Chapter 34 Carmela
CARMELA
Istare at my reflection in the full-length mirror, smoothing down the crimson silk gown I’ve chosen for tonight.
My fingers tremble slightly as I fasten diamond earrings that Silvo gifted me last month.
The joint charity gala—a public demonstration of the tentative truce between the De Lucas and the Morettis—looms just over an hour away.
“A unified front for childhood cancer research,” Silvo had explained. “Neutral ground, public setting.”
I adjust the plunging neckline of my dress, wondering if the bold choice sends the right message. Strong but not provocative. Confident without being threatening.
“You look beautiful.” Isabella appears in the doorway, already dressed in midnight blue. “Though you might want to breathe at some point.”
I realize I’ve been holding my breath and force my lungs to expand. “I’m terrified I’ll say the wrong thing. Or worse, Silvo and Nico will interpret some innocent comment as an insult.”
“That’s why Antonio insisted on rehearsing talking points yesterday.” Isabella crosses the room, adjusting one of my curls. “Stick to safe topics—the charity itself, the children we’re helping, the venue.”
My stomach knots as I apply another coat of lipstick. “This isn’t just a party, Isabella. This is the first time in seventy years that Morettis and De Lucas will stand in the same room without weapons or pretense.”
“Or the perfect opportunity for someone to sabotage everything.” Isabella’s reflection meets mine in the mirror, her eyes serious. “One wrong move, one misinterpreted glance...”
I nod, remembering my conversation with Valeria at the boutique. Behind our husbands’ backs, we’ve been texting—small, cautious messages about our hopes for tonight. Her father knows nothing of our friendship, just as Silvo remains in the dark.
“If this works,” I whisper, more to myself than Isabella, “maybe we can stop looking over our shoulders every day. Maybe our children won’t inherit this blood feud.”
Isabella squeezes my shoulder. “And if it doesn’t work?”
I don’t answer. We both know what failure means. More violence. More bloodshed. More funerals.
Isabella adjusts my necklace one final time. “I’ll see you downstairs in thirty minutes.” She slips out of the room, leaving me alone with my reflection.
The door opens again, and Silvo’s gaze finds mine in the mirror. He wears a black tuxedo that accentuates his broad shoulders, his dark hair slicked back. The intensity in his blue eyes steals my breath.
“You’re stunning,” he says, crossing the room to stand behind me.
His hands rest on my shoulders, warm and steady compared to my trembling fingers. “Are you nervous about tonight?” I ask.
Silvo’s reflection shows a vulnerability I rarely glimpse. “More than I’d admit to anyone but you.” His fingers trail down my bare arms. “Three generations of hatred don’t disappear with a handshake and charity auction.”
I turn to face him, resting my palms against his chest. “What are you most afraid of?”
His jaw tightens. “That this is all for nothing. That someone—Maximo, one of our capos, anyone—will throw a match onto this powder keg we’ve created.”
“And if it works?” I whisper.
Silvo cups my face, his thumb tracing my lower lip. “If it works...” He swallows hard. “I think about children, Carmela. Our children. Growing up without learning to shoot before they can ride a bike. Without bodyguards at school.”
My heart pounds at this confession. Six months ago, Silvo never would have shared such intimate hopes.
“I want that future,” I admit. “With you.”
His mouth claims mine with sudden urgency. His kiss deepens as his hands slide down to my waist, pulling me against him. I feel his hardness pressing against me through the silk of my dress.
“We don’t have time,” I murmur unconvincingly as his lips move to my neck.
“I need you,” Silvo growls, hiking my dress up my thighs. “Right now.”
I gasp as his fingers find me already wet, already aching for him. “The gala—”
“Can wait.” His voice is rough with desire. “Nothing matters but this. But us.”
I moan as Silvo spins me around, bending me over the vanity. Our eyes lock in the mirror—his dark with hunger, mine wild with need. He yanks my dress up around my waist, tearing my lace panties with one swift motion.
“Look at how wet you are for me,” he growls, sliding two fingers inside me. “Even when the world’s falling apart around us, your body knows who it belongs to.”
I gasp as his fingers curl against that sweet spot inside me. “Silvo, please—”
“Please what?” He unzips his pants, freeing his hard cock. “Tell me what you need, Carmela.”
“Fuck me,” I beg shamelessly. “Hard. Now.”
He enters me with one brutal thrust that sends makeup bottles scattering across the vanity. I cry out, bracing myself against the cool marble as he grips my hips with bruising force.
“That’s it,” I pant, watching his face contort with pleasure in the mirror. “Make me feel you. Make me forget everything but this.”
Silvo grabs a fistful of my hair, pulling my head back as he pounds into me relentlessly. “You like it rough, don’t you? My perfect, filthy wife.”
“Yes,” I moan as he reaches around to rub circles against my clit. “Only for you. Only ever you.”
His rhythm turns punishing, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge. My carefully applied makeup smears as sweat beads on my skin.
“Say it,” he demands, slapping my ass hard enough to leave a handprint. “Tell me who you belong to.”
“You,” I cry out. “I’m yours, Silvo. All yours.”
He flips me suddenly, lifting me onto the vanity and spreading my legs wide. When he enters me again, his eyes hold mine with unexpected tenderness.
“And I’m yours,” he whispers against my lips, his movements no less powerful but somehow more reverent. “Completely.”
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. The contrast of his tender words and savage thrusts pushes me toward the precipice.
“I’m close,” I whimper, digging my nails into his shoulders through his tuxedo.
“Come for me, Carmela,” Silvo commands, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside me with each thrust. “Let me feel that tight pussy squeeze my cock.”
I arch my back as the pressure builds, my body tensing. “Oh god, Silvo—I’m—”
My orgasm crashes through me in violent waves. I cry out his name as my walls clench around him, my vision blurring at the edges. Silvo doesn’t slow his pace, fucking me through the aftershocks, prolonging my pleasure until I’m trembling and incoherent.
“That’s it,” he growls, his eyes dark with lust as he watches me come apart. “You look so fucking beautiful when you come on my cock.”
He pulls out suddenly, flipping me onto my stomach across the vanity. I gasp as he slams back into me, one hand gripping my hip while the other tangles in my hair.
“You want more?” His voice is rough against my ear. “You want me to fill this sweet pussy?”
“Yes,” I moan, pushing back against him. “God, yes.”
His thrusts grow harder, more urgent. “You want me to breed this pussy? Put my baby in you?”
The filthy words send an unexpected jolt of pleasure through me. “Fuck, Silvo—yes.”
“Say it,” he demands, slapping my ass hard. “Tell me what you want.”
“Breed me,” I beg shamelessly. “Fill me up. I want to feel your cum inside me.”
He groans, his rhythm faltering as his control slips. “Fuck, Carmela. You want me to knock you up? Want everyone at that gala to see my cum leaking down your thighs?”
“Please,” I whimper, another orgasm building. “Make me yours. Completely.”
“You’re already mine,” he growls, thrusting so deep I see stars.
I feel him swell inside me as his movements grow erratic. “I’m going to come,” he pants. “Taking it all, aren’t you? My perfect fucking wife.”
When he erupts inside me, hot and pulsing, it triggers my second climax. I cry out as pleasure overwhelms me, my body milking every drop from him.
We collapse against each other, both of us panting, sweat cooling on our skin. My legs still tremble from the force of my orgasms. I feel Silvo’s breath hot against my neck as he slowly pulls out of me.
“Don’t move,” he commands, his voice softer now but still authoritative.
I watch in the mirror as he retrieves my panties from the floor. His cum starts to trickle down my inner thigh, but he quickly catches it, sliding the lace back into place with surprising gentleness.
“There,” he murmurs, adjusting the delicate fabric. “Keep it all in there. My cum inside you, right where it belongs.”
The tone of his voice makes me shiver despite the filthiness of our state. My makeup is smeared, my carefully styled hair now wild around my flushed face. Silvo doesn’t look much better—his slicked-back hair now disheveled, his tuxedo wrinkled where I grabbed him.
He turns me to face him, not caring about the mess we’ve made. “You’re fucking perfect,” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek.
“We’re going to be late,” I say, but there’s no urgency in my voice. I don’t care about anything beyond this room, beyond this moment.
Silvo cups my face between his hands, his thumbs tracing my swollen lips. “Worth it.”
He kisses me deeply, slowly, neither of us caring about my smeared lipstick or the lingering taste of sex. It’s messy and primal and perfect.
When he pulls away, his eyes hold mine with an intensity that makes my heart stutter. Three days ago, I told him I loved him. Tonight, that love feels more fragile and precious than ever—one wrong move at this gala could destroy everything we’ve built.