Page 125 of His Juliet

Matteo snorted, the sound in stark contrast to his usual stoic demeanor. “Romeo would kill me if I hurt you. I’m not going to fight you, but you are going to punish me.”

I blinked.

“You’re upset with me because I hurt Romeo. So, take your revenge.” He held his arms out to the side.

The absurdity of the situation caused a laugh to bubble up in my chest. Once it started, I couldn’t stop it. I doubled over, laughter shaking my body until I was crying.

How had I gone from a lonely, solitary life as an agoraphobic bookseller to being the girlfriend of the underboss of the Italian Mafia? And now I was alone with one of the most dangerous men in New York City—or maybe even the world—and he wanted me to, what? Punch him? All while I had a pussy plug inside me?

“Oh, fuck,” Matteo muttered. “I’ve broken you. Romeo really is going to kill me.”

That only made me laugh harder. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed like this and it felt good, even if there was a hysterical edge to it.

I finally got myself under control and wiped the tears from my eyes. “You really want me to hit you?”

Matteo nodded.

“Okay. Okay.” I shook out my arms and approached him.

I’d been practicing throwing punches but so far had only hit a punching bag. I bounced on my toes and thought about all the injuries Romeo had come home with that night. His bruised ribs. Broken nose. Cuts on his chest. I let my anger fuel me as I threw a punch straight to his ribs.

A sharp pain shot through my hand.

Matteo looked down at me, brow furrowed. “What was that? I barely felt that. No, this is unacceptable.” He crossed the room in a huff and grabbed something from a cabinet before returning. “Give me your hands.”

“What?”

“Your hands, Juliet.”

He wrapped my hands before slipping on boxing gloves.

“No sister of mine is going to punch like that. Get over here.”

Sister.

God, that made my heart ache.

After an hour of practice with the leather heavy bag, Matteo made me punch him again.

“Well, I actually felt that one, so it’s an improvement,” he said with a slight grimace, his expression clearly a result of my weak attempt and not due to any pain I’d caused him.

I grinned and elbowed him in the ribs. “Thanks for the glowing report.”

The front door of the apartment opened and Sofiya called out a cheerfulhello. The change in Matteo was instant—his entire body went on full alert, perfectly attuned to his wife. He picked up Clementine, cradling her to his chest, and took a few steps towards the door before stopping.

“We good now?” He tensed as if bracing for my answer.

“Yeah, we’re good.”

He nodded, and as we headed out of the gym, I felt like I had just gained a brother.

59

ROMEO

Snowflakes whippedaround me as the driver opened the car door. My feet hit the red carpet outside The Sovereign, Boston’s most exclusive luxury hotel and event venue. Tonight, the richest of the city were gathered for a fundraiser. I had no fucking clue what the gala was fundraising for, and I doubted most of the attendees knew either. This event was about flaunting status, money, and power.

I waved at the cameras, forcing the playboy smirk the public was accustomed to seeing onto my face as I headed up the stairs. Resentment burned in my chest as I handed my coat to an attendant and entered the main ballroom. I didn’t want to be here. I wanted to be back in New York City with my girl.

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