CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
conall
Maxim sat at the head of the long mahogany table, his fingers idly drumming against the glass, while Ilias leaned back in his seat, legs crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. Meanwhile, Angelo radiated barely contained fury, his usual cool veneer cracking like the ice in his untouched drink.
"So, how long do we let Vanello play his little game before we remind him who he's dealing with?" Angelo bit out, his Italian accent sharpening the edges of his words. "That bastard had the nerve to ask Francesca to be his daughter. His daughter! To take his fucking name! Publicly! To choose Vanello or Santelli. As if.”
I exhaled through my nose, swirling the amber liquid in my glass. "It’s a move, no doubt. One we can’t ignore. He’s been quiet since that hospital stunt, but we all know that quiet doesn’t mean safe."
"The bastard seeks legitimacy,”
Maxim mused, his voice calm and calculating. “He’s attempting to rewrite his history, to exit the trafficking game. She represents a chance to polish his image. Gain credibility with the mafia world.”
"Credibility?" Angelo barked a laugh, but no humor accompanied it. “It’s about power. She’ll never stop being a Santelli. She’s my sister. Now she’s an O’Kelly.”
He wrinkled his nose. “I suppose she’s a fucking Vanello too.”
"Power, sure. But think about it," Ilias interjected smoothly, his eyes glinting with amusement. “If she had accepted, he would have an excuse to back off. Maybe even shift his sights elsewhere."
Resting my elbows on the table, I leaned forward. "And if he thinks we’re considering it, he might make a mistake. Show us his next move."
Angelo glared, his jaw twitching. “Are you suggesting we entertain the idea of Francesca being friendly with him? Letting him think he has a chance?"
Maxim’s lips curled into a faint smile. “Not exactly. But Vanello is delaying outright war for a reason. Maybe it’s Francesca. Maybe it’s something else. Either way, we take advantage of it."
“I’m not telling Francesca to do anything,”
I pointed out. Francesca was fully capable of deciding how to handle Vanello’s request.
"I still say we put a bullet in him and call it a day," Angelo muttered, taking a sip of his whiskey before slamming the glass down. “Fewer headaches.”
"And more war," Ilias pointed out. "If it were that simple, we’d have done it already. But by all means, go ahead—just be sure to leave your affairs in order before you pull the trigger."
"Ilias, could you remind me why you’re still breathing?”
Angelo replied dryly.
"Because I’m prettier and smarter than you,”
Ilias said with a smirk. “And I don’t allow personal grudges to cloud my judgment."
Angelo rolled his eyes. "Right. Because you’re the epitome of restraint."
I exhaled sharply, redirecting the conversation before Angelo could put his fist through the table. "Speaking of rebuilding—what’s the status of our club? It’s been a damn eyesore long enough."
Our club, Fortune, had been one of my favorite places to meet. Unfortunately, it had burned down, and we had only enjoyed it a few times before it was torched.
"Progress is steady," Angelo replied. "We’re handling the permits and pushing them through the usual channels. The structure is going up faster than expected, but I want security to be tight this time. No more fires."
"Agreed," Ilias said. "If they thought torching the old place would keep us down, they miscalculated. It only pissed us off."
"And it made us richer,”
I pointed out. “Insurance has paid out nicely, and with the expansions we’re implementing, we’ll be making double by the end of the year."
Before anyone could respond, Ilias’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and raised an eyebrow. "We might have a bigger problem."
"What now, fratello?”
Angelo sighed.
“We were just outbid on our contract for that housing project,”
he ground out.
We had a couple of construction companies working around the cities, keeping jobs running. They were great for two reasons: first, we could dump all sorts of bodies there, and second, they were great for laundering money.
Maxim straightened. "Who outbid us?”
Ilias’s expression darkened. “Scarpato. They underbid by a lot.”
Angelo scoffed, leaning back. "Fantastic. Just what we needed."
I finished the rest of my whiskey, placing the glass down with a gentle clink. “Looks like we’re not just rebuilding a club. The Scarpeto’s may be stepping to the plate. Bold moves.”
Maxim finally chuckled as he lifted his glass. “Well, that will be another problem for another day. Today, let’s drink to rebuilding."
Ilias clinked his glass against Maxim’s. “I’ll drink to that.”
Angelo sighed but lifted his drink as well.
I smirked and raised my glass. "Now, that’s a toast I can drink to."
**
The blinds were still up when I came to bed. Francesca propped up in bed with her phone fingers flying over the screen. I’d never known anyone to text as fast as she could.
“Theo?”
I asked, knowing before I even spoke that she would answer in the affirmative. Theo was in Milan for fashion week, but I suspected she was merely avoiding the inevitable. She had tried to persuade Francesca to accompany her, but I promptly dismissed that idea. I didn’t believe I would be able to breathe without her.
“Yep, she’s having the best time.”
She smiled at me as she placed her phone on the nightstand. “She’s outrageous.”
Her laughter echoed around the room. “Do you know that she snuck backstage and pretended to be a model for Chanel and almost made it onto the catwalk?”
I actually could believe it. Theo Anthakos had no shame at all. The girl was a menace. She thrived on unpredictability and chaos. If you didn’t think she should do it, then by all means, she made it her mission in life to get it done.
“Do we need to bail her out?”
I asked as I stripped out of my clothes. My wife’s eyes lit with interest.
“No. She got away. She said their security was slow.”
I removed my slacks, folding them neatly before putting them with my shirt. Palming my cock I stroked it while I watched her, rubbing my thumb through the pre-cum that had gathered on the tip. All day, I’d been thinking of her soft curves and the smell of her hair.
“Let me see you,”
I demanded before prowling closer and climbing onto the bed beside her.
Eagerly, she pushed over the covers and took down the straps of the negligée she wore. Her eyes were already dilated, her cheeks flushed. Francesca and I had been learning from each other, and the one thing I was confident of was that my wife liked what we did together. That made me happy. Stopping her hand, I pushed it down below her tits as I moved between her thighs. She had beautiful tits, full and round, perfect handfuls, with areolas that were just about the size of quarters. They were rosy and puckered in the air as if they were pushing towards me as I bent to give them the attention they deserved.
“Did you miss me today?”
I laved each one in turn, biting, and sucking. First one and then the other, loving the way that she bowed up against me, grasping my hair and arching her pelvis so it ground against my cock. She’d learned not to wear panties to bed. I liked my easy access. “So wet already.”
My cock bobbed against her entrance as she sought purchase and friction.
Sucking one of her nipples into my mouth, I slid a hand down to her pussy and into her folds, letting it rub against my cock as I did so. My balls were so full that maybe I needed to take the edge off. Every stroke forward was delicious. Her channel was slick with want, dripping, as I plunged my fingers into her in time to my mouth on her nipple as I sucked hard, biting at it with my teeth, rocking against her clit.
“Oh, I’m …”
Her mouth worked around itself as she struggled against my hand and my cock before she spasmed and came hard, her pussy clutching my fingers and coating my cock with her juices.
“I’m so wet now, baby. That was glorious. I’m going to cum in that pussy now.”
Her eyes were blown wide as I hitched her legs up over my shoulders so I could drive in deep. Sliding my cock into her was easy, I was a desperate man now, and there was no holding back. Each inch and stroke of my cock moving into her body felt like I was driving into her soul, scraping along every nerve.
Four counts. Stroke, one, two, three, four, and then hold as I was cumming in ropes pulsing against her heaving as I gave her everything I had. Francesca had confessed that she had an implant, so there wasn’t any reason to use a condom anymore. There was always a chance that she could still get pregnant. I loved the thought of her belly round with our child, but that wasn’t a topic that she’d discussed with me yet, and I wasn’t willing to lose her by bringing it up before she was ready.
“Roll over, baby.”
“What?”
“Roll over.”
Gripping my cock I sat on my heels behind her, pumping it languidly. Her pussy was swollen and pink, leaking my cum as she pushed her ass back towards me.
“Beautiful,”
I murmured. “Touch your pussy for me. Spread those thighs further. Arms and head down. Ass out.”
She bent to the task darting a look at me once in a while but was soon grinding on her hand as she rubbed her clit. I fucked my hand in earnest, my cock responding as I watched her and the cum dribbling out of her. I wasn’t sure why that did it for me. Some kind of kink that I had to fill her up.
Lining back up, I gripped her hips as I began to fuck her hard, the sounds of our slapping flesh and her wet pussy getting me too close to the edge way too soon.
“Baby,”
I moaned, reaching forward to play with her tits. I needed to get one more orgasm from her. No way was I letting her go to bed without coming again. “Milk my cock for me. Let me feel you.”
Each glide pushed me closer to the edge as she strained back against me. Euphoria swept over me, and I felt her tell-tale flutters as her channel gripped me. Speeding up my strokes, I rammed into her as I came hard.
“Fuck. I think I am old,”
I confessed.
“I love you just the way you are,”
she whispered as I pulled her closer, tucking the blankets around us.