EPILOGUE
Achilles
Two weeks later
The water glimmered like diamonds under the weak October sun. Fucking beautiful, almost like the woman next to me.
We married a week and a half ago in Naples’ city hall. A small ceremony, consisting of our families and a few friends. We didn’t want to wait any longer than we already had. We’d wasted an entire decade pretending to hate each other.
The bride wore red and a badass smirk. The honeymoon was scheduled for next month.
We were renting a vintage car and touring the French Riviera for a month.
Phones off. Just her and me. My current role as the leader of the Ferrante clan in Naples allowed it.
The position was a slower pace, for sure, but I didn’t mind that shit all that much.
If she wanted quiet, I’d give her that.
And if she ever decided she wanted to go back to New York, I could provide that, as well.
I’d already resigned myself to the fact I was going to spend the rest of my life making sure this woman was happy and could think of no better role I wanted for myself.
“Your coffee’s ready, honey.” My wife swaggered from the depths of our home to the patio, where I was sprawled naked on a lounge chair, holding a steaming cup and placing it on the round table next to me. The scent of freshly ground coffee hit my senses, releasing orgasmic quantities of dopamine.
This.
Every morning.
Tierney, making me coffee.
Nuzzling into me.
Bliss.
Reaching a hand to caress her cheek while she was still standing, I smiled at her. And though I was the ugliest bastard my eyes ever saw, under her gaze, I felt beautiful. A fucking god.
“Andare in brodo di giuggiole.” I cupped her palm, bringing it to my lips and kissing it softly.
Her smile broadened. “What does it mean?”
“To be in a state of rapture. The joy you give me, sweetheart… If I could translate it into drugs, I’d be the richest man alive.”
Pouting happily, she nudged me back and settled against my bare chest, snuggling me under the sun. She had taken a break from her crocheting to make me this coffee.
She made me coffee at least three times a day these days. I hoped caffeine poisoning wasn’t a thing because I was well on my way to getting it.
I set my newspaper down, already feeling myself hardening as her long, bare leg curled around mine.
Our days consisted of very little work—mainly me checking on our operations and conducting business in lobbies of hotels—and her reading books, crocheting, and walking along the shore.
Healing. She still saw Dr. Andrews twice a week via virtual call.
A visible light danced in her eyes now. Something I’d never seen before.
“This is nice,” she murmured into my skin.
“Hmm.”
“Do you want to go out and grab a bite later?” She kissed my neck. “Maybe catch a street performance?”
I want to fuck you right here, right now, in plain view, even though there are dozens of joggers and tourists under our balcony.
“Whatever you want, baby.”
“I want to try that place down the street. And maybe we could take a long walk afterward.” Her hand trailed down my abs and cupped my cock. “The weather’s so nice.”
“Sounds perfect.” I ran a hand down her back and grabbed her ass. “Let’s work up your appetite in the meantime.”
She rolled on top of me, lips fusing with mine. A rush of heat coursed through me. I could never have enough of this woman. Never. And though children were an option, I hoped she didn’t want them soon. I wasn’t nearly done having her to myself. Not even close.
My phone buzzed with an incoming call on the small table next to us. I let it go to voicemail. It rang again immediately. This time, I scowled at it.
“Who is it?” Her mouth feathered across my six-pack. She was kissing a path down my body, going south, to the place that begged for her attention.
“Enzo,” I growled.
“Answer him.”
“Nah.” I spread my legs open to give her more room to settle right where I wanted her. “He can wait.”
She sat back on her knees and laughed. “It’s your brother. It might be important.”
“The only pressing matter in my life right now is getting you out of this ridiculous bikini and into my bed.” I hooked my index finger into the string of her red bikini top, pulling, then releasing it teasingly to brush against her skin.
My wife shot me a chiding look. “Achilles.”
“What?”
“Answer your poor brother.”
I made a show of sliding my finger over the screen of my still-ringing phone. I pushed the speaker button. Anything Enzo had to say could be said in front of my wife.
“The fuck do you want?”
“Hey…” Enzo’s voice sounded strained and hoarse. Like it suffered from many cigarettes and not enough sleep. Not his usual perky self. I sat up on the sunbed, alert. He always greeted me with a stupid, frat-boyish “yo.”
“What’s going on?”
“Are you sitting down?”
“Do I look like the fainting kind?” I ground out.
Enzo didn’t laugh. Shit. Enzo always laughed. That couldn’t be good.
“It’s Dad,” he said.
“What about him?”
“He’s dead.”
I said nothing.
“He was found unresponsive this morning in his bed.”
I said nothing.
“The clans know. They’re sniffing around to find out who the new don is.”
Still, nothing. There were too many suspects to count, too many people to gain from Vello’s death.
As for me, I felt nothing but mild relief.
He was a shit father, and he’d cost me valuable years with my wife.
The only part of me that mourned him was the part that wanted to resurrect him so I could kill him again.
“You need to come home. We’re crowning Luca. He’s taking over. The new king of the underworld.”
No answer.
“Are you listening?” Enzo hissed out.
“He’ll be there,” Tierney said, loud and clear. “We wouldn’t miss his funeral for the world.”
We shared a private grin. A grin that said no amount of therapy could heal the fuckery that went on inside our heads.
I hung up and kissed her forehead. “Pack red for the funeral.”
“Red?” She reared her head back to study me. “Why?”
“It’ll stain less than any other color, and we’re walking into a bloodbath.”