Page 37 of One Savage Union

Every bite. Every sip. Every quiet moan of pleasure. All mine.

I move like a man possessed—knife flashing, flame roaring, basil and garlic perfuming the air. The same rhythm I learned at my mother’s elbow when I was still just a boy with raw fingers from piano keys and a father whose bark outweighed his worth.

Back when music was my only rebellion.

Back when I still believed love didn’t leave scars.

Cooking calmed me then. My mother would press dough into my hands and say,“If you can feed someone, you’ll never lose your humanity.”

Now these hands punish.

They dominate.

They carve obedience into the bodies of men—and bury pleasure into the softest parts of her.

Even after everything—her disobedience, her fire, the chaos she stirs in me—I want to nourish her.

I want to watch her lips wrap around the food I made, feel her sigh when the flavor hits her tongue, and know I put that sound in her throat.

God help me, I want her to crave me in every way.

That’s the problem.

Lucia Ricci is a distraction—a storm wrapped in silk and attitude. Every minute I spend thinking about her is one I could be using to destroy Leo or secure our next move with Ricci.

But she’sinme now.

And if I’m not careful, she’ll become more than my weakness—she’ll become my downfall.

No.I can’t allow that. I’ve worked too long and killed too many. I’m not throwing it away for a beautiful, disobedient concert pianist with daddy issues and a mouth that makes me want to sin.

But… I’ll feed her tonight.

And maybe—just maybe—if she looks at me with those eyes full of fire and surrender… I won’t burn with her.

I place some garlic bread into the oven and rise to Enzo standing across the island from me with a raised eyebrow and a ridiculous smirk on his face. He was silent on the plane ride here, because he knew I was pissed. He wasn’t scared of me; he was disappointed in himself. The man is a serial perfectionist.

Enzo is sharp and a certified genius. His father is still a soldier on Capo Richie Caruso’s construction crew and has spent thirty years in the same position, as he gambles as much as he works. Regardless, Mickey Bianchi is a good man and highly respected within the family. He can kill a man with one punch. He was a professional boxer before becoming a made man, and he is vicious in the ring. He’s Caruso’s muscle, and he tried to teach both Mario and Enzo to have the same bloodthirst as him.

The problem was that Enzo never loved boxing the way his father did. Enzo would rather make his enemies suffer by draining their bank accounts or hacking into their lives to blackmail them. His torture is life-altering, and you don’t want to be on his bad side. He’s a vindictive son of a bitch, but he’s loyal to his circle. He’s also our comedian when he wants to be, but that shit gets old quick.

“When did you become Chef Boyardee? Should I get you an apron and hat to complete your look?”

I slam the oven shut with my foot and look up.

“Fuck off Enzo! I hope you have some information about who tried to kill my wife and me, along with your witty comments.”

He nods, and his face turns solemn. “Indeed, I do. It was just as Mario and I thought, Leo had only just found out that Lucia was missing. He didn’t have time to coordinate such an attack. It wasn’t him, but he is still the reason for the attack.”

When he pauses and crosses his arms, I’m ready to jump across the table and punch him in his smug face. “Well? How is Leo responsible, and who is behind the attack?”

He takes his time pulling out a stool to sit down. Enzo’s theatrics piss me off and he knows it. He also knows that I’ll wait. I can already tell that I will not like what he has to say, and that makes him cautious. Whenever he delivers bad news, he jokes and stalls to calm his nerves. It only makes me angrier.

“It appears we’ve been heavily surveilled for the past few years by the Riccis. They knew where the safe house was and when you entered it. They were the ones who attacked.”

I pause.

This makes no sense.

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