Not for the first time with this woman, I put her needs above mine.
I had left her father under Kirill’s guard for the time being, but his life was numbered in days. I’d wanted to make sure Lucia was all right before I did away with Don Marco Leone once and for all.
Because I’d fallen in love against my will with this Italian beauty who fired me up like no other woman ever had.
An unbidden thrill had come to my heart when she’d reciprocated. What I thought I didn’t need and had never wanted gave me the most pleasure of my life.
Now, she was my responsibility.
A responsibility I took more seriously than her father ever had.
Within the week, I’d sourced a therapist for her because I would do anything to make sure she was healthy and stopped self-harming for good.
Lucia didn’t balk at the twice-weekly appointments, and she didn’t go alone. I accompanied her to and from, sat in the waiting room every hour, and always took her for lunch afterward.
We tried different ethnic restaurants around the city, slowly eating our way through Boston.
I’d never taken a woman on a date before. Most of my relationships consisted of single nights with no names exchanged because letting anyone inside the Bratva life was hazardous. Of course, Lucia was well-versed in all the dangers incurred by the mafia existence.
After one of her appointments, we ended up at a Pakistani restaurant, several Zolotov soldiers on watch outside because I’d never risk her life again.
She bit into the crispy potato and vegetable dumpling called a samosa and murmured an appreciative mmm.
Then she glanced at me with a teasing curl to her plump lips. “I think you’re trying to butter me up, Arkady.”
I sat across from her on a woven mat with a short table between us, sipping from a pint of beer.
The woman had me trying all sorts of different things.
“And why would I need to butter you up, dragotsennaya printsessa?”
“Because you want to use the new paddle on me.” There was a sparkle in her honey-gold eyes.
Just her mention of the paddle with my specific endearment for her carved into the flat side made my balls ache and my cock harden with blood.
Reaching across the table, I flipped her hand over. I traced the sensitive skin of her inner wrist and watched as her eyelids became heavier.
“I don’t need your permission to paddle your ripe ass, and you know it.” I drew her hand to my lips and placed a hot kiss in the center of her palm. “I’ll fuck you when and where and how I want.”
And so I did later that night, up on the third floor, using the new paddle to strike her big tits and jiggly ass until my endearment bloomed across her skin.
Despite our daily outings and the nights of feverish lust—when I had her in every room of my home and not just the one that held all my special tools—I never again took gambles with her.
I maintained armed escorts wherever we went and kept a protective detail at the house.
Having murdered Don Sabato and his son, I was too jaded to believe more Sicilians wouldn’t swarm the American shores looking to reap vengeance.
I killed Lucia’s father the second day after I’d rescued her.
I’d taken out most of my rage against him the night that I nearly choked him to death by stuffing the boleadoras into his throat. When it came time for his death, I was merciful, for me at least.
I drove out to a wooded area.
I made him kneel.
I shot him through the base of his skull.
There’d been enough talking.
Don Marco would pay the rest of his debts owed to Lucia in hell.
I had his remains buried in their family plot with Bastiano and Lucia’s mama.
One day she may want to know.
In the meantime, I grew to appreciate her business mind. She sold her apartment for a pretty penny and invested the money in new real estate projects. It turned out she was something of a genius when given half the chance.
She’d even convinced Yury to purchase an empty shell of a building in the vicinity of The Cat and the Sickle to open another nightclub and expand his portfolio, which meant we could launder more money from the guns trafficking and cocaine trade.
Not only that, but she persuaded him to let Sasha help her design and promote the new venue.
While Maksim remained unimpressed, Sasha was almost speechless—for once—with gratitude.
Lucia brought her creativity to our home as well.
Our home.
I found it not at all distasteful to share a life with her.
While she fit every category necessary for a mafia wife, she retained her individuality.
Sometimes she fucked me.
Sometimes she fought with me because of her fiery Italian temper.
Sometimes she flirted until I couldn’t wait another second to get her naked and on my cock.
I wondered if I would ever touch the final depths of her.
I looked forward to finding out.
One evening in late October, nearly two months after the fateful night I’d saved her in that alleyway, I walked into the house she’d transformed with her elegant design style.
Shrugging out of my suit jacket, I loosened my tie and rolled up my shirtsleeves. I moved soundlessly through the bottom floor of the house.
In the den, I unholstered my Sig Sauer.
I kept a multitude of other weapons around the place, but I didn’t need to worry about Lucia being a threat to me, the Bratva, or herself anymore.
She wasn’t running.
She wasn’t cutting herself.
She’d committed completely to being mine.
After dropping my tie over the back of my desk chair and shoving my phone in a drawer, I made my way to the kitchen. The delicious aroma of home cooking guided me.
As I rounded the corner, my jaw fell open.
With a flip of her jet-black hair over one shoulder, Lucia turned from something bubbling on the stove. Her amber eyes simmered as they roved over me where I’d halted in the doorway.
She wore nothing but a gauzy sheer robe draped across her bold curves, hiding little and revealing enough to make my mouth water. The flowing, barely belted gown in ivory tones complemented her tawny flesh.
“I made you dinner.” One corner of her berry red mouth curved upward.
I might’ve made a strangled sound, my mouth still agape.
She held a long-stemmed glass between two fingers and sipped the rich red wine. “Arkady.”
“What?” Licking my lips, I blinked slowly.
I didn’t want to lose a second of this sexy goddess in front of me.
“Did you hear me?” As she motioned with a shoulder, one side of the robe dipped down and gaped—just like my mouth—at her glorious cleavage.
“Da.” Food. Whatever.
I barely glanced at the feast she’d prepared. She’d arranged savory dishes I’d never tasted before across the whole length of the table.
“Are you hungry?” Sultry undertones made her voice smoky.
I could barely fucking swallow, and my cock just about tore through my trousers.
“Very much so.” A waft of her perfume trailed toward me, and I scented her like she was my prey.
Lucia sauntered forward, chin tipped up, glass in hand, the sway of her hips entirely hypnotic.
“Good.” She tempted and teased, drawing her fingertips along my jaw before she turned on her heels.
She strolled away from me, and I expelled a pent-up ragged breath. Following her, I stalked her through the house.