Chapter 46 Carlo
Carlo
“It’s not as bad as it looks.”
She stares at me like I’ve lost my mind, but I prefer that to her worry. “What happened?” she asks, swallowing thickly as she steps closer.
“Many things.” My hands are stained pink, one quick wash hardly enough to clean them. Under my nails, the blood has turned brown. Taking in my black dress shirt, I grunt and force myself to stand again. “I’ll ruin the sofa this way. Best if we go upstairs.”
I start unbuttoning my shirt, but Francesca’s hands immediately cover mine, taking over. “Are you sure you can manage them?”
“I’ll manage.” She’s still working on the buttons, her hands trembling slightly. “Most of this isn’t even my blood.”
“Most?” She starts shivering, violently. Not the response I was going for.
“It’s okay, Red. I’ll take care of this. You can wait here,” I murmur, wanting only to calm her.
She lifts her chin, blue eyes blazing with sudden anger. “You’ll take care of this? I can wait here? Who the hell do you think you’re talking to? I’m your wife, Carlo. Tell me what happened, and you’re going to let me help you, you stubborn, reckless man.”
My lips twitch at her rage, and my black heart thud-thuds longingly over what it tells me.
“Stubborn and reckless. Yes, I was tonight, far more than usual for me,” I admit.
“Someone brings that out in me.” Confusion replaces her anger.
How can she not know? “Your mother is here?” Alessio said as much but things were getting a little foggy when we finally reached home.
“She had too much wine. She’s in the bedroom near your office. We won’t disturb her.” Once I nod, she helps me peel the bloody shirt off where it’s stuck to my back. “You’ve been stabbed,” she whispers, her voice shaking.
“I turned at the last second. He only caught my shoulder.” It hurts like a motherfucker, but it will heal. “My cock’s been buried deeper inside you than that blade was.”
She fumbles with the bloody shirt, tears pooling in her pretty eyes. “It’s not a joke, Carlo.”
Fuck, I don’t want to upset her, but my wife deserves honesty. “Help me get cleaned up, and I’ll tell you everything, okay?”
She grasps my hand, tugging me up the stairs as if she means to lend me her strength.
She has so much strength, more than I give her credit for.
I let my eyes roam over her riot of red curls and sweet face as we climb, fucking grateful I came home to her tonight.
Death is part of this world, but never being with Francesca again when we have our whole lives in front of us? What a depressing end that would be.
We go straight into the bathroom. She helps me finish undressing and then pulls off her own clothes.
My cock stirs at the sight of her creamy skin, rosy nipples and the red curls that cover her mound.
The corner of her mouth lifts in response to my inspection and its effect on my body.
“None of that until you’re treated and all better. ”
“Treated, okay. All better? There’s many ways you can make me all better,” I argue.
She rolls her eyes and pulls me into the shower.
The water feels like blades at first as it bites into my wound but long acquaintance with pain soon numbs the sensation.
I tip my head back, rinsing away blood and screams. Francesca grabs the bodywash, quietly washing my hands, my throat and chest. She massages my sore muscles, taking care not to aggravate the cut. “That feels like fucking heaven.”
She hums in response, moving down to my thighs. Blood rushes to my cock. I want her. I need her. As if she’s read my mind, she kisses my hipbone and kneels before me. “Would it really help you?”
She’s serious, her wide eyes reflecting both the siren and the choir girl within. Such an odd reason for my throat to tighten this way. “Not yet,” I murmur, swiping my thumb over her bottom lip.
She stands up again and lets me wash her. The spicy scent of the bodywash mixed with her lavender fragrance, the silky feel of her skin and womanly curves under my roughened hands, it relaxes me.
“Who did this to you?” she asks once we’re both washed, wrapping her arms around me from behind and hugging me. Her soft cheek presses against the center of my back. I don’t want any fresh blood to drip onto her.
“The asshole from last night, Roberto. It was his son.” I probe the wound with my finger. Not too deep, certainly not life threatening. Just a reminder for me to watch my fucking back at all times. “I may need help stitching it. I should’ve let Luca-”
“I’ll do it if you teach me how.”
But she keeps hugging me tightly and I let her, craving her gentleness after a night full of brutality. We stand under the showerhead together until the water starts to turn cold.
***
“I’ve never enjoyed getting stitches more.
” Turning, I catch her grin before she gives me a stern look.
Her eyes dip back down to my shoulder, but she’s still fighting a smile.
I’m seated on the edge of our bed. She’s on her knees behind me, both of us naked while I tell her what to do. “Pull it tighter.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
Taking her hand, I brush my lips over her knuckles. “You won’t. Not when you’re taking care of me.”
When the needle pierces my flesh for the final time, she clucks her tongue with satisfaction. “Not bad for a beginner, I hope.”
“Not bad at all.”
“Maybe instead of music I should study medicine. It would be more useful as your wife.”
“You can study anything you like, but your music is the best gift I could ever wish for.”
“You mean that?”
“I do.”
She’s silent for a moment before she starts to sing quietly for me, tucked behind me but with her lips next to my ear. I don’t know the song, but it’s a love song. A haunting melody, a handful of lovely words, simple yet powerful. Fucking goosebumps. I didn’t even know I was capable of having them.
“What song is that?” I ask roughly once it ends.
“Something I wrote.”
She shared her music with me. “It was beautiful.” Embarrassed, she clears her throat, so I take her hand in mine. "I mean it. You amaze me."
Affection shines in her eyes. “You were a surprisingly good patient. Maybe you’ll get a lollipop.”
“Why do you say surprisingly?” I ask, pretending to be offended.
She giggles, the sweetest sound in the world after her singing voice, and I turn to pull her into my lap so that she’s straddling me.
Her pretty pink pussy and her lovely tits soon have my mouth watering.
“I know a treat I want more than candy.” Softening in my hold, she melts against me, allowing me a taste of her mouth.
God, I needed this, missed having her this way. “Frankie…” I beg.
She shifts forward onto her knees, hovering over me, careful not to put pressure on my wounded shoulder.
I give my cock a few strokes and then wait for her to sink downward.
We moan as one at the stretch and squeeze, so fucking good.
Her lips move against mine as she rocks her hips.
My hands lift her body to meet my thrusts.
Her breath hitches when I dip down to suck on her tits, swirling my tongue around the tight buds.
She moves faster, harder, slamming down to take me in as she chases her release.
When her climax washes over her, I come, too, letting the last of my demons drain away as I fill her.
A precious handful of seconds, my mind is blissfully blank as the echoes of pleasure outweigh the pain.
“Okay, time to talk,” she announces, slowly easing off me. I groan about the sudden lack of warm pussy around my dick, making her laugh but not deterring my little interrogator. “Aurora told us the significance of Red Hook.”
“Aurora would know,” I murmur, remembering the first time I met the girl before she was Faro’s wife. “When did she tell you about this?”
“Earlier. Before Harper arrived,” she quickly answers.
“Hmm.” I’m not sure what to say about the classmate being here except I didn’t like it. That meddling bitch helped her escape Faro’s watch at the park that day.
Francesca clings to me as I stand, trusting me not to drop her.
I lay her down on the mattress and climb in beside her, covering us with the blanket and dimming the lights.
She instantly snuggles up against me, inhaling deeply and contentedly before tucking her head under my chin.
Her fingers trail through my chest hair.
Fucking sweet and all mine. “What happened?” she prompts.
“Tonight, I had to send a message to our men about a decision I made.”
“The decision to marry me.”
"Yes."
“Did your father attend the meeting, too?”
“No, he knew I needed to show force and worried his presence would’ve diminished my authority.”
“You'll make an excellent Don. It makes sense he'd let you handle tonight.”
I smile, basking in her support. “I called our men to a meeting, reiterated the words I said after I cut Roberto last night. A few spoke up about their concerns regarding your father.”
“They hate me.”
“They hate him. The ones who spoke respectfully, I gave them the opportunity to speak their mind. In the end, they will follow my decision. One didn’t speak with respect though.”
“He insulted you,” she says, quietly, her fingers curling into my bicep.
“No, he insulted you which is far worse.”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing he’ll repeat after I removed his tongue.”
She jerks back, her eyes wide with shock.
Irish whore – the last words he ever uttered.
I suppose she wouldn’t appreciate knowing how good it felt to storm down the line of men until I wrapped my hands around his throat.
The hot, sticky feeling of blood and saliva covering my hands as he gurgled and choked to death.
No, that’s not something I’ll describe to her.
She has enough nightmares to haunt her sleep. I won’t add to them.
“I apologize if I’ve said too much, mia moglie, but I won’t tolerate anyone disrespecting you,” I finish gently, as if there’s anything gentle inside of me.
“You’re more open with me than I expected.” I nod, and she considers her next words before asking, “Did you ever plan to discuss things like this with your wife before we married?”
I shake my head. “If I had married Sofia or any other woman, I can’t imagine a time I would be so open about business, especially the darker parts. You seem to draw words out of me even when I’m trying to punish you for making me feel things.”
“What things do you feel?”
I draw her hand up to my heart, covering the tattoo there. “I feel you. Right here.” I kiss her brow and her eyes shine brightly before she cuddles up close again.
“Is that when Roberto’s son stabbed you?”
“No, that was later. I’d sent Luca looking for something several days ago. He returned for our reception and with information.”
The unspoken ‘what’ hangs in the air. I take a deep breath, reminding myself I plan to be as honest as possible with Francesca after my previous failings.
“We went after men who knew where your father was living under federal protection.” She gasps. “He's been dealing Fentanyl on the side for extra cash. Luca found one of the suppliers he works with. We needed to take care of the rest of them before they could warn someone. Francesca?”
“Keep going,” she says, quietly.
“We went to a drug house in Jersey to find them. In the ensuing fight, Roberto’s son got it in his thick head to avenge his father by trying to knife me in the back. A clumsy attempt, really.”
“And you killed him?”
“I killed them all. Roberto, both his sons and the dealers.” We’ll need a new Underboss for Philadelphia, but that’s a problem to solve another day. “Francesca, when we find your father…”
“I don’t want to know anything about it,” she quickly says. “I know they’ll want an execution, something they can all feel like they’re part of.”
“That’s what they want.”
But I’m not sure that’s what I’ll give them.
“I was worried when you left tonight. I was worried you might cheat on me.”
I lean back so I may stare deep into her eyes before swearing once more, “I will never forsake our vows. As you are mine, I am yours. For all my days.”
“Good.” She bites her bottom lip before flicking her eyes down the length of my body. “I know it’s been a long night, but do you think you’d be up to…”
With a playful growl, I roll on top of her, showing her I am more than up for another round.
Not caring about my screaming shoulder, not caring about the dangers of the night or anything at all when my wife arches her back and bucks against me, whispering, “Make love to me,” in a needy little voice.
Sinking inside her soft heat, I realize the truth in her terminology. This isn’t just sex. It’s lovemaking, something I never thought to share with anyone but can’t imagine calling it anything less with her.
***
Dawn and she’s still sleeping soundly when Luca’s text comes through, asking about my shoulder before telling me his plans.
I pause, thinking about the spectacle they’ll want.
Once you have him, tell only me. I don’t want it to be common knowledge until I’ve seen him with my own eyes.
Luca agrees, and I give him another order.
Tell Ettore to have the penthouse swept.
The outsider?
A precaution.
I’m too close to catching Brian Donnelly to go to prison now, and there’s no way I’m rotting in a cell away from the woman I love.