Page 94 of I Would Beg For You

“Ladies and gentlemen, meet my wife, Naomi Smith-Andretti.”

The crowd bursts into an uproar. Questions are flying from everywhere, but our media person who Anya recommended isfielding them as we’re being escorted by hired bodyguards to the car.

Neither confirm nor deny—the rule of manipulation and persuasion. I expressly didn’t say any more. The people will grab onto what I presented and spin their own conclusions, which will probably be worse and more twisted than anything I could ever conjure.

The ride back to our house takes place in silence, Naomi burrowed into my side.

The first report comes right as we’re getting through the front door. It’s Carson Felix. The shit has hit the fan at the party’s headquarters in DC. Anya’s next. Everyone on the campaign trail is stunned. Then a live video pops up—someone cornered Smith and asked about his daughter’s wedding. Cazzo had the balls to state we had his blessings, and he knew all along, keeping it hush-hush because it was his daughter’s wish.

Overnight, more reports come in. Poll numbers showing Smith taking a deep dive in the public’s opinion. His name trending on major social media platforms. Naomi is a close second there, her being committed against her will and subsequent marriage being touted as a modern-day fairy-tale.

Declan Reeves calls late in the night with the most important news.

Smith’s party are dropping him. There’s just enough time for them to slip in a new candidate before the elections get too close. Whoever they have lined up won’t have a hard-on to bring on another RICO—that was Smith’s personal agenda against my late father, against me.

“It’s over?” Naomi asks.

I turn to her and press a kiss to her temple. “It is.”

We’re on our way upstairs to bed when my phone rings. It’s Don Giorgio.

“Valentino,” he says, laughing. “Well done, figliolo mio. Now you have to come to Matteo’s wedding.” He pauses, and suddenly, it feels momentous. “Many want to meet you, Don Andretti.”

Chapter 30 Naomi

It’s a beautiful dayfor a wedding. Summer hasn’t yet hit its full stride in New York, so the heat is still enjoyable and puts a smile on your face rather than making you think you’ve gone below into the fires of Hades.

We had a leisurely lunch with Francesca and are now on the road to Westchester County where Don Giorgio’s grandson is getting married.

I missed the old man by a hair, it appears, the day he came to invite us. I would’ve wanted to meet the person who confirmed my husband’s position as a Don in the big family of the Northeastern coast Mafia.

It surprised me that Valentino wasn’t already one. Luciano explained it to me—any family’s head is a boss. Not all families are confirmed by the Old Guard.

The Andrettis are now members of this coveted, elite circle. Even their father never reached such heights.

I glance at Valentino in the driver’s seat of the Levante. His shoulders are relaxed, strong forearms dusted with dark, masculine hairs exposed to the sun as he’s rolled the sleeves ofhis pale blue shirt up. His hair is unruly, sunglasses covering his eyes, jaw surprisingly not tense.

The tension has been leaving us both in the past month, since the day my uncle let us know about my father’s fall from grace. It’s been hard to watch the extent of his downfall, but he brought this on himself. I can’t spare him any pity, not that I have any left for him.

I wake up now with a lazy sigh as my husband leaves our bed to start his day. How can he get up so early, before the sun’s even come up? I’ll protest gently, which will make him laugh, and he usually comes back for a kiss.

More often than not, this ends up with his cock inside me as he takes me hard and fast, making me come just as strongly despite us probably having made love or fucked like animals in heat the previous night.

“Naomi,” Val says, eyes still on the road, a warning in the word.

A smile’s touching his beautiful lips, though.

I sigh heavily, very much exaggerating the sound.

“Stop looking at me like this,” he warns playfully.

I lick my top lip. “Like what?”

He chuckles. “Like you want to devour me right this instant.”

I squirm on my seat. “Well, now that you mention it…”

“Stop it,” he chides. “Minx.”

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