina? She’s nowhere to be seen, which is honestly perfect. What’s she doing? Hiding out, plotting her next move, or just too busy being her usual self— completely useless —to even show up and fake a smile for once.
For Zane’s sake, I’m grateful.
This is a “low-key” event for the inner circle only. Not that they actually care about me. These people just need an excuse to drink and do shady business.
I'd love to set this place on fire.
Rich people, expensive dresses, fake smiles, and a bunch of disgusting mobsters who think they own the world. If I blink twice, I’m sure I’ll catch someone getting bribed in the corner—or brokering some illegal deal.
At least there’s food.
And champagne.
“This is boring.”
I turn my head.
Pinocchio leans lazily against the dessert table, looking entirely too comfortable for someone in a room full of criminals.
“Do you want to kill someone?” he asks, as casually as if he were commenting on the weather.
“I don’t know,” I say, grabbing a macaron. “A lot of disgusting people here, but also a lot of good cooks. I’d be sad if the chef died.”
“Good observation,” he nods approvingly.
“Not a good observation,” a new voice cuts in.
Bubbles appears, arms crossed, her face set in that familiar look of concern.
“You can’t just go around killing people because you’re bored,” she says, horrified.
“But you should be able to,” Pinocchio counters.
Bubbles sighs.
I take a bite of my macaron, thinking. “What if we set up a voting system? Everyone picks someone who makes no difference to the world.”
“That seems fair,” Pinocchio nods.
Bubbles groans, pressing her hands to her face.
“You two are impossible.”
“You’re just too proper .”
She ignores me. “Do you even know who these people are?”
I shrug. Probably just a bunch of sleazy men who support Nico’s cause. It wouldn’t make a difference if they died.
“I don’t need to know someone to know they’re a disgusting mobster.”
Pinocchio points at me, like I just said the most brilliant thing in the world.
“See? She gets it.”
“You’re children ,” Bubbles mutters, exasperated.
I laugh. “That’s hilarious coming from you .”
Before she can retort, a shrill voice cuts through the air:
“You are so strange .”
I look up.
A blonde girl—probably from the elite, judging by her designer dress and I’m-better-than-you expression—stares at me in open disgust.
Oh.
She saw.
Pinocchio and Bubbles glance at me, silently asking what I’m going to do.
I smile.
Before I can even open my mouth—
“She’s not talking to you.”
Zane’s voice slices through the air like a blade.
I turn my head.
And there he is.
Handsome, angry, and about to verbally eviscerate this girl.
The blonde blinks. “What?”
“She’s not talking to you,” Zane repeats, voice sharp but calm. “So why are you interfering?”
She hesitates. “I just—”
“Don’t you just have anything better to do?” He cocks his head, eyes cold. “I can set you up with something. Like a slobbering old man who’ll keep you locked away for the rest of your life. Just pick the right moment.”
Her eyes widen.
“Go away before I get creative .”
She bolts.
Before she disappears completely, I catch Zane’s eyes—just for a second. They soften, as if he’s silently checking that I’m alright.
Oh.
I love this man.
I beam at Zane. “You defended me.”
He rolls his eyes, but I catch the faintest curl at the corner of his mouth.
“You say that like it’s new. I’ll always defend you, Mia. That’s the whole point of me being here.”
Oh.
I blink, suddenly warm all over. He has this annoying habit of leaving me speechless when all I want to do is chatter.
“Come,” he says, taking my hand. “Let’s get some air.”
“But what about my macaron?”
“I’ll buy you more later.”
He tugs me along, and without hesitation, I follow. I grab a glass of champagne on the way out, the bubbles tingling on my lips as I laugh softly.
Pinocchio smirks before disappearing into the crowd.Bubbles just sighs.
When we reach a quieter space, I glance at him. “Do you want to talk about yesterday with your brother?”
He sighs. “Not really.”
I shrug. “Relax. No one cares about me here. Someone could try to kill me, and they’d pretend they didn’t see it.”
“How was your day yesterday?” he asks, changing the subject, though I catch the irritation in his voice—not at me, but at the situation.
“Well, it was fun until I went to sleep. Pietro kept telling me how he and Laura met. Very cute.”
“That definitely has something to do with why he threatened me when I went to get you.”
“He threatened you? I softened him up myself.” I frown. “Thought it’d take longer, but I guess they really do see me as family.”
Zane’s expression softens. I watch him melt like butter, and it’s… cute.
“They’d be idiots not to want you in their family.”
I grin. “I think I’m just his favorite in-law. Which isn’t that hard, since Seth and Ceci don’t make it easy.”
“His favorite, huh?”
“Are you jealous?”
“Yes.”
“ Serious? ”
“You’re too lovable for my taste. And to be fair, everyone would be jealous of Pietro. He’s hot.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You really think so?”
He shrugs. “Objectively.”
“I see him more as a wounded puppy, you know? Not exactly attractive. He’s nice, just… not my type. And even if he weren’t my sister’s husband, I wouldn’t see him like that.”
“But you think Audrey is hot. And she’s somehow involved with your brother.”
“Who doesn’t think Audrey is hot?”
“I can’t see her that way. It’s weird when you’ve watched someone grow up.”
“Fair. I’d probably feel the same way if I had people in my life for that.”
He gives me a look. “ Heavy , Mia.”
“This party is heavy. I’m bored. Let’s compare beautiful people. No one care about us here.”
Zane watches me for a moment, his head tilting slightly, before his lips curve into something just shy of a smirk. “Not enjoying our engagement party?” he teases.
I scoff, taking another sip of champagne. “Oh, absolutely. There’s nothing I love more than celebrating my commitment to a man I actually like… surrounded by people I want to kill.” I flick my eyes over the windows, wrinkling my nose. “If I ever get a real engagement party, I’d at least like to know the guests. But it’s not like I have much of a choice, do I?”
Something flickers across Zane’s expression—something unreadable, but it fades as quickly as it appears. He steps closer, plucking the glass from my fingers, setting it aside. “You think too much,” he murmurs, voice dipping lower, more deliberate.
“Someone has to,” I say, arching a brow, but my pulse betrays me, skipping slightly as he closes the space between us.
Zane hums, his gaze dropping briefly to my lips before trailing lower. “Yeah?” His fingers skim down my arm, featherlight, enough to make me shiver. “Then let’s give you something else to think about.”
Before I can fire back, his hands move fast—gripping my waist, steering me backward until my back meets the wall. The impact is gentle, but the way he crowds into my space is anything but.
My breath hitches.
Zane pins me there, his body flush against mine, his palms bracing the wall on either side of my head.
His scent—clean, sharp, something distinctly him—fills my lungs, and my mouth goes dry.
“Still thinking about killing people?” His voice is a murmur, low and laced with something far more dangerous than any mobster in this room.
I swallow. “Mm. Jury’s still out.”
He chuckles, a rough sound that sends a shiver straight down my spine. His nose brushes against my temple, his lips a whisper away from my skin.
“Then I guess I’ll have to work harder to distract you.”
“Yes.”
“So you’re going to let me worship you,” he bends down, lifting my leg and resting it on his shoulder. In this position, no one can see what we are doing inside the room, but if someone comes outside, they can see everything.
We are exposed.
There’s something about that that sends a jolt of electricity through me. The idea that everything could unravel instantly, but right now, it’s just us.
Zane runs the tip of his nose over my skin, drawing a gasp from me. Each touch of his is equivalent to my combustion as if my body feeds only on that—him.
In our sexual dynamic, I usually have control. This is much more. It’s... something that makes me vulnerable.
“Zane…” His nose reaches the hem of my dress, and he slowly lifts it.
“Look at me,” he commands in his deep voice that does things to me. I’ve never seen this side of him before. I obey.
“You will look at me while I lick my delicious pussy. I want your eyes on me, do you understand?”
His closeness is almost suffocating, desperate, the kind of intensity that makes my pulse race. I want this so much, I can barely breathe, all I can do is nod, silently begging him to continue.
And then he smiles. That smile—that smile—like he hasn’t already taken every breath from me, every ounce of my focus.
Like I’m not already completely undone by him.
But it’s in that smile, that slow, knowing curve of his lips, that I realize… I’m already his, body and soul.
“They’ll see,” I mutter, my cheeks flushing with realization. It happened so fast, and I was so wet that, in one quick motion, his hand was inside my panties and his finger had slipped inside me.
All my protests fade, swallowed by the pleasure that follows. The words I want to say die on my lips, powerless, as if they never even mattered.
“Let them,” he murmurs, and his tongue slides over my clit in a lazy motion. “Remember, eyes on me, baby.”
Finally, he slides his tongue inside me, licking as if he were taking his time to taste me.
“Mmm,” I murmur as his tongue fucks me. My eyes close involuntarily at the sensation, and then I’m filled with the pulsing ache in my center mixing with the waves of pleasure.
“Eyes on me. Don’t make me repeat myself.” He returns his attention to my clit, sliding his tongue in and out of my pussy and licking all around, pushing against its inner walls.
He savors every inch of me, like he’s at a lavish banquet, each touch deliberate, each taste lingering. I watch, completely drenched, as my own pleasure spills over, coating his mouth, his cheek, leaving a mess that only deepens the heat between us.
I watch, trying to control myself, every nerve in my body begging to give in and let my orgasm take over.
But I want it to last.
I want to watch.
I watch, breathless, as he moves his head from side to side, his tongue flicking and swirling, pulling out new, intoxicating sensations with each shift.
"You think you don’t mean anything to anyone here? You mean everything to me. I may not be the most powerful, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’ll always stand by you. I’ll always be here, right beside you, and I’ll worship you in every way. You’re mine, wife."
“Even with all the horrible things I did?”
“Even if you actually did those things. There is nothing that would make me want you less. Nothing that would make me stop wanting you. I would follow you to the end of the fucking earth if I had to, Mia Hill.”
He moves his tongue upward, licking the top of my slit, just below my clit, and slides two fingers inside my pussy.
I watch. God, I watch.
I watch his fingers moving in and out of my pussy as he gently licks me with a mischievous smile on his face, as if he knows I’m about to give in.
The voices and sounds of the party become completely muffled as he sucks on my clit and then starts to run his tongue over it while continuing to move his fingers in and out of me.
“Oh fuck, don’t you dare stop,” I explode.
He keeps running his tongue over my clit, placing his hands on my hips and pushing me harder into his mouth, and I writhe in pure pleasure.
I can’t tell who’s moving, even though my eyes are glued to the action, because my desperation fills me as he moves his fingers in and out of me while I move to meet his frantic thrusts.
I feel my orgasm building, consuming me, and I trap his fingers with my pussy.
Letting out a loud moan, I grab the back of his head, holding him tightly against my walls. My back is pressed against the wall as I buck my hips up and down, shaking, pulsing, and spurting my orgasm into his mouth as I cum.
I feel my legs tremble as I throw my head back, and a satisfied smile spreads across my face.
I feel so full, so good.
When my fingers loosen on Zane’s head, I wait for him to release me, but his fingers still press firmly against my hips as he returns to sucking my clit.
“Zane… I came so hard… I’m sensitive,” I murmur, vulnerability oozing from my voice.
“I’m not done admiring you. You’re going to give me one more.”
“Zane, I don’t…” but my words die in my mouth as he continues exploring my slit, slowly building new waves of pleasure.
“That… feels good,” I murmur, surrendering to the sensation, and he smiles, his fingers massaging my clit.
God.
“See, wife, I know you. I know every part of your perfect body,” he murmurs against my sex and then replaces his fingers with his tongue.
“I want you inside me.”
“With all these people here?” he asks in an amused tone, and I had forgotten about the people.
But they don’t matter. I need him inside me now.
“Yes,” I beg. “I need you.”
Zane’s hands grip my waist, pulling me even closer, slamming me against the wall.
His forehead presses against mine for just a breath, and then his tongue invades my mouth, hot and hungry, making me taste myself on it. His kiss deepens, harder now, as his tongue moves with relentless intensity, sending a shiver through me.
I can’t help but gasp, the sensation overwhelming, every part of me on fire.
I need him, now.
My fumbling hands work with his belt buckle, loosening it enough for his cock to be exposed as I guide him inside me in one go.
“Fuck. You’re beautiful, Mia. You want to know who’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid my eyes on? It’s you. Always you.”
I’ve never been one for compliments, but when Zane gives them, I feel like every part of me burns for the words—something I didn’t know was missing until they left his reddened mouth.
Slowly, he pulls the entire length of his cock out of my pussy until only the head is inside.
“Zane,” I murmur.
“Are you okay, love?” he asks, his eyes so full of love that all I can do is kiss him back.
Then he pushes back in slowly, making me feel every inch of his cock inside me.
I’m steaming with heat, my body singing with relief as he slides in and out. My back arches involuntarily, and I lift my hips to meet his thrusts, bracing myself against the wall.
It’s like a dream.
No one will ever be as good as he is now.
Zane makes me feel alive, real, and special.
He admires my body like I’m his goddess, and that’s hard to process sometimes.
The intensity of my feelings for him.
How much this consumes me.
He slides faster until I’m once again losing myself to the sensation of a second orgasm.
As my burning pussy walls clamp down on his rigid cock, it pushes him over the edge, and the first load of cum, filling me up, is squeezed out in spasmodic bursts from his hard, throbbing cock. I buck and shudder as our orgasms meet in one climactic thrust, and I wrap my legs around his waist, holding him deep inside me.
“You want to get caught,” Zane observes, but his voice cracks as if the same effect that hits me hits him too.
We’re both panting, and I can feel his chest rise and fall against mine. I turn my head and kiss him gently on the lips.
We stand there, pressed against each other, waiting for our orgasms to subside. His cock is completely spent inside me, and I can feel my pussy pulsing around it.
“I can’t stand being away from you,” I murmur, my voice low, raw. "Fuck People.”