Salvatore
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The ride home from the wedding planner's studio should feel like a victory.
Valentina is falling for me, I can see it. Plus her mother gave me her blessing, or at least, the closest thing to one I'll ever get from a woman who spent forty years running from my family. Sofia stopped looking at me like I was going to murder everyone at the table. That’s progress.
But I can feel the distance growing between us with every mile. Valentina stares out the window, her hand limp in mine, her mind somewhere I can't follow.
She's thinking about her father.
I know because I am too. I heard her mother ask about him when I returned earlier.
My phone buzzes. Raffaele.
Emergency meeting. Library. Now.
I glance at Valentina. She hasn't noticed, still lost in her own thoughts.
I type back a quick response and slip the phone back into my pocket.
"You're quiet," I study her face.
"Just thinking."
"What about?"
She turns to look at me, and for a moment, I see everything in those green eyes. The fear. The hope. The love she's fighting so hard not to feel. And underneath it all, the question she's too afraid to ask.
What are you going to do to my father?
"Nothing," she says finally. "Just tired."
I bring her hand to my lips. "Get some rest when we get home. I have a few things to take care of."
She nods, and I hate how relieved she looks. Like she needs space from me. Like I'm the one causing her pain.
The truth is much worse.
* * *
My brothers are waiting in the library when I arrive.
Matteo stands by the fireplace, arms crossed. Raffaele is seated in one of the leather chairs, his expression unreadable. Elio paces near the windows, too restless to stay still.
"What's so urgent?" I ask, closing the door behind me.
Raffaele answers. "We found him."
I don't need to ask who. "Marco."
"He was hiding in a safe house outside the city," Matteo says. "One of our informants tipped us off. Raffaele's men picked him up a few hours ago."
"Where is he now?"
"The warehouse on Pier 12." Raffaele's voice is flat, clinical. "He's secure, for now."
Elio stops pacing. "The men are asking questions, Sal. They want to know what we're going to do with him. Everyone knows he's been a thorn in our side for years. First he ran with Giovanni's bride, now his daughter is marrying you after he betrayed us again. The optics aren't great."
"The optics," I repeat slowly.
"You know what I mean." Elio runs a hand through his hair.
"The other families are watching. The Morettis, the Calabrese, and the Volkovs are all waiting to see how you handle this. If you let Marco live after everything he's done, they'll see it as weakness," Raffaele adds.
"He's right," Matteo says quietly. "Father would have killed him the moment we found him. Everyone expects the same from you."
I move to the window, staring out at the darkening sky. They're not wrong. We all know that mercy is a luxury and forgiveness is a death sentence.
But Valentina...
I think about the way she looked at me in the car. The way her mother told me to love her properly.
How can I love her properly if I kill the man who raised her? A man she loves.
"What does she know?" I ask without turning around.
"Nothing yet," Raffaele says. "But it won't take long for word to get out. You know how these things work."
I do. Secrets don't stay buried. They claw their way back to the surface, bloody and vengeful.
"Give me time.”
"How much time?" Raffaele asks.
"Enough."
Matteo pushes off from the fireplace. "Sal, I understand this is complicated. But you can't let your feelings for her cloud your judgment. Marco betrayed our family. He stole Father's bride. Taking our money while feeding information to our enemies. He needs to be dealt with."
"I know what he did."
"Then you know what needs to happen."
I turn to face them. "I said, give me time. That's not a request."
The room falls silent. Nico and my brothers exchange looks, but no one argues. They know better.
"The wedding is approaching fast," Matteo says finally. "Whatever you're going to do, do it before then. We can't have this hanging over everything."
I nod once. "Now leave. All of you."
They file out without another word.
I find myself walking to a room in the house I’ve only just begun to re-visit.
I stand alone in the library, surrounded by the ghosts of my ancestors, and wonder how the hell I'm going to make things right.
I'm still standing there when the door opens.
Valentina. I'd know her presence anywhere.
"I thought you were resting," I step closer.
"I couldn't sleep." Valentina's footsteps are soft on the hardwood. "Rosa told me you were in here."
I'm holding one of the old leather-bound albums, the one with photographs from before everything fell apart. Before my father became a monster and trained us to follow in his footsteps. Before my mother's light was extinguished. I close it carefully, but not before she sees what I was looking at.
She moves closer, stopping beside me. I take her hand and place a kiss on it before we start flipping through some of the pages.
"You were cute," she says. “So you’re saying I’m not cute anymore?”
“Definitely not,” she says making me laugh.
“You know, I was wondering, I think I recognize everyone in the photos but I’m not sure which one is Dante. Where umm, where was he?”
“Dante… is Shadow.”
“Really? He looked so much younger than you in the album I… I’m sorry I didn’t know.”
“Yeah, he didn’t get his height until much later than the rest of us.”
"Your mother seemed wonderful.”
"She was." I finally turn to look at her.
“She was so beautiful. Just like you.”
“Well, not like me I mean who are we kidding, your mother looks like she walks out of a beauty pageant and took that photo."
"And which pageant do you look like you walked out of?” I ask.
“Is there even a librarian in heels pageant I could pretend to win?”
I quickly get up, “You are stunning, amore mio, never forget that. “I’m glad you get to take over this library, make it yours.” Her gaze drifts across the room, a soft smile lifting her lips.
“So, what’s on your mind?” she asks. I’m not one to bite my tongue or hold back the truth but I realize that this is not something we can discuss so lightly.
“A lot.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Her fingers slide through my hair, and I lean into the touch, eyes closing for a moment. I don’t expect for her to lean in and place a soft kiss on my lips.
“Not today.”
“Okay, but I’m here if you ever need to talk, okay?”
Fuck, this is killing me.
“I’m going back to my room to take a shower.” She teases. I know it’s an invitation.
“My shower’s bigger,” I say simply.
“Okay, well shower in there then. See ya later.” She leaves, taking her peace and warmth with her.
I’m left sitting in the library that only the two women I have ever loved have used, and now I have to make an impossible decision.
* * *
She’s already in the shower when I arrive. Our eyes meet through the haze, and I watch the moment her breath catches. She turns her back to me, closes her eyes, and lets the spray hit her face like she’s bracing for something.
I know that tension.
I caused it.
I step in close, let her feel my presence before I touch her. Her body goes rigid, waiting, wanting. I don’t rush it. I take my time.
I place both of my hands are on her ass, firm, claiming.
Then I drop to my knees without a word, my mouth on her immediately.
I taste her, slow at first, but she’s already whimpering.
Then I stick my tongue inside of her perfect body, deeper, lips on top of her folds, pulling, teeth biting just enough to make her gasp.
“Open your eyes, baby” I tell her.
She does.
And she sees me, on my knees, exactly where I want to be, holding the red velvet box I had brought to her room.
Her eyes open wide in shock. “So, the ring was in the velvet box this entire time, huh?” she asks, smiling.
“What do you say we rule this kingdom together, baby?”
She shakes her head, but I see her smiling.
“Sure, I will accept your ring and pretend I have a choice,” she says.
“You always have a choice,” I tell her. Standing to place the ring on her finger and kiss her.
She kisses me back before guiding me back down.
“Ok, my King, back on your knees,” she commands, and I do exactly what my queen wants.
I press my mouth against her core, ravaging her. She’s screaming, but I don’t break rhythm. I don’t stop. I press her harder against the tile, hold her hips in place while I work her until her legs start to tremble.
She grips my head, fingers in my hair, pushing me closer. I let her. I like it when she forgets herself.
“Salvatore?”
“Yes, baby.”
“I want you inside me.”
That’s all it takes.
I’m on my feet in an instant, hard and ready for her. I pull her back against me and slide inside her with one hard thrust that rips a sound from her throat. I pin her to the shower wall, my body pressed to her back, my hands braced beside her as I drive into her again and again.
”You take me so well, baby. I love how your pussy feels on my cock.” I slam into her harder, but not faster. I want her to feel every thrust slamming into her perfect body.
She’s shaking. I feel it, feel her trying not to fall apart.
She starts screaming louder and I know she’s close. I press a finger to her lips. When she doesn’t quiet fast enough, I push it deeper, down her throat. She struggles for air around it while taking all of me, and the control of it snaps something tight in me.
I come with a groan, I don’t bother hiding, deep inside her, but I’m not finished, but neither is she. She swallows.
“Sit,” she says.
I do.
She climbs onto me, slowly sliding down until I’m buried inside her again. I grip her hips, holding her still for a second while we both breathe.
“Tell me you want to be here,” I demand.
“I do, Salvatore. I want to be here… with you.”
“Good girl.”
I lift her like she weighs nothing and slam her down onto me. Once. Twice. Again and again. She stretches around me, fire and heat and pleasure tangled so tight she can’t separate them.
“You’re so fucking tight baby.” I don’t slow. I don’t stop until her body breaks, until she comes undone in my arms. Until I can feel her come on my cock.
When it’s over, she stays wrapped around me, legs locked at my waist. I hold her there, solid and unmoving.
She’s warm. Open. Completely mine.
I’ve never felt power like this. No fear, no blood, just… this.
Vulnerable. Satisfied. Loved.
But one fucking decision will change everything.
Kill her father, and secure my throne, or let him live and secure my heart?