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536 pages, Kindle Edition
Published April 3, 2025
“I’m manhandling you? I believe you’re the one who punched me first.”
“You lunged at me!”
“You threw a knife at my face.”
I roll my eyes. “It was a letter opener, stop being so dramatic.”
“Why did you bring me here?” I ask, running my fingers along the marble kitchen island and moving over to the leather couch in the seating area.
“I thought it was high time I introduced you to my bed.”
“Bed, Valentina. Valentina, bed,” I say as my hands drop to the band of my trousers. Her eyes follow and turn hazy with lust when I unbutton and shove my slacks down my hips.
She licks her lips, but plays along. “Nice to meet y—”
“If I’m a slut, then you’re a whore,” she gasps, hands grasping wildly at the sheets. When I knead her breast with my other hand, she clutches the soft fabric tightly in her balled fists. “Only a whore would let me come on his face, then fuck me when I’m nearly unconscious.”
A pleased smile splits my face as a matching growl rolls through my chest. “I’m happy to be your whore, cara.”
Matteo groans and walks into the elevator beside me. “Every time you insult me in Spanish, my dick gets hard. I think I’m starting to develop a degradation kink myself.”
“Your dick gets hard when I smile at you so that’s not exactly an earth shattering update.”
“Wrong. At this point if you genuinely smiled at me, cara, I think my dick might actually explode.”
I bite my bottom lip to stifle the inadvertent smile that tries to bloom to life at his words.
“Hey,” Matteo grumbles crossly, closing his palm around my nape. “That doesn’t mean you get to hide them from me either. What’s a little dick explosion when I’ve already taken a bullet for you tonight?”
The elevator opens just as I burst out laughing.
“You’re… you’re…” I sputter.
“Adorable?” he suggests helpfully.
“Overbearing.”
“All I heard was “bear” and they’re super cute. I knew it. Tell me I’m adorable right now.”
I can’t believe this man is second in line to run the Italian Mafia and be one of the kings of the Underworld.
“You have to know I’ve become unquestionably reliant on your survival for my own, cara mia”
There are hundred-year-old abstinent Roman monks who’ve dedicated their entire lives to the teachings of Christ who are less sexually frustrated than I am right now.
I’m going to miss being able to look across the room and knowing I’d find her there. I’m going to miss having her close, accessible whenever I need.
I’m going to miss her.
Enzo gives me a look that can only be described as being profoundly unimpressed. “I listened to you talk about your pavona for a year and a half, cugino. Every fucking day for well over five hundred days. I don’t think you realize how often you talked about her—at one point, I literally got down on my knees, knit my hands together, and sent an actual prayer straight up to God himself asking that he send her back to you so I could finally get some peace and quiet. Must have prayed a little too hard, because I got exactly what I asked for.”
“If you want to know how much your life is worth, it should only be measured by the number of sexual abusers I’m willing to kill for you, and let me tell you, that number is fucking infinity. Those monsters don’t deserve to breathe the same air as you, let alone to make you think any differently about yourself.”
“Can you calm your fucking heart rate down first? I can’t hear myself fucking think with all that screeching.”
“Calm it down yourself.” The organ nearly thrashes out of my chest. “Tell me your sister is alive.”
“Alive?” Thiago’s fingers drop from his ears as if to make sure he understood me correctly. “Of course she’s fucking alive.” He scowls. “Do you really think you would still be if she wasn’t?”
A tremulous sigh escapes from my lips. The machines die down instantly. There’s no slow decrescendo. One second they’re blasting, the next the beats are steady and even.
Thiago glances at them, then back at me. “Jesus, that’s pathetic.”
Guilty.