Page 50 of Dark Mafia Heir

I toss the phone onto the desk, pacing the length of the room. This wasn’t just an attack—it was a message. And whoever sent it will regret making me their target.

The meetingwith the men is long and strategic. Every one of my men is affected, and, though they don’t try to show their distress, their anger is palpable.

Luca says it will take more than a few days to trace the culprit. Lorenzo’s already sharpening blades, ready to go on a foot hunt, no matter how long it’ll take. I give him permission, appoint more men to accompany him, and dismiss the meeting.

Tomorrow’s going to be a long day, and the day after that. They are going to be needing a lot of rest tonight to face what’s ahead of us.

By the time I get to my bedroom, I’m already crumbling under the weight of fury and exhaustion. I don’t bother with asking Agatha to send up my dinner, or going to check on Vivienne in her room. Without a doubt, one look at the hands of the clock striking midnight on my phone screen, I know she’ll be asleep.

I toss my phone on the nightstand, drop my gun beside it, and take a quick shower. Fifteen minutes later, my head hits the pillow, I drag up the covers, and it’s night out.

At least, I think it is.

I’m not sure how long I’m out, but there’s a movement that groggily pulls me out of a dark dream. My gun lies on the nightstand, but I don’t reach for it. I don’t move. Hell, if I’m even breathing.

Keeping my eyes closed, I listen intently, taking note of every movement. The door creaks gently, then there’s a shuffle of feet. It’s soft, so soft, I might still be dreaming. Only, I’m not.

I’m more certain of this idiot’s presence when the bed dips beside me, and one of the pillows brushes my arm.

There’s a sudden stillness, a familiar one.

The first time I ever shot someone, I placed my finger on the trigger, looked him in the eyes, and . . . hesitated. I fucking paused, because I knew, if I took the shot, there was no comingback from it, ever. The reason I can recall it now is because I took the shot.

My eyes open, and, with precision and mastered skill, I twist to my side, snatch the pillow, and flip the culprit on his back.

I frown.

Correction:herback.

Wide-eyed and stricken with fear, Vivienne’s chest heaves, and she tries to push me off her. I don’t budge.

“So, you’re the idiot.”

Unlike her usual spitfire self, she looks frozen, and I can’t tell if it’s because I interrupted her plan to suffocate me to death or hovering over her like a predator. On any other day, I’d let her off easy with a slap on the wrist. But today was far from regular. I lost twelve men, and twenty-five were fighting for their lives. I wasn’t in the mood to entertain the idea of my wife sending me off to an early grave.

“You tried to fucking kill me?”

“Antonio. . .” her voice is barely a whisper. “You’re. . .you’re naked.”

I glance down the length of my body. As a matter of fact, I am, stark naked; and somewhat displeased to see that my dick is not resonating with my anger. Instead of shrinking, it stands erect,hard, poking her thigh like it seeks permission to go inside.

I’m furious, but, even in the heat of the moment, I cannot deny that I want her. That her body calls to mine like a fucking siren and, instantly stands at attention.

So, my anger takes a different turn.

Without her permission, desperately, I crash my lips against hers, and kiss her as fiercely as the turbulent storms brewing inside me would permit. She gasps and moans into my mouth, eyelashes fluttering as I devour more of her.

This is one of those moments when I expect her to punch my chest or bite my lips until I hiss in pain and throw her out of my bed.

She wants to kill me, and I am torn between a decision to physically cause her pain or pleasure. But, were both insane, because neither of us let go.

Vivienne drives her tongue into my mouth. It’s warm and wet, evoking a growl from the depths of my soul, and I nip on upper lip, sucking deeply while she angles her head to give me deeper access.

She wriggles so much, her night dress rises higher above her thigh, and when she sighs, I pull away from her mouth, latching instead on one of her breasts through the silk fabric. She arches into me, filling my mouth and nose with the scent of flowery perfume.

Tugging the fabric lower, her pink tits peek above the white lace above the loose neckline, and I graze one with my teeth.

“Oh, my God.”

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