Page 54 of Luca

Giada is still seated on my lap as our breaths and heartbeats slow to a normal rate. Her fingertips lightly run up and down my arms as I languidly kiss her mouth, her neck, her shoulder. We aren’t in the frenzied rush we were a few minutes ago, instead taking our time to touch each other, to gently reassure each other that this is happening, we’re here and alive and together.

“I’m going to get a washcloth, then when I come back to bed, I’ll lie on my back and you’re going to ride my face until I make you scream again. Sound good?”

Her mouth tilts up in a half smile as I feel her pussy ripple with anticipation.

“Yeah, I can tell you like the idea.”

The afternoon falls into evening, and Giada and I only leave the bed for dinner and to refill our water glasses. I’ve barely scratched the surface of all the ways I want my wife, coming up with new ones as we bring each other to unimaginable highs. My favorite was when she used the overripe bananas on the counter to make bread, and after putting it in the oven, she dropped to her knees and took my hard cock in her mouth, bringing me to orgasm while she played with her clit and made herself come with me.

Now that we’ve admitted the attraction we’ve had for each other, it’s as though the barriers between us have fallen away and we can’t keep our hands off one another. That’s one of the reasons I’m finding it hard to leave the penthouse this morning when Finn comes to pick me up for the meeting with the capos he’d set up yesterday.

I’m upstairs and Giada is sitting cross-legged on the bed wearing one of my oversized T-shirts as I attempt to knot my tie, but I am too damn distracted by her long legs as she rubs lotion into her skin after our shower.

Her eyes meet my heated stare and she smirks, watching me undo the mess I’ve made.

“Come here,” she says, kneeling at the edge of the bed.

I stand in front of her, and she takes the tie at each end and begins crossing and looping the silk material together.

“There,” she says, and I lean down to kiss her soft lips, my hands grazing her hips and moving under the cotton material so I can feel her skin.

“Do me a favor,” she says, her lips a hairsbreadth from mine. “Come back in one piece.”

I pull back and look into Giada’s worried eyes. Lifting my hand to cup her cheek, I stare into her amber eyes so she can see and feel the weight of my words. “There is no scenario where I wouldn’t come back here to you, Giada. Finn and I are going to be fine.” I smile and kiss the tip of her nose. “Now, do me a favor and be in nothing but my shirt when I get back.” I shoot her a wink and my heart leaps at her tinkling giggle.

“You’re something else, Luca Benetti.”

“Right back at you, Mrs. Benetti.”

I head down the stairs and meet my cousin in the hallway. “Let’s get this over with. I have a honeymoon to get back to.”

The meeting is being held at a bar outside of Boston just before Amatto territory. This is one of the few places that stays neutral, but the owner has no problem burying a body for the right price if things go sideways. Mario met us here, and the six living capos of the Cataldi organization are seated in the large private space in the back of the bar that usually houses backroom card games.

Tensions are high when we walk in and the Cataldi men see me standing next to my cousin.

“Can’t say I saw this coming,” Dario, one of the Cataldi capos, says when I sit, Finn to my right and Mario on the other side of him.

“I won’t keep you long, gentleman,” Finn starts. “It’s no secret my family and the Cataldis haven’t exactly coexisted peacefully the last several years.”

“Or ever,” another capo, Leandro, mumbles. Both he and Dario are on the younger side, maybe midforties, while the other four sitting at the table have been around since the beginning of Francesco’s reign.

“That’s fair. But a lot of the high tensions, shall we say, were the result of your former boss, Francesco, pinning several murders on my father when, in fact, it was Francesco who ordered the hits on his men.”

The six men narrow their eyes at Finn. “Why the hell would Francesco kill his own men? We would have known about it.” The question comes from a man with Salvatore, one of the capos who’s been in the organization the longest.

“He had a man years ago, another capo who doubled as his personal assassin when he wanted to deal with things quietly. Constantine Barelli.”

“How the hell do you know that name? Constantine died years ago,” Salvatore says.

“Actually, he didn’t.” I decide now’s as good a time as any to speak up. “Francesco ordered him to kill my parents and me when I was a baby, but he couldn’t finish the job. He took me and ran, staying hidden until he died just over eight years ago. Raised me as his own. Before he passed, he told me the whole story and who my parents really were.”

“And who were your parents, kid?” Dario asks.

“My father was Elio Romano, and my mother was Ciara, Maeve Monaghan’s sister.”

Salvatore scoffs and waves his hand at me. “You really believe this, Amatto? That’s not how our world works. Maybe the Irish have no problem killing their own, but the Italians don’t go around murdering their own capos.”

“I’m well aware of what the Italians do and don’t do, Sal. So yes, I believe my son-in-law and his cousin.” Mario gives Salvatore a hard stare and the older capo returns it before another man speaks.

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