Chapter Twenty-Six
Riccardo
T here is a quick knock at my office door, followed by Bethany appearing a moment later. After Anya left, I decided it was time to come to my actual office after working too many days from home in the past weeks.
Toni has been keeping one ear on any talk coming from my men, and it sounds like a few of the older guard are still harping about me marrying Anya. It’s time I show my face and remind them I don’t tolerate any shit-talk in my business.
“Toni’s on his way up,” Bethany says. “He has an update for you.”
“Perfect timing,” I reply, leaning back in my chair. The sunlight streaming through the window casts long shadows across my desk, illuminating the stack of papers I’ve ignored all morning.
I told Toni that I have a plan, and I do, though he’ll only get to hear about half of it. Still, that half will have a better chance of succeeding if he’s involved, so yeah , his timing is great.
Bethany hesitates, waiting for further instructions.
“Send him in as soon as he gets here,” I say.
She nods and retreats, the soft click of the door closing behind her, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I know I’ll need to approach Anya differently if I want her to agree to my new terms for our marriage. Something lasting. Something not temporary.
And sex is only fifty percent of that plan, because that part’s already working quite nicely in my favor.
A sharp knock pulls me from my thoughts. The door swings open, and Toni steps in.
“Boss,” he says, nodding as he drops into the chair across from me.
“Let’s hear it,” I say, cutting straight to the point.
“Customs flagged one of our containers at the airport this morning,” Toni begins, resting his forearms on his knees. “But our guy came through. Cleared it before anyone got too curious.”
I nod. “Good. Anything else?”
“Nothing major,” he replies, then hesitates. “Well, except the chatter about Dmitri. Word’s spreading fast, but so far, no one knows who pulled the trigger. You think Gianna suspects?”
“Not yet,” I say, though the tension in my jaw betrays my calm tone. “That’s why I need to get ahead of this.”
Toni’s brow furrows. “You’re calling a sit-down with Gianna?”
“Not just with her.” I lean forward, my elbows resting on the desk. “Get in touch with Sergei. Ask him to check with Anya. See if she wants to extend the invitation herself, or if I should. We can have dinner at our place tonight. Make it casual.”
Toni’s expression flickers with surprise, but he recovers quickly. “You’re going through Sergei for this?”
“Yeah, I am.” My tone leaves no room for argument. “Her men need to see that she has a seat at the table.”
Toni’s eyebrows stay up, but he takes it with stride. “And if she doesn’t want to invite Gianna?”
“She will. This is what she’s been wanting all along,” I say confidently. “And let her decide if Mikhail should come, too. If the Bruno’s are playing it smart, he’ll take the chance to back her publicly. That’ll ease any objections in the Bruno syndicate from people who still don’t like that Mikhail plays on their team now. It’ll be a clean cut for him.”
Toni nods, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “So you’re giving Anya the reins on this.”
“She’s earned it,” I say simply.
There’s a pause before Toni speaks again, his tone lighter. “Hope that works out for you, my friend.”
“She’s my wife. I’m not about to fuck that up.”
Toni doesn’t respond, but the faint glimmer of approval in his eyes says enough.
“Handle it,” I say, standing to signal the meeting is over.
Toni rises, adjusting his tie as he heads for the door. “You got it, boss.”
Anya
The Downsview Club has a drastically different atmosphere during daylight hours. Sunlight slants through the heavy curtains, spilling over the scuffed leather chairs and polished tables. It exposes all the wear and tear of the furniture, stages, and floor that the dim lighting hides at night. In all reality, it’s a much better representation of the kind of crowd that currently comes to my clubs.
But it’s also familiar to me, even though I often sat in the kitchen or on the other side of my father’s desk when he still ran all of this. I grew up here. And still, it doesn’t feel like mine yet.
But it is mine now.
Different enforcers have been filing in all day, one by one. Sergei has been bringing them up to meet me, though I know it’s just as much for their benefit as it is for mine. They need to see me in this chair. They need to know someone is running things again and there’s no longer any question about who that person is. Otherwise, people get fidgety and that’s a recipe for a major fuck up when people aren’t using spinners but guns.
It’ll make sure people get back to their jobs and earn money, keeping everybody happy.
Except for the girls, maybe. But that’s part of the long game. First, I need to let things settle.
Most of the men have been respectful enough. Some, like Viktor, seem more skeptical, their loyalty to my father not as easily transferred to me as some others seem to do. But I’ll let that pass for now. Better to let them think I’m unbothered and let them get used to the new situation. If any of them step out of line, I’ll have to deal with it.
Ideally by picking a couple of enforcers who are good at taking care of things. Like my brother.
Only, not him. Obviously.
But if anyone acts out, I’ll have to send a clear message.
The truth is, it’s only my first day in this office, and it’s been exhausting. I rest my elbows on the desk, my fingers skimming the smooth surface, and try to shake off the tension curling in my stomach. It’s not about running the club or managing the men. That part is relatively easy, assuming none of them stab me in the back, but I kind of figured once I was sitting here, I’d just be celebrating the win.
Instead, my head is whirling with shit that can still go bad.
And Riccardo.
Mostly, I get distracted by thoughts of him and the fact that we should have been celebrating this win together today. He helped me get there. He came to back me up. And I didn’t stick around to talk when he wanted to.
Maybe we would have celebrated.
“Are you holding up all right?”
Sergei’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. He steps into the office and closes the door behind him, his smile softer than it’s been all day. This is Uncle Sergei, the man who watched me grow up and has always been family. He isn’t asking as my right-hand man.
I lift a brow. “Is there a pool going?”
“Viktor was betting you’d crack by lunch.”
“Pity. I’d have taken that bet.”
I gesture to the chair across from me, but he waves me off, stepping closer instead. He gives me a look I don’t quite like. Obviously, there is something he wants to discuss.
“What is it?” I ask, sitting up straighter.
“Toni Giordano called me.”
That I didn’t see coming, though I keep my face neutral. “Toni called you? And?”
“He says Riccardo wants to host a dinner at his... well, your house. With Gianna. To discuss Dmitri’s death.” Sergei leans against the edge of the desk. “Giordano says Riccardo wanted me to check with you first. See if you’d rather extend the invitation yourself or if he should. And if you want Mikhail there.”
For a moment, I don’t respond, trying to unravel Riccardo’s intentions. He went through Sergei. He could’ve called me directly or, worse, bypassed me entirely. After his annoyance this morning, it wouldn’t have come as a complete surprise. Instead, he’s involving me, even giving me the chance to take the lead on this.
“He went through you?” I ask, needing to hear it again.
Sergei nods. “He did. Guess he knows how to play nice when he wants to.”
I exhale, leaning back in my chair. Riccardo might be many things, arrogant and infuriating among them, but he’s also calculating. He’s sending a message, not just to me but to Sergei, and the men here, to everyone who needs to see that I have a seat at the table. A seat my father would never have given me.
“What do you want to do?” Sergei asks, his voice calm, but there’s a flicker of curiosity in his eyes and I wonder if he’s enjoying the fact that things aren’t predictable for him anymore. From stories, I know that he used to be a wild card when he was a young enforcer, but I could never actually make that make sense with the Uncle Sergei I knew. Now though? Perhaps I can see it.
“I think Riccardo knows exactly what he’s doing,” I say slowly.
“And?”
“And I’ll play along,” I add, letting the corner of my mouth lift in a faint smile. “I’ll be calling Gianna Bruno myself to extend the invitation.”
“Want me to call Toni back and tell him?”
I shake my head. “No. I’ll call Riccardo directly.”
Sergei pushes off the desk. “You do that.”
I don’t respond as he leaves, closing the door behind him. Time to make a few calls and get my husband to meet me at home so we can catch up on that celebration I’ve been missing out on.
The moment I step through the front door of the house, I know Riccardo beat me home. I can hear the faint murmur of his voice through his office door, speaking to someone. I pause briefly before I push it open without knocking.
He’s alone, leaning against the edge of his desk, phone in hand. His suit jacket is slung over the back of his chair, and his tie loosened. When he looks up and sees me, something shifts in his expression.
Yeah, I think I can convince him to celebrate a little.
His eyes follow me as I cross the room and he lowers his phone, ending whatever call he was on with a quick ‘I’ve got to go.’
“I asked Mrs. Batton to have dinner tonight catered,” he says, his eyes busy undressing me already.
“Later,” I murmur. “We can talk about that later.”
“Anya,” he says, his voice a warning, but there’s no way he isn’t already eighty-nine percent on board with what I’m doing.
I step closer, closing the space between us. My fingers slide up to his collar, tugging gently until his tie comes undone. His hands settle on my hips, his grip firm.
“I don’t feel like talking right now,” I say, my voice dropping.
Riccardo’s jaw tightens, but I can feel the moment he gives in. His hands slide up my sides, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us.
“Anya,” he murmurs again, his voice rough. “You’re impossible.”
I smile, brushing my lips against his. “And you seem to like it.”
His mouth crashes down on mine, and all the tension of my day melts away. His hands grip me tighter, and I let myself get lost in the way he takes control.
He lifts me onto the edge of the desk like I weigh nothing. Then his mouth moves down my neck and then even lower, opening the buttons of my blouse. His lips move over my skin, his tongue darting out to lick me. My head falls back on its own accord and I let him tease me until his teeth close on my nipple and bite down.
I grab his hair and pull him back, even as my pussy contracts around nothing, begging to be filled and have him nip at me some more.
He’s claiming me, but I’m going to claim him right back.
We pull apart, both breathless.
Riccardo presses his forehead to mine, his hands resting on my thighs as if grounding himself. His breathing is uneven, and I feel a strange sense of satisfaction at the sight of him like this. Definitely not fully in control.
My leg shifts to push between his, and my hands slide down his body. Riccardo’s breath hitches as my fingers trail lower, brushing against his belt. His eyes darken, and I wonder how he feels about the fact that he likes it when I’m taking charge.
I don’t give him time to overthink it. My fingers curl around his belt buckle, undoing it nice and slow, all the while keeping my eyes locked on his. “Still want to talk about dinner?” I ask, my voice teasing.
His response is immediate. His hands move to my waist, yanking me closer with a roughness that sends a thrill down my spine. “No,” he growls, and I can’t help the wicked grin that spreads across my lips.
“Thought so,” I whisper, sliding off the desk. I grab his tie from the desk and wrap it around his neck like a leash.
Before I can push him any further, he grabs me by the hips and spins us both around, pinning me to the nearest wall. His body presses against mine. One of his hands tangles in my hair, tugging just hard enough to make me gasp.
“Do you like teasing me?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear. “Because I like teasing you back.”
I bite my lip, my fingers digging into his shoulders as his free hand slides down to grip my ass. “Maybe I like it when you push back,” I taunt, arching against him.
In a quick motion, he lifts me off my feet, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carries me out of the office and up the stairs.
We barely make it to the bedroom before he’s tossing me onto the bed, his tie slipping from my hands as I land. Once he’s pulled off his clothes, Riccardo is on me in an instant, his weight pressing me into the mattress, his mouth claiming mine with a force that leaves me dizzy.
His hands are everywhere, skimming up my thighs, tugging at the hem of my skirt, pulling it over my hips. In response, I drag my nails down his back as I lift my hips to help him strip me bare.
“Don’t let your new position get to your head,” he mutters, his lips brushing against the curve of my jaw as he nips at my skin. “You’re not in charge everywhere.”
I laugh breathlessly, my fingers curling into his hair. “Keep telling yourself that.”
Riccardo growls, the sound vibrating against my throat as he grabs my wrists, pinning them above my head.
“You want to claim me, Anya?” he asks, his voice a low rasp. “Then do it.”
I don’t hesitate. I arch against him, rolling my hips, and the curse that slips from his lips is enough to make my confidence soar.
Riccardo doesn’t give me any time to gloat before his free hand grips my hip, tilting me to meet him as he thrusts into me. It’s deep and rough, his pace unrelenting as he takes control completely. The intensity knocks the air from my lungs, and I can only cling to him, my nails digging into his back, hopefully leaving some marks.
The sound of the bed creaking barely registers over the rush of blood in my ears and the slap of skin against skin. My legs tighten around his waist, drawing him deeper, and I feel the way his muscles tense as he adjusts his angle. Every shift sends fire racing through my veins, and his rough rhythm drives me closer to the edge.
His hand moves, sliding between us, and his fingers find the sensitive bundle of nerves that’s been begging for attention ever since I walked into his office. The pressure of his thumb circling it sends a shock wave through me and I arch off the bed, my body responding before my mind can catch up.
His other hand is still keeping my wrists pinned above my head and fuck but it feels good to just let him take me after an entire day of worrying if I’m making any bad calls.
My head falls back, and a strangled cry breaks free as I shatter, the release hitting me hard and fast. My body clenches around Riccardo’s cock, but he doesn’t slow down, his hips snapping against mine as he uses me to get himself off.
I watch through barely open eyes how the tension in him coils tighter and tighter, and when he finally spills into me, his groan is raw and primal, his body trembling against mine as the last waves of pleasure crash over us.
The man is fucking beautiful.
When we finally collapse together, our bodies tangled and slick with sweat, the room is silent except for the sound of our breathing.
Riccardo shifts, rolling onto his side so he can look at me. His fingers brush a strand of hair from my face, his expression softer now. “There’s something we need to discuss.”
I blink, still trying to catch my breath. “What?”
“The situation with the Brotherhood is as good as it will be until the dust settles. But I want us to stay married. Not for work, but for this.” His hand slides over my body.
I freeze, my heart skipping a beat. “What are you talking about? You want to stay married so we can keep having sex?”