Page 75 of Deadly Wrath

“Good,” I rasp against her skin.

She’s fucking shaking under me, her thighs clamp tightly around my hips as she loses it. Her body locks up, then falls apart, coming so hard it’s like she forgets how to breathe.

I feel every pulse and every twitch. Fuck, it does something to me. I reach between us, sliding the toy out of her slow as hell. She’s squirming and too sensitive to handle much more. She lets out this half-whimper, half-moan, and I toss the damn thing to the floor.

She melts into the sheets, completely fucking wrecked, with her hair all over the place and parted lips like she’s still trying to catch up. I fucking love seeingher like this. Completely undone, and knowing I’m the one who did it.

I wrap her in my arms, flipping us so she’s sprawled on top of me. She collapses against my chest, face buried in my neck. When I finally move, I shift her to the clean side of the bed, leaving the mess behind, and head to the bathroom to start a bath. One glance in the mirror, and I stop dead in my tracks.Shit.Blood streaks my chest, scratches run down my arms, and bite marks across my neck. I look like I just stepped out of a war zone.

I come back and lift her into my arms, her face nuzzling into my chest, carrying her into the shower first to rinse. I angle her away from the mirror, she doesn’t need to see the wreckage we left behind. Setting her on her feet, I hold her steady with one arm around her waist. She sways a little, but I’ve got her. I grab the loofah, running it gently over her skin. My touch is soft and careful now. I know I wasn’t gentle earlier, and she needs this. Her eyes drift shut, lips curving in a lazy smile while I wash her clean.

Once I’m sure every mark that isn’tmineis gone, I lift her again, stepping out of the shower and lowering her into the warm bath. Her head tips back, a relieved sigh slipping out as she sinks into the water. Yeah,this will help with the soreness.

I sling a towel low around my waist and head back to the bedroom. The sheets are a fucking mess. Blood, sweat, and everything we left behind. I strip them off fast, tossing them in the hamper. She doesn’t need to see this because it’s bad.Even for me, it’s bad.The fresh bedding goes on, and by the time I return to the bathroom, she’s half-asleep in the tub.

I crouch down and press a kiss to her damp hair. “Let’s get you out of there,” I murmur. Her arms loop around my neck, and I lift her out of the water, ready to take care of her all over again.

33

Liv

It’s the weekend now, and Alessio thought it would be a fantastic idea to announce our engagement. Without consulting me, because why would he? He called his parents and scheduled dinner with them when they return from Portofino, where they’ve been vacationing for the last three weeks. I didn’t technically agree to meet them, but I didn’t exactly say no, either. The whole conversation happened right as he handed me a brand-new phone, one I get to keep and use as I want. Strings attached... definitely. Am I ignoring that fact for now? Also, yes.

The first thing I did was call Clover. I kept things vague and told him I was traveling and seeing the world. It’s not a total lie, just a heavily filtered version of the truth. No way am I dropping the ‘Hey, I’m engaged to a mafia boss’ bomb over the phone, especially when Alessio probably has some goon monitoring my calls. I’ll tell Clover eventually, just not today.

Meanwhile, Alessio’s throwing another dinner to “share the news” with his so-called most trusted men. Alessio was quick to mention the asshole Alonzo will be here but assured me the prick knows better than to even glance in my direction. That’s mildly comforting. Plus, I’ll have the big bad Warden sitting next to me for moral support, from the guy who kidnapped me.

Right now, I’m in crisis mode. Like, what in the hell am I going to wear? I stand in the walk-in closet, with my arms crossed, staring at a sea of dresses like one will magically jump out at me. Nerves twist in my stomach, but I don’t have the option to skip out on this dinner.

“Paola!” I yell.

“Yes, Liv?” Paola calls back, rushing into my room. I know I startled her as she was dusting or fluffing pillows for the third time today. The house is spotless, but she insists it needs to sparkle, like Alessio’s guests will run white-gloved inspections mid-dinner.

“I need help,” I plea, waving helplessly at the overwhelming rack of dresses.

Her face lights up. “You called the right person, dear,” she says, beaming like this is her favorite emergency. Paola steps into the closet, like a woman on a mission, gently nudging me aside so she can examine my options, as if she didn’t pick out every dress in here.

It’s been years since I played dress-up, but at this point, I’m more than happy to let her take the reins. This dinner feels like walking into a lion’s den wearing a meat suit, and I have zero clue what qualifies as mafia fiancéeappropriate. Murder-chic? Hostage-couture? The options are endless and all terrible.

Paola clicks her tongue, planting her hands on her hips as she scans the closet. “I wish you’d mentioned this sooner. I could’ve special-ordered something that screams, ‘touch me and die,’” she says, using air quotes with a mischievous spark in her eyes. “But don’t worry, you have a good selection to choose from. We’ll find something perfect.”

God, I hope so.

An hour later, I’m staring at my reflection, giving myself a once-over in the mirror, taking in the emerald-green Valentino satin mini dress Paola swore was perfect. The high neck and bubble hem work way better than I ever expected. Paired with the nude Louboutinheelsshe insisted I’d need someday, despite my protests that they’d only collect dust. I have to admit I was wrong, Paola knowsher shit. The dress hugs me in all the right places. The fabric is soft and complements my figure perfectly. Flattering but not screaming,look at me.

Thanks to Paola’s magic touch, my hair falls in soft waves with just enough volume to look effortless. I applymy NARS lipstick, On Edge. It feels fitting, considering what I’m walking into tonight.

Paola is totally in her element, grinning the entire time, and honestly, I’m enjoying it too. It’s been so long since I’ve done something like this. I missed out on these moments with Mom, and having Paola here feels nice. Comforting in a way I didn’t realize I need.

He appears behind me in the reflection, wearing a black suit tailored to perfection. His tie is slightly loosened, like he’s halfway between business and sin. His eyes drift down my body, slow and unapologetic, tracing over every inch of me. Heat crawls up my neck. I turn to say something, but he closes the space first.

His arms slide around my waist, pulling me flush against him. Heat radiates from his body, and that familiar scent of him wraps around me. God, he smells way too good for my sanity.

“Sir, the guests should be here any second,” Paola calls from the doorway, trying to sound professional, but the amusement in her voice is impossible to miss.

I laugh and glance over at her. “I won’t let him ruin all your hard work,” I say, nudging him with my elbow.

Paola smirks and slips out, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving us alone again.

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