26. Valentin
26
VALENTIN
Angelo, the besotted bastard, rose up to nuzzle Ana’s face, smearing her juices over her skin, then tugged my face toward his to kiss me. Her salty-tart taste combined with the whiskey on his lips drew a groan out of me as she looked on, eyes widening before glazing over with lust.
Angelo’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Reluctantly, I lifted Ana off my lap and settled her beside me on the couch. Unsettled by how much I enjoyed the feel of her limbs draped over mine as the evidence of her pleasure dripped down her legs, the interruption afforded me an opportunity to compose myself.
And Ana’s masochism combined with how hard she fought against it was a fucking delight.
“What the fuck do you want, Russo?” Angelo snapped, clearly displeased at the interruption. Ana stiffened, her face melting into blankness, posture straightening, giving away nothing—a return to the perfect mafia princess I’d delighted in breaking down over the last few days. Before I could delve into that thought, Angelo’s face turned grim, and he thumbed it to speakerphone.
“They fucking burned down the Costa compound,” the Russo whelp said, his ice-cold voice communicating his disgust even over the phone.
Ana’s sharp intake of breath was the only sign of her surprise. I wrapped an arm around her shoulders, hauling her close, ignoring the voice in the back of my head that screamed not to comfort her, that told me to hold her at arm’s length.
“Who burned it down, Luca?” she said, her voice just as cold, then looked up at me with fear in her eyes. She knew she’d spoken out of turn. My lips curled up with delight. Ana was learning.
“Ana?” Russo’s voice turned gentle. “Are you okay?”
She looked up at me, her eyes unreadable, but her hands trembled where she worried them in her lap. “Please, ma?tre , may I …?” she whispered, softly enough that Luca wouldn’t pick up on the question.
“Yes, princess,” I told her, fighting the urge to gather her back in my arms and protect her from whatever news he was about to impart. Angelo had no such compunctions, moving onto the couch and sweeping her into his lap before draping her calves over my thighs. I curled my hands over them, stroking gently, as if my touch could reassure her.
“Who burned it down, Luca?” she asked again.
“Boris Tchérnov’s men,” Luca answered. “He’s taking over Costa territory, block by block, as revenge for murdering his son, while you fuckers are galivanting around Europe instead.”
Merde.
“Galivanting?” Ana’s sharp retort surprised me. “Fuck you, Luca,” she snarled. “Why aren’t my father’s men defending the territory?”
“Why would they?” Luca responded. “They owe no loyalty to Angelo, and you’re just a—” he stopped himself.
“Just a woman,” Ana finished bitterly. “Can you hold the territory until I return?”
My fingers tightened around her calves. Not once had we discussed what would happen afterward, nor her role in the Costa empire going forward. Fuck.
“You think my father will lift a finger to save an inch of Costa territory?” Luca’s laugh was as bitter as Ana’s.
Angelo’s eyes narrowed on his angel’s face, no doubt sensing the same undercurrents between them as I did.
His fingers crept up her thigh. She slammed her legs together and snatched at the phone. It slipped from Angelo’s fingers, rescued only by my quick reflexes.
“Ana?” Luca asked from the other side of the Atlantic.
Angelo shoved his hand between her thighs, asserting his ownership of our pretty little toy. She gasped and tried to push off of our laps, but we held her too tightly.
Angelo shoved the fingers of his free hand in her mouth, and I pinched her nipple hard in warning.
She mumbled around Angelo’s fingers, her voice weak as he fucked her mouth with rhythmic certainty, marking his claim against the American upstart.
“We’ll be back in a few days,” I said, watching Ana fight her rising need.
“What the fuck did you not understand when I said that Tchérnov burned down the Costa’s family compound? Do you think there will be anything left for Ana—for any of you to return to in a few more days?”
Ana arched her back, her teeth digging into Angelo’s fingers to keep from crying out, as Angelo finger-fucked her without mercy.
“Ana’s not ready to come yet,” I said shortly. Her eyes met mine with hurt and anger. “But soon, I think,” I conceded, and she melted with relief, her legs spreading over my lap as I hung up. I tossed the phone onto a side table and slapped her pussy, once, twice, three times, sending her careening over the edge into orgasm once again.
Angelo withdrew his fingers from her pussy and held them up to me, his eyes glinting with amusement. I licked her arousal off him before scrubbing my face with frustration. We had to figure out what the fuck we were going to do with Ana. And soon.