Chapter 20
Romeo
I’m currently standing on the threshold of Lucia’s bedroom, watching her as she sleeps soundly beside Lil’ Peach. There is something about the sight that warms my cold heart, so much so that I actually pull out my phone and snap a quick pic.
I tell myself it’s simply because I’m going to send it to Dominic to ease any worry he might have about his niece. He needs to stay focused. However, the reality is, I took it for myself.
I pull up Dominic’s number and attach the photo to the thread before instantly removing it.
I click back to images, duplicate it, crop Lucia out of it, and add that one instead. I’m not comfortable with any man having a picture of my sleeping wife on their phone.
Me: The kid’s asleep.
A reply comes through a few minutes later.
Dom: K
Me: How are things there?
Dom: Quiet.
Me: Keep me updated.
Dom: K
Fucking “K”. Now I know where the kid gets it from. Talking to this man is like pulling teeth with a pair of tweezers. Slow, painful, and borderline impossible.
Another reply buzzes through a second later, and if I’d been holding out hope for some actual information, that expectation died a quick death as soon as I glanced down at the screen.
Dom: And thanks.
I shake my head as I slide the phone into my pocket and return my attention to Lucia. When I found my wife in my room the night of our wedding, I was adamant I didn’t want her in my bed. Yet, as I stand here, I now find myself wondering how I’m going to sleep tonight without her.
It’s something I need to get a grip on. This situation will be resolved sooner rather than later, and when that happens, we’ll return to our separate lives and homes.
I shake my head, retreat a step, and reach for the door handle. But before it can latch shut, I’m pushing it back open. My body moves before my mind catches up.
Without hesitation, I cross the room, scoop Lucia into my arms, and carry her to my bed.
Two days have passed since the second crew set out in search of Salvatori and his men. Peach was safely delivered to her babysitter yesterday, and Lucia and I have since returned to our bubble.
I was caught off guard when she teared up saying goodbye. She doted on that little girl the entire time she was here. I don’t even know if Lucia wants kids of her own, but after seeing her with Peach, I know she’d be an incredible mum. The kind of mother I wished I had when I was a kid.
Loving.
Kind.
Present.
There’s a ticking time bomb hanging over our heads now, and with each passing hour, I can feel her slipping through my fingers.
It’s funny how I was once eager for this arrangement to come to an end, but now I’m savouring our time together, and dreading the expiration date that is looming.
We’ve both showered and are ready for bed. We are currently standing side by side in the bathroom, brushing our teeth.
I’m trying to ignore the little glances Lucia keeps stealing in the mirror, but I am acutely aware of her, this moment, and what is about to come. So is my dick.
Every night when we get into bed, she nestles herself beside me, drapes her arm over my waist, and that fucking hand of hers starts to wander.
She has never gone further than the waistband of my boxers, despite how much my mind has been willing her fingers to do just that. It’s like a sick and twisted game. My cock is always rock-hard with precum weeping from the tip as I silently beg her for some release.
If she’s doing this to try to break me, it’s working. Boy, is it fucking working. I feel like a rubber band stretched to its very limit, and it’s only a matter of time before I snap.
Will tonight be the night?
I’m blaming it on the longest dry spell in history, but the reality is it’s all her. I’m not even beneath the covers yet, and my dick is already throbbing.
What I have with this woman is more than a physical attraction.
It’s the way she looks at me, or how she remembers the little things I say in passing, like they matter.
How gentle she is with the parts of me I don’t show anyone, or how she makes me feel like I’m worth saving, even when I don’t believe it myself.
Being around her feels like breathing after holding it in for far too long.
The depth of my want for this woman scares the hell out of me. She’s like an addiction. A deep-seated craving I’m not sure I’ll ever shake. The more I try to pull away, the tighter she takes hold.
I’m slowly losing the fight in a battle I’m not sure I want to win.
We make our way to my room in silence, and since Lucia is already dressed in her pyjamas—the tiniest pair of sleep shorts known to man—she grabs the throw pillows and places them on the ottoman at the end of the bed before pulling back the covers and sliding in.
I can tell she’s not wearing any underwear underneath those shorts by the way they ride up that delicious arse of hers.
I move around to my side of the bed, grasp the neck of the T-shirt I threw on after my shower, tug it over my head, and toss it on top of the pillows.
Her eyes are on me, eating me up like the greedy girl I know she is, when I hook my thumbs in the waistband of my grey sweats, slowly dragging them down my legs. Her gaze turns molten with a look of pure, raw, unadulterated lust, and my cock instantly reacts.
Something has shifted between us tonight—the air feels thicker, heavier—and my common sense is screaming at me to walk away before I do something I’ll regret.
But I don’t. I do the exact opposite. I slide into bed beside her, switch off the bedside lamp, roll onto my back, and brace myself for the torture I know is coming.
I don’t have to wait long.
Lucia moves in without hesitation, lifts my arm, and slips beneath it like it’s second nature. I don’t stop her. Instead, I curl my fingers around her tiny waist and pull her in until there’s no space left between us.
She presses her warm lips to the centre of my chest, right over my heart, then rests her cheek in that exact spot.
“Goodnight, Mr De Luca,” she whispers into the dark.
I let out a long breath, one she might misinterpret as frustration, and maybe it is, but not for the reasons she thinks. It’s that damn ticking clock in my head, reminding me we have an expiration date.
“Goodnight, Mrs De Luca,” I finally reply, and just like that, she takes it as permission to begin her slow, sweet, agonising tease.
My dick is already rock-hard and tenting my boxers when her featherlike touches skim over my abs. That’s when the lazy circles begin. I’m learning her routine by heart.
The circles soon turn into figure eights, but tonight, instead of skimming along the edge of my underwear, she actually breaches the elastic, sliding the tip of her fingers underneath. It’s not a lot, but it’s too fucking much at the same time.
I suck in a sharp breath, and while my brain screams, “That’s it, sweetheart. Keep going,” what comes out is something entirely different. I place my hand over hers, stilling her movement.
“Lucia, stop,” I growl as I reach over and flick the lamp back on. My voice is rough and low, like I’m barely holding it together.
She lifts her face and looks at me with wide eyes. Her words come out soft … too soft. “Do you really want me to stop?” she asks, all innocent-like, as if she doesn’t already know the answer.
Sometimes, I honestly can’t tell if she’s more devil than angel.
I let out a breath that sounds like a curse and drag my free hand down my face before meeting her gaze.
“That’s the problem,” I mutter. “I don’t.”
Her big, brown eyes get impossibly wider as a triumphant smile curves her full lips. Lips, I’m aching to kiss again.
“You don’t?”
I push my head further back into the pillow and groan. “Just because I don’t want you to stop, doesn’t mean I’m not going to stop you.”
She blows out a puff of air. “I see Mr Fun Polizia (Police) is rearing his uptight little head again.”
I smirk. “He prefers Chief of Self-Control, actually.”
She shifts, her thigh brushing mine, and leans in just enough for her breath to tickle my jaw. “Pretty sure he’s about to get fired.”
I groan, low and deep. “He’s dangerously close to handing in his badge,” I admit.
That has her smile returning as she tries to push her hand further into my underwear, but by some miracle, I hold tight.
“Ugh,” she sighs, dropping her head to my chest. “You’re impossible ... and stupidly hot.”
I bark out a laugh. “Stupidly hot?”
“Yes. I think I’m going to self-combust if I don’t get a release. Can I at least hump your leg?”
That has me busting out another laugh.
“Well, can I?”
“No!”
“We’re consenting adults, Romeo. I’m your wife, for God’s sake.”
I stare up at her, but remain silent, while a full-blown war rages in my head.
“Are you seriously going to stop me?” she asks as she tries to force her hand down my pants again.
“I don’t have a death wish.”
This time, she laughs, but it’s not a humorous one; it’s more manic. “Move your hand,” she growls. “Or Dante will be the least of your worries.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Is that a threat, sweetheart?”
“No, it’s a promise.”
I’m unable to hold back my shit-eating grin. This woman is too much, and a constant source of entertainment.
When she tugs her hand out from underneath mine and rolls over, I struggle to hold back another laugh. She gave up way easier than I anticipated.
When she mumbles something underneath her breath, I roll my lips, but when she flips onto her back and I catch the glow of her phone in her hand, my grin fades.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“None of your business.”
“What. Are. You. Doing?” I repeat, punctuating each word.
“Downloading an app.”
“What kind of app?”
“Tinder.”
I sit up so fast I nearly give myself whiplash. “The fuck you are,” I snap, reaching over to snatch the phone from her hand, but she’s faster, twisting her body away and clutching it to her chest.
If she thinks that’s going to stop me, she’s delusional.
“Don’t you dare,” she says, her voice full of mock warning, but her eyes flash with mischief.