Page 110 of Knuckles & Knives
“There’s one more thing,” Victoria says as the formal negotiations conclude. “Something we need to address directly.”
“Your unusual domestic situation,” Catalina says with diplomatic understatement.
“Five people in a committed relationship,” I reply directly, refusing to soften the reality with euphemisms. “Living together, working together, making decisions together.”
“It’s unprecedented,” the New Orleans representative admits. “Traditional organized crime operates through patriarchal hierarchies. Single leaders with subordinate advisors. Clear chains of command.”
“And how well have those traditional structures worked out?” Axel asks with pointed humor. “Betrayal, successionwars, constant internal power struggles. Maybe it’s time to try something different.”
“The question,” Elena says carefully, “is whether the criminal world will accept leadership from such an unconventional arrangement.”
“The criminal world will accept whatever produces the best results,” I state with absolute confidence. “And our results speak for themselves.”
“Plus,” Dom adds with characteristic bluntness, “anyone who has a problem with our personal arrangements is welcome to test their objections against our professional competence.”
The silence that follows carries weight—recognition that what we’ve built together transcends traditional categories and produces superior outcomes to conventional approaches.
“Very well,” Victoria says finally. “Full territorial alliance, coordinated development programs, political cooperation. And complete discretion regarding your personal arrangements.”
“Not discretion,” I correct. “Acceptance. What exists between us isn’t shameful or hidden. It’s the foundation of everything we’ve accomplished.”
“Acceptance,” she agrees, though her tone suggests this represents significant adaptation for someone from her generation.
The formal signing ceremony takes thirty minutes and restructures criminal power across three states. But the real significance lies in what happens afterward, as our new allies depart and we’re left alone in the boardroom that now serves as the nerve center of an entirely transformed empire.
“So,” Marcus says as the elevator doors close behind our visitors, “we officially control the largest criminal alliance in American history.”
“Former criminal alliance,” I correct. “Current community development consortium.”
“Whatever we call it,” Kieran observes, moving to the window that overlooks our domain, “we’ve just committed to transformation on a scale that’s never been attempted.”
“Committed together,” Dom emphasizes, his protective instincts now extending to the hundreds of thousands of people whose lives will be affected by our decisions.
“Together,” I agree, feeling the weight and the possibility of what we’ve undertaken.
Kieran pulls me against the floor-to-ceiling windows, his ice-blue eyes dark with desire and his usual composure shattered by the magnitude of what we’ve just accomplished. “Do you understand what you’ve done?” he asks, his voice rough with emotion. “You’ve rewritten the rules of power itself.”
“We’ve rewritten them,” I correct, but any further words are lost as his mouth claims mine with desperate hunger. His kiss tastes like victory and champagne and the kind of raw need that only comes from watching the woman you love conquer the world.
Dom’s hands settle on my waist from behind, his massive frame surrounding me with warmth and protection even as his touch ignites fire along my nerve endings. His fingers find the zipper of my dress, sliding it down with deliberate slowness that makes me arch against Kieran’s body. “Proudest day of my life,” he murmurs against my neck, his breath hot against my skin, “watching you claim what’s ours.”
“Ours,” Marcus echoes, his analytical precision dissolving into raw want as he moves to my side, his fingers tracing patterns along my bare shoulder that make me shiver with anticipation. His touch is reverent, worshipful, like he’s cataloging every inch of skin for future reference.
And Axel, my beautiful wildcard, practically vibrating with excitement as he watches our spontaneous celebration unfold. His dark eyes burn with the kind of hunger that makes my coreclench with need. “Fuck, you’re magnificent,” he breathes, his usual chaos channeled into focused appreciation. “All of you. This. What we’ve built.”
The dress pools at my feet, leaving me in nothing but black lace that was chosen specifically for today—for this moment when we would claim our empire and each other simultaneously. Dom’s hands span my waist, his thumbs tracing the edge of my bra while Kieran’s mouth trails fire down my throat.
“I need you,” I breathe against Kieran’s mouth, my hands fisting in his platinum hair. “All of you. Now.”
“Here?” Marcus asks, his voice strained with want as his fingers trace the edge of my lace panties. “In the boardroom where we just restructured criminal power across three states?”
“Especially here,” I confirm, my voice breathless with desire and triumph. “Where we just changed everything. Where we proved that love creates more power than fear ever could.”
Kieran’s hands cup my breasts through the lace, his thumbs circling my nipples until they peak against the delicate fabric. “Christ, Raven,” he groans, his usual control completely shattered. “Do you know what you do to us? What you’ve always done to us?”
“Show me,” I challenge, and that’s all the permission they need.
Dom’s massive hands span my ribcage, lifting me easily onto the polished conference table while papers and territorial maps scatter to the floor. The cool mahogany against my bare thighs makes me gasp, the sensation heightened by the warm hands that immediately begin mapping my body with possessive reverence.
