52. Angelo
52
ANGELO
The moment the door shut to our apartment, Ana peeled off my jacket, inspecting the wound on my arm. She frowned, then reached up to loosen my tie before unbuttoning my shirt and sliding it down my shoulders.
“Sit,” she said imperiously, pointing to one of the barstools in the kitchen.
Delighted to have her fuss over me, my chest overflowing with warmth, I allowed her to direct me while she searched for a first aid kit.
“ Voilà ,” Valentin said, handing her the duffle bag he kept under the kitchen sink.
Ana’s bright green eyes wavered as she pulled supplies from the bag.
“Do you even know how to dress a wound?” I teased, only for a broken sob to burst out of her. She ignored me as she doused gauze with alcohol.
“So fucking stupid,” she said, slapping her hand on my chest. “You got shot protecting me!” A tear streaked down her face, then another, and this gorgeous, composed, beautiful angel broke down in tears over a flesh wound.
I grabbed her arms so roughly she winced. “It’s just a scratch.”
“I’m not worth it,” she said softly. “Not worth getting hurt over.”
My heart cracked wide open at the pain in her voice. “Angel, I would sacrifice myself a thousand times over to keep you and Valentin safe.”
Her green eyes shone bright with tears when I pinched her chin and forced her gaze to mine.
“You belong to me, Ana Costa. I own your body. I own your soul. I own your delectable cunt. And that means that I will lay down my life to protect yours. Do you understand that?”
Ana searched my eyes, as if she didn’t believe the words coming out of my mouth.
“Who do you belong to, Ana?”
“You,” she answered, her voice thick with emotion. She pushed up on her toes to brush her lips against mine. “You,” she said again, more confidently. “And you belong to me,” she added.
Warmth flowed through me like molten gold, filling in the cracks in my soul. “ Sì , angel. I belong to you too.”
Ana nodded firmly, then stepped out of my arms so she could clean the cut on my bicep. The sting of the antiseptic barely registered against the delight of her delicate fingers cleaning my wound, moments after she’d claimed me as completely as I’d claimed her.
When I looked up to find Valentin watching us, I expected to find amusement in his gaze, gentle mockery of our sentiment, but instead, his head was tilted quizzically.
“You belong to me too, stronzo ,” I muttered.
“You need stitches,” Ana said softly. “This is more than a simple flesh wound.”
“Then stitch me up,” I told her.
“I’ve never?—”
Valentin wrapped his arms around her, propping his chin on her shoulder. She nuzzled her cheek against his, and that odd warmth in my chest returned.
“I’ve stitched him up more times than I can count,” he said. “I’ll help you.”
Ana nodded shakily. “I don’t want to leave a scar.”
“Oh, angel, haven’t you figured it out yet? I’d like nothing more than for you to leave your mark on me.”
Ana didn’t dignify that with a response.
I kept my gaze on her face as she carefully stitched me up, following Valentin’s instructions with intense concentration. She hadn’t flinched at the blood. She didn’t care about plunging a needle into my flesh. She just didn’t want to hurt me.
Just as she tied off the thread, a harsh knock sounded at the door.
“Enzo Accardi,” my bodyguard announced.
I hopped off the barstool and grabbed my shoulder holster, shrugging it back on over my bare chest.
Ana darted over to the kitchen to wash her hands while Valentin packed up the first aid kit.
I buzzed Accardi in, stepping out of the way so that he and three of Gio’s remaining capos could enter.
“Two dead, six in need of medical care,” he said, dropping onto the couch. “Seven,” he corrected himself, his eyes wandering down to my freshly dressed wound.
Ana sat in an armchair, her ankles crossed, looking every inch the elegant mafia princess she was raised to be. No. Ana was a fucking queen, and it was time I admitted it. The only woman in a room full of men, all twice her size and physically dangerous, and she didn’t show an ounce of intimidation.
“More funerals, then,” she murmured. “How is Maria?”
“Fierce,” Enzo said, with an unexpected grin. “She gave me a piece of her mind for not supporting you.”
“As she should have,” I said.
Enzo’s gaze flicked to mine. “For not supporting Ana . She didn’t say a fucking word about you.”
“As I said,” I answered. “What do the four of you want in exchange for swearing your allegiance? Allegiance that you owe Ana anyway.”
Ana’s fingers tightened on the arms of her chair, but she didn’t give another hint of how she felt about the power I bestowed upon her.
“The same positions we had with Gio,” Enzo said. “Capos and advisors. Steady paychecks.”
Before I could answer, Ana spoke.
“We’re done with trafficking,” she said. “Done with forced prostitution. Done with exploiting the girls at the clubs.”
When one of the capos protested, she talked right over him, lifting her chin. “That’s the deal. Either you’re in, or you’re out.”
Enzo looked at me with surprise. “You’re going to let her put these conditions on us? When we don’t even know what the fuck the future holds, who her future husband will be?”
Me. It was going to be me. And I’d give Ana the fucking world if she wanted it.
“Who are you pledging your allegiance to?” I asked.
“It doesn’t matter who they fucking pledge their allegiance to,” Ana snapped. “We’re done exploiting women. You need me, and the only way you’re going to get me is to agree to this.”
“There you have it, boys,” Valentin said, taking his place beside me on the couch. “Your queen has spoken.”
“I’m not swearing allegiance to Gio’s used-up slut. He whored her out for years,” one of the capos snarled, making the decision for me.
In one smooth movement, I drew my gun and shot him in the forehead. He collapsed onto the floor.
“You’ll swear to Ana, or you’ll leave in a body bag,” I said, my plan to tie Ana to me forever solidifying in my mind.
“No,” Ana’s voice cracked out. “I don’t want to be the don .” Our gazes swiveled to her. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes to hide the tears swimming in them. “Not when my future husband is just going to take over the organization. Take the oath to Angelo.”
“Ana—”
She cut me off by standing, the devastation in her expression quickly replaced by an icy glare.
“This is what you wanted. This is why you dragged me back to the States. Take it, Angelo. Take the power they’re offering?—”
“The power you’re offering,” I corrected, my fists clenching as I watched her close herself off. I couldn’t refuse this, even if taking it from her was the last thing I wanted.
Enzo was the first onto his knees, slicing his knife across his hand and offering it up to me to do the same.
When I only stared at him, shocked at his open display of allegiance, Ana took the knife and gently cut across my palm, her trembling fingers revealing the depth of emotion she otherwise concealed from me and the rest of the room. I took Enzo’s hand in mine, mingling our blood.
The two remaining men took the same oath as Enzo.
I’d intended to marry Ana, not take her empire away from her.
Fuck!
Her eyes reflected heartbreak, not betrayal, but it didn’t soothe the ache in my heart, the certainty that I’d just taken the first step toward losing her.
Ignoring our audience, I held out my bloody hand for hers. She gave it to me, and when I gestured for the knife with my free hand, she handed that to me too.
I turned her palm up, staring at the way my blood covered her, marked her as mine, then sliced through her skin in one smooth motion, so quickly she couldn’t jerk away before it was done.
Valentin swore softly, and I grinned at the darkness in his eyes.
I pressed my palm to hers. “ Finché morte non ci separi .” Until death do us part, I vowed.
Ana stared at our hands, pressed together between us, her entire body shaking.
“Ana,” Enzo said, back on his feet, watching us as if he didn’t trust me with her.
She visibly pulled herself together, but before she could pull away, I dragged her body against mine, enveloping her in a fierce hug. Tentatively, her fingers stroked up my sides and then around my waist, and my chest cracked wide open. I loved this fierce, independent, selfless woman who’d never had anything of her own and still didn’t because she’d just handed it to me.
And I was never going to let her go.