Chapter 12 Luisa
TWELVE
Luisa
My memory might not be perfect, but I remember being with Angelo. He’s never let me take control, not like this. He’s always been growly, rough, commanding. But now? He’s watching me. He’s sweet.
“I’m not broken,” I say, sharper than I mean to.
“I know you’re not,” he replies. He glances at his hands, then slips them behind his back. His eyes flick to me—warm and patient, yet shadowed by something unspoken. He props himself up on his elbows. “Control this, Luisa.”
“Why?” The word lashes out, edged with suspicion.
A low chuckle escapes him as his cock taps his belly. I press my tongue to my bottom lip. I want him—I’ve wanted him since he helped me gather the scattered pieces of my morning, since every dream and every memory of him, even when he’s just strutting in a towel.
“Because you claimed I can’t live without control—that control is everything to me. But I’ve found something else… something more important.” His gaze never wavers. “Use me how you want, Luisa. If you want it rough or gentle—set the pace and show me.”
He wants me in charge?
Well, I’m not turning that down. Instead of pouncing on him, I drop to my knees between his feet. Angelo watches me—his eyes darkening, his cheeks blooming pink—as I trace over his knees and along his thighs, brushing the scar from the bullet he took when I tried to save him.
I press my lips to that tender mark, and he hisses against his teeth. I glance up at him, then tilt my head, letting my lip trail along his shaft all the way to the tip of his cock. He remains rooted, resisting his own desire, not daring to touch me.
I continue exploring him with my tongue and lips, savoring the low, eager growls from his throat when he teeters on the edge—a frustrated huff when I pull back.
“You’re torturing me, vita mia,” he groans.
“Just like you did to me every day of your house arrest—walking around practically naked, always flirting... making me question everything. Pushing my buttons.”
“You never let on,” he growls.
I slide my lips around the head of his cock and take him deep. He groans, collapsing onto his elbows as he pants. I pull back, then flatten my tongue over his tip, teasing him until he bites his bottom lip.
“If I let myself feel anything but hate for you back then, we would have been fucking every day. I would have betrayed everything. I would have ...” I don’t have the words so I focus on blowing him instead.
I didn’t let myself think about anything but work.
I refused to see any of Angelo’s good qualities.
How dedicated he is, how moral he is, how good he is, even if it’s not in line with the law.
Sure, he’s bloodthirsty and has killed, but so have I.
I’ve killed bad people too. And Angelo, beautiful, commanding, sharp Angelo, left his father, left that side of the mafia all for me.
Angelo forced me to take the night off because he knew I’d fight. He knew I’d get hurt. He cares.
“Fuck, Luisa, stop. Stop. I’m not ready to come. Not yet, please,” he begs as his cock twitches in my throat.
I moan and ease off him. I already miss how he feels filling my throat, but I can fix that. I climb on top of him, rubbing over his abs, along his pecs, across his shoulders, then roll myself on him.
“If you flip us, I’m going to walk away,” I whisper.
“Oh, is that the rule?” he teases.
“It is.”
“Then I’ll have to wait for you to beg me to flip you so I can fuck you into the mattress,” he says.
I arch an eyebrow. “I’m not going to ask for a damn thing, baby.”
I guide his cock where I need it, then ease down his length.
Angelo groans, his head falling back, but his eyes stay locked right there—watching where he disappears inside me.
He exhales sharply, shakes his head. “I wasted so much time under house arrest.”
“Yeah, you did,” I tease, rolling my hips, riding him how I need. “Should’ve kissed me sooner.”
I drag his hands where I want them—one to my clit, the other cupping my breast.
He groans against my lips, letting me take, letting me use him the way I want.
I kiss him between moans, hungry, breathless, and fuck—this is just the start.
Angelo is a man who always pushes, gives, takes. A man who makes everything more.
And if I get to enjoy that forever, I’m a lucky woman.
“Come for me, Luisa.” His voice is ragged as he meets every thrust, lifting his hips into mine, dragging me deeper.
I tangle my fingers in his thick, dark hair, jerking his head back. I want him to look at me as I ride him harder, faster. “Make me come, Angelo. Claim me.”
His grin is wicked. “Is that an order?”
“Yes.”
He flips us in an instant, pinning me beneath him. And then he ruins me. His hands grip tight, his mouth devours, his cock owns me.
I arch, moaning his name, clawing his back, biting his shoulder. I give him everything, and he takes it all. He talks me through it, his voice thick, dark, worshiping me.
“You’re so precious, Topolina. I love how you take charge. So beautiful, so fucking perfect.”
I whimper, gripping his ass, dragging him deeper. “Angelo!”
His voice turns to silk, dark and commanding. “Come for me, vita mia.” But I’m still holding back.
He grabs my thigh, jerks it around his waist. His palm cracks against my ass.
“I said come, naughty girl.” His voice is a growl now. “Stop holding back and come like my good girl.” Another slap. And I shatter. But he isn’t done.
He rolls me over, grips my hip and breast, pounds into me. Every time I come, he flips me, changes positions, takes more.
Until he has me on the window seat, Venice glowing below, the canal dark and endless beneath us. I ride him, his head tilted back, the city behind him.
I stare at Italy.
Then I stare at the man I’m fucking.
He’s riding the edge, his abs flexing, his groans thick and raw, until I feel them more than I hear them. But I don’t move.
I want to own him the way he’s owned every second thought in my head since I woke up.
“Vita, mia ... please. I need you to come. I need you to get up, I need-”
“You’re not in control.” I dig my nails into his chest. “You’ll come when I say. And today?” I grind down, watching his jaw go tight. “You’re coming inside me.”
He groans, grips the window frame and thrusts into me while his other hand grips my hip and holds me down. I pant, exhausted, dewy with sweat, embracing every thrust he gives me. I feel every pulse, every deep, exhausted thrust as he gives in.
The breeze cools our sweat-slicked skin, ruffles his hair, but he doesn’t move until he lifts me.
He carries me to bed. Sets me down like I’m something precious.
Warmth trails down my thigh, but he doesn’t look away from my face. His expression unreadable.
He crouches beside me, brushing my hair back.
“You let me—”
“I have an implant.” My voice is hoarse. “I wanted to see if you’d do it.”
A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest. He crawls into bed, pulls me against him.
We’re quiet for a long time. I know he’s used to the silence. I haven’t been talkative.
Starling pokes too close to the open window, and I move—but Angelo keeps me in place.
“She’s not interested in jumping. She just likes to look.”
I exhale. “I can’t believe you’ve been taking care of her.”
His arms tighten. “I’ve been taking care of you too.”
I roll, pressing my lips to his chest. “You said I could do that in the ambulance… and then—”
“Take care of me now.” He smirks, stretching, all lazy satisfaction. “I’m exhausted. Haven’t had a home-cooked meal since you left my mansion. Haven’t had anyone to massage me. Haven’t been complimented.” His expression is so solemn I almost believe him.
I arch a brow. “Poor baby.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “You have options.”
“Oh, I’m considering throwing you out that window first.”
He laughs—a real one—then pulls me in, kissing me slow, his lips moving against mine. As he pulls away, his gaze flickers to my temple where I know the scar rests, resembling shattered glass pieced back together. I try to cover it, but he reaches out, brushing his lips across it.
“I’ll kiss the one on the back of your head too.” His mouth trails lower, finding the faded scar on my neck. “And this mystery one.”
I shiver. “I was being stupid.”
He lifts a brow.
“Tried to jump a fence, didn’t notice the pile of wood. Took a nail to the neck. Looked worse than it was.”
I drag my fingers over a light scar on his side. “This?”
“Emilia stabbed me,” he says with a shrug.
I look up at him in horror. He rolls his eyes. “It was barely a flesh wound. It was a warning not to go into her room unannounced. The guy she was making out with nearly peed himself.”
“You have such a weird family,” I grumble.
He lifts my chin, his eyes searching mine. His fingers are so gentle on my jaw that I want to piss him off just so he’s rough with me. He feeds me another slow kiss. “I hate you, Luisa.”
I smirk. “Is that why you yelled at the doctor? You want me alive so you can kill me yourself?”
His jaw flexes. “I’m the only one allowed to do it.”
“To kill me?”
“To kiss you.” His grip tightens. “To touch you.”
His voice drops. “To fucking ruin you.”
I drag my nails over his stomach, watching his abs twitch. “I never agreed to that.”
“Get used to it.”
He rolls me beneath him, pinning me with his weight. His eyes are dark, blazing, feral.
“Because I hate you, and I’m going to make sure no one else gets to hate you the way I do.”
I swallow. Blink up at him.
I blink at him, then swallow. “I hate you more. I trace my lips over his jaw. I hated you first.”
“Is that a fact?” He snarls.
“I’ve hated you since you got in the shower the first night we had sex years ago.
I hated when you whistled to yourself like I was some work you’d finished doing.
I hated that you remembered me when I walked into the interview room.
I hated that I got stuck with you ... I hated that I stopped. ..” I swallow.
His eyes darken. “Go on.”
My throat tightens. I almost tell him to make me, but beneath his gruff voice, I hear the need.
I run my palm over his chest, slow, deliberate. “I hate that I stopped.”
His fingers flex against my waist. “Finish the thought.”
I lick my lips. “I hate that I stopped hating you when you argued with me.”
Angelo doesn’t blink.
“I hate that I felt safe.”
His jaw clenches.
“I hate that when you kissed me… I felt powerful.”
His grip tightens.
“And I hate that…” I pout, voice just above a whisper. “I don’t think I can hate you anymore.”
Angelo’s mouth descends on mine in a sweet kiss. When he pulls back, his voice is a rasp against my lips. “Then you better get used to my family, vita mia. Because I’m going to make you a part of it.”
I snort. “My head isn’t that rattled.”
He grins, brushing his nose against mine. “Have I told you how competitive I am, Luisa?”
“Hard to keep up when you jump thoughts like a psychopath.”
His smirk is lethal. “Eric asked my permission to propose to Emilia when he dropped us off.”
My breath catches. His lips brush my ear. “I bet I can get you to say yes first.”
He draws back and arches an eyebrow. I pull back, narrowing my eyes. “I don’t think you hate me at all.” Angelo winks. And just like that, I melt into him again.
He nudges my side, coaxing a giggle out of me, but my eyes catch on something.
A black jewelry box. Sitting on the bedside table. Silent. Certain. A promise waiting. I swallow hard, my chest tightening.
Love. Hate. The lines have blurred until I don’t know where one ends and the other begins.
Angelo watches me like he already knows what I’m going to say.
Like he’s already won.
I flick the ring box open, staring at the massive diamond inside. It’s big, like everything about this man. Over the top. Arrogant. Infuriating.
“You think I’m just going to say yes?”
He shrugs, that smirk playing at his lips. “You will.”
I close the box with a snap and slide it off the bedside table. “Guess you’ll have to stick around and find out.”
His grin turns sharp, like he loves the chase. Like he’s willing to wait.
“I’m not going anywhere, Vita Mia.”
And neither am I.