I run my free hand through my hair, pulling at the root, and I bark out. “Okay, keep your eyes peeled as we get out of here.” I go to move to stand up and I groan from the pain in my shoulder.
Angelo mumbles. “You have been shot. Jesus Christ. We need to get you home, now. I will have Lorenzo call the doctor for them to meet us at the house.”
I roll my eyes as he looks at Isabella and asks, “Mrs. Ricci, have you been hurt?”
She moves her gaze from me and looks at Angelo. Her voice is soft. “No, I’m okay.” She turns to me and says, “You’re the one who needs to be looked at. You’re still bleeding.”
My hand engulfs her. “It’s a just a graze that needs only a couple of stiches.”
I can see the questioning look on her.
Angelo does not say another word as he walks over the couple of inches to help hoist me up. He drapes my good arm over his shoulders, and I see out of the corner of my eye, Lorenzo walking over to help Isabella from the floor.
Angelo whispers to me as we walk outside to the vehicle, “Enzo, something does not seem right about this. I have a gut feeling this is correlation with you killing Di Marco’s son and he wants an eye for an eye. This has the Di Marco’s written all over it because I don’t Costa would be that fucking stupid. The shipment issues at the docks, the issue with Isabella when she was out with Gianna a few weeks ago, and now this.” I grind my jaw so tight that I could crack a tooth. “I think we have a rat in our mists. I think that shooting was supposed to kill you.”
I take in all of what he is saying, and I think he is right. And when I find who just tried to kill me, my rath will not quick or painless. It will be long, gruesome and vicious.
“Don Ricci, you are very lucky that the bullet grazed your right shoulder…this time. If it was any closer to your axillary artery, we wouldn’t be having a conversation,” Doctor Lucien says in his monotoned voice. “We’d be getting a funeral ready.”
His eyes narrow as he threads the needle through my skin, and I grind my teeth. This man has not aged a single day with his black thick hair, styled perfectly with not a strand out of place, his dark eyes. Doctor Lucien is on my payroll and has fixed myself up many times along with my men. He does not ask questions.
I watch as he puts on the last finishing touches to the stitches, lying in my bed. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Isabella stands to the left side of the room, hugging herself and looking down at her feet. She has not looked at me since we got home from the restaurant nor has, she spoken a word. All I want to do is hold her in my arms, kiss her sinful lips, and tell her everything is all right when I know deep down that it’s not. Someone is targeting me. Targeting my business. Targeting my wife.
Doctor Lucien lets out a heavy sigh as he finishes, packs up all his items, and flatly says, “Rules apply as always. No heavy lifting. No crazy antics. But I know you never listen.” He turns to my wife and says with a little more of a softer tone, “Mrs. Ricci,” she lifts her head, “please change his dressing tomorrow and he can get it wet by then. If there are any changes or a hint of an infection, you can have Angelo give me a call. Until then, onlysome acetaminophen for the pain.” He spins back to me, picks up his bag, and goes to leave.
She drops her head back to her feet.
My gaze is still on Isabella, and I wait for the door to close before I say a word. “Isabella, look at me.” Her head shakes. “Isabella, I said look at me.” My voice comes out harder, demanding.
She raises her head to look at me, and from across the room I can see the water glitching in her eyes. My chest feels tight because I know that I’m the cause of her sadness. I’m the one who caused her to feel unsafe. I’m the one who put us both in this situation that we’re in.
I pat the bed and say, “Come here.”
She is still hugging herself, kicks off her shoes, and makes her way to the bed timidly. She reaches the bed and halts. Her deep blue eyes run through my mind every single second of the day. They linger on the bandage on my right shoulder. My left-hand raises, gesturing for her to come closer. She peers down and slides hers into mine. I lace our fingers together and I pull her to the bed, making her gasp.
“Isabella,” I say her name tenderly and her eye lashes flutter and look at me. “Tonight, did not go as I had planned.” I rub circles on her palm with my thumb. “I wanted to take you on a date. I wanted to date my wife. I wanted to show you, regardless of how this marriage started, is till the end.” Her eyes glisten. “I’m addicted to you more than I should be. I obsessed to know everything about you. What goes on in your beautiful mind. You are strong, beautiful, smart, and Isabella Ricci.” She tries to blink back the tears that coat her eyes.
She licks her lips, and a few tears slip down her face. “Enzo, I know what this world is and how it operates. It’s nothing new to me, but to see you,” she pauses and lets out a deep breath, “butto see you, slumped down, bleeding all that went through my mind was that you were being taken away from me before––”
I smirk, grazing my thumb gently over the palm of her hand and ask, “Before what?”
She leans in closer and looks down at our hands. “Before this marriage really starts.”
“And what else?” I pull myself up closer to her.
Her breath hitches, and her chest starts to rise and fall. I can see her pulse in her neck quickened which is her tell that she is affected by me. “Before you…”
I know she is nervous to say what she wants to say. That kiss tonight is more than I could ever want. It was everything. I felt that damn kiss in my fucking bones. Felt it deep inside my blackened heart.
“Before I had a chance to taste you. Before I had a chance to lick, bite, touch every single inch of your body. Before I stretch out your sweet, tight beautiful cunt?” She does not back away at my confession, but the blue of her eyes darkens around her iris and a soft moan escapes her mouth. “Tell me I’m wrong.” I move my hand from hers, trail my fingers up her exposed thigh, stopping right at the hemline of her dress.
“No, you’re not wrong,” she whispers.
My hand slips farther up her dress, reaching her lace panties. My fingers graze the outside of her pussy. She is soaked, and the little hair she has on her cunt. My cock is rock hard and begging to be released from the contents of my pants. I don’t miss how her eyes look down at the tent in my pants, and I chuckle. “Amuri mui, this is what you do to me. The thought of your beautiful smile, the sound of your laughter, feeling you attached to me in your sleep. Just. You.” I press my fingers against her pussy a little more and she lets out a throaty moan. “I know you feel the same way based on how soaked your cunt is.” Her teeth graze her bottom lip and bites down. My greedy fingers pull herpanties to the side, her thighs part, giving me more access like the good little wife she is. I slip two fingers past her lips, circle her clit then up and down. She lets her head fall back and her hips buck against my fingers. “That’s right, baby, you feel so good. I want to watch you come just like this on my fingers. I want to feel you dripping wet, begging for more, and only my name falling from your lips.”
I pick up the pace of the pressure on her clit as her moans grow louder and louder, echoing off our bedroom walls. My dick is throbbing and demanding a release. I can feel the precum leaking from my head, wetting the front of my pants. I don’t fucking care because my fantasy of my wife coming on my fingers, in our bed is now a reality.
I lean in closer, my lips grazing her up her neck, then stopping at her ear, I whisper, “Be a good little wife and come for me.” Her hips rock with more force, her breathing increases and her cries grow louder.
