Page 88 of Mafia Kingdom

"You should be resting," she says, coming to stand beside me at the railing. The morning light catches in her hair, gleaming against the dark strands despite the ash and smoke clinging to them.

"So should you," I counter, taking in her exhausted features, the shadows beneath her eyes.

"I tried. Couldn't shut my brain off." She gestures toward the damaged grounds. "It's worse in the daylight, isn't it?"

"More visible," I agree. "Not worse."

She nods. The true damage occurred last night—the deaths, the betrayals, the breaking of bonds once thought unbreakable. Daylight merely illuminates the aftermath.

"My father knew the attack was coming, his house in Wicklow is empty. He helped orchestrate this."

Sasha slips her hand into mine, a simple gesture of connection that somehow steadies me more than anything else could. "I'm sorry, Marco."

"Don't be. Family is complicated." The understatement almost makes me laugh, the gallows humor of a man who has lost everything he once thought defined him. "How's Lily?"

"Finally sleeping. Karen, too." She leans against my shoulder, fatigue evident in the way she allows me to support her weight. "Lily keeps asking when we can help clean up'Marco's castle.' I think she sees this whole thing as some kind of adventure story."

"The resilience of children," I observe, oddly comforted by Lily's perspective. "Unscarred by context, undamaged by implications."

"For now," Sasha agrees, a shadow crossing her face. "But she can't stay in this environment long-term, Marco. Neither can Karen. Once things stabilize, we need to find them somewhere safe, away from all this."

"I'll make arrangements," I promise. "Once we've dealt with this, we'll find them somewhere secure. With proper security, of course."

She squeezes my hand in silent gratitude.

“I have a meeting soon with my men.”

"You need to clean up before it," she says.

The mundane concern almost makes me smile despite everything. "Is that your professional opinion?"

"It is," she confirms, the ghost of a smile touching her lips. "Come on. I'll help you."

I allow her to lead me inside through the undamaged portions of the house to our temporary quarters in the west wing.

The domestic intimacy of her drawing a bath, helping me out of clothes stiff with dried blood and smoke, feels surreal against the backdrop of last night's violence.

I can’t stop the erection that grows at her closeness. The room fills with steam, as the bath runs.

As I sink into the steaming water, but not before I catch Sasha glancing at my cock, I smirk but groan as my muscles protesting every movement, Sasha kneels beside the tub and carefully cleans the cut on my face. Her touch is gentle but firm.

"This will need stitches," she murmurs, examining the wound with clinical detachment.

"Later," I dismiss. "It can wait."

Sasha continues to asses my wounds, my side and as her hands dip under the water, I spring out and grip her wrists.

“Join me now, or I’ll drag you in for teasing me,” I growl.

She laughs and it makes my cock twitch. “I’m not teasing; I’m trying to see your bruising.”

“So, you didn’t glance at my erection?” I ask.

Her face heats. “It’s hard not to notice.” She pulls her wrists out of my grasp and stands, stripping off before getting into the bath.

The water ripples gently around us, silky and heated, wrapping around our bodies as I settle back against the cool porcelain edge of the bathtub. Sasha nestles perfectly between my legs, her smooth back pressing firmly against my chest, her head tilting to rest lightly against my shoulder, exposing the elegant length of her neck.

My hands move with deliberate slowness over her slender shoulders, fingertips tracing the delicate curve of her collarbone. I let them wander lower, savoring the softness and warmth of her skin until they gently cup the fullness of her breasts. Her breath catches audibly when my thumbs sweep across her nipples, teasing and coaxing them into hardened, sensitive peaks. Sasha’s body responds instantly, arching into my touch, her hips moving subtly, restlessly beneath the surface, heightening the friction against my swelling erection.

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