Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
RICCI
Ilift her out of the shower in one smooth motion, her dripping body slipping against mine.
She’s boneless in my arms, cheeks flushed, chest rising and falling quickly.
I set her gently on the cool marble counter.
She lets out a tiny surprised breath that makes my chest tighten.
God, she’s beautiful like this: skin glowing, hair plastered to her shoulders in careless dark gold clumps, lips parted as she’s not quite back on solid ground yet.
For a few frozen seconds I can’t do anything but stare at the beauty that has been put into my care, and marvel at my good fortune.
Then I come to my senses and reach for the folded, thick, white towels, and start drying her hair.
In the face of such beauty, my movements are almost reverent.
I gather the long, wet strands in one hand, and squeeze the water out with the towel.
Then I work my way through the silk from roots to tips, patting and smoothing like I’ve got all the time in the world.
I can feel her watching me the whole time—those bewitching green eyes fixed on my face, wide and slightly confused, like she can’t figure out what the hell I’m doing or why I’m doing it.
I let her stare, but inside, I’m burning up with how self-conscious it makes me.
This is a totally new experience for me.
I have never done this for any woman. My neck heats, a slow creep of warmth that I can’t hide.
My pulse is thudding hard enough that she can probably see it jumping under my skin.
Fuck, I’m so fucking besotted with her it’s ridiculous.
And yet… I’ve never felt more at peace than I do right now.
This quiet moment, her sitting naked and trusting in front of me, letting me take care of her, it soothes something broken in my chest that’s been hurting day and night for as long as I can remember.
The calm spreads all over my body. All those years of watching her from the shadows, the obsession that kept me up at night, the way I clawed my way to the top just to have the power to protect her… it wasn’t for nothing.
This is it. And it is worth every second of pain and longing.
And the more I think about it, the more it clicks.
Technically, her background is so much like mine.
Both of us were coldly handed off by people who were supposed to care for us.
Both of us farmed out, used, forced to crawl out of the gutters anyway we could just to survive.
She married into this world to clear her father’s debts.
I ran the streets and pledged my soul to Salvatore to never be weak again.
We’re both survivors. Maybe that’s why we feel so right.
Why touching her like this doesn’t feel like pretending.
The truth is it feels like finally coming home.
Eventually, the heat crawling up my neck is too much to bear, and I meet her gaze head-on, the towel stilling in her hair. She can only hold my stare for a few seconds; uncertainty flickers across her face as she looks away shyly, lashes lowered.
“What is it?” I ask, my voice so low it hardly breaks the quiet.
She hesitates. “You’re surprisingly gentle.”
I give her a small smile. “I don’t think the men I’ve killed will agree with you.”
The words hang there between us. She shudders.
It’s a small, involuntary tell that I’ve ruined the mood.
I pull back just enough to grab the hair dryer from the drawer, plug it in, and start running the hot air through her long strands of hair.
My fingers comb through as I go, careful not to tug.
She keeps watching me, eyes tracking every movement like she’s trying to solve a puzzle.
Minutes stretch. The dryer hums low. Her hair starts to dry in soft waves around her shoulders.
I see the exact moment that brick wall goes back up inside her, the shutdown she uses like a shield.
She’s decided to put space between us before it gets too real.
“I can finish,” she says softly. “You should be heading out to work.”
I could push. I could tell her I don’t have to go anywhere, but I don’t.
She is right. I have work to do, and she needs time to get used to me.
I nod, grab another towel, wrap it low around my hips, and head out of the bathroom.
Quickly, snatching my phone off the floor, I start scrolling through it as I head to my bedroom.
There is bad news, as usual. Some of the men got drunk last night and started a shooting in one of the nightclubs downtown.
One of the many missed calls is from the police chief.
I dial him back as I walk down the hall, phone to my ear.
He picks up on the first ring. “I used to go through you to send messages to Salvatore.”
This amuses me. “Well, it’s faster now. You can just tell me. Unless you prefer to go through my second in command to get to me?”
He chuckles dryly. “This is fine.”
“What’s the situation?” I ask.
He exhales. “I think you might need to crack the whip. Show them the new boss is as bad as the old boss. Two civilians were caught in the crossfire last night. I can only cover so much ass before the feds start sniffing around. You need to put your men in check, Santori, or there’s not much I can do to shield you. ”
“I understand,” I say as I pull on a shirt. The words are calm, but my jaw is tight with anger. I’ll handle it. I always do.
On my way downstairs, I pause outside her room. A part of me wants to go back in and fuck her senseless. But I don’t. I’m giving her the space she just asked for.
As I get out the front entrance, my driver is already waiting, black SUV idling at the curb, engine purring low. He straightens when he sees me.
“The club,” I tell him, sliding into the back seat. “We’ve got a mess to fucking clean up.”
The door shuts, and the car pulls away. Before I lose myself in work, I allow myself a few moments to remember… the beautiful peace I felt holding her that I’ve never felt anywhere else.