Chapter 5
Lucia
Thankfully, the storm has passed. This morning, we had some drizzle, but then the sun returned. Romeo made the most of it. He’s taken Ki-Ki for two walks today, both times solo.
I get the feeling he’s trying to distance himself from me, again, but I can’t really blame him. I did lay it on pretty thick this morning.
A devious smile curves at my lips at the thought. Little does he know, I’m just getting started.
He’s standing right on the brink, I can feel it. At least, I hope he is. Tonight, I’m going to find out for sure.
Maybe it’s the suffocating tension that’s been building between us, or maybe it’s just me, but that man’s wound so tight he looks ready to snap from the slightest touch. And honestly? I’m dying to see what happens when he finally does.
The poor guy is not going to know what hit him.
Before we ended up here, in the safe house, he went out of his way to avoid being anywhere near me. A part of me feels guilty for pushing him so hard, but this chance I’ve been handed is too rare to ignore. It may be the only one I get.
If and when we ever leave here, I know he’ll begin to retreat just as quickly. I’m not sure I’ll get another shot at breaking through his walls, so I’m going to make the most of our time here together.
Dinner is almost ready, so I push up onto the tip of my toes and glance out the kitchen window into the backyard.
Romeo is currently out there, pacing back and forth. He’s on the phone to someone, and his free hand is flying all over the place as he talks.
It’s probably Dante or one of his men. A few of them have dropped by while we’ve been staying here, but I haven’t gotten the chance to meet any of them. Romeo goes outside to greet them and has never brought any of them into the house.
I can’t tell if he’s trying to keep me from hearing what they’re talking about, or if he doesn’t want them to meet me. Either way, it grates on my nerves. It makes me feel like I’m some secret he’s desperate to keep tucked away.
Taking a moment, I use my free pass to observe him. His broad shoulders, his strong back muscles that strain against the fabric of his shirt, his small waist and that perfect round butt. He’s dressed in all black, like always. A button-down dress shirt and a pair of sleek trousers.
I no longer have to conjure up images of what lies underneath because I saw it all firsthand this morning, and it was a glorious sight.
Romeo De Luca in the flesh runs rings around any hero I’ve read about in my books. I almost forgot how to breathe as I shamelessly took him all in. Every inch looked as if it had been carved from stone. His muscles were defined and tense, like they held back more than just brute strength.
Like me, his chest rose and fell in a slow, hypnotic rhythm, drawing my eyes to the ink that sprawled across his skin. Tattoos that I’m sure tell stories that I’m yet to learn.
Some dark, some almost poetic, curling over his ribs and wrapping around his arms. His abs were tight and toned, as if every part of him was built for power. And don’t even get me started on that salami stick in his pants.
It was so hard and so … thick. It may have been hidden behind his black boxer shorts, but I swear I could see it pulsing through the thin fabric.
It wasn’t the only thing pulsing in that moment.
The sight of him gave me an ache between my legs like nothing I’ve ever known.
I snap out of my daydream when he turns and begins pacing in the other direction, giving me a full frontal view. My gaze moves down his arms to those strong, tattooed hands of his, and a surge of electricity courses through me as I remember the way he squeezed my arse before realising it was me.
I’m not naive enough to think there haven’t been other women in his life before I came along, but knowing he thought I was one of them made me feel sick to the stomach.
I may want what they’ve had, but I don’t want to be another notch on his belt. I want to mean something to him, like he does to me. I crave everything I know he could give me if he’d just let down those stupid walls he’s erected between us.
My eyes move down to the bulge in his trousers, and a desperate kind of hunger claws at my insides. I already know this man will be an exceptional lover and far exceed any scene I’ve read about. The thought alone has liquid heat pooling in my core.
He pauses and his head turns sharply, as if he can feel me watching him.
“Shit,” I mumble under my breath when his gaze locks on the window where I’m standing.
I quickly duck down, but I know it’s in vain. He definitely saw me creeping on him. My cheeks heat as I remain crouched and move across the room to grab my phone. The moment it’s in my hand, I run from the room like a scared child.
I could busy myself with setting the table, but I like it when Romeo does that. There’s something about the way we’ve slipped into this quiet rhythm that feels almost ... intimate. It’s a routine that works, smooth and easy, as if we’ve been doing it for years.
While I plate up our food, he usually lays out the cutlery without needing a word from me. After we’ve eaten, he handles the dishes like it’s second nature.
He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows, and I catch myself just standing there, staring like a starstruck idiot as his forearms flex, muscles shifting with every subtle move. It’s such a simple, everyday gesture, but when he does it, it feels like something else entirely.
Something steady.
Something ours.
I pull up my sister’s number as I flop onto the lounge. I need a Caterina fix from my baby niece.
“Luc,” Dante says as his face appears on the screen. “Is everything okay over there?”
“Yes, I’m just missing my niece.”
“Didn’t you speak with your sister a few hours ago?”
“Yes, and the baby was asleep.”
“Well, she’s awake now and currently having a feed,” he says, turning the screen around towards Arabella, who’s sitting on a chair across the room, cradling her tiny daughter in her arms.
“Move closer,” I grumble down the line.
Dante does as I ask, and when he reaches them, he hovers the phone over Caterina as she suckles happily on her mother’s breast. Her little cheeks are so round; she’s grown so much since her birth.
A stupid lump forms in my throat as I think about all the weeks of cuddles I’ve missed, stuck here while the world moves on without me.
She’s not even going to recognise me when I finally get home. I was one of the first faces she saw the morning she was born—eyes barely open, her tiny fingers curling around mine—and then, just like that, I vanished from her life.
When Dante leans down and gently kisses his daughter’s forehead and then turns to place his lips on my sister, soft and full of love, the lump in my throat swells until it’s hard to breathe.
I want that. God, I want that so badly. I want someone to love me like Dante loves Arabella. I crave that kind of steady, all-in, come-home-to-me love that builds a real family.
Something solid.
Something safe.
Something I never had growing up.
After we lost Mamma, everything fell apart.
Life was cold under Papa’s rule, and Arabella and I were left to pick up the pieces alone.
My sister quickly stepped in to fill our mother’s shoes …
shoes far too big for a girl her age, but she did her best under the circumstances.
Now she has her own family, and I’m suddenly left on the outside looking in.
That knowledge fractures something deep inside me.
I don’t begrudge her for what she has; I envy her, there’s a difference.
When Caterina finishes her feed, Dante swoops in without missing a beat, gently lifting her from Arabella’s arms. “I’ll burp and change her, Bellezza (Beauty). You talk to your sister.”
“He’s such a good dad,” I say as Arabella moves the phone so I can see her face.
“He is … he’s the best,” she replies, and there’s that soft glow in her eyes again. The one she gets whenever she watches her husband with their daughter. “He even gets up to help with the night feeds.”
“He’s so different from Papa.”
She nods. “They’re not even in the same stratosphere.”
I’ve been holed up in my room for hours reading and counting down the minutes until Romeo finally goes to bed. The second he does, phase one of Operation Takedown will begin.
That’s what I’ve decided to call this mission, because make no mistake, it is a mission. I’m going to obliterate those damn walls he’s built around himself to keep me out, even if I have to tear them down one stubborn brick at a time.
When I finally hear his heavy footsteps pass by and his bedroom door close, my eyes move to the rose-shaped vibrator sitting on the bedside table. I’ve affectionately nicknamed her Big-O … because damn, the orgasms she gives me are out of this world.
The first time I used her, I honestly thought I was going to pass out from the intensity it brought on. I purchased it on one of my shopping expeditions with my sister a few months ago, because I was desperate to see if a real-life orgasm lived up to the ones in my books.
It’s a clitoral stimulator, and the lady in the adult store told me it was designed to mimic oral sex.
Although that’s not something I’ve ever experienced firsthand, if Romeo’s mouth can give me the kind of euphoria Big-O does, I can see myself spending the rest of my life on my back with his handsome face buried between my legs.
Arabella wouldn’t let me buy anything that penetrated. She thought it was vital for me to keep my hymen intact until I marry. I went along with it at the time, but I already know—one thousand percent—that I’ll hand my virtue over to Romeo on a silver platter if he wants it, no questions asked.
Big-O is silent, discreet, and, best of all, waterproof. I sometimes take her to the shower when I’m seeking a release, but living under the same roof as Romeo means she’s gotten more of a workout than she has the entire time I’ve owned her.
I have managed to become a quiet achiever when pleasuring myself—I had no choice since I was living with my sister and her husband—but tonight I’m going to put on a show and scream the damn house down.
If this doesn’t crack him, I don’t know what will.
At the very least, this man will fall asleep with the erotic sounds of my moans echoing in his mind.
After placing my book down, I slide my thumbs into the waistband of my underwear and shimmy them over my hips. Once I’ve given Romeo a moment to undress and get into bed, I reach for the rose-shaped silicone vibrator.
I lie here for a moment and conjure up the latest memory of him standing beside his bed in nothing but his boxer shorts, and once that visual is locked in my head, I turn Big-O on.
I start at the lowest setting because I intend to drag this one out as long as possible. I’m aiming for ultimate torture.
I can’t help but snicker the moment my over-the-top moans kick in. Now and then, I pause, ears perked for any sign of a reaction, but I get nothing. Not even a peep. So, naturally, I dial up the theatrics.
That seems to do the trick, as a second later, my phone dings. I let it sit, pretending I hadn’t noticed. There’s no way I’m giving him the satisfaction of thinking I was waiting for it.
When the second ding sounds, however, I reach for my phone and grin when I see his name on the screen.
Romeo: What in the hell is going on in there?
Romeo: Lucia! Answer me, dammit.
I drop the vibrator onto the mattress beside me and type my reply.
Me: Do you mind? I’m in the middle of something.
Romeo: You better not be doing what I think you’re doing!!!
I chuckle to myself as I write the following message.
Me: What is it you think I’m doing?
Romeo: Don’t play games with me, Lucia. You won’t win.
Oh, Mr De Luca, I haven’t even begun playing games with you yet.
I toss my phone onto the bed and reach for the vibrator again. I turn the setting up a few notches because if I keep going at my previous pace I’m going to end up with cooch burn. It only takes a few more minutes of moaning to get another ping.
Romeo: Stop what you are doing this instant, or I’m going to kick that damn door in and stop you myself. I’m not fucking around here, Lucia.
Me: The door is unlocked, there’s no need to kick it in. You’re welcome to come in and watch.
I roll my lips to muffle my giggle as I press send.
Romeo: I’m fucking serious, Lucia, STOP!!!
Me: Give me a minute, I’m almost done.
I wait for his reply, but when it doesn’t come, I reach for Big-O again. I can play this game all night long if need be.
As soon as the vibrator buzzes to life, I hear Romeo’s bedroom door creak open. I freeze and hold my breath, because I’m fully expecting him to storm in, but instead, the bathroom door slams shut seconds later.
When the shower turns on, my eyes widen. He had one earlier, so that can only mean one thing … he’s having a cold one. I’ve read about those in my books.
I drop Big-O and spring out of bed, racing towards the wall that adjoins the one in the bathroom, placing my ear against the gyprock.
I can hear the sound of running water coming through in a steady, muffled rush. Every so often, there’s a dull thump, likely a footstep, or a bottle being moved. The water shifts occasionally, changing pitch slightly as he moves around or adjusts the showerhead.
I listen for something … anything, and when it finally comes, I can’t believe my ears. “Luuuu-cheeee-yaaaa,” he groans. It sounds like he’s in pain, but he’s not … not specifically.
He’s coming.
Oh. My. God.
Romeo De Luca, the tattooed hot underboss of the Mancini Famiglia, is in the shower, jerking off to images of me, I’m sure of it.
Turning, I lean my back against the wall as I place my hand on my chest, right over my erratically beating heart.
A huge smile curves my lips when I realise that phase one of Operation Takedown is complete.
Tomorrow I’m going to up the ante. This man will be putty in my hands before he even knows what hit him.