“The don’s wife is always a target.”
Tears prick my eyes. “You’re not even don yet.”
His dark gaze searches my face. If I lifted my head, I could probably kiss him. “That isn’t the point. You’re still mine, and being mine makes you a part of this.”
“Then let me go,” I whisper, a half-hearted plea I wasn’t planning on voicing. Maybe desperation will sway him in a way nothing else has. “I—I won’t tell anyone what happened. We can just pretend we never crossed paths at all.”
“Pretend I don’t know the exact shape of your mouth?” A gloved finger comes up, tracing the edge of my bottom lip. “That I haven’t been on the receiving end of your absolute hatred, your violence? That I haven’t had the divine pleasure of tasting you and calling you mine? I could never forget,stellina, and I couldneverpretend.”
I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out.
After a moment, he leans in even more, and I feel his kiss before I can fully process what’s happening. My limbs are sluggish, unmoving, but my lips return the gesture. It’s soft, tender almost, and it sends a flurry of unfamiliar sensations through the length of my body—lust, warmth, and an undeniable shift in perspective.
Is this what it’s like—being noticed?
Should it feel so good, coming from my captor?
“I’ve wanted to do that for too long,” he murmurs against me.
My mouth chases his, seeking more. I can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or something deep within that I don’t want to acknowledge, but I enjoy how his touch lights me up like a starry sky. I’d give almost anything to keep feeling that way forever.
“Rest,” Leo says, pulling back and yanking the throw blanket to my chin. He tucks it in at my sides as if I’m a child, and I can’t do anything but stare. “You don’t need to worry about anything else.”
A thought slides through my watery mind. “But we’re supposed to…you know. Your father said something about tradition?—”
“My father?” His voice is cold, and he freezes in place, still looming over me. “He was here?”
I nod.
“Did he touch you?”
Something hollows out inside my chest. A defense mechanism, though I know it’s not to protect Flavio. Just myself.
Leo’s jaw clenches, visible even in the moonlight. He reads past my silence, withdrawing his hands. “I see. So, that bruise on your face…that’s not from stumbling in here drunkenly?”
My eyes widen, and I slide one hand out from the blanket, pressing my fingers to my face. It’s sore to the touch, and I wince, not having realized until now that he hit me so hard.
For several moments, neither of us speaks. It’s not until he repositions himself on the bed, stroking his fingers through my hair again, that I realize my eyes have closed. I open them, my vision blurring a bit, and see a flash of flesh as he moves away. When my gaze focuses, all I’m met with is empty air
“Sleep,” he commands from somewhere in the room. My body is all too eager to obey, shutting down as soon as the word leaves his mouth.
For the first time I can remember, I don’t spend any time tossing and turning, dreading what’s to come in the future. I don’t lament over what I’ve lost or the terrifying monster who seems attached to the idea of keeping me.
I justsleep.
9
LEO
Frankie glances at me and arches his brows. “This seems ill-advised.”
“I don’t remember asking for your opinion.”
“As your right-hand man,” he replies, folding his tattooed arms against the chest of his T-shirt, “I feel the need to warn you when you might be making a rash decision. Especially one that’ll end in catastrophe.”
Stepping around him, I walk into the office building on K Street, where the De Tores rent space to seem legitimate. Our counterfeiting and drug-running operations happen below the city, where fewer people are likely to stumble upon them, but this setup allows us to sail smoothly under federal regulations.
I’m not sure why we needed to meet here for this lousy tradition instead of my aunt Regina’s or Nonna’s, but after spending my night pacing outside the bedroom while Stella slept, I’m in no mood to argue.
