Chapter Eleven
Marcello
Love Languages
They say time flies.
Well, the past ten years have passed like a breeze. A lot has happened in that time, but most of all, Safia has grown in ways that continue to amaze me.
After high school, she chose a path that took her far from Columbus, deep into the world. She pursued her education at a university in Ghana, embracing new experiences and immersing herself in the richness of international life. While she was away, I made frequent trips to visit her, cherishing every stolen moment together. Each time I hated to return to the states without her.
She had an expansive security team trailing her in Ghana. And she still was Lanay Sanders to everyone except for her uncle, my father and I. Her safety was still of utmost importance to me, but I wanted her to make the best of her life with the alias.
Meanwhile, I evolved from a young man with dreams of power into one of the most formidable mob bosses in our family”s history. I executed my plan flawlessly, transforming my luxury car dealership into a front for a vast empire. We moved more than cars and contraband, we moved influence, power, and wealth—our reach extending far beyond what I could have imagined.
Yet, amidst our success, there were also some losses.
Our family lost its beloved patriarch, Don Ermano DeLuca, in an ambush back in Italy. It had been someone in the family that assisted in Nonno’s demise. The newly installed don, Enzo DeLuca, had been the one to discover and swiftly handle the traitor.
After recovering from that loss, we lived in relative peace until we found out there was a bounty on Safia from the Grecozi crime family. A fucking bounty!
They had placed current pictures of her, her address—which was our villa, and her uncle’s information on the dark web for any nitwit to see. They wanted her alive, unharmed, and the reward was a billion dollars. A billion fucking dollars!
This was the beginning of my war against the Grecozis and anyone else stupid enough to come for her. But on a mission to flush out Safia’s enemy, we found a snake amongst us.
And now my closest friend and former right-hand man lives with the fish in the sea. I didn’t know which hurt worse: the two bullets I took that day or Romeo betraying my trust. He had learned of the bounty and attempted to cash in, making it a bloody Christmas that claimed his own life. My brother made sure of that.
Yeah, that’s right, my brother.
Like I said, a lot has happened in the past ten years. So bear with me. During that tumultuous time when I had to face the Grecozis, Ramiri dropped the heavy news that I had a brother. Vito.
And it gets worse. We share a father, but it’s not Ramiri.
My father is the infamous Alfonso DeLuca. A man who has no loyalty to his wife, children, the DeLuca name, and hell maybe not even to himself.
The death of Nonno, Romeo’s betrayal, and Alfonso’s abandonment brought the savage out of me, making me realize that it’s sometimes those closest to you that will hate you the most.
Keeping my local organization in order became of utmost importance. And I have done everything in my power to keep that order while also smothering the Grecozi and Dunner families every chance I get.
As I lie in bed, thinking of how the years have unfolded, sunlight filters through the windows of our villa, reminding me it’s time to start a new day.
Safia’s absent from our bed. It”s a familiar routine—her nightmares driving her to our home gym, where she channels her frustrations into the punching bag. Since she finished her studies and moved back to the states, I have become more concerned about her continued nightmares.
Descending the staircase, I follow the rhythmic thud of her fists meeting leather. In the gym, Safia moves with fluid grace. She’s soft, both petite and thick in the right places. But don’t get it twisted; she can kick even the most formidable man’s ass by sheer technique.
She wears tight workout leggings and a fitted tank top, sweat glistening on her mahogany brown skin—a sight that never fails to stir something deep within me.
“My woman should be in bed with me,” I say, watching Safia concentrate on the punching bag, her muscles taut and ready for action.
“It was time to wake up,” she replies with a playful glint in her eyes.
“Says who?”
She rolls her shoulders and bounces lightly on her feet. “My internal alarm.”
“Need a sparring partner?” I offer, stepping closer.
“Think you can keep up?” she teases, raising an eyebrow.
“I”ll give it my best shot,” I reply, slipping on a pair of gloves. I can feel the leather molding to my hands. “Ready when you are,” I say, positioning myself in front of her.
We circle each other, the tension palpable between us. Her focus is unwavering, her punches precise and powerful. I match her rhythm, letting the energy build between us. As we spar, our touches linger, our breaths grow heavier—a familiar heat building with each exchange.
Moving closer, I catch the fire in her eyes, the same fire that drew me to her all those years ago. The distance between us shrinks, a magnetic pull I can”t resist.
Before I know it, our sparring takes a different turn. It begins subtly—a lingering touch here, a heated glance there—until it becomes impossible to ignore. Gloves are discarded, forgotten on the floor as our bodies collide in a passionate embrace. Safia”s back meets the padded wall with a soft thud as I press against her, my hands tracing the curves of her body.
“Now, do you think you can keep up with me?” I playfully tease.
“Oh, you know I’ll give it my best shot,” she responds, wrapping her arms around my neck, pulling me closer, her fingers threading through my hair.
With a swift motion, I lift her, feeling the strength and softness of her thighs around my waist. Our lips meet in a hungry kiss, each of us pouring our love and longing into the other.
“Oui!” she screams as we stumble. Lost in the frenzy of desire, we tumble to the floor.
“I’ve got you,” I assure as I place her on the cool gym mat, a stark contrast to the heat of our bodies.
We roll together, limbs entwined.
I pin her beneath me, capturing her gaze darkened with passion.
My hands roam with urgency. My fingers trail along the curves of her hips and the small of her back. I move with a confidence born from years of intimacy, and she meets me with equal fervor, fingers digging into my shoulders, pulling me closer.
We shed our clothes quickly. The need to feel each other”s bare skin is overwhelming. The cool air brushes against exposed skin, heightening the sensations as my body presses against hers. The friction ignites a spark between us, each touch electric.
I lock eyes with her. The intensity flowing between us a palpable force.
“I love you,” I whisper. “I always will.”
“I love you too,” she replies, her voice trembling.
With deliberate motion, I enter her, our bodies joining in a rhythm as old as time. The sensation overwhelms—a blend of pleasure and excitement that sends waves of ecstasy through me. We move together in perfect harmony, each thrust deeper than the last.
The room fills with the echoes of our passion, mingling with our ragged breaths and the soft sounds of our bodies meeting. It”s a dance of urgency and tenderness, a raw connection that strips away everything else. In this moment, all that matters is the warmth of her skin against mine, the way her body molds perfectly to mine.
Tension builds inside me, a powerful crescendo threatening to shatter everything. I tighten my grip on her hips, movements growing more insistent, more demanding. She meets me with equal intensity, body rising to meet mine, matching my pace. Pleasure spirals higher, almost unbearable.
With a final, desperate thrust, we tumble over the edge together. Our bodies convulse in a shared climax, leaving us breathless. She cries out my name, the sound echoing off the walls as I hold her close, our bodies trembling with release.
We lie tangled as our breaths slow to normal. I press a tender kiss to her forehead. She nestles closer, her head on my chest.
“I want you to be my wife and to have my babies,” I whisper fervently, a sentiment that escapes my lips every time we make love.
Words fail her.
But her silence speaks volumes.
The past haunts her.
The present plagues her.
The future terrifies her.
She won’t be ready to move forward until she gets closure.
Eventually, we disentangle and dress.
An hour later, Safia stands in front of our bedroom mirror, adjusting her top one last time. Her fingers smooth the fabric with meticulous care. She gives herself a once-over.
Turning to me, she offers a smile meant to ease my worries.
“Where did you say you were going again?” I question.
“Uncle James wants to shop for a sofa, so we’re going to several furniture stores,” she responds, adjusting her top. Her voice is light, almost teasing, as she smooths her curly hair down.
“He’s finally going to replace his furniture?” I ask.
Her eyes sparkle with mischief. “No. He’s getting it for his girlfriend as a Valentines Day gift. He wants to surprise her with it when she comes home from work. Says her love language is receiving gifts.”
“Check out Uncle James being romantic and following his woman’s love language.” I lean back, crossing my arms, imagining James going furniture shopping for his woman. It’s a side of him I rarely see, more tender and thoughtful.
“You’d better take notes. I bet you don’t even know my love language,” she says, smirking.
“You can’t be serious, woman. I know everything about you, including how many wrinkles are on your big toe. I know your love language.”
“Under no circumstance am I chasing the comment about the wrinkles on my toe. So, tell me, what is my love language?”
“You like to be touched. Here,” I relay, my voice low and tender, as I place my hand on the small of her back. I feel the subtle arch of her spine under my palm, a delicate curve that always sends a thrill through me.
She breathes in softly, her body instinctively leaning into my touch. I let my fingers trace slow, gentle circles, savoring the way she relaxes beneath my touch.
“And here,” I continue, my other hand gliding up to gently rest around her neck. I give it a light, reassuring squeeze, feeling the steady pulse of her heartbeat against my fingertips. “You love it when I touch you here.”
Her eyes flutter closed, a soft sigh escaping her lips. I can see the slight rise and fall of her chest as she breathes, her body attuned to every movement.
“There’s something about these spots,” I murmur, leaning in closer, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. “It’s like they’re made just for me to touch.”
Safia’s hand comes up to rest over mine at her neck, her fingers curling around mine in a silent affirmation. There’s a flicker of a soft smile on her lips.
“I guess you know that touch is one of my love languages,” she says, her voice a soft murmur that vibrates through me. “I also like quality time.”
A chuckle rumbles low in my chest. “You do, and that’s why I give you plenty of it.” My thumb brushes the delicate skin at the base of her neck, feeling the slight quickening of her pulse under my touch. “In fact, I would like to give you some right now.”
Safia’s smile widens.
I lean in closer, press a gentle kiss to her forehead, and savor the soft sigh that escapes her lips.
“But,” I continue, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze, “if you intend to go on that shopping trip with your uncle, I suggest you walk away now.” There’s a playful challenge in my tone, but she knows seriousness always lurks when it comes to our intimacy.
Her eyes search mine. “Is that so?” she asks, arching an eyebrow.
“Yes.” My fingers tighten slightly around hers in a gentle but firm hold. “Because if you don’t, I might not let you go.”
She laughs softly, the sound like music to my ears. “You know, you make it very hard to leave,” she teases, her voice laced with affection.
I pull her closer until our foreheads touch. The closeness fills me with a profound sense of contentment. “That’s the idea,” I murmur, my lips brushing hers in a tender kiss.
“Don’t forget to stay close to your security team,” I command, inhaling her familiar scent that always grounds me, a blend of jasmine and something uniquely hers. “I will lose my mind without you.”
“Of course, I’ll have my security team with me at all times,” she says, her expression turning serious. “You know, they won’t let me get more than three feet away anyway.”
I smile. I do everything in my power to keep our lives calm, but caution is a necessity in our world, where safety is never a given. Her safety is always on my mind, a constant concern that comes with loving someone so fiercely.
I nod thoughtfully. “You should be my wife, Safia. Everyone should know that you’re mine and not to be touched.”
She sighs, familiar ache in her heart. “It will happen when the time is right, Marcello.”
I want to protest, to ask her when will the time be right. But I hold my frustrations in and move my touch to her cheek. “Soon.” I kiss her deeply.
Safia still carries a silent burden that shadows our brightest moments. No matter how much sweetness we pour into our lives, she is haunted by painful memories.
Eleven years have passed since she shared the brutal truth about her family’s death, and the perpetrators have taunted us by still breathing. That ends now. I must bring her the justice she deserves. It’s our path forward to a future together.
“Go, before I change my mind and take you back to bed,” I say, kissing her one last time.
She reluctantly steps back, her hand sliding from mine. “Okay, okay,” she concedes, her eyes twinkling. “I’ll go, but only because I promised Uncle James.”
I watch as she moves away, a part of me already missing her presence. But I know she’ll be back, and until then, the memory of her touch, her smile, will keep me company.
“Don’t keep me waiting too long,” I call after her longingly. “Cause, you know I’ll be waiting.”
She turns at the door, throwing me a playful wink. “I know you will,” she says, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes, a playful glint lighting up her features. “There’s not another woman in this stratosphere that will beat you up and then put it on you like I do,” she teases, a smirk dancing on her lips.
I can’t help but chuckle, the tension easing just a fraction. “That’s a fact,” I admit, shaking my head slightly at her irrepressible spirit. It’s moments like these that remind me why I fell in love with her, why I continue to fall deeper every day.
“Do you plan to go into the office today?” she asks, the shift in her tone subtle, almost as if she’s trying to gauge my next move.
“Yes, but baby, call me if you need anything, and I mean anything.”
“I will,” she promises.
As soon as the door closes behind her, I get ready to head to the dealership. Today, I have a singular focus: to tie up a lose end. Paleto Grecozi.
The dealership is a hub of connections, and I intend to use every bit of that influence. I will call in every favor, turn over every stone, and leverage every connection we have.