Epilogue
SIENNA
THREE MONTHS LATER
The study is thick with tension as Luca leans forward in his chair, both hands flat on the desk, his voice dangerously quiet.
Biting my lip, I watch Luca’s mouth thin before he runs his tongue along his bottom lip, digging his teeth in for a split second while he controls his temper before releasing it.
"Say that again."
I stare at his long, tanned fingers, splayed wide, and the gold band that means he’s all mine. I didn’t think hands could be sexy, but his definitely are. Maybe it’s because I know what he can do with them.
The man across from him, a mid-level captain named Ricci, shifts uncomfortably in his leather chair. Sweat beads on his temples, unaffected by the air conditioning, and he dabs it away with a napkin, making himself look weak.
From my position by the window, I watch, tablet in my hands displaying the accounts we've been reviewing, and I press my legs together.
Seeing how Luca can instil such fear in these powerful men turns me on. It’s the main reason I started volunteering to come to these meetings.
"The shipment was delayed, boss. There was a problem at the port, and we didn’t know…"
Shaking my head, I tut. The only problem my husband wants to hear about is one that's already fixed.
It’s not lost on me that over the last three months, my confidence around Luca’s colleagues and my acceptance of what he does has grown.
Choosing to only be involved in the legitimate sides of the business, like real estate and restaurants, I’ve managed to compartmentalize the darker sides of his empire.
"A problem. A problem that cost us two hundred thousand dollars and put three of our men at risk of arrest." Luca’s furious, rightly so.
"It wasn't my fault. The contact…"
Oops. Another misstep. Shifting blame, making excuses, all big, big no-nos. This is Mafia 101. How do I know this when I’ve only been around these guys for a few months, and this guy grew up surrounded by it?
"The contact is your responsibility." Luca rises slowly, and even from across the room, I can see Ricci shrink back. "Every contact, every handoff, every fucking detail is your responsibility. That's why you're in the position you're in. That's why you get the cut you get. Or, used to get."
He comes from behind his large desk, long legs eating up the distance quickly, before coming to stand directly in front of Ricci's chair, using his size to intimidate him further and drive home just how precarious his position is.
"So when a shipment goes sideways because someone didn't do their job, whose fault is it?"
Ricci gulps. "Mine, boss."
"Yours." Luca lets the word hang in the air for a long moment. "And if anything goes wrong, you don’t bitch, you don’t whine, you just fucking fix it. If I hear about another problem from your sector, we'll be having a very different kind of conversation. A much less cordial one."
Ricci nods frantically, already scrambling to his feet. "Yes, boss. Absolutely. It won't happen again."
My needy pussy clenches at the sight of Luca leaning back on his desk, thick thighs apart, and hands gripping the edge of the wood behind him. The urge to straddle him is strong, knees on either side of him, trusting his strong arms to hold me as I bounce…
Luca makes him sweat for a second before he nods once. "See that it doesn't."
The man practically runs from the room, and I have to bite my lip to keep from smiling. It’s deeply inappropriate about how attractive I find my husband when he's terrifying subordinates into compliance.
Luca turns to look at me, folding his arms across his broad chest, bulging biceps straining the material of his navy shirt, one eyebrow raised. "You're staring."
"I'm admiring." I set the tablet aside. "There's a difference."
"Mmm." He stands and goes back to his chair, sinking into it and loosening his dark tie with one hand. "And what exactly were you admiring?"
I move toward the bar cart, reaching for the whiskey decanter.
"My husband. The way you handle business." I pause and give him a shy smile. "It's very... compelling."
He leans forward, a mischievous smile pulling one side of his mouth higher.
"Compelling." Amusement dances in his eyes, the hard edges of the scary boss giving way to the husband I adore. "Is that what we're calling it?" He pushes back from the desk, patting his thigh. “Come here.”
Before I can comply, an orange blur launches itself onto Luca's lap.
Vito, who has apparently decided that the most powerful man in the Midwest, who pays for his fancy food and luxurious surroundings, is now worthy of his affection, turns in a circle and settles himself directly on Luca's thighs, purring loudly.
“Not you. Get off." Luca glares down at the cat.
"He likes you now. I think since you saved me from Mikhail." I pour two fingers of whiskey and bring it to him. "It’s better than him clawing at you.”
Luca regards him with mistrust. “I think he just doesn’t want to go back to your shitty apartment.”
Holding out the glass, I smile at Luca as he relents, his hand stroking along Vito's spine almost absently.
"The feeling’s mutual."
Luca reaches for the whiskey I brought him, and when Vito meows plaintively, I watch my feared mob boss husband reach over to the plate of antipasti left over from his earlier meeting and slip the cat a piece of prosciutto.
"You're worse than Carmella. He’s getting spoiled and fat."
I step closer to him, scooping Vito up and ignoring his protests. The cat yowls indignantly as I carry him to the door and deposit him in the hallway, clearly hoping for more treats.
As I close the door on his accusing glare, I whisper, “That’s what you get for trying to take my spot.”
When I turn around, Luca is watching me with undisguised hunger. I sashay across the room slowly, enjoying the way he tracks my movement.
I've learned to dress for these days at his side, tailored skirts and silk blouses that walk the line between professional and provocative.
Today's ensemble includes a pencil skirt that hugs my hips, a blouse with one too many buttons undone, and a pair of dark-rimmed glasses now hanging at my cleavage.
"You were very distracting today," he says as I stop in front of his chair. "If you weren’t so good at other things, I might have to fire you."
"Distracting how?" I rest my palms on the arms of his chair, leaning in. "I didn’t say one word."
"Mmm." His hands find my hips, pulling me closer until I'm standing between his spread thighs.
"You don’t need to. I can feel you watching me.
I see you biting this fucking lip." He pulls my lip from between my teeth with his thumb and groans. “And all I can think about is what’s going through that mind of yours.”
He pulls me forward suddenly, leaving me off balance, his strong hands the only thing holding me upright as I teeter on the toes of my high heels.
"Do you really want to know?" I glance at my watch. “You have another meeting in fifteen minutes. I don’t want to make you late.”
“Fuck yes.” He growls, and then he's rising, lifting me onto his desk in one smooth motion.
Papers scatter, but neither of us moves to catch them, too caught up in this little game we like to play.
"This look," he murmurs, his fingers tracing up my thigh, pushing the hem of my skirt higher. "It drives me insane."
I smirk, arching my back, making sure my cleavage looks great as he stares down my blouse, my fingers rising to open another button until my lacy, sheer bra is on display. "That's the idea."
"Minx." He kisses me, deep and thorough, his hands continuing their journey north searching for the edge of my underwear. "You've been teasing me all day."
His fingers keep going until he reaches my skirt, then slides lower again, a frown marring his face as he keeps searching for my underwear.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Then a slow smile creeps across his face as he realizes what the problem is.
I’m not wearing any.
"You’re a fucking liar." He nips at my bottom lip.
"Crossing and uncrossing your legs during the meeting.
Bending over to pick up that pen. Licking your lips every time I look at you.
" He runs his hands along the inside of my thigh, cursing, and his fingers find me wet and ready for him.
“And all that time, no fucking panties.”
I gasp, head falling back as he presses one finger, then two inside me with no preamble.
"I forgot."
He shakes his head, his thumb swiping over my clit as he pumps his fingers in and out.
"No. It's a deliberate provocation." He hooks his arms under my knees and yanks me forward, bringing my ass right to the edge of the table. "And now you're going to pay for it."
He drops to his knees.
Looking down at him, the most powerful man I know, kneeling before me, warmth spreads through me.
"Luca..."
"Quiet." His hands push my thighs apart, and he lifts my legs over his shoulders, roughly shoving my skirt higher and exposing me completely. His breath is hot against my center as he speaks. "I'm busy worshipping my wife."
His hot mouth finds me, and I fall back against the desk, scattering more pens. His tongue works me with devastating precision, and I fist my hands in his hair, holding on as the pleasure builds.
“Luca, I can’t…”
This is who we are now.
Luca Calvano runs an empire during the day, and brings me, his devoted wife, to the edge of madness at night, while I help him find healthy and very satisfying ways of releasing his anger and stress.
And somehow, impossibly, we've built a beautiful life together out of the ashes of everything we lost the first time around.
When I shatter, crying out his name, he doesn't stop, wringing every last tremor from my body before finally rising to his feet and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He looms over me, one hand on either side of my head, and kisses me, letting me taste myself on his lips.
"Impressive," I manage, still breathless.
"I have my moments." He pulls me upright, gathering me in his strong arms, and I feel his heart beating strong and steady beneath my cheek. Reaching down between us, I find his belt and slide it open.
"I love you," I whisper.
"Fuck," he moans as I slide my hand inside his pants and stroke him, loving the feel of his velvety hardness in my palm. “You’re going to make me late.”
I glance at the clock; his next appointment, a very irate actor who’s been called in to address his escalating outstanding debts, will be here any minute.
Fuck him.
Pulling Luca free and shimmying forward to position him at my entrance, I drag the head of his thick cock back and forth, coating him in my juices.
My husband is staring down, watching my every move, with greedy eyes.
I catch his chin and lift his head, forcing him to look at me. “No. I’m going to make you come.”
With a loud groan, Luca’s control breaks, and his hips snap forward, plunging his hard cock deep inside me in one deep thrust. He falls forward and takes me with him, pounding into me, taking what he needs.
Staring down between us, I watch where he disappears inside me on each stroke.
Outside the office door, voices and footsteps approach. When someone’s hand lands on the handle, and it moves just a tiny bit, Luca lifts his head and shouts, never stopping his brutal thrusts.
“If anyone steps through that door, they’ll get a bullet through their fucking face.” A pause, then retreating footsteps and whispers.
When I whimper, Luca kisses me, then covers my mouth with his hand and continues to fuck me hard on his desk, each thrust getting more and more erratic, before he comes, another jerky pump of his hips each time he spills inside me.
He rests his head against my chest, panting hard.
“This isn’t very professional,” he murmurs. “You’re a bad influence.”
Looking up at him, the absurdity of that statement hits me, and I start to laugh, wrapping my legs around his hips, not wanting to let him go.
“But I love it.”
THE END