Wolfe
We left the hotel altogether and stepped onto the street, which was empty except for a few people crossing on the other side of the road. Motorbikes were parked on the curb, and we stopped underneath a streetlight, the bass from the music of the wedding still audible where we stood.
Don Mancini unloaded an entire clip of words into my chest. “I’m a man of my word—and you violated that on my behalf.
You humiliated me in front of my allies and my adversaries.
You caused a scene at my friend’s wedding and probably destroyed that friendship with your flames.
I told you to stop, and you disobeyed me—and I can’t have a man in my employ who doesn’t follow my orders.
” It was the first time he raised his voice and reprimanded me, the first time he seemed human with a showcase of emotion.
He was several inches shorter than me, but what he lacked in height he compensated for with the fire of his angry demeanor.
“A word of advice. You let one man disrespect you—then they all disrespect you. I’m not sorry for what I did, and I judge you for not doing the same.
How can you stand there and let some man speak about your own daughter that way?
What the fuck is wrong with you?” I was about to get stabbed underneath that streetlight, but I didn’t care.
I’d definitely lost my job, but I didn’t care about that either.
“I would have handled it, but you didn’t give me the chance—”
“It’s my job to handle this shit on your behalf, Don.
It’s my job to break arms and necks at your beck and call.
I don’t give a shit if we’re standing at the altar in a church and the fucking pope is the one making threats about Francesca—he’s fucking dead.
” I formed a gun with my thumb and forefinger, pointed it at my temple, and squeezed the trigger.
“Nobody crosses you. That altercation was completely unwarranted, and he started shit that he wasn’t prepared to finish.
He was a fucking coward who assumed you would just sit there and take it—and he was fucking wrong.
Not only did he learn that lesson, but everyone who hears about it will learn that fucking lesson.
” I slammed my fist against my chest. “Not to cross Don Mancini.” Warren had picked the wrong woman to stare at too long, but I would have broken his arm, regardless, because that little boy needed to mind his manners.
“Fire me if you want. I don’t give a damn.
Still not sorry, and yes, it will fucking happen again. ”
“You broke his arm and humiliated him in front of five hundred people.”
I didn’t feel a drop of remorse. “He started it.”
“And now he’s going to want an eye for an eye.”
“Give him my phone number and address.”
“Wolfe.”
“I’ll kill him first. How’s that?”
“Like we don’t have enough shit on your plate, Wolfe. This was unnecessary conflict—”
“That he started. He walked up to you in the middle of that wedding and poked the bear. And you know why? Because he thought he could get away with it.” My eyes shifted back and forth between his.
“Don, I respect the way you do business. I could have gone to any other gang, but I chose you because I like you. But if you’re going to be in this game, then you need to be a top player.
Otherwise, they’ll push you off the board.
You always have to defend your territory—every fucking day.
And it’s exhausting and repetitive and most of these battles are fought over egos rather than money or contraband, but that’s just how it is. ”
He stared at me, his rage noticeably dimmed as he listened.
“I’ll handle it.”
He sighed as he looked away.
“I understand you just want to do business and avoid conflict, but business and conflict are bound together in this game.”
He continued to stare somewhere across the street.
“Being confrontational is the best way to prevent future conflict. I’ve already seen the difference.
When we make our rounds, people pay on time.
No one haggles on prices anymore. Whenever drops are made, they ask when it’s convenient for us.
When we roll in an hour late, they don’t say a fucking word. You want to know why, Don?”
His eyes shifted back to me.
“Because they respect you—and they fucking fear you. In my book, respect and fear are one and the same.”
He lifted his arms and slowly crossed them over his chest. He turned quiet, his visible anger gone and his emotions contained once again. “I understand your perspective, but you still need to listen to me in public. Otherwise, it looks like you’re running the show instead of me.”
I gave a nod. “Yeah, I can see your point.” I was used to having a lot more room on the leash with Cosa Nostra. I was an attack dog sent off to rip people apart however I wanted. Working for Don Mancini was much more diplomacy than violence.
He stared at me for a while, the anger seeming to be absent now and replaced by a very distant sheen of affection. “I know you’re loyal to a fault and Francesca feels like a sister to you…”
Whoa, what the fuck?
“So I understand this rage comes from a good place. You aren’t trying to undermine or seize my authority or take over this business. You want to follow orders, but it’s hard to do when you don’t agree with them. That doesn’t mean you want to make them yourself.”
I didn’t listen to a word of what he said.
I did not, in any way, shape, or form, see Francesca as a fucking sister.
“But from now on, no confrontations at weddings or funerals. If it must be done, you wait until it’s over and follow them to their car or the bathroom or wherever the fuck there won’t be a scene.”
He really had no fucking idea.
Francesca was my woman, my property, my home.
She was not a goddamn sister.
I actually felt offended that he got it so wrong.
Don Mancini stared at me like he was waiting for a response from me.
“Yeah, got it,” I forced out. “We’re good, Don.”
I dropped off Don Mancini first, then Leo, and Francesca last. Thankfully, Francesca’s villa was closest to the road, so it just worked out that way. I stopped the car outside her villa and killed the engine so we could sit in the silence.
Now that it was just the two of us, her shoulders dropped and she let out a quiet sigh.
It was late, almost two in the morning. The music was supposed to have been off by midnight, but Italians in the mood to party didn’t give a shit about rules. They paid the fine instead.
I loved the dress she wore. It was a springtime green color, a perfect complement to the tones of olive in her slightly tanned skin. It went with her dark hair too, which was in soft curls all over the place. Those curls had loosened as the night went on, but a hint of them was still there.
She turned and looked at me, her makeup fresh like she’d reapplied it when she went to the bathroom during the reception.
Usually when she was dead tired, her appearance started to come undone.
Straps fell down her shoulders, and her mascara began to bleed, which I personally loved. “Did my father dismiss you?”
“No.”
Relief spread across her delicate features.
“He knows I’m irreplaceable.”
“And he knows you’re arrogant too.”
I smirked. “I just know my worth, baby.”
“So, what happened?”
“You really want to have this conversation out here in the car?” I asked.
“You think it’s smart for you to stay here after everything that just happened?”
“None of this is smart, Francesca.” I grabbed the handle and pushed the door open.
“And you know I don’t give a damn.” I came around to the passenger side and opened the door for her.
She slipped her shoes off on the drive because her feet were tired from standing in the five-inch heels, so now she was barefoot.
She was about to step out and put her bare foot on the dirt when I scooped her into my arms and carried her.
She held her clutch and heels and pushed the door shut for me before I carried her inside the house. I took her directly up the stairs and gently placed her on the bed before I started to undress.
She tossed her heels across the room and pulled her phone out of the clutch. One of the straps over her shoulder had dropped. She had a little gold necklace around her throat, and it flashed in the light of the lamp across the room.
When I was undressed, I moved on top of her.
She clearly hadn’t expected it, based on the flash of surprise in her eyes.
I slipped my hand up her dress and pulled down her little G-string before I parted her thighs with my knees, and the dress bunched up around her waist. “I had to watch you walk around all night looking like the hottest piece of ass I’ve ever seen.
” I guided myself to her entrance then sank into the soft petals of her flower.
I watched her take a breath when I entered her, her painted nails moving to the muscles of my arms.
It was late and we were both tired, but my dick was loaded and ready to blow. I’d broken that asshole’s arm because of the way he disrespected the don, but I’d publicly humiliated him because of the way he’d looked at my woman.
I didn’t give a damn about how mad Don Mancini was at my behavior.
I would always protect my woman. At a wedding or at a funeral—the place didn’t matter.
My gaze had never been tinted so red. I’d seen blood creep into the corners of my gaze.
The ferocity had nearly snapped my spine in two.
What I’d really wanted to do was murder him with my knife and leave his bloody corpse on the white linen tablecloth, but I didn’t for the don’s sake.
Her eyes were so tired, but she was into it right away, her ankles locked together around my torso, her hips rocking back into my thrusts, her little moans growing louder the longer I made love to her.
I pulled down the other strap of her dress then tugged down the top so her tits popped out. I loved her tits. I loved her ass. I loved her pussy. She was my favorite playground, and I wanted to ride everything.
I knew she was about to come, based on the way her breaths deepened, the way her chest started to darken with a red tint as her blood flushed to all of her tissue.
Her hand snaked up my shoulder, and her fingers dug into my short hair as she looked at me, her eyes losing focus as I drove her to the finish.
I moved my hips the right way to rub her clit, wanting to make her come quickly because we were both tired and I needed to fill her with the seed that had been sitting in the barrel all night.
Every time she’d gotten up to use the bathroom, I’d stared at her ass and wished I could stick my dick in it.
When I’d watched her take a drink of her champagne and spill a drop on her chest, it had shone in the light, and I’d wanted to lick it away.
Every time she’d made eye contact with me across the table, she’d eye-fucked the hell out of me.
Every time a woman had looked at me, she’d looked at them, and I got off on how jealous and possessive she could be.
She detonated around me, her grip tight and powerful, and she released musical sighs that made my dick harden and my balls tighten.
I watched her eyes get swept off into a distant place where she could only see stars.
Then I followed her, feeling a shiver in my spine in anticipation, desperate to fill my woman with the seed I’d been wanting to plant all fucking night.
I would have done it before we’d left just to mark my territory, but that hadn’t been an option.
I came with a satisfied groan, getting off on the pleasure of getting off.
She grabbed on to the top of my ass and tugged me into her as I finished because she loved my come. She never said it, but I could tell she got off on it from the way she wanted to catch every drop. She did the same when she sucked my dick, making sure she had every bit of me before she swallowed.
I pulled out and rolled onto my back. I should hop in the shower and get ready for bed, but I lay there for a while.
She’d already closed her eyes, the dress still bunched up around her waist and pulled down with her tits out. Her hair was a mess, and her makeup was a little smeared now because of the sweat we’d worked up together.
I forced myself out of bed and had a quick shower before I put on clean boxers. Then I came to her side of the bed and pulled her dress off, Francesca cooperating while her eyes remained closed, only partially awake.
I tucked her in and left her phone on the nightstand before I got into bed beside her and went to sleep.