Page 47 of Until You Break
“I used to paint ice cream cones,” he said softly, testing if the car would throw it back. “Pastels. Gold flecks, because I thought rich people ate gold. She laughed. Called me her sugar boy.”
Sweetness landed where I don’t like strangers landing. Still, I gave him enough. “Gold tastes like nothing,” I said. “Painted or eaten. People like to believe it means more than it does.”
His jaw worked, argue, thank me, both, then he cut the thread, eyes back to the window.
My phone buzzed.
Luca: Just confirmed. Made a few calls—boys are coming, and they all want to see your husband. Don’t be boring, fratello. Damiano: You’ll lose a finger if you light one too early. Luca: Then at least let me confirm the fight’s on.
I showed Emilio. His mouth twitched like he didn’t want to smile.
“Tonight,” I told him. “The guys want to throw something on the roof terrace. Not tradition—more like a celebration. A party for us, for the family, for what we are now.”
We reached the warehouses fast. The air cooled, cars lined the lot under buzzing lamps. Adrian parked the SUV, men already moving to meet us before the engine settled.
Two men stepped forward, ties loose, work still on their hands. They shook mine first, firm, respectful. Their eyes flicked to Emilio, hesitation caught between respect and curiosity.
I hadn’t killed Dino. That would’ve been too easy. A man who touched what was mine deserved worse. So I kept him breathing, scarred and broken, a reminder to every set of eyes that betrayal of my husband cost more than blood.
“This is my husband,” I said, proud as sin. “You greet him like you greet me.”
They obeyed. Calloused palms met his.
His glance came back to me. “The crates from Genoa came in light,” one said, cautious. “Two short on the manifest. Could be an error.”
Next to me, Emilio’s breath hitched. “Damiano… he’s alive.”
I followed his gaze to Dino, battered, branded, carrying crates like penance. The man who had betrayed Emilio and had brought him into my hands.
“He is,” I said, loud enough for every man to hear. “Every scar on him is proof of what happens when family betrays its own. You can live through shame. You won’t outrun it.”
Laughter broke quick and mean, turning Dino into the punch line. Emilio went still under my hand, silence riding his throat so the room knew exactly where he stood, beside me. His eyes betrayed him anyway, a flash of guilt and old memory quickly swallowed. In his chest, shame flared, he wanted to defend, to explain, but silence was the only shield he had left.
We finished the work. I gave him two lines, enough to anchor him. “We’re checking manifests against crates. Making sure no one steals what’s ours.” Softer, “Errors cost blood.” Then I told Adrian, “Let’s go home.”
The gates opened, and we rolled back into the mansion’s courtyard. Gravel crunched under the tires, headlights cutting across rows of black cars already lined like soldiers. Laughter and shouts spilled from open windows, music vibrating faint through stone walls—the house already alive with celebration. I let my hand fall to his thigh, warm and heavy, pressing down until he stilled. My smile edged smug. “They know where you sleep,” I said, not a question, not a comfort, a claim. “They know whose bed you warm.”
Emilio’s head tilted, eyes catching the lights, the noise. “What is this? Has the party already started?” he asked, voice tight with wary curiosity.
I let a slow smile curl my mouth, secret and smug. “You’ll see,” I told him, low. “This is only the beginning.”
Inside. Upstairs.
Music drifted low from a speaker, bass a steady heartbeat against the walls. He stood in the glow of the lamp while I crossed to the wardrobe, pulling clothes for both of us. I pressed a shirt to his chest, fingers brushing too long, then bent to fasten the watch on his wrist myself.
He tried to button too fast, fingers clumsy with nerves he couldn’t hide. I caught his wrists lightly, stilled him, and bent close. “Easy,” I murmured, letting the praise cut through his tension. “You look better when you take your time.” I slowed him with a kiss, deep, filthy, until he hummed into my mouth, breath stolen when I finally let him go. My hands stayed on him, possessive at his waist, thumbs digging into soft heat through fabric.
He obeyed, fingers moving clumsy with nerves. I touched him between motions, adjusting a collar, stealing another kiss, dragging fingers over his skin until his breath caught again. I touched him between motions, adjusting a collar, stealing another kiss, dragging fingers over his skin until his breath caught again. Shame flickered when he realized he liked the attention, and he smothered it, cheeks hot. Desire coiled between us with every piece of clothing that shifted.
When he was dressed, I checked him once more, satisfied, then touched his wrist again. “Time to go.” My hand stayed firm at his nape as we stepped out. Music already drifted down from above, laughter spilling through the stone like the walls themselves partied. Together, we would climb to the roof, where the night was already waiting to begin.
CHAPTER 16
DAMIANO
The party was already a performance. Glasses lifted, guests whispering, Palermo waiting for blood and for the Bellandi groom on display. They had come for the fights, but also to see us together, my unwilling husband, my beautiful prize.
Emilio’s breath caught as we stepped onto the terrace, eyes darting over the glitter and press of bodies. “This is your idea of a wedding party?” he muttered, half awe, half disbelief. Over-the-top, indulgent, merciless. Exactly the way I wanted it.
