Chapter 18
Sal watched as his pretty wife nearly skipped down the hallway, light on her feet like she’d just discovered how much fun it was to live.
The sway of her hips, the spark in her eyes, and that bold kiss that still lingered on his lips…
she was an intoxicating mixture of innocence and sensuality.
His body still ached from it, hard and hungry, and for a split second he almost called her back.
He could picture it too easily—dragging her onto his lap, kissing her until she moaned, until her nails bit into his shoulders, until…
“Stop drooling, Romano.”
Sal turned his head slowly, his glare landing on Luca, who merely lifted one dark eyebrow and sipped his scotch like he hadn’t just risked his life.
“Newlyweds!” Paulo grunted, draining his own glass. He slapped it down on the table with a heavy thud. “They make my skin itch.”
Luca chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “It took me six months before I could stop staring every time Ava left a room. You’ll forgive Sal if he’s still walking around half-erect.”
Sal’s glare darkened, but he was in too good a mood to waste energy on it. His body was on fire, yes, but it wasn’t just lust. Catarina was gaining confidence, blooming under his roof, and nothing had ever looked so damned sexy.
“Six months?” Paulo scoffed, his big frame shifting in the leather chair. “You still stare at Ava when she leaves the room, you dumb ox. It’s pathetic.”
“And you’ll do the same,” Luca fired back smoothly, “once you find a woman who’ll put up with your broody ass.”
“Ha!” Paulo barked out a laugh, then looked directly at Sal. “Better advice for you, Romano? Just bed her and get her out of your system before you start writing her sonnets.”
The room went quiet for half a second. Sal thought about punching him.
Then about breaking his jaw. Then he realized the insult wasn’t even worth the effort—because Paulo didn’t get it.
He didn’t understand that some women never left a man’s system.
Ava hadn’t left Luca’s. Lexie hadn’t left Max’s.
And Catarina sure as hell wasn’t leaving his.
Luca smirked, enjoying the tension. “Don’t knock it, Ruffino. Wait until you meet the woman who makes you forget every other skirt you’ve ever seen. Then we’ll see who’s writing poetry.”
Paulo rolled his eyes, pouring another measure of scotch into Luca’s glass, then his own. “Spare me. The day I let a woman control my world is the day hell freezes over.”
Sal leaned back, lips curling into a faint smile. “Better buy a coat, old man. Hell gets cold fast.”
Tony, walking into the room silently as he listened to the jibes, then snorted as he poured his own glass of scotch, shaking his head. “If the three of you are done comparing whose balls are bigger, maybe we can get back to work.”
The room rumbled with laughter, even Paulo’s, before the conversation finally shifted back to business—legitimate ventures, shady ventures, and the thin line they all walked between power and chaos.