HIS TO HOLD

SASSA DANIELS

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Epilogue

Afterword

Books of the Reluctant Vows Series

Books of the Lenkov Dynasty Series

Books of the Claimed Mates Series

Books of the Brides of Taar-Breck Series

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Copyright © 2024 by Stormy Night Publications and Sassa Daniels

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.

www.StormyNightPublications.com

Daniels, Sassa

His to Hold

Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson

This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.

CHAPTER 1

Antonio

Something has changed. The house doesn’t look the same as it did the last time I was here. The décor is different. It’s fresher, brighter. In the corridor, the floorboards have been stripped back to reveal a natural, pale wood. The walls have been painted an off-white color. They were gray before. Or were they blue? I don’t know why I care. It shouldn’t matter to me that the place feels more welcoming now than it did before. A prickle of envy shouldn’t stab my chest at the thought of my errant wife putting our marriage behind her and finding peace when I haven’t moved on. I shouldn’t wish we’d made this home together. A man in my position can’t afford to be sentimental.

As I walk into the living room, I realize it’s been decorated, too. There are new pink and cream throws on the sofa. I don’t recognize the floral armchair by the fireplace. It’s not my style, but it fits the room perfectly. A white fleecy blanket is draped over the back of the chair, probably more for comfort than warmth since it’s the middle of summer. A tattered paperback lies on the seat. Cherished Bride. I almost laugh. Isabella always enjoyed a good love story. How sad for her that ours was not one.

The image of domesticity the room conjures up is a perfect reflection of the woman I married. Isabella loved to read. She was more of a stay-at-home type than me, but that was part of the appeal. Even before I considered her as a bride, I thought she’d make someone an excellent wife and mother. I can’t believe I was so wrong about her.

There’s nobody in the living room, so I head back out into the corridor and work my way through the house until I eventually find my younger brother, Leo, in the kitchen. Like me and our siblings, he’s taller than average, with dark brown hair and blue eyes. Usually a fan of dress pants and tailored shirts, Leo is wearing jeans and a Henley, its sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Leaning back against the countertop, he has a cup of coffee in one hand and a Danish pastry in the other. He’s stuffing his face as if there isn’t a dead body lying at his feet.

“You’re getting crumbs on the corpse,” I tell him as I glance down at the man I entrusted with my treacherous wife’s care. His face is a mangled mess and his sandy blond hair is matted with congealed blood. Fuck! I’ve known Rico Mancini since high school, but I wouldn’t have recognized him if Leo hadn’t told me who’d been killed.

“Oh, no! Am I messing up the crime scene?” Leo’s tone drips with sarcasm. “Will the crumbs confuse the CSIs?”

My shoulders tense. My brother can be an irreverent fucker. He knows my issue is not with him contaminating a crime scene. Law enforcement will not be setting foot on this or any other property I own. Not unless they bring the fucking National Guard with them.

“A man is dead. Show some respect.”

“You sure this asshole deserves respect?” Leo gestures toward Rico with the hand that’s holding the pastry. Even more crumbs rain down on the body.

“He worked for the family for more than a decade. He was a loyal soldier.”

It’s more than can be said for a lot of the men who previously worked under my father. When I inherited the crown six years ago, I’d just turned twenty-five. Some of the old guard thought I was too young. They didn’t believe me capable of leading the family and tried to undermine my authority. A few even defected to our rivals. I dealt with every one of the traitors, of course, but it was a bloody and exhausting exercise. Rico’s family members were among the few who never wavered from their oath of loyalty to the Volantes.

“Was he?” Leo sets what remains of his pastry down on the marble countertop next to him. He drains the last of his coffee from the cup and puts it aside. “You don’t think he betrayed you? Your orders were for him to protect Isabella, but he must have done something to provoke her into violence. Or perhaps you imagined she developed psychopathic tendencies overnight and attacked him for fun?”

No, that is definitely not what I thought. Isabella might have set me up to get shot, but murder someone in cold blood? No, I don’t believe she’s capable of that. In fact, when Leo made his second call to me when I was on my way here, I was shocked to hear she’d killed a man. As Leo says, Rico must have made her lash out. Whatever he did, he obviously crossed a line, going against my orders to treat her well.

“Do you know what happened?”

Leo shakes his head. “Haven’t watched the footage yet. Best I can tell, Isabella whacked him a couple of times. She dialed 911 and my guys picked up the call.”

I’m glad I had Leo overseeing Isabella’s captivity. He can be a pain in the ass, but in protecting our family’s interests, he’s a total professional. He runs a tight ship and the team he has working for him is second to none.

If Isabella had somehow reached the cops, she’d be in a whole different world of trouble right now. While I might have persuaded the authorities to back off from investigating her, there’s no way I could make this right with Rico’s family. If they ever find out what she did, they’ll want her head on a silver platter. They won’t give a shit that she’s the boss’s wife.

I look down at my dead soldier again and grimace. Violence is part of my everyday life. It’s in my DNA. Yet something about this scene disturbs me. Perhaps it’s because Isabella did this. I can’t believe the woman I’ve known since she was just a child is capable of such savagery.

“What the hell did she hit him with?” It must have been something heavy to inflict that much damage.

Leo tilts his head toward the sink, which sits beneath the window that looks out onto the beach. There’s a long black handle sticking out of it.

“Who’d have thought it? The first time your wife picks up a skillet, she uses it to bash her guard’s face in.”

“Isabella’s an excellent cook,” I mutter needlessly.

Leo chuckles, but I don’t share his amusement. There is nothing remotely funny about this situation. My wife’s actions have caused a massive headache for me and may have put her in danger.

“Where is she now?”

“Bedroom. She freaked out when I got here, so I sent her to lie down.”

“Good.” It’s probably best to give Isabella a wide berth until she’s had a chance to calm down and I’ve decided what I’m going to do with her.

As Leo stares at me, waiting for further instruction, I scan the room. My eye snags on a painting on the wall by the pantry. The foreground is a cornfield and in the distance there’s a red barn. It’s not the sort of picture I’d expect to find in the kitchen of a beach house.

Leo follows my line of sight and snorts derisively. “Your wife’s got shit taste in art.”

“She’s made a lot of changes around the house,” I muse. I turn to scowl at my brother. “You were supposed to keep me apprised of what was going on with her.”

“I thought you meant shit like this.” Leo waves a hand at Rico. “I didn’t realize you wanted an update every time she bought a fucking vase.”

“Of course I wanted to know she was making herself at home. I mean, where did she even get this stuff?”

Though I gave her a generous monthly allowance for clothes and shit, she wasn’t supposed to go on shopping trips. I suppose she could have bought it all online.

“You’ll have to ask her,” Leo says, “or will you leave it to the rest of us to find out?”

He’s referring to the fact I asked my brothers to tell Isabella she was being sent here under guard as punishment. Recovering from a gunshot wound to the shoulder and a deeper injury to my pride, I wasn’t in a fit state to deal with her myself.

Before I have the chance to tell Leo he’s being an asshole for throwing that moment of weakness in my face, the front door bangs shut. Seconds later, my brothers, Alessandro and Matteo, walk into the room. I asked Leo to track them down and get them over here. Both are wearing black jeans and t-shirts. Leo must have warned them they’d have a mess to clean up because they’re not usually so casually dressed.

“Fuck!” Matteo releases a low whistle. “She really did a number on him. I didn’t know she had it in her.”

I ignore the remark and his obvious admiration for my wife’s actions. “Where’s Gio?”

Alessandro shrugs. “I called the house. Mamma said he’s not been home for a couple of days.”

Gio still lives with our mother and sister in the townhouse where we grew up. The rest of us have our own apartments in New York, but we also share a mansion in Connecticut and a cabin in Maine.

“And you couldn’t reach him on his cell?”

“Kept going straight to voicemail,” Alessandro replies.

It’s annoying as hell when my brother goes off grid, but I guess he’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.

“We don’t need Gio for this,” Matteo says.

He’s right. We can handle this without involving the entire family.

“So, what are we going to do with this asshole?” Matteo nudges Rico’s body with his foot.

I tut irritably. Do none of my brothers have any respect for the dead?

“We can’t just make him disappear.” His father and brother work for us. They know Rico’s been assigned to look after Isabella. “It’ll raise too many questions.”

“We could shoot Isabella, dump them both in the ocean, and tell everyone they ran off together.” Alessandro’s suggestion comes with a grin to show he’s joking, but I still clench my fists in annoyance.

“Nobody is shooting my wife.”

The smile on Alessandro’s face gets even wider. Ever since he married his beautiful Italian bride, Emilia, the smug bastard thinks he knows how I feel about Isabella. If he does, perhaps he could enlighten me, because I am definitely unsure of the emotions she inspires in me.

“So, what are you going to do with her?” Leo asks. “You can’t leave her here, not after this.”

I roll my eyes. He’s another newlywed who suddenly thinks he has some special insight.

“Let me worry about Isabella. Just focus on what we do with Rico.”

“I say we dump him in the city,” Matteo suggests. “At the back of some strip club. We’ll make it look like a mugging gone wrong.”

“Not many muggers carry a cast-iron skillet,” Leo points out.

I flash him a glare, but it bounces straight off him.

“By the time I’m finished, nobody will work out what killed him.” Matteo gets a bloodthirsty gleam in his eye.

“Good.” I know I can trust Matteo to handle this efficiently. “Sandro, I want you to help him. You can clean up here, Leo.”

“I was meant to spend the day with my wife,” he grumbles.

“You can take her to the fucking zoo some other time.” I still can’t believe Leo wanted a day off to go gawp at a bunch of caged animals. “Do we need to talk about who the boss of this family is?”

Leo’s jaw clenches. He’s not happy with me calling him out for his attitude, but he just shakes his head. He might enjoy pushing my buttons, but our sibling rivalry will never lead to him challenging me for my position. The bond I share with him, with all my brothers, is too strong for any of them to try to usurp me.

I glance down at Rico again and stifle a sigh. “Make sure this stays between us. Nobody else needs to know about Isabella’s involvement.”

My brothers all murmur their agreement. They know if the Mancini family demands justice, I’ll be faced with an impossible choice. The first option would be to silence them, but there’s a risk that in doing so, I’ll spark a rebellion in the ranks. Paolo and Gianni Mancini are well-liked. People won’t support me getting rid of them to protect the wife I’ve exiled.

My second option would be to hand Isabella over to the Mancinis, but that’s not something I could ever do. It would make me look weak and, besides, I can’t allow anyone to hurt her. While I’d happily wring her neck for what she’s done, I will kill any man who tries to harm her.

Leaving the people I trust most in the world to get on with the tasks I’ve set for them, I go in search of Isabella. As I head upstairs, a twinge of pain grips my right shoulder. It’s so intense, I actually gasp. I raise my hand and try to massage the ache away. The spot where I was injured hasn’t hurt for several months. My doctor and a top-notch physiotherapist saw to that. Why is it flaring up again on the day I’ll come face to face with Isabella? I guess it doesn’t take a psychologist to answer that.

I walk along the corridor to the primary suite, which is where I assume my wife sleeps. Aside from being the largest room, it has a great view of the ocean. It’s a luxury most prisoners wouldn’t be afforded.

When I open the door, I’m surprised to find Isabella isn’t lying on the bed, sobbing in distress. She’s standing with her back to the wall at the right side of the room. The king-sized bed lies between us.

She’s a mess. Blood splatters streak the front of her pale blue dress. Her long black hair is matted and her vivid green eyes glisten with unshed tears. Despite the state she’s in, my wife is still incredibly beautiful. She holds her chin up as she stares straight at me. If it wasn’t for the fact her lips are wobbling, I wouldn’t know she was afraid. Her chest rises and falls slowly. Then she blows out a breath.

“If you’re going to kill me, make it quick.”

Before I can assure my wayward bride I have no intention of hurting her, the strength she’d mustered deserts her. She takes a single step forward, stumbles, and crashes to the floor.

“Fuck!”

Did she hit her head? I go to check on her. Nothing’s bleeding, but she’s out cold. I think she fainted.

“Oh, Isabella,” I whisper as I brush the hair back from her pale, tear-streaked face. “What am I going to do with you?”

CHAPTER 2

Isabella

When I wake, the first thing I experience is a sharp pain shooting down my arm. I’ve been lying on it awkwardly. Sitting up, I rotate my shoulder to tease the tension. It takes a moment but, eventually, the pain fades to a dull ache.

The second thing I register is surprise. I thought when Antonio appeared in my bedroom, looking like an avenging angel, that he was going to kill me. It seems, in fact, he’s taken me to his Manhattan townhouse. Though I only shared this room with him for the few short weeks that our marriage was good, I instantly recognize the warm, earthy tones of the décor. The solid wooden bed I’m lying on is so large and imposing, I’m sure it was originally built for a Viking.

The third thing that grips me is a gut-wrenching twinge of regret. I killed a man. I battered Rico with a cast-iron skillet. Even as he lay helpless on the floor, I carried on hitting him. It was horrific, but what choice did I have? The man has been harassing me for months, cornering me in different parts of the house and touching me against my will. Today, I thought he was going to hurt me. If he’d carried out his threats, he couldn’t have risked leaving me alive to tell the tale. I have to remember that if I’m going to cope with the guilt of ending his life. It was him or me.

When I get up from the bed, I realize I’m wearing a black t-shirt that isn’t mine. It’s several sizes too big and falls to the top of my thighs. At some point, Antonio must have undressed me. How do I feel about that? It’s okay, I guess. He’s seen me naked before and I suppose I should be grateful not to be waking up in blood-soaked clothing. That would have freaked me out. I’d probably have fainted again.

The curtains are open, letting light into the room. It’s obviously daytime, but is it still Wednesday or did I sleep through an entire day? I must have been completely out of it if Antonio was able to move me to his house without waking me, so who knows?

Feeling grimy, I decide to go for a shower. When I push open the bathroom door, I’m hit by the familiar scent of Antonio’s body wash. The citrus notes make me think of long walks on a summer day. I shake my head. Ridiculous. As if Antonio and I ever took the time to go for a romantic stroll.

I strip off Antonio’s t-shirt and my panties, then get into the shower cubicle. The water temperature is preset the way my husband likes it so I don’t mess with the dials, just press the button to get the water flowing. It’s a couple of degrees cooler than I’m comfortable with, but I guess it’s invigorating and I need to wake up a bit.

I tilt my face up toward the water and let it stream over me for a minute before turning to wash my hair. It’s a tangled mess and I have to rake my fingers through it to get the worst of the knots out. I know I got blood in it so I don’t dare look at the floor of the shower in case the water running off me is pink. I shampoo thoroughly, rinse and repeat until I’m finally able to convince myself I’m clean.

Switching off the water, I get out of the shower and grab a towel. I dry myself quickly and put my panties and the t-shirt back on. There might still be some of my clothes in the closet in the bedroom, but I can’t bring myself to look. Though Antonio discarded me a year ago, I don’t think I could bear it if he’s wiped away every last trace of my existence.

Leaving my hair to drip dry, I come back out into the bedroom. As I head for the door, intending to track down Antonio and find out what he plans to do with me, I spot a tray by the fireplace. Curious, I go to check it out. There’s a bottle of water on it, along with a ham and tomato sandwich and a chocolate chip cookie.

I assume the food has been left for me, so I make myself comfortable in the armchair and grab the sandwich. While I eat, enjoying how the saltiness of the ham is tempered by the sweetness of the tomato, I wonder why I’m back here in the home I was banished from. A year ago, when I made the biggest mistake of my life by letting Antonio’s enemies into the house, I thought he’d put a bullet in my head. Though I thought I was doing the right thing at the time, I knew he wouldn’t see things that way. I was surprised he let me live. Now that I’ve killed one of his men, I can’t believe he’ll be merciful again. I know how the mob works—an eye for an eye.

Perhaps my estranged husband has different plans for me. There are worse fates than death. He might intend to send me to a whorehouse or sell me to some monster who’d make my life a living hell. Or perhaps I’m being overly dramatic and he’s finally going to give me a chance to explain my side of the story.

There’s only one way to find out what’s going through Antonio’s mind. Taking a quick drink of water and a large bite of the gooey cookie that tastes incredible, I get up and go to the door. I half expect to find it locked, but it isn’t. There’s no guard in the corridor either. As I walk along the passageway and downstairs into the grand entrance hall, I don’t encounter any of Antonio’s men. I feel freer than I have in a long time. For the past year, I’ve had someone dogging my steps whenever I left the sanctuary of my bedroom. A simple walk on the beach became a military operation. This feels, well, nice, until the thought occurs to me it might be a test. If I walk out the front door, will someone drag me back inside and lock me in a cell in the basement? I know there is one. I’ve been held in it before.

It’s better not to risk it. Running from Antonio is not an option. I turn left and walk along the corridor toward the study. The hardwood floor is cold beneath my feet. When I get to the room where Antonio conducts business, I hear someone speaking. The deep, masculine voice is achingly familiar. The tug at my heart tells me I missed Antonio more than I realized. I listen for a moment and conclude he’s the only one speaking. He must be making a phone call.

Indecision grips me. If he’s busy, interrupting him might not be the best idea. Antonio has always been intensely focused on his work. I don’t want to anger him. Looking back along the corridor, I consider whether I should return to the bedroom and wait for him to come to me. No, I’m done with being at the mercy of his whims. I need to be brave and deal with him.

Gathering my courage, I knock on the door. A moment later, it opens and I swear my heart stops beating. Antonio’s impressive frame fills the doorway. He isn’t wearing a jacket and tie for once. The top button of his shirt is open and the sleeves are rolled up to reveal his tanned forearms. His dark brown hair is immaculately styled. With his cellphone pressed to his ear, he looks pissed at my intrusion.

“I’ll talk to you later,” he tells whoever he was speaking to before ending the call.

He looks me up and down, his cool blue eyes raking over my bare legs. “Isabella.”

The way he drags my name over his tongue sends a delicious shiver down my spine.

“Antonio,” I acknowledge him in return. “Am I disturbing you?”

For several long seconds, he doesn’t answer. He just stares at me, an inscrutable expression on his face. “Yes, Isabella, you are.”

Nodding, I turn to leave. A firm hand on my arm stops me. I look down to where Antonio’s touch sears my skin.

“Come into my office. We need to talk.”

He releases my arm and moves back into the room, leaving me to follow. He goes to sit behind the large wooden desk. As I take the seat opposite, Antonio places his cellphone in the desk drawer and locks it. He’s always been paranoid about someone tampering with his phone.

It’s hard not to think back to the last time I was here, facing Antonio’s four brothers as they informed me I was to be sent away. Only Matteo, who I’ve known since elementary school, tried to calm my fears with his sympathetic glances. The others would have happily strangled me on the spot, even Gio, who’s so sweet it’s hard to believe he’s part of the mafia.

“You’ve made a hell of a mess, Isabella.” Antonio’s admonishment drags me back to the present.

“I know, but…”

He holds up a hand to silence me. Will he not even listen to my version of events? Disappointed, I snap my mouth shut.

“You don’t have to say a word. I know Rico threatened you, put his hands on you. I watched the video.”

Hope sweeps through me at the note of regret in his voice. Perhaps he won’t punish me for killing Rico. Then I realize what he said and frown.

“What video?”

“You didn’t think I left you there without surveillance?”

My entire body bristles with indignation. It was bad enough having guards making sure I didn’t go anywhere or see anyone without Antonio’s approval. Now I find out I was being monitored by cameras as well.

“You’ve been watching me?” I knew there were cameras placed discreetly at the front and back doors, but I didn’t realize there were any inside the house.

“Not me personally.” Antonio’s tone is tinged with disdain. Of course, he wouldn’t waste his own time spying on me.

“Then who?”

“Leo and his guys.”

I’m not sure how I feel about that. It’s such a violation of my privacy and I hate the thought of a cocky asshole like Leonardo Volante judging my every move. He’s always been my least favorite of the brothers, although I have to admit he was kind to me when he found me with Rico’s body.

“So, where was your surveillance when that creep was following me around, making lewd suggestions?” I demand. “Is it true you told Rico he could do whatever he liked to me?”

Antonio stiffens, his shoulders pulling back. “I gave him strict instructions to treat you with respect.”

I believe him. You can’t fake the outrage I hear in his voice.

Antonio scowls at me. “You seriously think I gave him free rein to do whatever he wanted to you?”

“I guess not.” Now that I think about it, I never really believed Antonio would permit that. It wasn’t because I imagined for one minute he actually cared about me. Something primal motivates men like Antonio. “I knew you wouldn’t allow another man to touch your property.”

Antonio doesn’t react when I describe myself that way. The arrogant swine actually believes I belong to him, since he put a ring on my finger. I grew up around men like him. Their mindset regarding women is stuck in the Middle Ages.

“If you suspected he was acting against orders, why didn’t you ask one of the other guards for help?” Antonio steeples his fingers as he mulls over his own question.

“They’d stick together, act as if I was being hysterical.”

Antonio nods, apparently realizing I’m right. “Why didn’t you call me?”

Contacting him hadn’t seemed like an option. I doubted he would help, considering he hadn’t spoken to me since the night he was shot.

“Why would I call you, Antonio? It was quite clear you wanted nothing to do with me.”

As he rises from his chair, I grasp the edge of mine, digging my fingers into the dark green leather. What is he doing? He comes around to my side of the desk and leans back against it. He cups my cheek with his hand. It’s a tender gesture, at odds with the dark desire in his eyes.

“Oh, Isabella, where did you get the idea I want nothing to do with you?”

Fuck! His smoldering gaze makes my pulse race. My clit throbs as I imagine his hand trailing lower, exploring my body. I picture him parting my legs and caressing me through the lace of my panties and then pushing a long, thick finger inside me. Just the thought makes me wet.

“Did you eat the snack I left for you?” Antonio asks.

The unexpected question jolts me from the salacious thoughts I was having. “Uh, yes.”

“You don’t feel unwell? Faint?”

Where has this concern for my welfare come from? He’s spent the entire year demonstrating he no longer cares about me. Perhaps he’s worried I’ll pass out before he has the chance to tell me what he intends to do with me.

“No, I feel fine.”

A wicked grin crosses his lips. “Then I want you to stand up, remove your panties, and bend over the desk.”

“What?” The command startles me. “Why?”

“You remember our wedding night?”

I remember it vividly. It would be impossible to forget the night I lost my virginity to the last man I ever expected to find myself married to. Though I’d been around the Volantes since I was a child, Matteo was the one I was friends with. I’d never thought his oldest brother would end up asking for my hand. Not that he actually asked. He summoned my father to a meeting one day and told him he was going to marry me. Since nobody argues with the head of one of the most powerful mob families in North America, my father agreed.

Antonio was the scariest man I’d ever encountered, but our wedding night wasn’t the ordeal I’d anticipated. Despite his gruff demeanor during our brief courtship, he took care of me, ensuring I was ready for him. He’d been so tender I’d deluded myself I was living in some sort of fairytale, despite his ominous warning that he’d spank me if I stepped out of line. I assume that’s the threat he wants me to remember now.

“Of course I do.”

“Then you recall I said your actions would have consequences?”

I snort derisively. “Are you planning to spank me for what happened a year ago, or for defending myself against a man who intended to rape me?”

He actually flinches at the accusing tone of my voice. Antonio sanctions acts of savage violence on a regular basis, but he can’t bear the thought of a woman being taken against her will.

“Neither. Your exile was punishment for your treachery, and I commend you for dealing with Rico so thoroughly.”

Well, that was unexpected. He sounded genuinely proud of me for standing up for myself.

“Oh.” I don’t know what else to say.

“What I’m going to spank you for is dialing 911.”

I still haven’t worked out how Leo Volante interrupted my call, but I have to admit I was relieved when he turned up instead of the police. Though I’ve always feared the man, I knew he would take care of things.

“You can’t punish me for that. I panicked.”

“Panic leads to mistakes. You need to learn to keep a cool head.” He removes his watch and sets it down on the desk. My heart thuds. “A spanking will remind you to remain calm under pressure.”

He’s basically suggesting he can train me to react to situations the way he wants me to through fear of being punished. I’m sure he is capable of programming a person’s behavior, but I’m equally certain I can prevent it from happening.

“And if I refuse?”

He spreads his arms wide. “Then you know where the door is.”

Surprise forces a gasp from my lungs. “I can leave?”

After a year of captivity, that seems too good to be true.

“Of course. Nobody’s forcing you to stay here.” He smiles darkly. “But you may want to consider what lies outside of these four walls.”

“What do you mean?”

“If you leave, you will no longer enjoy the protection my name offers. The Mancini family will come looking for answers. I hope you’re ready for them.”

It’s shitty of him to hold that over me, but I don’t bother to tell him that. Men like Antonio operate in a murky world. He’s used to coercing people into doing whatever he wants. He won’t give a damn if I call him out for being a bastard.

“You know I’m not.” I sigh resignedly. “You really want to spank me?”

Antonio nods. “It will help establish how things are going to be from now on.”

“How will things be from now on?”

Antonio bares his teeth in a feral grin. “You will assume all of your duties as my wife, but you will not be permitted to leave the house or have guests without my approval. You will obey my instructions without question, accept any disciplinary measures I impose, and share my bed. Of course if you ever cross me again, I will not be merciful.” He pauses, giving me a moment to absorb what he’s just said. “So, are you going to do as I asked, or should I call you a cab?”

I can’t prevent myself from releasing a sound of disbelief. He’ll call me a cab? It’s Antonio’s way of letting me know if I reject his terms, I’m truly on my own. He’s not even offering to have me driven somewhere, which is kind of brutal. It’s not as if I have a place to go. My parents haven’t contacted me at all in the past year, so I doubt they’d be waiting with open arms if I left Antonio.

Going out into the world alone isn’t an attractive option, but I’m not sure the prospect of living here with Antonio is any less frightening. Though he said my exile was punishment for betraying him, I can’t believe he would let go of that so easily. Whether he intends to or not, he’ll probably continue to make my life hell for the stupid mistake I made when I let Joey Gallo and his cousin into the house. Yet a part of me wants to resume our marriage. I need to put things right between us without revealing why I opened the door to his enemies that night. It’s a secret I promised to keep and I intend to honor that vow.

“Okay,” I say before I can slip into a spiral of indecision. “I’ll do as you ask.”

A smug smile curves Antonio’s lips. “Good girl.”

He steps to the side to give me room to move. I get up from my seat and slip off my lacy blue panties. A cool breeze whispers across my skin as I bend over the desk, the t-shirt riding up to expose my bare butt. I assume what I think is an appropriate position, with my palms on the desk. Antonio moves behind me and tuts disapprovingly.

“This won’t do, Isabella. Lay your upper body on the desk and stretch your arms up over your head.”

He taps the insides of my ankles with his foot. “And spread your legs wider.”

Ugh! I should have known he would demand a show of supplication. I arrange myself as he asked and try to get comfortable. With my body draped over the desk and my ass presented for punishment, I’m intensely aware of how vulnerable I am right now. I’m putting myself in the hands of a man who has every reason to hate me. But somehow, I’m sure he’s not going to harm me.

“Brace yourself, Bella. This is going to hurt.”

I’m so surprised by him addressing me with a degree of tenderness, I don’t register his warning. His palm cracks down on my bare ass and my mouth falls open. I expected that to hurt. Instead, what I feel is a pleasant warmth spreading across my butt and winding its way between my legs.

Just as the thought enters my head that this is going to be a walk in the park, Antonio dispels that foolish notion. He delivers several sharp smacks, alternating between my left and right buttocks. I have no idea how many times he’s spanked me so far, but each blow is more intense than the last. My flesh warms, and the discomfort builds in tandem with an unexpected surge of arousal. I have to work hard to keep my breathing steady.

Antonio delivers another slap to my already tender flesh, and this time I can’t help but react. I gasp loudly and clench my fists. I want to squeeze my thighs together, but my eagle-eyed husband would notice any movement. It’s better if he doesn’t know the effect he’s having on me. Realizing I’m getting turned on by being spanked might give him ideas.

“How do you feel?” Antonio asks.

“Sore.” I don’t tell him about the internal ache that needs to be soothed.

“Already?” he scoffs. “Such a pity because you’re going to take ten with my belt.”

“What?”

Startled, I rear up from the desk. Antonio catches me, his hands wrapping around my upper arms. He leans in close to whisper in my ear, not because he’s afraid of being overheard, but to be extra menacing. A shudder runs down my spine.

“If you want me to stop, all you have to do is yell taxi.”

My jaw clenches. Antonio can be an evil swine when he wants to be. He’s aware I can’t risk walking away from his protection. With no other option but to comply, I bow my head in defeat.

“Good girl. I knew you’d make the smart choice.”

It’s not the smart choice. It’s the only one I’ve got, and he knows it. Eventually, Rico’s family will wonder if I have information about his death and they’ll come looking for me. Antonio can keep me safe.

“Now, get back in position.”

Antonio lets go of my arms and I lie across the desk once more with my arms stretched out over my head. I push up onto my tiptoes so I can reach the opposite side and curl my fingers around the edge of the desk. Hopefully, having something to hold on to will help me get through this.

My heart rate picks up as I hear Antonio unbuckling his belt and sliding it through the loops of his dress pants. I grit my teeth. How bad is this going to be? His hand made my ass burn. A belt is surely going to hurt more. Gripping the edge of the desk, I suck in a breath and wait for him to begin.

CHAPTER 3

Antonio

When Isabella was a kid, hanging about with Matteo, I’d already been inducted into the family organization. I was too busy building my reputation to pay much notice to her. She was just there, in the background. She was a sweet girl, but at six years younger than me, she wasn’t someone I was interested in. That changed when she turned up for Matteo’s eighteenth birthday celebration looking all grown up in a gorgeous blue gown that clung to her curves. Her long, dark hair had trailed over her bare shoulders and her vivid green eyes sparkled. I was captivated, but still I waited another five years before making her mine. I was too busy establishing myself as the boss to think about marriage. When I did finally make her my wife, she ripped my fucking heart out.

Now, draped across my desk, Isabella is a vision of loveliness. Her bare ass is already a pretty shade of pink and I can’t wait to add a few red stripes with my belt. I don’t know what it is about seeing her in my ratty old t-shirt, but a primal urge to claim this woman takes hold of me. I need to make sure she understands, however, that things have changed. My protection comes at a price and she’d better be prepared to pay it.

“Relax, Bella.” She’s lying there as stiff as a board. “This will hurt more if you’re tense.”

“Isn’t that what you want?” she demands petulantly. “For it to hurt?”

“Believe it or not, I don’t enjoy the thought of causing you pain. I’m doing this because I need you to be safe and that means obeying my commands.”

She mumbles something that might have been ‘whatever.’ I should chastise her for the insolence, but Isabella has been through a lot with Rico. She hasn’t had a chance to come to terms with being back in my home either. I don’t want to overwhelm her with overly harsh discipline. The last thing I want to deal with is an emotional breakdown.

“You’re to count each stroke.” It will help Isabella to focus on what’s happening rather than allowing her mind to wander. “Understood?”

“Yes.”

I still don’t appreciate her tone. She’s a grown woman, not a recalcitrant teenager. I tap her butt with the edge of my belt and she gets the message to loosen her muscles. The moment she unclenches, I draw my arm back and bring the thick leather strap down across the full width of her perfectly rounded ass.

“Oh, ow!” Isabella shrieks. She jerks upright and then settles back down on the desk before I have to tell her to resume her position. “One.”

The second time I strike her with the belt, she hisses sharply.

“Two.” The way she moans makes my cock twitch. This spanking may prove as difficult for me as it is for her.

With the third lash across her butt, Isabella screeches loudly. Tears roll down her cheeks, but she remembers the count, spitting out the word ‘three’ at me like it’s a curse. Her flesh is a deeper shade of pink now. I raise the belt and just manage to stop myself swinging it as she reaches back to rub away the ache in her bottom.

“Get back in position.” My tone is harsh. “And do not reach behind you again, or I’ll tie you down and thrash you until you’re begging for mercy.”

Isabella’s shoulders slump, and she lowers herself back onto the hard surface. She grips the far edge of the desk so tightly her knuckles turn white. I aim for a fresh spot on the fleshiest part of her bottom for the fourth stroke. As it lands, leaving a beautiful red mark, Isabella claws at the wooden desk.

“Four,” she cries out.

She dances from one foot to the other before settling to receive a fifth stripe on her gorgeous ass. I deliver it with precision, hitting the exact spot I intended to on her left buttock. The scream she emits is almost inhuman. She bounces on her toes a couple of times and then sags against the desk.

Isabella’s reactions are a lot more dramatic than I expected. She’s not the first woman whose ass I’ve reddened, but I suspect this is a novel experience for her. In the few weeks we were together after our marriage, she was on her best behavior and I had no reason to punish her. Perhaps I should have given her an introductory spanking back then, so she’d know what it feels like.

“Five.” Her voice is little more than a whisper.

I bring the belt down once more and it cracks off her tender flesh. Isabella wails loudly and rocks her hips from side to side. Her mouth twists and her eyes screw shut. She’s hurting now. I’m about to tell her I’ll let her off with one more strike, but she speaks first, shocking the hell out of me.

“Taxi.” The word is almost inaudible through her gut-wrenching sobs.

“What?” I’m not asking her to repeat herself. I just can’t believe what she said. Does she want to leave? Would she really rather face Rico’s family than take a thrashing from me? I don’t get the chance to ask. Isabella pushes herself up off the desk. Without giving me a backward glance, she runs from the room.

It takes me a few seconds to compose myself. What just happened is bewildering. Did I really hurt her so badly she had to get away? On reflection, I don’t think I did. I’ve spanked women much more harshly in the past and not gotten such a theatrical response. Perhaps it was the act of submitting to punishment that was too much for her.

Stepping out into the corridor, I’m just in time to see Isabella turn toward the stairs. There’s a brief flash of her bare pink butt from beneath my t-shirt before she disappears from view. A better man wouldn’t experience a surge of desire on seeing the result of his discipline, but I’ve never claimed to be a good person.

As Isabella heads upstairs, I follow. Trying not to spook her further, I don’t race after her. I take my time, allowing her to get to my bedroom ahead of me. When I enter the room, she’s lying face down on the bed. Her shoulders shake as she sobs into a pillow. Fuck! Despite everything, I hate seeing her like this.

“Isabella.” I announce my presence as I walk toward her because I’m not sure she heard me come in and I don’t want to startle her. “Sit up and face me, please.”

Sniffing loudly, she does as I asked. She looks up at me, eyes red and puffy. Her cheeks are streaked with tears. Though she’s a bedraggled mess right now, nothing can diminish her beauty. It’s those vivid green eyes, the vulnerability they betray, that pull me in. An uncharacteristic urge to put an arm around my wife and offer her comfort comes over me, but I resist it. I want to have a frank conversation about what happened just now and can’t allow myself to get sidetracked.

“I’m sorry,” Isabella says before I speak. “Please don’t ask me to leave. I can’t face Rico’s family.”

“You’re my wife, Isabella. I’m not going to throw you to the wolves.”

She looks up at me with wide, scared eyes, and I realize my stance might be intimidating. I’m hovering over her with my arms folded across my chest. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I step back and lean against the dresser. It’s a more casual pose that will hopefully put Isabella a bit more at ease. While I don’t mind her being on edge, I’d prefer not to witness a complete meltdown.

“But I used my safe word,” she says.

That makes me grin. I can’t help it. What would my inexperienced wife know about safe words?

“You don’t have a safe word, Bella. I decide when a punishment is over, not you.”

“But you told me to say taxi if I wanted you to stop.”

I rub my chin thoughtfully. It seems there’s been a misunderstanding here. “I was giving you the chance to either accept a spanking with my belt or leave. It wasn’t a suggestion for a safe word.”

“I don’t get it.” The exasperation in her voice emphasizes the fact. “If I don’t have a safe word, how can I get you to stop if it’s too much for me?”

“You can’t.”

The furrowing of her brow tells me I’m going to have to be clearer about what I want from her.

“Isabella, I expect you to trust that I will realize when you’ve had enough and stop before I push you beyond your limits.”

“But I thought the submissive was the one who decided.”

I almost roll my eyes. What the hell does she think is going on here?

“You’ve been reading too many books, Bella. I’m not a Dom. I want control in the bedroom, and I will punish you when I feel you’ve earned it, but there will be no negotiations and no safe words. You’ll obey me in the bedroom and outside of it.”

She swallows so hard I hear the gulp. “You expect me to give you permission to do whatever you want to me? I’m to have no say in what happens in my life?”

I scrub a hand over my face. Does she not realize her ability to do as she wished was stripped away the moment I put a ring on her finger? As the wife of a mafia boss, she was always going to have to live within strict boundaries. The men who work under me have expectations of how she should behave and my enemies would exploit any opportunity to get to me through her. I thought I’d made that clear to her from the start.

“You’ll get the opportunity to prove yourself trustworthy and earn certain freedoms, but you’ll never be able to go out and do whatever you want,” I tell her. “I’ll be hard on you, Bella, but I’ll be fair.”

“Uh-huh.” She sounds unconvinced.

“This is your last chance, Bella. Accept how things are going to be or leave.”

Her eyes flash with irritation, an encouraging sign that the inner strength I know she possesses hasn’t been completely sapped out of her.

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can. You just have to understand that rejecting my generous offer to resume our marriage means you have to go it alone.”

Isabella casts her gaze downward. She fidgets with the hem of her t-shirt. I’m being an asshole, but it suits me to have her scared. I need her eyes to be open to the reality of her situation. Since she betrayed me, I owe her nothing. She’s lucky I’m prepared to offer another opportunity to make our marriage work.

I give her a scant thirty seconds to consider her options. “Well?”

“Okay, I’ll stay.”

I bark out a laugh. This woman has some nerve. She actually made it sound like she was doing me a favor.

“Then it’s settled and I don’t want to hear another word about you leaving, understood?”

She bobs her head up and down but that’s not good enough. I lean forward and cup a hand around my ear. “Didn’t catch that, Isabella.”

Like an angry kitten, she bares her teeth at me. “Yes, Antonio.”

“Good girl. Now, do you want to tell me what happened downstairs? Was the spanking really so painful?”

She shrugs and looks off to the side. Classic evasion. Though I don’t know my wife as well as I should, it’s clear she’s hiding something. She chews her bottom lip and stares off into the distance.

“Bella?” I prompt her.

“No, it didn’t hurt that much.” Her voice is so quiet I hardly hear her.

“So why did you run?”

She still doesn’t look at me, but the reddening of her cheeks reveals a lot. The way she squeezes her thighs together also gives her away.

“You were aroused.” I try not to sound as if I’m gloating, though I can’t deny a sense of triumph. “You enjoyed being spanked.”

Isabella lets out a slow exhale. “Yes, I did.”

“There’s no shame in that, Bella.” Her admission pleases me. “How do you feel now?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Restless, I guess.”

“I can help you with that.”

Finally, she lifts her eyes to meet mine. The corner of her mouth quirks up with the ghost of a smile. “Really? How?”

Now it’s my turn to grin. I know exactly what she needs. “Take that t-shirt off, lie back on the bed, and I’ll show you.”

CHAPTER 4

Isabella

No matter how great I know sex with Antonio will be, it can’t fix what’s wrong between us. Too much has happened, and we weren’t close to begin with. We never had a chance to get to know each other. We didn’t share our thoughts and feelings the way I imagine other couples do. In the brief time we were together, we didn’t sit down and talk about our day. We didn’t make plans for the future. Now that I think about it, we barely had a marriage at all.

The one thing we had going for us was mutual lust. We couldn’t get enough of each other. Antonio would come home at night and fuck me senseless. If it was late, he’d come to bed and wake me. Sometimes he was buried to the hilt inside me before I was fully awake.

At other times, he’d grab me wherever he found me. He’d kiss me breathless and then fuck me against the wall or over the nearest available surface. Afterward, we’d sleep, and in the morning, he’d be gone before I woke. There was little chance to talk. Although I hated that, I can’t say I didn’t love the way he mastered my body. Antonio showed me greater pleasure than I ever thought possible.

In the time we’ve been apart, the gulf between us has widened so much I doubt it can be bridged. Antonio thinks I aided an assassination attempt on him when I was just trying to protect someone close to him. I want to explain that, to assure Antonio I would never hurt him, but that would mean betraying someone else. Until I do, Antonio won’t forgive me. It’s a colossal mess, yet it’s been so long since I last experienced his intimate caresses, I can’t seem to care about the emotional consequences of giving myself to him.

I strip off the t-shirt and drop it on the floor. Despite not seeing my husband for almost a year, I don’t experience any shyness, as his eyes rake over me. He’s seen every part of me before. Besides, he just spanked my bare ass. After that, nudity isn’t such a big deal.

As I lie back, propping myself up on my elbows, I watch Antonio slowly unbuttoning his shirt. There’s a gleam of hunger in his eyes that says he wants to devour me, yet he takes his time undressing. It’s proof he’s in complete control. When he finally slips the shirt off his shoulders, I stifle a gasp. His body is mouth-wateringly magnificent. Though he’s lost some of the bulk he once had from lifting weights, his torso is still strong and muscular. This leaner look suits him better. While his brothers, Leo and Matteo, wear their muscles well, Antonio never did. He always looked a little top-heavy, not that I was complaining. Now, he’s absolute perfection.

At least he is apart from the scar on his shoulder, a glaring reminder of my stupidity in trusting Joey Gallo. Although Antonio can afford the best plastic surgeons in the country, the scar is a mess. It’s larger than I’d have expected and still an angry red color, even though it’s been a year. The skin around it is wrinkled and discolored. Why hasn’t he had it fixed? Can the damage be repaired? I have no idea.

As I stare at the scar, a strange urge comes over me to kiss it better. That impulse is immediately banished by a horrible thought. Have other women been tempted to do the same thing? Have they seen the hideous blemish and sympathized with him about his treacherous wife? Antonio has always had a healthy sex drive. I can’t imagine him abstaining for a week, never mind an entire year.

“I haven’t betrayed my vows,” he tells me, as if he heard my thoughts.

Though I’m shocked by that declaration, I believe him. He has no reason to lie. Men in our world cheat on their wives unapologetically. In fact, it’s frowned upon by some if a man doesn’t sleep around. Wives may hate it, but nobody speaks up. It wouldn’t make any difference if they did. Infidelity is ingrained in the culture.

That’s not the only thing that tells me he’s being honest with me. Since he believes I broke my oath to love, honor, and obey him, he’d probably relish the chance to describe any affair he’d had in great detail. He would enjoy hurting me with it. In his mind, my actions are justification for him to fuck around. So why hasn’t he?

It doesn’t matter. I don’t need to analyze his motivations. Hearing he hasn’t been with another woman is more of a relief than I ever imagined it would be. Tears prick my eyes, but I’m not going to shed them in case Antonio misunderstands and thinks I don’t want this. I do. There’s an ache of longing deep inside me that I need him to purge. More than that, I want to erase that asshole’s touch from my memory. Recalling Rico’s hands pawing at me makes me shudder.

“You’re thinking too much, Bella.”

Antonio drops to his knees and pulls my legs over his shoulders. Immediately I go from thinking too much to my mind being completely blank. Rational thought flees. There’s nothing but Antonio’s actions, the sensation of him swiping his tongue along the length of my pussy in a single firm stroke. That’s all that exists for me right now.

It’s been so long since I felt pleasure like this, I almost come on the spot. My hips lift of their own accord, but Antonio splays a hand across my stomach to pin me to the bed.

While I’m gripped with nervous anticipation, there’s nothing tentative about the way my husband dives right in to feast on my flesh. He’s savage, like a man brought to the brink of madness by hunger. His lips caress me, his tongue lashes my clit, making it pulse and swell. He isn’t gentle as he thrusts two fingers inside me, but I wouldn’t want him to be. I need every ounce of his brutality.

Clutching the sheets, I revel in his roughness, his impatience. His obvious desire is like a drug to me. I crave his touch more than my next breath. He sucks my clit into his mouth as he plunges his fingers deep, getting me good and wet, preparing me to take his cock.

I’ve missed this. In the time we’ve been apart, I’ve touched myself, but I never came close to achieving the sort of ecstasy Antonio wrings from my body. My head thrashes from side to side as he teases me with his tongue.

“I’m close,” I pant as he curls his fingers inside me, finding my g-spot.

It was a mistake to let him know I’m about to climax. Pulling away, Antonio gets to his feet and grins wickedly at me. I should have known this would happen. That orgasm would have come too easily. My husband wants me to suffer for it, to have me writhing and pleading beneath him. He needs me oblivious to everything but his mastery of my body.

“If you want to come, it’ll be with me inside you.”

He unzips his pants and pulls them down, along with his black boxer briefs. He doesn’t remove them completely. As his cock springs free from his clothing I sink my teeth into my bottom lip. There’s something mesmerizing about his erection. His shaft is long and thick with a prominent blue vein running along the underside. It’s a thing of beauty.

“Hands and knees.” Antonio’s tone is curt.

I desperately want to watch the expression on his face as he reclaims my body to try to work out what he feels. He’s at his least guarded when he’s fucking me. He doesn’t exactly wear his heart on his sleeve, but it’s easier to read him in those intimate moments.

I know better than to argue, however. Doing what he asked, I scramble onto all fours. Antonio puts a hand at the back of my head and shoves me onto the mattress so I’m face down, ass in the air. He could have just asked me to assume this position in the first place, but he wanted to assert his authority. He holds me down just long enough for the message to sink in that I’m not to move.

When he’s satisfied I’ll stay put, he removes his hand from my head and grabs my hip. The sudden contact in a ticklish spot makes me yelp, but I calm immediately as he gives me a warning squeeze.

Positioning himself behind me, he buries his cock to the hilt inside me. I shudder at the brutal invasion. It’s been almost a year since I felt this fullness, the sense of connection it brings. I’m so overwhelmed, tears form in my eyes.

“Does that feel good?” Antonio’s tone oozes confidence. He knows how incredible this is for me. “Did you miss being stuffed full of my cock?”

The crudeness of his words sends a ripple of desire straight to my core. I never thought I’d be so turned on by his bluntness. Before Antonio made his interest in me clear, I always imagined I’d end up married to a nice guy, the sort of man who’d make thoughtful gestures and shower me with affection.

My father’s a low-ranking member of the Volante organization, a mechanic who runs one of their repair shops. He’s beneath most people’s notice unless they need their car fixed. An arranged marriage didn’t seem to be in my future because having me as a wife brings no benefits to someone seeking more power and status. Antonio needed neither of those things. All that concerned him was having a pretty woman by his side.

If my father hadn’t taken advantage of a generous scholarship offered by the Volantes’ legitimate organization, I wouldn’t have been able to attend private school and I’d never have met Matteo. If our friendship hadn’t formed over a mutual love of history and a hatred of all things math related, I’d never have come to his oldest brother’s attention.

I’d have dated a couple of guys, found someone I clicked with and enjoyed a regular courtship with nights at the movies and dinners in pizzerias and burger joints. I’d have picked someone who shared my hopes and dreams, or at least gave a shit about them. He’d have wanted me as a partner. Instead, I got a husband who knows nothing about me as a person and everything about how to make my body sing.

Antonio tangles his fist in my hair and pulls my head back. “I asked you a question, Bella. Did you miss being stuffed full of your husband’s cock?”

It’s pointless to deny it since my entire body is thrumming with desire, but I’m not ready to admit how much he affects me. “No.”

“No?” Antonio’s lip curls in disgust. He lets go of my hair and I drop back onto the bed. “Liar.”

Pulling out of me, he thrusts back in, going even deeper. He fucks me hard and fast, giving me no chance to catch my breath or match his rhythm. I push my hips back to meet his, but he slaps my already punished ass, a warning to stay still. He doesn’t require my active participation. He just wants me to lie there and take what he has to give.

“Aren’t you the perfect little wife?” he taunts. “Taking my cock so well.”

He reaches between my legs and gathers some of the fluids, smearing them over my ass before pushing a finger inside. I moan as pain and pleasure mingle to create a whirlpool of sensation. Thanks to Antonio, I’m not an anal virgin, but I still find it strange having something in my ass.

“So tight, Bella. Looks like I’ll have to retrain you before I fuck this tight little hole again.”

That elicits a whimper from me. Antonio made me use a butt plug when he prepared my ass for him the last time, and it wasn’t the most enjoyable experience. I mean, it didn’t hurt, but he made me keep it in while I went about my daily routine. Walking around the house, my insides tingling because my ass is filled isn’t something I’m in a hurry to relive. I don’t like being on edge.

He withdraws his finger and continues to pound into me, battering my pussy with his massive cock. His animalistic grunts of pleasure spur me on to my orgasm. There’s something intoxicating about driving a man as controlled as Antonio to distraction.

As he pulls my hips up to change the angle of his thrusts, he repeatedly hits that hyper-sensitive spot inside me. Tightness grips my womb. My pussy clenches around him, and I cry out some incoherent jumble of words as I’m plunged headfirst into a whirlpool of bliss. My hips jerk and my limbs quiver. I’m on the verge of collapse when Antonio pulls out of me. He grabs my waist and drags me off the bed, depositing me on my knees on the floor.

He cups my cheeks with his hands and rubs his thumb over my lips. “Open.”

It’s a command I’m compelled to obey. Still trembling as my orgasm subsides, I open my mouth. Still holding my cheeks, Antonio shoves his cock straight to the back of my throat. Tears well in my eyes as I choke on his length. I scrabble at his legs, digging my nails into his thighs and he pulls back, just enough to let me breathe.

“Come on, Bella. You can take me.”

His words are more of a taunt than encouragement. This isn’t the first time he’s fucked my mouth. In fact, as short as our relationship has been, I couldn’t count the number of times he’s had me on my knees like this. But there’s a savagery in his thrusts I haven’t experienced before. He wants to hurt me.

Glancing up, I can’t miss the dark gleam in his eyes as he repeatedly makes me gag. He plunges in deep, hitting the back of my throat, enjoying every second of my misery as I choke on his cock. The vicious snarl on his lips is completely at odds with the tender way he strokes my cheek, encouraging me to take every inch of him, assuring me it will be okay. Does he hate me or not? I really can’t tell. The mixed signals are messing with my head.

I don’t know how he’ll react to me touching him, but when I release my grip on his thigh and cup his balls with my hand, he sighs with pleasure. Taking care not to hurt him, I squeeze. It elicits the reaction I wanted. His body shudders. He throws his head back with a low, ecstatic moan. He pushes his cock deep and then withdraws a little.

“Fuck, Bella!” He roars my name as he releases his cum over my tongue. “Swallow every drop.”

I do as he commands, gulping it all down.

“Show me,” Antonio demands as he pulls his cock out, dragging it over my swollen lips.

Opening my mouth wide, I stick out my tongue.

“Good girl.”

Even as his praise warms me, an arctic chill descends on the room. Antonio abruptly turns away and goes to the walk-in closet. I stay where I am, on my knees, trying to work out what I’m supposed to do. Should I follow him, seek a moment of closeness after that intense encounter? I doubt he’s in the mood for cuddling. Even on his best day, he’s not the affectionate type. Do I get up and dress, or get into bed and wait for round two? I have no idea. It’s not as if I can avoid the awkwardness by sneaking off home.

For a minute or so, I listen to Antonio moving around in the closet. When he emerges, he’s dressed in a black suit with a clean, crisp white shirt underneath. He’s put on a black tie. It’s the standard mob uniform. His brothers occasionally embrace a more casual look, but Antonio would never set foot outside of the house in jeans and a t-shirt. He strives for perfection. It isn’t mere vanity, but a deep understanding of the signals his clothing sends out. He has to maintain the appearance of being in control. He expects the same level of perfection from his wife, something I found exhausting.

As he walks to the door, he doesn’t spare me a glance, but throws instructions over his shoulder. “I’m taking you to Westport. Be ready in an hour.”

With that, he leaves the room. Slumping to the floor, a hot, sweaty mess, I try to catch my breath. I’m in the same house as my husband for the first time in a year, but it feels like we’ve never been farther apart.

CHAPTER 5

Antonio

Although I told Isabella to be ready to go in an hour, I need to get out of the house for a while to clear my head. Feeling her snug pussy clenching around my cock has scrambled my brain. I forgot how incredible it is to be joined with her, this woman I claimed as my own. There’s something about Isabella that has me acting in ways I normally wouldn’t. Whenever I’m with her, I lose focus. That makes her dangerous.

Gifting her an orgasm wasn’t something I planned on doing. I didn’t even intend to fuck her until she understands her new place in my life more fully. Yet, in a moment of insanity, I got down on my knees to give her pleasure. By worshiping her body like that, I gave her the upper hand. Fucking her hard and fast, then using her mouth to get myself off was supposed to be my way of regaining control. I’m not sure it worked. I can’t help thinking Isabella got the better of me and I don’t like it.

The decision to take her was a spur-of-the-moment one that I hope I don’t live to regret. I want to be alone with my wife, without distractions, while I work out where we go from here, but I worry about letting her close. If she betrays me again, I can’t be lenient a second time.

Although my men don’t know why I sent Isabella away, they understand it was a punishment for some serious transgression against me. Her banishment coincided with the sudden disappearance of Joey Gallo and his cousin. It’s an open secret that Leo killed them, something he wouldn’t have done without provocation. It doesn’t take a genius to make a link between their deaths and my wife being exiled.

Only my brothers and Dante, my closest friend, know what happened the night Isabella let the Gallos into our home to assassinate me. Although I had to spend a few days laying low while I recuperated from the gunshot wound Joey inflicted, nobody realized I’d been hurt. If the men who work for me ever learn the truth about Isabella’s involvement, they’ll think me weak for not punishing her more harshly. If she betrays me again, my hand will be forced. Despite everything, I hate the thought of harming her.

Before going out, I head into my study to grab my cellphone from the desk. When I retrieve it, I’m not surprised to find a half dozen missed calls. A man in my line of business gets very little peace. I shoot my driver, Enzo, a quick message, telling him to meet me out front with the car. Then I scroll through the notifications to see if there’s anything urgent I have to deal with.

All the calls I missed are from my brothers. No doubt they want an update on what’s happening with Isabella. Whether it’s me or her they’re worried about, I can’t be sure. I ignore them for now and go outside to find Enzo already waiting by the silver Mercedes S-class he prefers to drive. Rich and David, two trusted soldiers, occupy the Audi SUV sitting behind it. I take no chances with my safety or that of my family since the night I was shot. Whenever any of us leave the house, they take guards with them. I insist on it.

Enzo opens the back door of the car for me, but I walk around him and get into the passenger seat. While he’d like to maintain some distance from the boss, I’d rather sit up front so I can see his face when I’m talking to him.

“Where are we headed?” he asks as he settles into the driver’s side.

Fuck! That’s a good question. Needing to take a break from the troubling emotions I feel when I’m close to my wife, I rushed out of the house without considering a destination. Showing uncertainty in front of Enzo isn’t an option. I’ve built my reputation on being a strong and decisive leader. Dithering would not be a good look on me.

“Take me to the gym.”

It’s where Matteo will be at this time of day. My younger brother likes to put our newest recruits through their paces in the ring. He picks out the talented ones and offers them the chance to enter one of the cage fights we host regularly. They can earn decent prize money and women fall over themselves to get close to the winners. Taking the occasional beating is worth it for these young guys.

“Sure, boss.” Enzo taps out a quick message on his cellphone, letting our escort know where we’re going. The chances of us losing them in traffic are slim, but he likes to be sure they’ll know where to find us if it happens.

As we drive toward the huge metal gates that keep unwelcome guests off the property, they’re already opening for us. After the incident with the Gallos, I increased security, ensuring that even with help from an insider, it would be next to impossible for a would-be assassin to get into the house.

I lower my window. Enzo correctly interprets that as a signal for him to stop at the gatehouse. He pulls up at the single level brick building and Sal comes out to speak to me.

“Nobody enters the house while I’m not here and my wife doesn’t leave the property. Got it?”

“Got it.” Sal nods, a strand of gray hair flopping over his forehead.

He’s one of the oldest men in the organization, but is still capable of handling himself in any situation. My father valued him highly and when he offered his loyalty to me, I knew I could put my faith in him. He won’t let anything happen to Isabella.

“And let the guys in Westport know my wife and I are heading up there for a couple of days. Call Janetta too. Tell her to get our room ready and prepare dinner for us. Then she can take the night off.”

Sal nods in acknowledgment of my instructions. Satisfied he’ll do as I asked, I press the button to raise the window. Enzo pulls out onto the street and then makes a left.

“We’re going to Westport?” He sounds concerned and I know it’s because his wife is due to give birth any day now. Since I can’t have him with me when he’s distracted, I shake my head.

“I’ll drive myself. You stay here in case Alicia needs you.”

“Thanks, boss.” Enzo doesn’t show emotion. None of the men do in front of me. But the corner of his mouth tugs upward, letting me know he’s happy.

My father taught me to take care of our men. Small gestures here and there go a long way to ensuring their continued loyalty. Of course, I’d never let anyone take advantage of my generosity. If they did, I’d have to mete out a harsh punishment to prove I can’t be walked over.

The drive to the gym, located in a warehouse at the docks, takes about thirty minutes. I spend the time wisely, emailing instructions to my personal assistant, Jenny. I ask her to clear my diary for the next seven days and to liaise with my brother, Alessandro, on any urgent matters. He’s more than capable of overseeing the legitimate arm of our business for a few days. I message Alessandro to inform him of my decision.

Matteo can take care of the other side of things. Usually, I’d ask Leo, as my second-in-command, to assume control, but he’s got a brand-new wife to keep an eye on. Vinnie is the daughter of Carlo Bianchi, head of a rival family. Although she came to us looking for help to escape an arranged marriage, I don’t trust her. She could be setting us up to get into her father’s good graces. Determining whether she’s up to something is Leo’s problem for now, but if she proves to be a liability, I won’t think twice about stepping in.

When we get to the gym, Enzo parks out front and Rich pulls up behind us. There’s no need for them to come into the building with me since it’s full of our men, but they’ll want to catch up with some of the other guys so I let them tag along.

I spot Matteo over by the training ring at the center of the vast space. Two men I don’t recognize are sparring. The younger of them can’t be much more than eighteen. He’s tall and lean, but he’s putting up a good defense against his opponent, who’s at least twenty pounds heavier than him.

Nodding in response to the greetings I receive from various members of the organization, I make my way over to my brother.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he says as I join him.

Since I got shot, I’ve not been down here much. I prefer to work out in my home gym, where there’s nobody around to see the scar when I remove my shirt or ask questions about why my movement’s a little stiff sometimes.

“Yeah, I need a word.”

Matteo turns as if he’s about to head through to one of the private rooms out back, but I’m interested in what’s happening in the ring.

“Who’s the kid?”

“Philip de Soto.”

It’s not a name I recognize. “You thinking of taking him on?” I ask as the kid skillfully dodges a blow and delivers a bone-crunching jab with his left fist.

“He’s got potential.” Matteo’s response is less enthusiastic than I’d expect.

“But?”

“He’s Giulia Costanza’s little brother. Well, her half-brother.”

I suck a breath in through my teeth. Giulia Costanza was a school friend of Matteo and also Isabella. A sweet girl, she had a crush on my brother when she was younger. Her parents married her off to an older man who died on their wedding night. Matteo, being the asshole he is, made some crass remark at the funeral and offended Giulia. They haven’t spoken since, but I made sure she’s okay and warned her parents not to force her into marriage again.

“And she wouldn’t be happy about her brother fighting?” I guess.

“Not if I’m getting a cut of the prize money.” Matteo’s tone is flat. Although he would never admit it, losing Giulia’s friendship and then Isabella’s hit him hard. He’s always enjoyed female company, and not just for sex. He’s the only one of us who goes out of his way to spend time with our younger sister.

“You could try making things up with her.”

Matteo shakes his head. “Nah, if she wants to be a bitch, let her.” He tries to sound as if he doesn’t care, but the flippant tone doesn’t fool me. He’s hurting over their broken friendship. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

“Not here.”

There are too many people milling about, and I prefer to keep family matters private. I head through to the office at the back of the warehouse, my brother following. I sit on the leather sofa that runs the length of the wall behind the door while Matteo rests his ass on the edge of the desk.

“I’m taking off for a few days.”

My brother’s eyebrows shoot upward. “You’re going on vacation?”

I’m not sure I’d characterize it as a vacation since I don’t envision much relaxation happening. “I’m taking Isabella to Westport.”

“Okay,” Matteo says slowly. “First Leo takes Vinnie to the zoo and now you’re taking off with Isabella. What’s the world coming to?”

I shake my head, still unable to believe Leo took his wife to the fucking zoo. The way he’s indulging her worries me. Is he blind to the possibility she’s a danger to our family?

“It’s not the same thing.”

“Okay.” Matteo shoots me a skeptical look but doesn’t dispute what I’m saying. Brothers or not, I’m still his boss, and he knows not to push me too far. “So, what do you need from me?”

“I’ve asked Sandro to keep an eye on things at the Volante Group and I need you to make sure everything else runs smoothly.”

Matteo grimaces. “Shouldn’t Leo take charge?”

Being the second youngest brother, Matteo is acutely aware of the family hierarchy. He’s used to deferring to me, Leo, and Alessandro.

“He’s got his own shit to deal with right now. There’s a shipment coming in from the Balkans this week. I need someone whose focus is entirely on the job to ensure nothing goes wrong.”

“You expecting trouble?”

“No, the Bianchis have been quiet recently and our alliance with Reznov will keep the Russians and Albanians off our back.”

There’s always the possibility of some new group popping up and trying to rip us off or one of the local MCs trying their luck, but I trust Matteo to ensure they don’t give us any headaches.

“Okay. How long are you planning to be away?”

“A few days, a week at most.”

Matteo’s eyes widen. The longest I’ve been absent is the three days I allowed myself to take off after I was shot. My brothers are more than capable of filling my shoes, though. Alessandro has decent negotiating skills and understands the way the Volante Group conducts business. Matteo isn’t afraid of getting his hands dirty and has earned the admiration of our men. My father groomed me to take over our organization, but I made sure to bring my brothers in on every important deal so they could step in for me if I needed them to.

“Mamma’s party is on Friday,” Matteo points out.

Damn! I forgot about that. My mother is throwing a party to officially welcome Vinnie to the family, since my brother married the girl without any of us present.

“She’ll want to know where you’ve gone.”

He’s right, but I’m not ready to reveal to my mother that I’ve brought Isabella back from exile.

“Tell her it’s a business trip, unavoidable.”

“Okay, but what about Livvy? You know there’s something going on with her, right?”

“Like what?”

Matteo shrugs. “I don’t know, but something’s eating at her. She seems unhappy.”

I snort at that. “She’s a pampered eighteen-year-old. What the hell has she got to be unhappy about?”

Matteo shakes his head, disapproval etched in the furrowing of his brow and pursing of his lips. “How about the fact her big brother doesn’t know how old she is for a start?”

“What?”

“Livvy’s turning twenty in July. Her birthday’s three days after yours.”

I take a moment to think about that and realize he’s right.

“Apart from riding her ass about spending too much time on the phone and disrespecting Mamma, have you ever spoken to her?”

I wince at Matteo’s accusatory tone because, when it comes to my sister, I am somewhat detached. When she was born, I was already shadowing my old man after school and, at the weekend, learning the family business. I was too busy preparing for the role that awaited me to get to know my youngest sibling. Perhaps I should take time to get to know Olivia better, but she isn’t my primary concern right now. Matteo’s apparent reluctance to step up is.

“Don’t you want to take the reins?”

Matteo’s lips thin. He knows I’m deliberately steering the conversation away from our younger sister.

“I do, if you think it’s the right move.”

“It is.” I get up from the sofa. “Just don’t fuck up.”

My brother throws back his head and laughs. “Thanks for the pep talk, Tony. Now, can I give you a bit of advice?”

“Can I stop you?” I ask wryly.

“Nope.” He steps closer and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Give Izzy a chance. Whatever she’s done, she’s a good girl at heart.”

I bristle with annoyance, not just because he’s defending my treacherous wife, but because his words are a reminder he knows her so much better than I do. He has years of history with her that I don’t. Their relationship was never romantic, of course, and he maintained a respectful distance from her once I signaled my interest in her, but they shared a lot growing up.

“I won’t kill her,” I assure Matteo as I head for the door.

That’s as much as I can promise. Whether she comes back from our trip unscathed depends entirely on her behavior.

CHAPTER 6

Isabella

If I’d ever been given a say in the matter, I would have chosen to live in Westport. Though I loved the sea views at Amagansett where I spent the last year in my gilded cage, I prefer the lush greenery that surrounds the Volantes’ Connecticut mansion. The gardens are amazing. Hopefully, I’ll have a chance to explore them because I didn’t the last time I was here. Antonio and I came to the house for a few nights after we got married and barely left the bedroom. Things will be different this time, I guess. Nobody’s trying to pretend our marriage is the romance of the century anymore.

Since we left New York, with Antonio at the wheel of his gray Audi SUV and two similar cars following, barely a dozen words have passed between us. It’s clear my husband is not in the mood for conversation. His body language is closed off. His shoulders are tense, his mouth set in a firm line. Though the silence is unnerving, I don’t try to fill it. If Antonio doesn’t want to speak to me, that’s fine.

As we pull up at the gates of the mansion, they swing open to let us through. There are men armed with AR-15s standing outside the guardhouse to welcome us. Security is as tight here as it was at the house in the city. I guess since I helped the Gallos bypass his guards, Antonio has brought in extra measures at all the family’s properties. My husband won’t take any chances with the lives of those he cares about. That fierce protectiveness is one thing I always loved about him.

While the other cars split off from our convoy and head for the guards’ accommodations, Antonio drives us to the front of the house. Glimpses of light shine through the glass panel above the heavy wooden door. I wonder if anyone’s inside. Janetta, the Volantes’ housekeeper, may be there. I hope she is. The older woman would provide a welcome buffer between me and my taciturn husband.

After killing the engine, Antonio gets out of the car. I wait for him to come around to my side and open the door. Though he probably doesn’t feel like being chivalrous toward me right now, his manners are too deeply ingrained for him to leave me to get out of the car on my own. He wouldn’t want his men to see any signs of discord between us. Appearances matter.

Besides, as he reaches in and grabs my arm in a tight grip, it becomes clear he doesn’t trust me not to run off. It isn’t something I would do. I’d not get very far and I don’t want to embarrass myself or Antonio. The punishment he would mete out isn’t worth it.

He leads me into the house and releases my arm. “Stay.”

Though I object to being spoken to as if I’m a dog, I bite my tongue and do as I’m told. Antonio goes back outside and reappears a moment later with my suitcase. I found several outfits still hanging in the closet in Antonio’s—our—bedroom at the townhouse. Antonio didn’t need to bring anything but his laptop with him since he keeps a full wardrobe at both houses. He puts the suitcase at the bottom of the stairs, ready to take up to the bedroom later.

“Janetta left dinner.” His tone is clipped. My heart sinks as I realize that probably means the housekeeper has left us alone for the night. “Do you want to eat in the dining room or in the kitchen?”

I’m surprised he’s letting me make the choice, but I don’t even need to think about it. “The kitchen.”

While I love the dining room with its huge oval table and comfy high-backed wooden chairs, it’s a formal space meant for dinner parties. There’s a chandelier hanging over a table, permanently set with fancy porcelain plates and silver cutlery. The room is beautiful, but it isn’t cozy like the kitchen. There’s more chance of easing the tension between us if we eat in a more relaxed setting. At least, that’s what I’m hoping.

“The kitchen it is.”

Antonio leads the way along the corridor toward the back of the house. I glance at the black and white photographs on the wall as we pass. Most of the faces staring out from them are familiar, and I feel a pang of regret that I haven’t seen my husband’s family for so long. I particularly miss Matteo and Gio, the youngest of the brothers who isn’t cut out for the world he was born into.

As I spot someone I don’t recognize in the family portraits, I stop dead. “Who’s this with Alessandro?”

Antonio’s younger brother has his arm around a pretty girl, who’s resting her head on his shoulder. There’s a look of peace and contentment on her face I can’t help envying. They make a stunning couple. Alessandro must be serious about her if she made it onto this wall.

“That’s Emilia.” Antonio carries on walking. “His wife.”

My jaw drops. “His wife?” I jog to catch up with Antonio. “Alessandro got married?”

“Six months ago.” He glances down at me. “Nobody mentioned it?”

I shake my head. Antonio’s men sometimes barked orders at me, but they didn’t talk to me otherwise. We certainly didn’t chat about what was happening with the family over coffee and cake. Rico made it clear from the start that anything going on outside the walls of my luxurious prison was none of my business. War could have broken out and nobody would have bothered to tell me.

“I can’t believe he’s married.”

Alessandro’s a decent guy, but I didn’t think he was the type to settle down, not yet anyway.

I follow Antonio into the kitchen, and an incredible aroma of garlic and red wine hits me. Unless I’m very much mistaken, Janetta has made us Peposo, my favorite Tuscan stew.

“Did I miss any other big news?”

As I climb onto one of the high stools at the island in the center of the room, Antonio opens the bottle of Chianti that’s sitting on the countertop. I can’t prevent my lips from turning up at the corners. Janetta knows that’s my favorite wine, not his. It’s a subtle indication she’s on my side and I need someone on my team, even if they’re unlikely to show it openly.

“Depends what you consider big news, I guess.” Antonio pours two glasses of wine and slides one across the marble countertop toward me. “Leo got married a couple of days ago.”

It’s lucky he told me that before we started eating dinner because I might have choked. It’s the last thing I expected to hear. Leo Volante is a complete asshole, especially when it comes to women. He’s fucked his way through half of New York and doesn’t regret discarding his conquests once he’s done with them. He hasn’t got a gentle bone in his body, except when it comes to his mother. With a serious penchant for violence and a mile-wide streak of arrogance, he’s not an easy man. I can’t imagine what sort of woman would take him on.

“That’s monumental news. Who’s the blushing bride?”

Antonio purses his lips in what I take to be disapproval. “There wasn’t a lot of blushing going on.”

Ah, Leo’s new bride must have a mind of her own. That’s almost guaranteed to land a woman on Antonio’s shit list.

“So who is she?”

“Vinnie Bianchi.”

My eyes feel like they’re about to pop out. “Wait, what? Are you talking about Carlo Bianchi’s son?”

“Daughter.” Antonio drags a stool around to his side of the breakfast bar so he doesn’t have to sit shoulder to shoulder with me. “Venezia Bianchi. She goes by Vinnie.”

“So Carlo’s mysterious second son is actually a daughter?”

“That’s right.”

For years, people have wondered about Carlo’s second child, supposedly a son he sent away to be raised abroad. It takes me a moment to process the fact he has a daughter and that she’s married to Leo. I want to ask how that came about since the Bianchis and Volantes are mortal enemies, but Antonio scowls and I take that to mean the topic is now closed.

As he picks up his glass and rolls the stem between his fingers, I can’t help staring at Antonio’s hands. They’re strong and masculine, capable of choking the life out of a person. His fingers are long and elegant. Heat rises to my cheeks as I consider the incredible things they’re able to do.

Antonio clears his throat. When I glance at him, his expression is one of expectation. I furrow my brow, confused. What does he want from me?

“Dinner’s in the oven,” he says eventually.

It takes me another moment to realize he’s waiting for me to serve him. I could call him out for expecting his wife to dish up his food for him, but this isn’t a hill I’m willing to die on. Before our time is over, I’m sure there’ll be much more important issues for me to take a stand on.

I slide off my stool and go to the oven, acutely aware that Antonio is watching me. The aroma that hits me when I open the door makes my mouth water. Though I’m a decent cook, I haven’t mastered Tuscan cuisine the way Janetta has.

Grabbing the padded mitts to protect my hands, I take a heavy casserole dish from the oven and set it down on the countertop. Then I bring out a shallow, rectangular dish filled with creamy polenta. I find plates in a cabinet near the stove and grab a serving spoon from the drawer, which also contains the cutlery we’ll need to eat the meal.

I serve up a generous portion of food for Antonio and a smaller one for me, and carry the plates and cutlery to the breakfast bar. I place Antonio’s food in front of him. He doesn’t say thank you, just takes me serving him as his due. I guess he’s reserving his good manners for when people might be watching.

Again, it’s not something I want to start an argument over. Tamping down my irritation, I scoop up some of the stew and pop it in my mouth. It’s instantly comforting, the familiar flavors carrying my mind back to a happier time. The red wine dominates, but the garlic also comes through. The beef is so tender it melts in my mouth.

“This is good.” My remark is intended to start a conversation. “Janetta hasn’t lost her touch.”

“I wouldn’t keep her around if she had.” Antonio is typically dispassionate. The woman has worked for his family for decades, yet he talks so casually about discarding her. It’s a harsh reminder that everyone’s disposable as far as Antonio is concerned.

Silence falls again as we continue to eat. I take sips of the dry red wine and cast the occasional glance at my husband. It’s funny the things you miss about a person. The way the corners of Antonio’s lips turn upward when he’s enjoying a meal is one of them. He takes his time to savor each mouthful.

The longer we go without speaking, the more uncomfortable I become. I don’t know why Antonio brought me all the way out here if he doesn’t want to talk. If he thinks he’s going to act as if I don’t exist until he wants to fuck me, he’s in for a shock. I won’t let him ignore me.

“Tell me about my new sisters-in-law. What are they like?”

He shoots me a glare as if he believes I’m asking about things I have no right to know. I stare back at him, refusing to cower in the face of his contempt. He heaves in a breath and puts his fork down.

“Emilia’s Italian. She’s a couple of inches shorter than you, brunette, slim.”

“Really? What’s her shoe size?”

Antonio frowns, and I roll my eyes. “I don’t want her vital statistics. I want to know what she’s like.”

Antonio considers the question for so long I think he’s not going to answer. Then he takes a sip of wine and sets his glass back down.

“She’s quiet, kind, a bit naïve in some ways, and sharp as a tack in others. She recently bought a hotel in Soho. It’s doing well.”

His praise is grudging. It’s no doubt a struggle for him to get to grips with the Volantes having a career woman in their midst. When Antonio and I married, he made it clear that any competition outside of the house would not be an option.

“Does Alessandro love her?”

Antonio stares at me, eyebrows arched, as if my question is ridiculous. “He’d put a bullet in anyone who hurt her.”

I guess in my husband’s world that’s what passes for love. I yearn to hear him tell me that he’d kill anyone who hurt me, but I’m not about to set myself up for disappointment.

“And Vinnie? What’s she like?”

“I don’t know her.”

“Well, was it a nice wedding?”

Antonio shrugs. “I wasn’t there.”

This is painful, like talking to a reluctant stranger. We’re intimately acquainted with each other’s bodies, but in many respects, it’s as if we’ve only just met. This conversation is like a tennis match, with questions and clipped responses being batted back and forth across the breakfast bar. It doesn’t feel like a game I can win, but I’m not ready to give up yet. I’ve got to get Antonio talking.

“What about Matteo and Gio? Either of them planning to settle down?”

“No.” Antonio’s jaw clenches. The way he’s acting, you’d think I was trying to get to his deepest, darkest secrets, not make polite conversation about the family I married into.

“How’s Livvy?”

I’ve been hesitant to ask about his sister, not because I don’t want to know how she is, but because I don’t want to let something slip. I’m worried about Livvy. She’s the reason I blew up my marriage in such a spectacular fashion. When I let Joey Gallo and his attack dog Vito into the house, I was trying to protect my young sister-in-law. Telling Antonio that would go a long way toward fixing our relationship, but I can’t betray Livvy’s trust. The poor girl can’t breathe with five overprotective brothers hovering around her.

“Olivia’s a pain in the ass.”

It’s always annoyed me that neither Antonio nor Leo calls their only sister by the pet name the rest of the family uses for her. It’s like they want to keep their distance.

“Cut her some slack. She’s young.”

Antonio snorts derisively. “She’s old enough to settle down.”

My heart sinks as I realize what he’s saying. “You’re going to arrange a marriage for her?”

“It’s time.”

That pisses me off. Livvy isn’t even twenty yet. I set down my cutlery. “You can’t do that, Antonio. Look how badly it worked out for…” I resist saying us because I don’t want to open the door to that discussion yet. “Giulia.”

“If you’re talking about Giulia Costanza, that worked out well for her. I believe she inherited a small fortune when Johnny died.”

“You think money makes up for what she went through?”

Giulia was forced to marry a man older than her father. Johnny Lombardi was a short, balding pig who used his money to buy one of the sweetest women on the planet. God alone knows what horrors she suffered on her wedding night. I wish I’d been there to comfort her, but I’d already been exiled by then.

“I think she came out of it pretty well and I’ve ordered her father to let her enjoy her freedom.”

My eyebrows shoot upward. I did not expect that. “You have?”

“Yes, Isabella, I have. Contrary to what you might think, I’m not a totally heartless bastard. I won’t let the Costanzas force another unsuitable alliance on her, and I won’t marry my sister off to anyone who isn’t worthy of her.”

“But still…”

Antonio slams a hand down on the countertop, making me jump. “I will do what’s best for my family. You will keep your opinions to yourself. Is that clear?”

Tears sting my eyes. It’s not just the chastising tone in my husband’s voice, but the fact he’s suggesting his family has nothing to do with me. No matter what he may think, the Volantes are important to me.

“Is that clear?” he demands.

“Yes, Antonio.”

Wounded, I give my full attention to my dinner. The food doesn’t taste as good anymore, but I force myself to eat every bite, so Antonio has no further reason to find fault with me. I polish off the stew with unseemly haste, finishing at the same time as Antonio.

“Would you like some dessert?” I ask, though I’m not sure if Janetta prepared any. There’s usually gelato in the freezer, if nothing else. “Coffee?”

“No, Isabella.” Antonio sounds weary rather than irritated. “I want some peace and quiet.”

Taking the hint, I get up, grab my plate and reach for Antonio’s, intending to clear everything away.

“Leave it,” Antonio barks. “Janetta can deal with it in the morning.”

We didn’t have a housekeeper when I was growing up, so I’m used to cleaning up my own mess.

“It’s fine. I can just…”

“Leave it, Isabella. Go to bed.”

His tone is firm, but I still hesitate.

“I…”

“Now, Isabella,” he growls, “before I take you over my knee.”

Though I’m tempted to challenge him to do it, I hold my tongue. Being draped over Antonio’s knee while he spanks me would open up a range of emotions I can’t deal with right now. So I do the only thing I can. I set my plate back down on the countertop, turn and flee.

CHAPTER 7

Antonio

The man who sold me this exclusive twenty-five-year-old Macallan whisky said its aroma was reminiscent of dried orange and raisins with a hint of ginger. He told me I’d taste rich, dark fruit and a touch of oak. I get none of that. Perhaps if I took the time to savor the whisky, I’d pick up on those subtle notes but, right now, I just want to feel the burn at the back of my throat and to calm the storm raging inside me.

I was correct when I worried it was a mistake to bring Isabella here. The moment we sat down to dinner, I remembered the first time I brought her to my family’s Connecticut retreat. We’d only just got married and Isabella seemed excited about spending time alone with me. I thought it was because she was hopeful about our future, but now I wonder if she was trying to lull me into a false sense of security. Was she setting me up from the start? It wasn’t her choice to marry me and what happened with Rico proves my wife is capable of anything when backed into a corner.

It’s unusual for me but I’m at a loss for how to handle this situation. If Isabella was a man, she’d be in one of our warehouses, stripped naked and handcuffed to a chair while my brothers and I used whatever means necessary to get information from her. If she was any other woman, she might face a similar fate. The problem is, she’s my wife. I vowed to protect her. It’s an oath I take seriously.

As much as I want to know what motivated her to betray me, I can’t bring myself to ask about that night. I hate to admit it, but I’m afraid of what she might tell me. Though I wasn’t the most attentive husband, I cared a great deal about my wife. I thought the feeling was mutual.

Whenever I could spend time with her, things were great. The sex was amazing, and we never argued. I thought we made a good couple. When she turned on me, I was totally floored. I can’t understand why she did it and I’m too much of a damned pussy to ask. Perhaps I should hand her over to Leo for interrogation. He’d find out what I want to know.

The idea of any other man, even my brother, laying his hands on Isabella makes me nauseous, so I dismiss the thought. I trudge upstairs, my body weary. That tugging pain in my shoulder returns, making me wince. It’s definitely being brought on by psychological pressure. I have to get a grip.

As I walk along the corridor, I glance at my watch. It’s been more than three hours since I sent Isabella to bed. I expect her to be sound asleep, but she isn’t. She’s not even in bed. She’s standing by the window, looking out into the night. It’s dark, so there’s nothing for her to see out there, but she appears completely transfixed. I don’t think she heard me come in.

While she remains focused on whatever she’s staring at, I can’t take my eyes off her. Her black hair tumbles over her slender shoulders. She’s wearing pink floral shorts that barely cover her ass and a white camisole. With the light shining behind her, she must be visible to anyone who looks up at the window. Annoyance surges through me.

“Isabella!”

She spins around, startled. Obviously, she didn’t hear me come in.

“What?”

“Get away from the window.”

Her forehead crumples in confusion. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Does she really not understand? “Anyone can see you. Do you want to give my men a show?”

She looks over her shoulder and then turns back to me. Her gaze drifts up toward the light on the ceiling and realization dawns. Her lips form an O-shape as she walks away from the window.

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, she folds her hands on her lap as I storm across the room and shut the drapes, using such force I almost yank them off the pole.

“I’m sorry.” Isabella’s voice is quiet.

“Don’t be sorry, be more careful.” My harsh tone is unnecessary. She wasn’t deliberately flaunting her body, but I can’t tamp down a surge of annoyance. Her eyes glisten with tears, fueling my irritation. Is she trying to manipulate me?

“Don’t dare cry.”

She draws in a shuddering breath and casts an accusing glare at me. “Why did you bring me here?”

“So we could be alone.”

“Why? You won’t even talk to me.”

I step closer, invading her personal space. She tries to turn away from me, but I put a finger beneath her chin and force her to meet my gaze. “You think I brought you here to talk?”

Her expression is one of resignation as she slowly shakes her head. She draws in a deep breath and then reaches for the belt at my waist. She unbuckles it and then unfastens my pants before pulling my cock out. I’m already hard. She curls her hand around the shaft. Her fingers are cold, making me hiss. She peers up at me from beneath thick black lashes, then leans forward to wrap her soft pink lips around the head of my cock. She sucks gently and then pulls back.

“Is this why you brought me here?” she asks. “To make love?”

“Make love?” I can’t help but scoff at the hope in her voice. It’s born of naivety that I might find endearing on any other night, but not when I’m not wound so tight. “That’s not in my nature.”

Isabella leans back, bracing herself on her palms. She tilts her head to one side as she stares up at me with a hint of challenge in her pursed lips.

“So you want to use me, then? You want to hurt me, treat me like a whore?” There’s a viciousness in my wife’s tone I’ve never heard before. That makes me wary. “Go on, then, Don Volante. Use me. See if I care.”

She might act as if she doesn’t give a damn what I do to her, but I’m not buying it. Isabella’s looking to provoke me so she can play the victim when I take the bait. I study her face carefully, looking deep into those tumultuous green eyes. There’s anger, pain, and something I can’t identify.

“Bella.” My tone is gentle, but with a hint of warning. She’s in a dangerous mood and may take us along a path neither of us wants to tread.

She leaps to her feet and pushes onto the tips of her toes to get right in my face.

“Do it!” she screams at me. “Use me. Make it hurt.”

I grab her shoulders and haul her closer. “You’re playing with fire, Isabella.”

“So burn me.” There’s such desperation in her voice, I quash my desire to give her what she’s asking for.

Letting go of her, I step back. “I’m not doing this, Bella.”

“What?”

“I’m not letting you make me the villain.”

Her lip curls into a snarl. “Oh, you’re the good guy now, are you?”

“I never said that, but in this situation, I’m not the bad guy.” I lean a little closer. “You’re the one who’s sinned this time, Mrs. Volante.”

Anger flares in her eyes. I see the slap coming, but do nothing to stop it. The crack of her palm on my cheek reverberates around the room. Isabella’s eyes widen in shock. I have to admit to being surprised, too. That actually hurt.

She turns to run, but I grab her by the arm and swing her back around to face me. She fucked up, and she knows it. Her mouthing off a bit I can forgive, but she can’t be allowed to strike me without facing the consequences of her actions.

“I’m sorry,” she blurts out. “I didn’t mean…”

“Oh, I think you did.”

Backing Isabella up, I shove her against the wall. Grabbing her wrists, I pin them above her head. I bring them together so I can hold her in place with one hand while I use the other to grab her chin. When I bend to kiss her, she whimpers before I even begin my assault on her mouth. She’s afraid and so she should be. I wasn’t going to touch her when she’s clearly in an emotional state. My chivalrous restraint flew out the window the moment she slapped me. Now I have to remind her who’s in control.

I kiss her the way I intend to fuck her, with a raw savagery. My tongue invades her mouth as she parts her lips. She tastes of mint toothpaste, but there’s a lingering hint of garlic from our dinner. It’s not enough to ward me off.

Isabella doesn’t kiss me back, just lets me ravish her mouth. My tongue slides over hers, pushing deep. My lips punish hers until they’re swollen and bruised. Whining, she tries to free her hands from my grip. When that doesn’t work, she sinks her teeth into my tongue. The distinctive metallic tang that fills my mouth tells me she drew blood.

I draw back and smirk at her. The little minx scowls back at me. Letting go of her wrists, I grab the edges of her flimsy camisole and rip it apart, revealing those gorgeous breasts. They’re small and round, a perfect fit for the palm of my hand. Cupping her breast, I dip my head and suck her taut nipple into my mouth. I swirl my tongue around the areola and then bite down hard, but not enough to break the skin. Isabella cries out. She tugs at my hair and I allow her to pull me off her.

Darting my hand out, I grab her throat and squeeze, just enough to make her eyes widen in fear.

“Is this what you want from me, Bella?”

She sucks in a breath as my fingers tighten around the base of her delicate neck. Her hands come up to my chest, but she doesn’t try to push me off her. She’s trying to make a connection, to cut through my anger so I’ll release her before I actually choke her. What she doesn’t realize is I’m not in any danger of losing control here. She’s pissed me off, but I’m not close to snapping.

“You want me to treat you like a whore?”

Not giving her time to answer, I let go of her throat and spin her around to face the wall. She gasps as I drag her shorts and panties down her long, lean legs.

“Step out of them.”

She takes a second too long to respond to my command, so I spank her ass three times in quick succession, drawing a startled yelp from her.

“Hands on the floor,” I instruct her, “legs spread.”

This time, she obeys without hesitation. She widens her stance, bends at the waist and places her palms flat on the floor. Her hair fans out over the sage green carpet. My wife used to practice yoga. I wonder if she still does. Her flexibility and balance are impressive.

Shoving my pants farther down my legs, I grab Isabella’s hip to hold her in place and position my cock at her entrance. I don’t need to touch her to know she’s ready for me. The evidence of her arousal glistens on her pretty pink pussy. I push in slowly, feeling each inch gliding through her wetness to be gripped by her tight channel. It’s like being welcomed home. I both love and hate that I feel this is where I belong.

Slowly, I slide out and back in again. Isabella’s body trembles. I repeat the motion and she whimpers.

“Tony.”

I clench my jaw, angrier now than when she slapped me. “You do not get to call me that.”

Tony is what the people I’m closest to call me. My traitorous wife does not fall into that category.

“You’re nothing to me, Isabella.” I pull out and shove in deep. “Nothing but a warm hole to fuck.”

Her anguished gasp gives me a twisted sense of satisfaction. I don’t care if my words hurt her. She’s wounded me more than any enemy ever has. She’s burrowed under my skin and she’s still there, driving me to distraction with her deceptively innocent eyes and air of vulnerability.

I ravage her pussy, entering her with firm strokes that go a little deeper each time. Digging my fingers into her hips, I keep up a punishing pace, trying to purge a year’s worth of pent-up emotion by fucking my wife hard and fast. I’m like a man possessed. This can’t be easy for her to take, but her frantic mewls tell me she’s loving every second of this. Confirmation of that comes as her pussy squeezes my cock, sending an insistent pulse straight to my balls.

The tightening of her body around mine is enough to trigger my own release. There’s a pressure at the base of my spine. The muscles in my neck cord as I grit my teeth. I have to bite my tongue not to call out Isabella’s name. I don’t want her to know how deeply she’s affecting me.

Pulling out of her, I watch with satisfaction as my cum leaks from her pussy. This woman is mine and I intend to assert that fact every chance I get. The limpness of her body tells me she’s exhausted. I wrap my arm around Isabella’s waist to prevent her from crumpling to the floor. I turn her to face me. With hair plastered to her forehead and cheeks flushed, she’s a gorgeous mess. The well-fucked look suits her.

Since my wife is clearly exhausted, I lead her to the bed and pull back the covers for her. She clambers straight into bed and curls up on her side, facing away from me. I strip off my clothes and get in next to her.

“Did you like that, Bella?” I put my hands behind my head to combat the temptation to touch her. As much as I want to sleep with my arms wrapped around her, I’m not prepared to cuddle a snake. “Did you like being fucked like you don’t matter?”

She doesn’t answer. Her soft, snuffling breaths tell me she’s already asleep. Tonight hasn’t brought me any sense of resolution. I’m no closer to understanding Isabella’s betrayal. One thing is clearer to me now, though. She needs a firm hand. Fortunately, I’m just the man to give it to her.

CHAPTER 8

Isabella

My sleep isn’t particularly restful. Though I was out like a light the moment my head hit the pillow, my slumber didn’t last. Nightmares haunted my dreams, waking me several times. Fueled by guilt, they were filled with violence, blood, and death. The images were so vivid I felt like I was back there in the kitchen of the beach house. Every sound, smell, touch was real to me.

Each time I woke, Antonio soothed me back to sleep. He stroked my hair, murmured assurances I was safe. I only half believed him.

When I open my eyes, it’s brighter than I expected. Used to waking in the early hours of the morning before the sun has fully risen, I’m surprised by how much light is in the room. There’s a golden haze that tells me it’s going to be a sunny day.

As I wriggle about, shaking off the last remnants of sleep, I realize something is wrong. I never sleep on my back and certainly not with my hands above my head. I try to lower my arms, but they’re stuck. The clink of metal confirms what I already suspect and when I glance up, I find my wrists bound together with leather cuffs and chained to a metal ring on the wooden headboard. Shit. How did I not know that was there?

Tugging frantically, I try to release myself.

“Careful, Bella. You don’t want to hurt yourself.”

I raise my head and find Antonio lounging in the doorway. He’s immaculately dressed in black pants and a white shirt, sleeves rolled up. He hasn’t got a single hair out of place.

“What’s going on?” I try to sound as if I’m not equal parts scared and turned on by being tethered to the bed. Completely naked, I feel incredibly vulnerable.

Antonio comes to sit on the edge of the bed beside me. “You had nightmares.”

“And your solution was to chain me to the bed?” I shake my head. “That’s fucked up, Antonio.”

“Don’t curse, Bella, it doesn’t suit you.”

“I’ll do more than curse if you don’t let me go this minute.”

Antonio throws back his head and laughs at my death stare. “You’re cute when you’re angry. Now, tell me about your nightmares.”

I furrow my brow. Is this a therapy session? If he wants to explore my psyche, this is a funny way to go about it.

“Bella,” he prompts.

“It’s the same dream, a memory, really. I’m at the beach house. Rico corners me in the kitchen and grabs me. He pulls me close and I can feel his…” I can’t bring myself to say erection, but the scowl on Antonio’s face tells me he knows what I’m referring to. “He tells me he’s going to fuck me until I bleed. I grab the frying pan and hit him over and over. There’s blood everywhere, so much blood.”

I shudder as I think about it.

“Then what?” Antonio asks.

“Leo comes in. He has a gun.” This is where the dream deviates from reality. When I look at the body, it isn’t Rico, but Antonio. “He shoots me and I wake up.”

“He shoots you?” Antonio muses. “Is that what you think he should have done?”

“No, of course not. It’s what I was afraid he’d do.”

“He wouldn’t have shot you.”

“I thought he would, but he was actually kind to me, gentle.”

Antonio’s eyebrows reach toward the ceiling. Kind and gentle aren’t words usually associated with his brother. “Leo was gentle with you?”

I can’t help grinning at the obvious surprise in his voice. “Yes, he could see the state I was in.”

“Yeah, you were pretty upset.”

My husband furrows his brow as if he can’t fathom why I was in distress after killing Rico. I shake my head in despair.

“I guess it’s easy for you to take a life.”

“No, Bella, it’s never easy, but it is often necessary.” He reaches over to stroke my cheek. “What else can I do when someone hurts my family?”

I shudder, knowing that he counts me among the people who’ve betrayed him. “Antonio.”

Before I can issue any plea for him to show me mercy, he places a finger on my lips.

“Don’t worry, Bella. I’m not going to kill you, but I do intend to get some answers from you.”

“Okay, untie me. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

He shakes his head and a wicked grin spreads across his lips. “Oh, Bella, where’s the fun in that?”

My stomach twists in a tight knot as Antonio reaches down the side of the bed and picks up a black leather gym bag. Fear spikes my pulse and I tug at my restraints. I can’t help feeling whatever he has in that bag won’t be fun for me.

“Are you planning to torture me?”

“Not in the way you think.”

Well, that’s reassuring—not. Antonio draws something out of the bag. Horror grips me when I realize it’s a ball gag. I open my mouth to protest, but Antonio isn’t interested in hearing my protests. Before I can utter a word, he shoves the hard silicone ball between my teeth and fastens the leather straps around the back of my head. He manages the task with insulting ease. I spit out a series of insults against his manhood, but all I do is create an unintelligible babbling sound. I grunt in annoyance. If Antonio wants answers, silencing me like this seems counterproductive.

The next things out of his bag of dirty tricks are a large silver butt plug and a bottle of lubricant. I guess I should be grateful he isn’t going to shove that thing inside me without anything to ease the way.

“Lift your legs,” Antonio instructs me. “Pull your knees up to your chest and keep them there.”

My stomach muscles grumble as I do as I’m told. Antonio unscrews the cap from the bottle of lubricant and massages some around my rear hole before spreading more over the plug.

“Relax,” he tells me. “Slow, deep breaths.”

I can’t help rolling my eyes. Does Antonio have any idea how hard it is to take steadying breaths with a gag in my mouth? I doubt he cares. The tip of the plug presses against my bottom and I try not to tense up. Staring at a fixed point on the ceiling, I focus on inhaling and exhaling slowly. As the plug pushes past the tight ring of muscle in my bottom, I can’t help squirming. Antonio makes soothing noises, calming me as he gets the plug all the way in.

“Does that feel good?” Antonio asks.

I shake my head. Though having that thing inside me isn’t painful, it’s not exactly pleasant either. It’s mainly psychological. It makes me feel like a deviant. My upbringing is to blame for that. My mother acted as if vanilla sex was depraved.

“Lower your legs. I want your feet flat on the bed.”

In no position to refuse his orders, I do as he asked, spreading my feet apart, because I’m sure that’s what he wants. Antonio’s approving nod confirms I’ve pleased him.

There’s no time to bask in the ridiculous satisfaction that gives me as Antonio reaches into the leather bag once more. This time, he takes out a vibrator. With a purple silicone shaft, it’s one of those with the rabbit ears for clit stimulation. I swallow hard around the gag as he switches it on and the air fills with a loud hum.

“Fuck!” Antonio grins wickedly as he tests the gadget against his hand. “That’s pretty powerful.”

Instinctively, I snap my legs shut as he reaches for me. Antonio forces them apart again. “Do not fight me, Bella. It won’t go well for you.”

I tremble as he runs a finger along my slit. A mere touch from this man is enough to make my body tingle with awareness.

“Would you look at that?” He holds his finger, glistening with my arousal, up in front of me. “You’re already wet.”

Armed with that knowledge, he doesn’t ease the vibrator inside me. He shoves it hard, knocking the breath from my lungs. The fullness has me whimpering around my gag. It’s weird to have both holes filled at the same time. It’s uncomfortable and yet there’s an undeniable fluttering in my clit. As Antonio switches the vibrator on and holds it in place, the little silicone prongs pressed against my sensitive nub, my hips lift. I cry out around the gag and my eyes roll back.

“Look at me, Bella,” Antonio commands.

When I don’t immediately do as he says, he fists his hand in my hair and tugs my head up off the pillow. I meet the intense glare in his eye and shiver.

“Did you intend for me to die that night?”

I shake my head. He presses the vibrator deeper into me.

“Did you know they would try to kill me?”

My head thrashes violently from side to side. The intense pulsing from the vibrator is sending a tingling through the plug in my ass to bombard me with sensation. Just as I think I’m going to go over the edge, Antonio turns the vibrator off. My pussy clenches, trying to grasp the promised orgasm, but it’s too late. The waves of pleasure die down but don’t dissipate. I’m left unfulfilled.

“But you did help my enemies evade my security?”

I nod in response to Antonio’s question, one he already knew the answer to.

“You let them into our home.”

He switches the vibrator on again and the pressure inside me builds once more. My fists clench and I whine behind the ball gag. The need to come is too much. I buck furiously on the bed and Antonio pulls the silicone shaft out of me, putting an abrupt end to the promise of release.

“Tell me why.”

He unbuckles the gag and wipes my mouth with his thumb. I stretch my jaw and pout, emphasizing the fact I did not like that thing.

“Bella?”

I take a deep breath. “They had photos.”

Antonio frowns. “What photos?”

“Suggestive ones, nudes.”

I turn my head to look away, but Antonio grabs my chin in a firm grip and forces me back toward him.

“Of you?”

This is the moment to come clean, to tell him I was trying to protect his younger sister from a stupid mistake she made shortly after she turned eighteen. I can’t do that to Livvy, though. While there’s a chance Antonio might forgive me if I paint it as a youthful indiscretion on my part, he won’t go easy on Livvy.

“When were they taken?”

“Before I met you.”

He arches an eyebrow and I realize I met him when I was in middle school so that can’t be right.

“Before we were married, when I was eighteen.”

Antonio scrubs a hand over his face. “Oh, Bella.”

“I know. It was stupid of me to take the pictures and to trust that the wrong person wouldn’t get hold of them.”

“So Gallo was blackmailing you?”

“Yes.”

Antonio shakes his head in disbelief. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

I hesitate a moment too long as I try to come up with an excuse. Antonio shoves the vibrator back into my drenched channel and fucks me with it, his pace teasing and slow. It’s pure sensual torture. My body climbs back toward the peak but this won’t take me there. Antonio is deliberately holding my release just out of reach.

“If you want to come, answer the question.”

I whimper as my clit throbs. “I was afraid, and I didn’t want you to think badly of me.”

“So you let them in to kill me instead?”

“No,” I cry out as the pressure inside me grows more and more intense. “Joey swore he only wanted to talk to you. He couldn’t get near you with Leo or Dante shadowing you all the time, so he came to me. He promised no one would get hurt.”

Antonio slides the silicone shaft out of me. I groan in disappointment.

“Fuck, Isabella. I can’t believe you fell for Gallo’s bullshit.”

In hindsight, neither can I. Though I didn’t know Joey Gallo well, I should have realized he couldn’t be trusted.

“I wasn’t thinking straight. I thought it would help bring peace with the Bianchis.” The words stream out of me. “Please, Antonio, let me come. I’m begging you.”

He grins darkly and gets to his feet. I think he’s going to leave me to stew, but he unfastens his pants and pushes them down his legs. His cock is fully erect. I guess he enjoyed driving me to distraction.

Though the blatant desire in his eyes tells me he’s eager to get inside me, he takes the time to flip me over and arrange me on my knees. With my arms stretched up above my head and my cheek pressed to the mattress, it’s a pose of supplication.

As soon as I’m in the position he wants, Antonio climbs onto the bed behind me and impales me on his cock. I cry out as my sensitized body welcomes him in. It takes only three thrusts for the first orgasm to seize hold of me. Violent spasms twist my womb as my pussy grips Antonio tightly.

“Who owns you, Bella?” Antonio demands as his hand slips between my legs and his fingers pinch my clit. “Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You.”

“Damn right it does.”

He drives his rock-hard cock into me repeatedly until another climax hits me. This one coincides with his own. My heart pounds and I tug at the shackles binding me to the bed.

“Fuck, Bella!” Antonio calls out as we come together, our bodies perfectly in tune.

Shuddering as the pleasure slowly dissipates, I struggle for breath. Antonio recovers faster than I do. He unbuckles the fastenings on my cuffs to release my wrists. Then he rolls me onto my back. I look up at him and scowl.

“What’s the matter?” Antonio’s tone betrays his concern. “Did I hurt you?”

I shake my head. “No. I’m just mad you don’t have a single hair out of place.”

My grumble makes Antonio throw back his head and laugh. “Don’t worry, Bella, I’m disheveled on the inside.”

He gets up off the bed, pulls his pants up, and puts his shoes back on. “Go have a shower and get dressed. Wear something nice. I’ll take you to lunch.”

He turns and strides toward the door. I purse my lips as I realize the bastard didn’t even crinkle his shirt when he fucked me senseless.

“Oh, and leave the plug in. I’ll take it out when I’m ready.”

With that, he leaves the room. I grab a pillow from the bed and toss it at the door. Asshole. He’s disheveled on the inside? The man didn’t break a sweat. I doubt the sex caused him any emotional turmoil.

Swinging my legs off the bed, I gingerly get to my feet. The plug shifts as I move and I grimace, not in pain, but with the knowledge I won’t be able to forget the thing is there. I’ll bet Antonio makes me leave it in while we go to lunch. It would be just like him to make me suffer. This is going to be a challenge.

CHAPTER 9

Antonio

Letting Isabella decide where we would have lunch was a mistake. Even before we get out of the car, I know I’m going to hate this place. There must be a dozen decent bistros to choose from in town, but my wife chose a red barn that’s been converted into a casual eatery. I should have put my foot down the moment she uttered the words ‘rustic charm’ as if that was supposed to be a selling point. She seems keen to eat here, though, and I guess I have to learn the art of compromise if I want our marriage to work. In important matters, Isabella will have to defer to me. The least I can do is eat at the restaurants she’s picked. It’ll make her feel less like she’s living in a dictatorship if I let her have her way once in a while.

“How did you hear about this place?” I ask as I help her out of the car.

“We drove past it the last time we were here. I thought it looked like a cute place to eat.”

Cute is not high on my list of considerations when choosing where to have a meal. The quality of the food, the availability of superb wine, a guarantee of discretion—those are the things I care about.

As we walk through the wide-open barn doors, my worst fears are realized. There’s stripped pine everywhere, from the exposed beams on the ceiling to the paneling on the walls. The center of the room is dominated by long wooden tables for family-style dining. The seats running along their length are hay bales draped with red-and-white-checked clothes. Wagon wheels, loops of rope, and rusting spurs from cowboy boots decorate the walls. I want to turn around and leave, but when I glance at Isabella, who is beaming in delight, I don’t have the heart to insist we go elsewhere.

“Isn’t this place incredible,” my wife enthuses.

I’m saved from answering when a young server rushes over. With rosy cheeks and plaited blonde pigtails, she gives off a wholesome vibe that’s in keeping with our surroundings. Her uniform is a long plaid skirt and white short-sleeved sweater with a bow at the neck. She’s wearing white sneakers and ankle socks. I’m getting mixed messages about this place. Is it a cowboy theme or are they trying to evoke the nineteen fifties? Perhaps it’s a bit of both.

“Welcome to Red’s. Table for… two?” The server looks over my shoulder to where David and Rich are hovering by the entrance.

“Yes,” I reply. “They won’t be joining us.”

“Oh, okay.” She worries her bottom lip with pearly white teeth. “Will they just be standing there because that might scare our customers away.”

Isabella gives me a beseeching look. She doesn’t like guards trailing. I turn to dismiss my men. “You can wait in the car.”

They’re close enough to help out if there’s trouble and I’ve got my favorite Heckler and Koch tucked into my waistband. The server leads us to a booth at the side of the room. She obviously guessed correctly that it would be a mistake to seat us next to the diners at the communal table. I help Isabella to sit before sliding into the seat opposite her. The grimace on her face as she gets comfortable amuses me. She’s obviously very aware of the plug in her ass.

“Our specials are on the board,” the server tells us as she hands menus to Isabella and me. “I’ll give you a moment to decide what you’d like.”

As she walks off, Isabella grins. “This place is great.” She glances at the menu. “Want to share a giant pretzel?”

“No.”

I scan the menu and try not to let my distaste show. The food isn’t what I’d typically eat. Pizza and sandwiches are fine at home but when I’m dining out, I want a more interesting culinary experience. I’m still scowling at the menu when the server returns. Stalling for time while I try to decide which is the least offensive dish on the menu, I wave a hand at Isabella, indicating she should order first.

“I’ll have the wings to start and then the Philly cheesesteak,” Isabella says. “My husband will have calamari and then the lobster club sandwich, no celery.”

I arch an eyebrow as my wife confidently takes charge of ordering our food. Normally, I wouldn’t allow it, but I have to admit there is something sexy about Isabella assuming control of the situation.

“And to drink?” the server asks.

“A bottle of the Malbec.” Isabella snatches my menu and passes it back to the server as if she’s afraid I’ll overrule her choices.

“Coming right up.”

As the server walks away, Isabella calls out.

“Wait. I’d also like you to take some wings, nachos, and a couple of pepperoni pizzas out to the guys in the two SUVs in the parking lot. Bring them sodas too.”

“Want to get them some ice cream while you’re at it?” I ask.

“No.” Isabella scowls, then lets her expression slip into a smile. “But send out a few slices of apple pie as well.”

The young woman nods and hurries away to do my wife’s bidding. I lean against the back of the booth and study the newly confident woman before me. She’s acting as if a weight has been lifted from her shoulders after she told me about Joey Gallo but I’m not sure I got the entire story from her. Perhaps if I can get her to relax around me, she’ll tell me the rest.

“You know if my men want food, they can get it themselves.”

Isabella shrugs. “I thought it was a nice gesture.”

“Trying to win hearts and minds?”

“It’ll take more than a single lunch to persuade your men I’m worthy of being your wife.”

Isabella’s tone is flat. She knows she won’t have an easy time of it as she returns to my side. She sucks in a deep breath.

“So how did I do with ordering for you?”

I wonder if her reason for selecting my meal was to show she’s capable of taking care of me. Does she think I need her to prove herself worthy to stand with me?

“Apart from the wine, pretty good.”

“Yes, I knew you wouldn’t approve of that choice.”

“So why pick it?”

“You need to expand your horizons.”

I rub my thumb over my bottom lip as I consider her words. “You think I’m lacking in imagination?”

Because if that’s what she thinks, I’ve got a million ways to prove her wrong.

“Only when it comes to food. You don’t stray far from our heritage with culinary options.”

“True, but what beats a good plate of pasta?”

Isabella looks at me as if I’m incorrigible. I guess I am. I like nothing more than the flavors of my grandfather’s homeland.

A smile spreads across my wife’s face and for a moment I get a warm feeling inside, thinking that it’s for me, but her attention is on the server, returning with our appetizers. With her hands full, the girl has our already uncorked bottle of wine tucked under her arm. I must look as if I’m about to erupt, because Isabella reaches beneath the table to stroke my leg soothingly.

“Would you like me to pour the wine?” the server asks as she lays everything down on the table.

What I’d like is for her to take the bottle of wine back to wherever she got it and bring me one that hasn’t been opened yet. There’s no way of knowing how long it’s been open or if someone slipped something into it. I want to grab the server and point that out to her, but Isabella sends me a silent plea with those big green eyes of hers and I tamp down the urge.

“We’ll manage,” I say tightly. The young woman gets the message to make herself scarce and scurries off to tend to her other tables.

I lift the bottle of wine to my nose and sniff. There’s a fruity smell but nothing suspicious, not that I’d be able to detect poison, anyway. Something like arsenic might be obvious but there are odorless chemicals out there that can kill a man.

“I doubt anyone here is trying to assassinate you,” Isabella says.

She’s probably right. I pour a glass of wine for her and then one for myself. Tentatively taking a sip, I’m surprised by the pleasant taste of the rich red wine. I have to admit to preferring Tuscan wines but this Argentinian Malbec is passable.

“Well?” Isabella arches an eyebrow.

“It’s not bad,” I concede.

“You’re such a snob with wine, food, clothes,” she chides. “It’s exhausting trying to live up to your standards.”

There’s a genuine weariness in her tone. I wonder how big of an issue it was for her to keep up appearances. Did she think I expected her to dress formally all the time? Now that I think about it, her wardrobe did change after we got married. I assumed it was because she suddenly had access to a bigger bank account. Perhaps that wasn’t the reason she bought so many new clothes at all.

“I never expected you to dress to please me, Bella. You can wear whatever you like.”

“Really? So I can swap this…” She plucks at the thin strap of the chic beige dress she’s wearing. “For ripped jeans, a band t-shirt, and biker boots?”

She’s clearly trying to get a reaction out of me because that’s not the sort of outfit she would ever wear. Even before she was mine, she favored pretty dresses or slim-fitting pants with flimsy little blouses.

“I don’t mind what you wear.”

Isabella shoots me a skeptical look but doesn’t probe any farther. She picks up one of the chicken wings and takes a bite out of it. She gets sauce all over her mouth. A second after tasting it, her eyes widen and she blows out quick breaths.

“Spicy?” I can’t help grinning as she flaps her hand in front of her mouth.

“A bit.”

As Isabella sips her wine, I try the calamari. The greasy residue left on my fingertips reminds me why I prefer to use a fork and knife. Although I enjoy the taste of the calamari, the texture is rubbery. It’s been overcooked. I resist the urge to complain. Isabella seems to like it here and I don’t want to bring down her mood.

I’m about to dip a second piece of calamari into the lemon and herb dip it came with when my cellphone buzzes. I take it out of my jacket pocket and see that it’s Dante calling. Since I asked him not to call unless it was for a very important reason, I know something’s come up that I have to deal with.

“Excuse me a moment,” I murmur to my wife.

Getting up from the table, I swipe to accept the call and head outside where I can have more privacy. My guards, who occupy the two SUVs in the small parking lot, sit up a bit straighter as they spot me but I wave a hand dismissively to let them know they’re not needed.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Rico Mancini’s old man just came to see me.”

“Paolo? Why?”

“Rico’s missing.”

“What do you mean, missing?”

Although Dante is my closest friend outside of the family, I haven’t told him what happened between my wife and Rico. Some things should be kept between my brothers and me.

“Nobody’s heard from him for a couple of days. He missed his mother’s birthday.”

“So? He’s probably out fucking some whore and lost track of time.”

“That’s what I said, but it was Carmela’s fiftieth and apparently he’s never missed a birthday, especially not a major one.”

I scrub a hand over my face. “So what do you want me to do about it?”

“I don’t know, Tony, but Paolo was making noises about the timing.”

Sensing a headache is coming my way, I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“Get to the fucking point, Dante. What is Paolo saying?”

“That it’s strange you took Isabella back at the same time the man in charge of her security disappeared. He claims they were having an affair.”

I grit my teeth. “Paolo’s barking up the wrong tree. Isabella wouldn’t cheat on me.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.” My tone signals an end to that topic of conversation. “Anything else I need to know about?”

“Yeah, Enzo’s now the proud papa of a healthy baby boy.”

It seems I did the right thing leaving him behind. “Get in touch with Jenny at my office. Tell her to send flowers to Alicia and something for the kid.”

My assistant will know exactly what to get.

“And tell Matteo to watch the Mancinis.”

As I end the call with Dante, a sinking feeling comes over me. I already knew that Rico’s disappearance would raise questions, but I thought there would be a bit more time for Isabella to get over what happened before people realized he was gone. I just hope she’ll be able to deal with the inevitable scrutiny that will fall on her when we get back to the city. If she fucks up and suspicion lands on her, I’ll have to take action. I don’t want to start a war within my ranks, but I will if I have to. Isabella is mine and I will protect her, even if she’s hiding things from me.

CHAPTER 10

Isabella

Since Antonio took that call at the restaurant, he’s been distracted, but not in a way that suggests he’s repressing anger. It’s more of a contemplative silence. The vibe he’s giving off is one of concern. Whether he realizes it or not, he keeps shooting me these strange looks. His mouth pulls into a hard line, yet there’s no softness in his eyes. Something is troubling him. He’s worried about me.

It’s unlike Antonio to let his feelings show. Usually, his guard is firmly up and it would take a mind-reader to work out what’s going on behind those inscrutable blue eyes of his. Right now, his trepidation is plain to see. Whatever that phone call was about, it rattled him and that scares me.

As we ate lunch, he engaged in some discussion about the food but brushed me off when I asked if anything was wrong. Now, as we’re being driven back to the house, I don’t dare try to break through the barrier he’s erected. With two of his men in the front seats of the car, Antonio would be pissed if I prodded him for answers.

I wish I could think of a safe topic to break the silence, though. A little conversation would provide a distraction from my growing arousal.

That damned thing Antonio stuffed in my ass is making me hyperaware of my body. Every time we go over a bump in the road, the plug shifts, tormenting my insides. Pressure is building at my core. My clit throbs and my pussy clenches. Squeezing my thighs together gives me no relief. I need my husband’s skillful touch but, with the way he’s acting, I’m not sure I’ll get it.

By the time we pull up at the front door of the mansion, my panties are soaked. The blond-haired driver, David, switches off the engine. Before either of the men has a chance to come and open his door, Antonio jumps out of the car and holds a hand out to me. He could come around to my side of the car, but he’s making me shuffle across the seat. The bastard knows the movement will make the plug press deeper inside me. The wicked gleam in his eye confirms his intent.

I take the hand he offers, and a tingle runs down my spine. Just being close to Antonio is enough to spark a primal awareness that grips every part of my body. As I step out of the car, the plug rubs against a sensitive spot inside me and I can’t suppress a needy whine. Antonio’s expression heats as he flashes me a smirk, knowing exactly what the plug is doing to me.

“Something wrong, Bella?” His voice is low, deep, and incredibly seductive. “You seem all hot and bothered.”

The naked desire in Antonio’s gaze makes me bolder than I would normally be. I run my hand down his front and between his legs. His cock jumps beneath my touch. “It’s nothing my husband can’t fix.”

“Careful,” he warns me, tilting his head toward the front of the car, reminding me we are not alone.

As much as I’d love to play with Antonio, to see how far I can push him, my sense of self-preservation kicks in. I remove my hand. Antonio wraps a possessive arm around my waist and hugs me to his side. He leads me into the house. When we get inside, he releases me and closes the door behind us. It shuts with an ominous click.

“Go to the bedroom. Be ready for me when I get there.” Antonio’s commanding tone is enough to make my panties combust.

Unbelievably turned on, I sprint upstairs. As I come onto the landing at the top of the grand wooden staircase, I run into Janetta. She’s wearing her chosen uniform of black shirt dress and cardigan with white sneakers.

“Ah, Mrs. Volante, I’ve just put some fresh towels in your bathroom and clean sheets on the bed.”

My cheeks heat as I consider the stains she probably found on the bedding. “Thank you, Janetta.” I fling my arms around the older woman’s neck and pull her close. “It’s good to see you and, remember, it’s Isabella.”

“Of course.” She pats my back and steps out of the embrace I ambushed her with. “Is Antonio with you?”

“Yes, he’s downstairs somewhere.”

Janetta smiles, genuine happiness warming her pale blue eyes. She has a soft spot for my husband and his brothers, even though they ran rings around her when they were boys.

“It’s good to have you back, Isabella,” she says as she walks off.

“Thank you.”

As I hurry along the corridor to the bedroom, I wonder if I really am back. Things are still unsettled between Antonio and me. I worry our reunion might only be a temporary one. I’m also unsure if the rest of the family will welcome my return. They’re loyal to one another and may not forgive me for hurting Antonio, even if I never intended to.

When I get to our bedroom, I strip off my dress, bra, and panties. I throw them into the closet and shut the door. Then I kneel by the bed. It’s not something Antonio has ever asked me to do but it feels right. His growly tone when he sent me up here was imbued with an urge to dominate. With desire firing through my veins, I’m in the mood to submit to whatever he desires.

Maintaining a simple pose with my heels tucked behind my butt, my thighs spread apart and my head bowed is no real challenge to me since I keep up a regular fitness regimen. It’s my mind that’s struggling with this position. It makes me feel vulnerable. If Antonio rejects my submission, I don’t know what I’ll do.

Thankfully, before I can drive myself nuts worrying about it, Antonio comes into the room. Though his expression is unreadable as his eyes rake over me, I don’t sense any anger coming from him. I think he approves of me presenting myself to him like this.

Giving me no respite from his intense stare, he removes his jacket. He places it over the back of the chair at the dressing table and then strips off his tie. After rolling his shirtsleeves up to his elbows, he comes to me and curves a hand around my cheek.

“Are you offering yourself to me, Bella?”

Biting my bottom lip, I peer up at him. “Yes.”

“To do what?”

Throwing caution to the wind, I respond without hesitation. “Anything you want.”

His eyes darken with undiluted lust. If he chose to, he could take whatever he wants from me. I’d be powerless to stop him. But me handing him the keys to the kingdom is a whole other matter. He’s pleased that I’ve offered my submission.

Putting a hand beneath my elbow, he pulls me to my feet. He steers me into the bathroom and stops in front of the sink.

“Palms flat on the counter, legs spread, ass out.” Antonio issues a string of instructions that I’m quick to obey. “I want you to watch yourself in the mirror.”

My eyes dart to his. Can I do that? Can I watch myself unraveling as he explores my body, taking what he wants from me? The thought of it is unbearably erotic. Sensing my hesitation, Antonio grabs a fistful of my hair and tugs until it feels as though it will be wrenched from my scalp.

“Don’t look at me, Bella. I want you to see how beautiful you are when you come undone. I want you to see yourself becoming a needy, desperate slut for me.”

Whoa! Why was that so hot? I should be outraged by his directness, but I’m not. In fact, I’m turned on by it. As Antonio caresses my ass, making my skin tingle, I focus on my reflection. My pale pink lips tremble as anticipation builds. Antonio slides his hand between my butt cheeks and grasps the base of the plug. A strange tugging sensation pulls at my insides. Antonio has barely touched me and the pressure at my core is already difficult to bear.

Leaning over me, covering my body with his, Antonio whispers in my ear, “I’m going to take this plug out and replace it with my cock. You’re going to take every inch like a good little slut and milk me dry.”

It’s not his words that make my pussy wet, but the fierce promise they hold. I grip the edge of the vanity as Antonio places a hand on my lower back and eases the plug out. My mouth twists in discomfort as the widest part of the silver toy is drawn out past the tight ring of muscle.

Antonio tosses the plug aside. It lands with a clatter on the tiled floor. He removes his shoes and socks and strips off his pants, taking his white boxer briefs with them. He leaves his shirt on. It crosses my mind he might be self-conscious about his scar. Did it bother him that I stared at it earlier? I shrug off that thought. Antonio wouldn’t give a damn about a blemish. Remaining partially clothed while I’m completely naked is more likely his way of demonstrating who holds the power here. He has me at a disadvantage.

Stepping up behind me, he kicks my legs farther apart. I swear I could be doing the splits and he’d still want more. He rubs his fully erect cock back and forth along the length of my pussy. I moan as he coats himself in my juices. When he’s ready, he places a restraining hand on my shoulder and pushes the head of his shaft into my tightest hole. In the mirror I watch the struggle to accept him playing out on my face as he presses forward.

A part of me wants to welcome him in, but what’s etched in the lines around my eyes is fear. Though my body is more receptive after being filled by the plug for several hours, Antonio is longer, thicker than the toy. I’m afraid this is going to hurt.

That fear is allayed as he breaches my forbidden hole, unleashing a sensual onslaught as he slides in one erotically charged inch at a time. Pain gives way to pleasure. How can something my mind tells me is wrong feel so good? I should hate this, but I don’t.

With an animalistic snarl, Antonio surges forward until his hips make contact with my ass. His cock is as deep as it can get inside me and it feels sublime. Any hint of discomfort that was on my face drains away to leave a picture of calm. I know that won’t last much longer.

As Antonio slides in and out of me, finding his rhythm, my eyes roll back. Antonio stops moving and slaps my ass, hard enough to elicit a gasp of shock from me.

“I told you to watch, Bella.”

The moment I return my attention to my reflection, Antonio starts to fuck me with renewed purpose. His flesh slaps against mine as he drives in deep, pounding into me with a terrifying lack of restraint. He intends to leave an indelible mark on me. His fingers dig into my shoulder, my hip, where he anchors me in place. My lips part as I struggle to catch my breath. My eyes are glazed. I’m drunk on the pleasure he delivers even as he brings a bite of pain.

“You were made for this, Bella. You were made to take my cock in your tight little ass.”

He swivels his hips and I scrabble at the marble-topped vanity, trying to find something to hold on to. My reflection distorts as my eyes glisten with tears. Antonio lays claim to my body like a marauding beast and it’s too much to bear. My mouth twists in agonized bliss. Antonio’s pace is impossible to match. All I can do is hold on tight as each thrust shoves me forward. My hipbones bang against the vanity. I’ll be black and blue after this, but right now I don’t give a fuck. The ripples of pleasure lapping at my womb make it worthwhile.

As Antonio reaches around to tease my clit, I let out a needy whine. He shoves two fingers inside me and curls them toward my front. Stroking my sensitive flesh, he continues to fuck my ass. His increasingly frenzied grunts and groans tell me he’s getting close.

“Come for me, Bella,” he commands.

My body shouldn’t respond to that demanding tone, but it does. As I feel Antonio’s cock swelling inside me, I’m gripped by spasms of ecstasy. My pussy clenches around his fingers. Quivering too much to hold myself, I collapse against the vanity. My limbs tremble with aftershocks from that intense climax.

Antonio twists his fist in my hair and forces my head up.

“Look at yourself, Bella. What do you see?”

I hope he doesn’t want me to answer because I don’t think I have it in me to describe the woman staring back at me from the mirror. She looks completely fucked. Her eyes are half-closed. The corners of her mouth droop, not because she’s displeased but because the muscles are too weak for her to smile. Her hair is plastered to her forehead in a sticky mess. This is a woman who’s been taken to heaven and then dropped back down to Earth.

“What do you see?” When I catch my breath, I throw Antonio’s question back at him.

“I see a woman who’s been thoroughly claimed.” Using his grip on my hair, he spins me around. He untangles his fingers and strokes my cheek. “I see my woman, my wife. Mine.”

Though his words aren’t exactly a declaration of love, warmth spreads through me. Antonio’s possessive tone, coupled with the pride reflected in his eyes, tells me he values my presence in his life.

For several endless seconds, we stare at each other, the air between us becoming charged once more. Without meaning to, I sway closer to Antonio. He shakes his head, almost imperceptibly, putting a stop to another bout of sex before it can begin. He grabs my hand and leads me across the room.

“Come on, Bella, let’s get you cleaned up.”

CHAPTER 11

Antonio

When Isabella asked me what I saw when I looked at her, I had to bite my tongue not to reply with “The woman I love.” Despite what happened a year ago, and although I can’t fully trust her, I do love my wife. I have since the first night we spent together when she so willingly allowed me to strip off her silk wedding dress and claim her virginity.

Though my feelings are driven largely by a primal instinct to imprint myself on every part of her body, I also want to take care of her. The need to protect this woman consumes me. If anything happened to Isabella, it would bring me to my knees. But I can’t tell her that, not until I’m sure she won’t use my weakness for her against me.

While Isabella leans against the wall and watches me, a hint of curiosity on her face, I run a bath. There’s a bottle of fragranced oil sitting on the edge of the tub, so I pour a generous amount into the warm water. I’m instantly hit by an overpowering scent of lavender. I know it’s supposed to be relaxing, but it’s not a fragrance I find soothing. It irritates my nostrils. This is for Isabella and not me, so I can put up with it.

When the tub is filled halfway, I turn off the taps and beckon Isabella over. She looks worn out. Taking the hand I offer her, she accepts my help to step into the tub. Her movements are tentative as she lowers herself into the water. I guess she’s feeling a little tender. That shouldn’t give me the satisfaction it does, but I can’t help the swell of pride in my chest at the thought of leaving a lasting impression on her body.

“Lean forward,” I tell her as she rests against the back of the tub.

Her eyes widen in surprise as I unbutton my shirt, intending to get into the water with her. As I strip off my shirt, her gaze goes to the scar on my shoulder and regret swamps her beautiful verdant eyes.

“What’s the matter, Bella? Can’t bear to see the consequences of your actions?”

I’m being a prick, but I can’t help myself. While I still have a lingering suspicion Isabella hasn’t shared the whole truth with me about that night, I won’t be able to put it behind me.

“No.”

She brings her knees up to her chest and rests her head on them. She looks so damned small and vulnerable I want to tell her all is forgiven. I resist the urge and get into the tub behind her.

“I hate that you were hurt,” she says quietly.

“Do you?”

“Of course I do. I swear I never intended for anything bad to happen that night.”

“I believe you, Bella.” I pull her back against me and she rests her head on my chest. “But I need to know if there’s something you haven’t told me.”

I feel her stiffen against me. She’s silent for several beats. Her chest rises and falls slowly, like she’s trying to steady her breathing. “There’s nothing to tell.”

Damn. I wasn’t sure before but now I’m certain she’s withholding something. If her awkward body language wasn’t a dead giveaway, the uncertainty in her voice would be. I don’t challenge her on it, though. The direct approach won’t work with Isabella. Even when I tied her to the bed and teased information out of her, she didn’t loosen up enough to tell me the entire story. I need her happy and content if I want to find out what she hasn’t yet revealed. There is something I need to know, however.

“What about the photos? What happened to them?”

“I don’t know.” A note of panic enters her voice. “Joey was supposed to give me the phone they were taken on.”

“They were taken on a phone? Whose phone?”

“A friend’s,” Isabella murmurs.

A prickle of unease runs through me. “What friend?”

“He was my boyfriend.”

Whoever the asshole is, he’s the root of the trouble Isabella and I have faced.

“I want a name, Isabella.”

When she hesitates a moment too long, I grab her chin and turn her to face me.

“Who was it, Bella?”

“John.” She averts her gaze, unable to look at me. “John Smith.”

The lie is so blatant, I can’t help laughing. “John Smith?” I squeeze her cheeks until her eyes return to mine. “Try again.”

“I don’t know.” Her voice raises an octave, telling me the topic is distressing her. “He never told me his real name.”

“But you said he was your boyfriend.”

“I lied.” Tears fill her eyes. “I didn’t want you to think badly of me, letting a stranger take pictures of me like that.”

There are dozens more questions I want to ask her. How did Joey Gallo get a hold of the photos? Why did he not try to use them against her before we were married? She’s a beautiful woman, and I saw Gallo look at her with undisguised interest more than once. He could have forced her to do all kinds of depraved things. But he held onto the photos for years. It doesn’t make sense. None of this does. The more answers I get from my wife, the farther I feel I am from the truth.

Before I can probe farther, Isabella puts a hand on my chest. “Please, can we drop the subject, Tony?”

The combination of those sad green eyes, the desperation in her voice, and the familiar way she calls me Tony, plucks at heartstrings I’d forgotten I possess.

“Sure, sweetheart, we can drop it.”

If she hears the unspoken for now in my voice, she doesn’t react. I loosen my grip on her face and she turns her back to me once more, resting her head on my chest. She moves her hand back and forth in the water, creating ripples. She doesn’t speak and neither do I. We just lie there and I run my hands up and down her arms, offering her reassurance. Whatever secrets she still holds, she can trust me with them.

As the water gradually grows cold, Bella wriggles against me, the movement making my cock stir.

“Keep doing that, Bella, and this bath is going to get a lot less relaxing.”

She shimmies her hips again, then turns and flings her arms around my neck. She kisses me, her lips exploring mine. Where my kisses are usually fiercely possessive, hers are gentle, affectionate. She leans back and runs her hand along my inner thigh. I hold my breath, waiting for her next move. I hiss as she wraps her hand around my semi-erect cock and tugs a few times until I’m painfully hard.

“Fuck, Bella!”

As I reach for her, she surprises me by pushing herself back and leaping out of the tub. Rather than running off and forcing me to give chase, she grabs a towel and slowly dries herself off. I swallow hard as she runs the fluffy white towel down between her breasts and over her abdomen to her feminine mound. Then she drops the towel and slips her fingers between her legs. As she rubs her clit, she moans deeply. Her gaze on me doesn’t waver. Never before has Isabella been so blatantly seductive. She has one hundred percent of my attention and she’s reveling in it.

When I stand abruptly, sloshing water all over the floor, Isabella doesn’t flinch. Slowly, deliberately, she removes her fingers from her pussy and brings them to her lips. She sucks them into her mouth and hums with pleasure. I almost come on the spot.

As I take a step toward her, she turns and walks from the room, hips swaying. I don’t know what game my wife is playing, but I’m intrigued enough to follow her like a lost puppy.

I come into the bedroom and find Bella carrying the wooden stool that sits in front of the dressing table to the center of the room. She places it down and pats the padded seat.

“Sit,” she instructs me.

Normally I wouldn’t allow her to speak to me in that commanding tone but I’m incredibly aroused by it and do as she tells me. She places a hand on my shoulder and walks around to my front.

“You going to give me a lap dance, Bella?”

She glances down at my erection and smiles. “No, I think we can skip that and go straight to the main event.”

Straddling my lap, she lowers herself onto my cock. Her breath comes out in short pants as she takes me one inch at a time. Her tight channel is a snug fit, perfect for me. When I’m in her as far as I can go, she kisses me with a raw, desperate passion. I wind my arms around her waist as she raises and lowers herself. She grasps my shoulders and swivels her hips. Throwing her head back, she whimpers. I know what that sound means. She’s not quite getting what she needs.

To help her out, I slide one hand between her legs to play with her clit and with the other I palm her breast, kneading it roughly. I lower my mouth and suckle on her nipple. Then I bite into her tender flesh and she cries out in that glorious mix of pleasure and pain.

“Harder, Antonio.” She runs her fingers through her long, dark hair. “Fuck me harder.”

Who am I to refuse such a desperate plea from a goddess?

“Whatever my bella ragazza wants.”

Putting my hand behind her head to cushion it, I take Bella down to the floor. Her legs wrap around my waist and she lifts her hips as I fuck her just how she wanted me to, with barely leashed fury. It’s mere seconds before Isabella’s body tenses. Her back arches off the floor and she digs her nails into my arms, needing something to hold on to as she comes with a shriek of pure ecstasy.

With her body spasming beneath me, I can’t hold off a moment longer. As my beautiful wife trembles beneath me, I spill my seed inside her. When I’m thoroughly spent, I ease out of her and roll over onto the floor, not wanting to crush Isabella with my weight.

Our bodies are slick with sweat, our breathing is ragged. Bella sits up and sweeps her tousled hair out of her eyes. As I run my fingers up and down her back, she smothers a yawn with her fist. When she turns to smile at me, her eyelids are drooping. Poor baby is completely worn out.

With some reluctance to move, I get up off the floor and offer Isabella my hand. I help her up and lead her to the bed. Pulling back the covers, I help her get comfortable.

“Join me,” she says before I can draw the sheet up over her.

Normally, I’m not a cuddler, but the hopeful look on Isabella’s face is impossible to resist. I climb into bed next to her and pull the sheets up to cover us both. Isabella turns onto her side and I move closer to wrap my arms around her. I relish the warmth of her body, her softness, the delicate floral scent of her hair. For the first time in a year a deep feeling of peace washes over me.

A subtle change in Isabella’s breath sounds tells me she’s already asleep. I consider getting up and doing some work but I’ve left everything in safe hands. For once, I can relax and enjoy this closeness with my wife. A yawn creeps up on me and I realize I’m exhausted. Powerless to resist, I allow my eyes to close. Mere moments later, I drift off to sleep.

CHAPTER 12

Isabella

Napping during the day is always a bad idea. I don’t know how people do it as a regular thing. After falling asleep mid-afternoon, I wake up disoriented by the darkness in the room. My limbs feel heavy and my mouth is dry. I roll over and discover Antonio’s side of the bed is empty. The sheets are cold, indicating he got up some time ago. It doesn’t surprise me. The man barely sleeps. He doesn’t cuddle much either, so it makes me appreciate the fact he got into bed with me and snuggled all the more.

As my stomach growls with hunger, I reach over to the nightstand to grab the alarm clock, which is facing away from me. I gasp as I turn it around and see that it’s past midnight. The lack of light makes sense now. Rather than enjoying a quick catnap, I’ve been out for hours. I’ve slept right past dinnertime. I hope Janetta didn’t go to too much effort. Wasting her incredible food seems like sacrilege.

I get out of bed and go to the closet where some of the clothes I brought on my last visit to the house hang alongside the ones I took with me this time. Because I always assumed Antonio expected me to dress to mirror his style, there’s not a casual outfit here but I find a pair of wide-legged pants and a silky blouse that shouldn’t feel too restricting.

I have a feeling Antonio will end up tearing my panties off me if I wear them so I don’t bother putting on a pair. I do choose a lacy white bra from the lingerie drawer though. My boobs aren’t huge, and I could go without, but I feel weird about letting them hang free.

When I’m dressed, I go to the bathroom and stand in front of the mirror as I quickly run a brush through my tangled hair. It’s a bit unruly so I sweep it up into a ponytail and secure it at the nape of my neck with an elastic band I find in the cabinet beside the sink. Satisfied that I don’t look like someone who just crawled out of bed, I head downstairs in search of my husband.

It takes me a few minutes to locate him. He isn’t in his office or in the living room. I’m making my way to the kitchen to look for him when I pass the media room and hear what sounds like the squeal of tires coming from inside. It surprises me when I push open the door and discover Antonio watching a movie. He’s sprawled out on one of the large theater-style seats with a beer in his hand. He’s wearing sweatpants and a white t-shirt, garments I had no idea he owned.

When he spots me standing in the doorway gawping at him, he grabs the remote and pauses the movie.

“What’s the matter, Bella?” he asks, in response to the dumbfounded expression on my face.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you just kicking back and relaxing.”

“Yeah, it’s been a while since I last had a night off.”

Though he’s not looking for sympathy with that remark, I can’t help that it tugs at my heartstrings. Antonio works hard to safeguard his family’s future. Though his brothers are also involved in the business, they don’t shoulder the same weighty responsibility as my husband does.

I’m about to tell him he needs to be more selfish with his time when my stomach rumbles loudly. Antonio sets down his bottle of beer, gets up, and strides across the room to grab my hand.

“Come on, let’s feed you.”

He takes me through to the dining room where fresh flowers adorn the table and two places are set at one end of the long wooden table. Antonio helps me to settle into my seat. He grabs the bottle of white wine that’s sitting in the center of the table and uncorks it before pouring me a glass.

“I’ll go get our dinner,” he says. “Unless you don’t want to eat this late?”

“I don’t mind.” I may regret it when I’m unable to get back to sleep but I’m so hungry right now I need to eat. “Didn’t you already have yours?”

Antonio shakes his head. “No, I just grabbed a quick sandwich earlier.”

As he leaves the room, I wonder why he didn’t have dinner already. Was he not particularly hungry before, or did he want to wait until I joined him? I like to think it’s the latter. I need him to crave my company as much as I’m starting to desire his.

While I wait for Antonio to return, I sip the wine. It can’t have been sitting on the table for long because it’s still cold. The drink is crisp and refreshing and tells me to expect either chicken or fish for dinner. Antonio prefers to pair red wine with meat dishes.

I smell his approach before I see him. The unmistakable aroma arrives in the room a good six seconds before he does. Antonio appears in the room expertly balancing three plates, two with our meals on them and one with slices of what looks like Janetta’s homemade ciabatta. He sets the plates down, carefully laying mine down in front of me, then takes his seat.

“If the whole mafia thing doesn’t work out, you could try to get a job as a waiter.”

I almost hold my breath, waiting to see how Antonio responds to my teasing. Though we’ve been married for more than a year, I barely know him and I’m not sure how he’ll react. Fortunately, he laughs.

“I’m glad you find my service satisfactory.” A deliciously sexy smirk twists his lips. “I hope you’ll consider leaving a tip.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t have any money.”

“That’s okay.” His eyes gleam with wicked intent. “I’m sure you can think of some other way to reward me.”

“I’m sure I can,” I agree, before turning my attention to the food in front of me. If I allow Antonio to distract me with his smoldering gaze, I won’t get to try this delicious food. It’s been hours since I last ate, and I need the sustenance. “So, what is this amazing looking meal?”

“Tuscan chicken with mashed potato and bacon-wrapped asparagus.”

My mouth waters as I load up my fork. If the food tastes half as good as it smells I am in for a treat. As the flavors of sundried tomato and garlic hit my tongue, I moan with pleasure.

“Are you sure we can’t bring Janetta back to the city with us? I would never tire of eating her food.”

“Nah, she’s happy here. I asked her once, but she hates the city.”

I pop another piece of chicken into my mouth and chew it slowly before swallowing. “You could make her an offer she can’t refuse.”

Antonio shakes his head. “I’m not in the habit of coercing people into doing things they don’t want to.”

I have to stifle a laugh at that blatant untruth but Antonio must see the skepticism on my face.

“Well, maybe in business, but I wouldn’t force someone who’s part of the family to do something they didn’t want.”

I wonder if Antonio truly believes what he’s saying. He’s not above applying pressure to those closest to him. That’s not an argument worth having. I decide it’s time for a diplomatic change of subject.

“So what movie were you watching?”

“Just some car chase movie.” The offhand way he says that suggests he doesn’t think I’d enjoy it.

“I like action movies,” I tell him. “Maybe we can watch the rest of it together.”

“If you like.” He’s distracted as his cellphone rings. He takes it out of his pocket and rejects the call before tossing the phone on the table. A moment later it lights up again with Matteo’s name.

“Aren’t you going to get that?”

“No, he probably just wants to give me shit about not being at Leo’s party.”

He’s missing a party to be here with me? It’s unlike Antonio to skip out on any family event. He believes in presenting a unified appearance to the public.

“Leo’s throwing a party?”

“Mamma is.”

“Ah.” That makes a lot more sense. Leo Volante is not known for his hosting skills.

“She was pissed they didn’t have a proper wedding so Leo’s letting her throw this shindig.”

“It’s not like you to miss a family celebration.”

Antonio shrugs. “It was more important for me to spend some time with you.” He sets down his fork and reaches across the table to take my hand. “We need to get to know each other again and I need to prepare y⁠—”

He cuts off, mid-sentence, as his phone rings again. This time it’s Sandro. It seems to me his family needs to get in contact with him.

“You really should get that. It might be important.”

He picks up his phone, switches it off, and tosses it on the table. “What’s important right now is that we work on getting you ready for when we go back to the city.”

Unease runs through my veins like a sliver of ice. “Why? What’s happened?”

“Rico’s family is looking for him. They’re asking questions.”

“What sort of questions?”

“About you and…” Antonio is cut off once again as footsteps sound in the hall. He gets to his feet, pulling a gun from his back. I didn’t even realize he was armed.

“Who is that?” Antonio glares at me. “Did you let someone into the house?”

Stung by the accusation, I can’t formulate a response. How can he think that of me? Heart pounding, I clutch the edge of the table as Antonio moves toward the door, ready to confront the intruder.

“Boss, are you there?”

Antonio’s tension eases fractionally as a familiar voice drifts along the corridor. It’s Rich, one of the bodyguards who accompanied us on this trip.

“I told you I didn’t want to be disturbed.”

“Yeah, boss, but Matteo’s been trying to get hold of you. It’s Gio. He’s in the hospital. Something happened at Leo’s party and he got shot.”

“Fuck! How bad is it?”

“I don’t know but they need you to get back there.”

My heart lurches. Gio must be hurt badly if Antonio’s brothers are summoning him back to the city. It’s an ominous sign that they took him to a hospital. Usually their own doctor treats any injuries they sustain, but not if they’re life-threatening.

“Bring the car around,” Antonio instructs.

As retreating footsteps signal Rich is leaving to do as Antonio asked, I get up and join my husband in the corridor. His distress is clear as he paces up and down, running his fingers through his hair. When he spots me, he stops dead, the anguish in his eyes revealing his emotional turmoil. I’ve never seen Antonio so vulnerable. Reaching out, I lay a reassuring hand on his arm.

“I’m so sorry,” I tell him. “What can I do?”

My sympathetic tone seems to spark something in Antonio. Back straightening, he snaps back into his usual calm, collected self. “You can promise to behave yourself while I return to the city and take care of my family.”

It’s as if he slapped me across the face. I thought we were trying to mend fences here, but he still doesn’t consider me part of his family. “You want me to stay here?”

“Of course I do. Where else would you go?”

“Well, with you. Surely, I belong at your side?”

Antonio shakes his head. “No, it’s not a good idea. I have enough to deal with. I don’t need you getting in the way.”

“But…”

Before I can lodge an objection, Antonio grabs my arms in a bruising grip that startles a high-pitched squeak out of me. “You will stay here and behave yourself, Isabella. Defy me on this and you will be sorry.”

Tears well in my eyes at the harshness of his tone, the coldness of his demeanor. I thought we were making progress in our relationship but we seem to be stuck in a dance of one step forward, two steps back. With no other option than to obey his command, I swallow hard. “Okay.”

Giving me a curt nod, Antonio releases me, turns and walks away. He doesn’t give me so much as a goodbye kiss.

“Call me if you need me,” I shout after him.

He doesn’t respond but I get the message loud and clear. He won’t need me. Antonio may desire me. He’ll want to possess me. But need me? Never.

Shoulders slumping, I turn and go back to the dining room. I retake my seat at the table and start to eat, hoping Antonio will change his mind and come get me before he leaves.

After a couple of minutes, I hear the front door slamming shut. I guess my hope was futile. In the suffocating stillness that closes in as I’m left alone in this big old house, I take a sip of my wine and try to pretend my heart didn’t just break.

CHAPTER 13

Antonio

The sun is already coming up by the time we make it back to the city. It’s been a frustrating drive to get here. We were delayed by diversions for roadwork just outside of Westport and then there was a pile-up on the freeway that meant we were stuck for several hours.

I spoke to Matteo once to let him know I was on my way and to get an update on Gio’s condition. He had nothing to tell me except that Gio is in surgery and everyone is doing what they can to support our mother. Knowing they have their hands full with that and that Matteo will call if anything changes, I haven’t made contact since.

The long drive to the hospital has given me plenty of time to think and I haven’t come up with a convincing reason why anyone would target Gio, other than to strike at me. My youngest brother isn’t heavily involved in the family business and he generally keeps his head down when trouble is brewing. It’s unlikely this is the result of a grudge against him personally. It’s an attack on the family, but who’s behind it?

Though it briefly crossed my mind it might have something to do with Rico’s disappearance, I dismissed that thought. His family doesn’t know he’s dead yet so there’s no reason for them to lash out.

The likeliest culprit is Carlo Bianchi. He’s been making increasingly bold moves against us for a while now, pushing into our territory, trying to sell his drugs in our clubs. The timing of Gio’s shooting makes me suspicious. It can’t be coincidence that this attack happened at the party celebrating Leo’s marriage to Vinnie Bianchi. It makes me wonder if Carlo sent his daughter to destroy us from within. If it turns out Leo’s new bride is responsible for this, I’ll gut the little bitch personally.

When Rich finally pulls up at the hospital, I wait for David to get out and open my door. Though I’m a wreck on the inside, it’s got to look like business as usual. That’s why I changed into a black suit and shirt before leaving the house in Westport. I can’t have anyone thinking I’m not one hundred percent focused.

With David trailing behind me, I make my way to the Stanhope Wing where the wealthiest patients are treated. The donations my family has made over the years should ensure Gio is getting the best possible care. Though I’ve ploughed millions into buying new equipment for the place, I’ve only been here a couple of times, in my father’s final days.

Thinking about how frail the strongest man I’ve ever known looked as he lay there makes me shudder. Cancer is a cruel disease. The thought of how it ravaged his body makes me shudder. I have to bury the sadness that creeps up on me. Several of our men are stationed outside the waiting room and I can’t show any weakness in front of them.

As I enter the waiting room, my eyes immediately land on my mother, who’s sitting between Alessandro and my sister. My brother’s wife, Emilia, and Matteo flank them. It’s odd to see them in this setting still dressed in their finery from the party last night.

Leo stands at the other side of the room, wearing a look of guilt that tells me he believes he’s somehow responsible for this shit show.

Tamping down my anger at the thought his wife is connected to what happened, I go to my mother. I drop to a crouch in front of her and take her hand.

“I’m so sorry, Mamma. I should have been here sooner.” I kiss her hand. “Please, forgive me.”

“Of course, Antonio.” Her voice is croaky as if she’s cried herself hoarse. “But where have you been?”

I hate to lie to her, but I’m not ready to reveal Isabella is back in my life. She’ll worry about the implications of that and right now her focus has to be on Gio.

“I was away on business, Mamma.”

“Well, you’re here now.” My mother’s a good woman. She won’t make me feel bad about not being here with Gio was hurt, not that I’ll ever forgive myself for that.

“Gio will be fine,” I assure her. “You raised strong men. He’ll pull through.”

“I know.”

Kissing her hand once more, I get up and storm toward Leo. He can’t meet my eye and there’s no sign of his wife, which heightens my suspicion she’s to blame for this situation.

“What the fuck happened?” I demand as I reach him.

“Gio got shot.”

Is he for real? “Yeah, I know that. What I need you to tell me is how it happened.”

Leo sucks in a breath. “He was ambushed outside the ladies’ room, shot three times. He was fetching Vinnie’s purse.”

My jaw clenches so tightly I’m afraid I’ll break my teeth. “So this is your wife’s doing?”

“I don’t know.”

“Seems like a hell of a coincidence that she was talking to her father one minute and Gio’s fighting for his life the next.” Matteo walks over to join us.

“What the fuck?” I shake my head in disbelief. “Carlo was there?”

“He just showed up,” Leo replies. “Vinnie spoke to him.”

I exchange a look with Matteo who seems as surprised as I am that Leo would allow his wife anywhere near her father. “You didn’t shut that down?”

“I wasn’t with her. Gio was.”

The strain in Leo’s voice tells me he’s close to breaking. The last thing I need right now is for him to collapse under the weight of his own guilt. No matter what’s happened, we’re brothers, and that’s more important than anything his wife might have done. Curving a hand around his neck, I pull him closer and rest my forehead against his.

“You are not to blame. I let the marriage happen.”

“You couldn’t have stopped it. I wanted her too badly.”

I’m not going to argue with Leo over what might have been. I don’t know if he would have defied me if I said he couldn’t have her.

“If she got Gio shot, we have to deal with her,” Matteo says as I release my grip on Leo. “Do you want me to handle the interrogation?”

“I can do it,” Leo says before I can tell him I think it should be Matteo who deals with Vinnie. Though he’d never admit it, I’m pretty sure Leo’s already caught feelings for his wife. He won’t want to hurt her, if it comes to that. “She’s my wife. I can handle it.”

He’s adamant about that so I have to trust that he will take care of it. He needs to know I have faith in him. Leo takes a step toward the door but freezes as our family physician, Doctor Marino, comes into the room. He has privileges at this hospital and I’m relieved to know he’s here. The doctor might look like a weasel but he’s one of the few people outside of my immediate family that I have confidence in.

“Gio’s out of surgery and they’re bringing him to the ICU. When he’s settled, they’ll let you visit, but one at a time.”

“He came through it okay?” I ask.

Marino nods. “They repaired some damage to the aorta and they’re worried about his head injury.”

“I thought you said it was just a graze,” Leo interrupts with a snarl.

“It was, but he hit his head off something as he went down. They’ll keep an eye on him in the ICU. When he wakes, they’ll know more.”

“So he’s going to be okay?” Alessandro asks from across the room.

“He’s a strong kid, and he’s held his own this far, but he’s in rough shape.”

The way Marino spreads his hands open in a gesture of uncertainty isn’t exactly reassuring but I guess he doesn’t want to make any promises he can’t keep. It rarely ends well when people do that to us.

Dismissing the doctor with a curt nod, I turn my attention back to Leo. I lower my voice so my mother and sister don’t hear.

“Go deal with your wife.” I put my hand on his shoulder and squeeze, partly to offer him support but also to emphasize how serious I am about this. “Do what’s necessary, yes?”

“Yeah.”

The air of defeat surrounding my brother concerns me but I have to give him the chance to speak to Vinnie before stepping in and getting Matteo to deal with it.

“Family comes first,” I remind him.

He nods, but I can tell how conflicted he is. For his sake, I hope the Bianchi girl isn’t the one who set Gio up.

“Do you think he’ll get the truth out of her?” I ask Matteo as the door shuts behind our brother.

Matteo shrugs. “He’ll try.”

I’m about to respond when Alessandro’s wife, Emilia, approaches. She’s a beautiful girl, only a couple of years older than my sister.

“Emilia.” I greet her with a kiss on each cheek. “You okay, sweetheart?”

I wasn’t sure about my brother’s wife at first. Their marriage came about as the result of a deal made by her grandfather and my father, which I chose to honor. When Alessandro brought her home, she seemed too naïve to make it in our world but she’s adapting well and my brother is happier than I’ve ever seen him.

“I’m good, Antonio.” She glances at the floor, still shy around me. “I just wanted to see if I could fetch you a coffee.”

After the night I’ve had, I could use a caffeine hit. “That would be amazing, sweetheart. Thank you.”

Alessandro gets up from his seat and rolls his neck from side to side. “I’ll come with you this time. It’s not safe out there.”

I raise an eyebrow. There’s a vending machine in the lobby outside. A dozen of our men are stationed there. Does he think any of them would hurt her?

“The coffee here is undrinkable,” Emilia explains. “Matteo and I found a cute place down the street that’s a lot better.”

“Why don’t you send one of the men out?”

Emilia shrugs helplessly. “I need something to do.”

I understand her desire to keep busy. Waiting around hospitals isn’t my idea of fun either. As she and Alessandro leave, I can’t help smiling. “She’s a good girl.”

“Yeah. She single-handedly chased the cops out of here when they came by to ask questions,” Matteo said.

I hadn’t even considered that yet. An official investigation into Gio’s shooting will be a real pain in the ass to deal with but I guess it can’t be avoided. The attack happened in a public place and even if it hadn’t, bringing Gio to the hospital would have triggered police action.

“She told them to speak to her lawyers if they want to see footage from the hotel security cameras.”

“I assume we’ve got someone on that.”

“Yeah, Leo’s guys, but they can’t identify the shooter. All they’ve got is tall, dressed in black, probably male.”

“So it could be anyone,” I say wearily.

“Yeah, but we’ll get them.” Matteo runs his fingers through his hair. He looks around the room as if only just realizing someone is missing. “Where’s Isabella?”

“Still in Connecticut. I don’t need her here.”

Matteo huffs out a breath. “Perhaps you don’t but did you consider for one minute that she might want to be here?”

“It’s better if she’s not here.”

“Why?”

“She’s a distraction.”

Matteo’s lips twists as he considers that. “Maybe Mamma needs a distraction right now. Maybe she’d like to know you’re working things out with your wife.”

“I don’t want to get her hopes up.” My mother is a romantic. If she thinks I’ve misjudged Isabella and am now looking to bring her back into my life, she’ll see it as some sort of fairytale. I wouldn’t mind, but she creates scenarios in her mind and is then disappointed when the reality doesn’t live up to them. “I don’t know if I can trust Isabella yet. She’s hiding something from me.”

“Like what?”

“She says Gallo was blackmailing her.”

“And you think there’s more to it?”

I nod but don’t get a chance to elaborate because my sister chooses now to storm over.

“Are you two talking about Isabella?” she demands.

I can’t believe the balls on this girl sometimes. “Our discussion is none of your business.”

Olivia folds her arms across her chest, bringing my attention to the fact her dress is far too low-cut. Taking my cellphone out of my pocket, I shrug out of my jacket and hand it to her. “Put that on.”

Her pursed lips suggest she’s about to defy me but she clearly thinks better of it. She slips the jacket on over her shoulders. It’s far too big for her slender frame, but at least she’s covered.

“There. Happy now?”

I’d be happier if she wore more modest clothing, but I won’t get in a fight with her about her wardrobe when my mother is sitting fifteen feet away.

“Go back and sit with Mamma.”

“No.” Olivia turns to Matteo. “You sit with her for a minute. I want to talk to our lord and master.”

Matteo looks at me for confirmation that I’m okay with that. I’m not but Olivia is clearly in a bratty mood and I won’t get any peace until I let her have her say.

“Where’s Leo gone?” she demands the moment Matteo walks away.

“He had things to deal with.”

“Vinnie, you mean?”

My right eye twitches in irritation. “That’s family business.”

“Oh, you mean Family with a capital F, the almighty fucking mafia.”

I grab her arm and tug her closer to me. “Keep your voice down, Olivia.”

She pulls free of my grip and rubs her arm dramatically, like I really hurt her. She fixes me with an accusing glare. “You can’t let Leo hurt her. Vinnie’s a good person.”

“Oh, really. You know this from spending what, a couple of hours with her over dinner?”

“I met her more than once and I don’t claim to know everything about her but I know it’s just like you to blame her for this, you misogynist pig.”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t hate women, Olivia.”

“No?” She holds up her hand and counts on her fingers. “Isabella, Vinnie, me. There’s three you can’t stand for a start.”

“I don’t hate you, Olivia, but you are trying my last fucking nerve.”

A sensible person would take my tone as a warning to back away, but Olivia doesn’t budge. I don’t know whether I should admire her tenacity or be pissed at her lack of respect for my position as head of the family.

“And what are you going to do about it?”

“Push me and find out.”

For a while now, I’ve been mulling over the thought of sending her to Italy to stay with our cousins in Tuscany. Damiano has recently assumed control of the mafia in the region. He could watch over Olivia until I find her a suitable husband.

My sister wisely chooses not to say another word. She turns and flounces off, back to our mother’s side. As I dig my cellphone out of my pocket to check for messages, a gray-haired nurse in pale blue scrubs comes into the room.

“Mr. Volante can have a visitor now.”

“You’re the head of the family,” my mother says. “You should go first.”

I shake my head. If I’m the head of the family, my mother is its heart. As much as I want to see Gio for myself, I can’t go ahead of the woman who raised us.

“You go first, Mamma.”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course. Go make sure they’re taking proper care of him.”

She doesn’t need to be told twice. My mother practically sprints from the room, the skirt of her evening gown billowing around her ankles.

“That was nice of you,” Olivia says.

Taking her comment at face value, I nod. She’s obviously trying to smooth things over and I can’t allow bad feelings to fester between us. Although Gio has come through surgery, the ominous churning at the pit of my stomach tells me there’s still trouble ahead. It’s important that the family stands united.

Suddenly I wish I’d brought Isabella with me. It turns out, whatever I told myself, I need her by my side.

CHAPTER 14

Isabella

Eating a meal after midnight was a bad idea. Drinking an entire bottle of wine with that meal was an even worse one. I only got a couple of hours’ sleep before indigestion woke me at four a.m. After that, I tossed and turned, worrying about Antonio, nursing the emotional wounds he inflicted on me, and allowing my imagination to run riot.

In the depths of the night, I convinced myself that Antonio and I were finished. I got it into my head he was going to hand me over to the Mancini family and let them get revenge for me killing Rico. As soon as I dismissed that idea, another dreadful thought popped up to torture me. It became a vicious cycle that made it impossible to relax.

When the clock hits seven, I decide to get up, since I’m obviously not going to get back to sleep. Rather than hitting the shower as I probably should, I use the bathroom and then quickly wash my face in the sink. I glimpse myself in the mirror and recoil in shock at the sight that greets me. I’m a total mess. My face is pale, making the dark circles beneath my eyes even more prominent. You’d think I hadn’t slept in a week. My hair is straggly, with half of it still up in a ponytail and the rest hanging loose and limp around my face. I tug the elastic out of my hair, wincing as it gets caught in the tangles.

I go to the closet and find a long, silky robe to put on over my cotton pajamas since the shorts only just cover my ass. Antonio wasn’t happy the last time I risked his men seeing me in my nightwear and I don’t know who else is in the house with me. He told me to behave so he may have ordered someone to stand guard outside the bedroom door and shadow my every move like he did when I was a pampered prisoner back at the beach house.

Tying the belt of the robe around my waist, I open the door. It’s almost disappointing that there isn’t some goon waiting in the corridor to trail after me as I make my way downstairs. I know I’m being silly. I don’t like being closely guarded. But somehow it feels as if Antonio is sending a message by not having someone watching my every move. It feels as if he no longer cares about me. I give myself a mental slap for that thought. What I should feel is happiness that he trusts me enough not to impose a guard on me.

I get to the bottom of the stairs and pad along to the kitchen, the dove gray carpet soft beneath my bare feet. I love how Antonio’s mother, Ava, has decorated this place to create a cozy haven for her family to get away from it all. The house is large and quite imposing from the outside. On the inside, it’s a warm and comfortable home, a contrast to the grandeur of her New York townhouse, which is designed to reflect the family’s wealth and power.

I’ve always imagined that if she didn’t marry a mob boss, Ava would have settled into a comfortable middle-class suburban life. She’d have made a beautiful home for her family and raised her children to be doctors or lawyers, ordinary professional people. But, like me, she had no choice in who she married. Now she has to worry about whether her children will be arrested or gunned down by their enemies. I guess that’s the future I have to look forward to if Antonio and I have a family. It’s something we both wanted when we first married but I have no idea if it will happen now. The gulf between us seems impossibly wide once more and I couldn’t bear to bring children into a failing marriage.

When I get to the kitchen, I find Janetta preparing breakfast. I smell bacon and she’s flipping pancakes at the stove. There’s also a delicious aroma coming from the waffle maker. Despite her seemingly cooking a dozen different dishes when there’s only me in the house, there’s very little mess in the kitchen. If it was me cooking, there would be mixing bowls and various utensils lying all over the place, I can rustle up some pretty tasty dishes, but I’m not great at cleaning up as I go along.

“Isabella.” Janetta greets me with a warm smile as I climb onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar. “Any news about Gio?”

I shake my head. “I was about to ask you if you’d heard anything.”

Janetta raises an eyebrow. “Antonio hasn’t been in touch?”

“No.”

“I’m sure he’s just caught up in things and no news is good news, right? He probably didn’t want to disturb your rest if there was nothing to report.”

Janetta’s rush to make excuses for Antonio does little to soothe my hurt. If he wanted to speak to me, he would, no matter what time of day it was. The look of sympathy on her face as my lip wobbles is hard to bear. Desperate to change the subject before I give in to the urge to cry, I make a show of sniffing the air.

“Something smells good.”

“I wasn’t sure what you’d want this morning, so I made a bit of everything.”

Guilt assails me. “You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble. I’m not hungry.”

“What you don’t eat, the security team will soon polish off,” Janetta assures me, “but you must eat something.”

“Perhaps just some orange juice. I feel queasy.”

Her gaze drifts toward my abdomen, clearly wondering if I’m suffering from morning sickness. It strikes me then that I could be pregnant. Antonio and I haven’t been using birth control. When we married, we agreed to let nature take its course, and it didn’t occur to me to raise the subject of contraception when Antonio brought me back into his life. Even if I was pregnant, it would be too soon for morning sickness. I’m suffering for my late-night dinner and that’s all.

“You should eat something.” Janetta’s concern is touching. “How about a waffle and some fresh fruit?”

It’s impossible to say no as she’s already dishing up the food before I have a chance to refuse. She places a plate with a waffle, some fresh berries, and a drizzle of maple syrup in front of me. Initially, my stomach threatens to revolt, but when I take a bite of the warm, fluffy waffle, it settles. Janetta pours me some orange juice.

“Coffee?” she asks.

“Please.”

As she uses the fancy machine to make me a cappuccino, my favorite coffee in the morning, I eat my breakfast and try not to let somber thoughts drag me down. On top of my worry for Gio, I’m anxious about what’s going to happen between me and Antonio. I guess I shouldn’t tie myself up in knots over it. I’ve been shut out by my husband before and I survived it.

Janetta places my cappuccino in front of me. She studies my face and offers me a reassuring smile. “You should go to him.”

“He doesn’t want me there.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“I offered to go with him. He said he didn’t need me.”

Janetta clucks her tongue. “Antonio thinks he doesn’t need anyone. He’s been that way since he was a boy. His father burdened him with responsibility at too young an age.”

My eyes widen in surprise. That’s the first time I’ve ever heard anyone criticize Marco Volante. I didn’t spend much time around Antonio’s father when I was a kid, but everyone acted as if he was one of the greatest men to ever walk the Earth. The reverence for him only intensified after he died.

“You need to show him he’s not alone.”

“He isn’t alone,” I tell her. “He has his mother, his sister, his brothers.”

The older woman’s lips twist into a wry grin. “But they cannot give him what you can. The love of his wife is a prize to be treasured. Make him see that.”

“I don’t love him,” I murmur under my breath, even though I’m not sure of the truth of that. If I didn’t love him, surely I’d have let go of my hopes of reconciliation at some point over the last year?

“Yes, you do.” Janetta reaches over and pats my hand. “You wouldn’t be so miserable if you didn’t. And Antonio loves you too in his way.”

“In his way,” I scoff.

Janetta fixes me with a sterner stare now. “Go and have a shower, get dressed, and go be with your family.”

“How would I even get to the city?”

I’m looking for excuses now and the pursing of Janetta’s lips tells me she knows it. “One of the big brutes from the gatehouse can drive you. God knows they have little enough to do.”

Although I’m sure the security team doesn’t just sit around all day waiting for trouble to come to them, I nod. “Okay, who should I ask to drive me?”

“Leave that to me, dear. You go get dressed.”

Until I do as she asks, Janetta won’t give me any peace. I’m grateful for her bossiness, though, because she’s right. I need to be by Antonio’s side, for my sake if not his own. If something happens to Gio and I don’t get the chance to say goodbye, I’ll never forgive myself.

Taking one last bite of my waffle and a big gulp of coffee, I go back upstairs to have a quick shower. I set the water temperature cooler than I like so I’m not tempted to linger. On a normal day, I could stay in the shower for hours.

When I’m done washing, I turn off the water and step out. I blow dry my hair and then take a little time to get my makeup just right. I was surprised to find the vanity at the New York house stocked with my favorite brands. It gives me hope that Antonio kept some of my stuff.

As this is my first time seeing the Volante family in more than a year, I need to hide my fear behind a mask of perfection. To project the image of sophistication and control I’m aiming for, I choose a beautifully tailored navy shift dress and accessorize it with a simple black clutch and shoes with a towering heel. It isn’t me, but it works as well as any suit of armor. Nobody will look at me, so carefully put together, and see a woman in emotional turmoil. I want people to realize I mean business, to see that I’m worthy to stand by Antonio’s side. I want him to realize it, too.

Looking in the mirror one last time, I give myself an encouraging nod before going back to the kitchen. Janetta is there with a hulking brute of a man. Dark-haired and build like a tank, he has to be close to seven feet tall. He’s an absolute ogre. My heart flutters in fear. Then he turns to me and flashes a shy, boyish smile and I relax.

“Isabella, this is Paul.”

“Paul.”

“Mrs. Volante.” His voice is a deep rumble rising from the depths of his chest. He’d be truly terrifying if it wasn’t for the sparkle in his baby blue eyes. Something about him instantly makes me feel safe. “If you’re ready, I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

“Thank you, Paul.”

I give Janetta a quick hug goodbye and follow Paul as he lumbers along the corridor. As we head for the front door, I realize I’m missing some crucial information. “Oh, I don’t know which hospital they’re at.”

“They’re at St. Vincent’s, the Stanhope Wing.”

Of course they are. Only the finest medical care will do for New York’s premier crime family. Paul leads me out to a gray Audi SUV waiting in the driveway and opens the back door for me. I’d rather sit in the front with him, but I understand he might be uncomfortable with his boss’s wife being so close. I slide onto the seat and Paul closes the door.

“You won’t get in trouble for taking me there, will you?” I ask as Paul gets behind the driver’s seat.

Paul shrugs. “The boss didn’t say you couldn’t leave.”

Antonio told me to stay put, but I don’t share that information with Paul in case he changes his mind about driving me.

“Then let’s go.”

We don’t talk as we drive, until we get onto the I-95 and Paul tells me about a terrible accident that happened on the road last night. Apparently, Antonio was delayed getting to New York because of it. That will have pissed him off, no doubt.

After a while, the silence in the car becomes oppressive. Paul clearly isn’t one for chit-chat and I don’t have a cellphone to occupy myself with.

“Can you turn on the radio, please?”

He does as I asked. Some bouncy pop song comes on.

“This okay for you, Mrs. Volante?”

“It’s fine.”

I can’t be bothered listening to inane chatter on some talk show and anything too heavy music-wise would probably depress me right now. 1980s pop plays solidly for the entire time it takes to get to the hospital. It’s not my favorite genre of music, but it keeps my mood up until we arrive at St. Vincent’s. Then, as Paul stops at the entrance and switches off the music, my nerves kick in. As he gets out of the car and comes around to open my door, my heart pounds and my hands shake.

“I can’t do this,” I blurt out as Paul opens the door for me.

His forehead creases in confusion. “Mrs. Volante?”

“I made a mistake.” If Antonio wanted me here, he’d have brought me with him last night. Barging in like this won’t win me any favors. If there’s one thing I know about my husband, it’s that he doesn’t like to be taken by surprise. “Take me back to Westport.”

Paul frowns. “Are you sure?”

Am I? Before I have the chance to think things through, the decision is made for me.

“Isabella?”

I glance up as Dante Parisi approaches the car. One of Antonio’s closest friends, he’s dressed in black pants, white shirt open at the neck, and black vest. His dark hair is damp as if he recently took a shower. Probably washing blood off, if I know Dante. He doesn’t look as if he’s had much rest.

“Dante.” I hope I sound suitably composed as I address him. “Any news of Gio?”

He shrugs. “I’ve only just got here.”

“You haven’t spoken to Antonio yet?”

Dante shakes his head. “I’ve been dealing with…” He pauses, weighing up his response. “Stuff.”

“Stuff?”

He smiles grimly. I guess he’s been out cracking skulls, trying to find the person responsible for hurting Gio.

“The other Mrs. Volante, for example.” He straightens his cuffs. “Newlyweds seem to have a habit of causing trouble around here.”

I swallow hard. Is he talking about Alessandro’s wife or Leo’s? They’re both relatively new to the family.

“Which Mrs. Volante?” I ask.

“Leo’s blushing bride. Had to detain her after the shooting, what with her being a Bianchi.”

My blood runs cold. “What did you do to her?”

“None of the things I wanted to. Leo will have to handle his own wayward wife.” He cocks his head to the side. “Why are you only just getting here? Didn’t Tony bring you?”

I avert my eyes, unable to bear his scrutiny. Dante always sees too much.

“Ah, he didn’t want you here. Well, let’s go see how he feels about your presence.”

Dante reaches into the car and grabs my arm. Squealing in fright, I pull away. Paul steps up and puts a hand on Dante’s shoulder.

“Mr. Parisi,” he warns.

Dante just grins. He’s about five inches shorter than Paul and carries half his muscle, but the man is a psychopath. He’d gut the younger man before he could blink.

“It’s fine, Paul,” I assure him. “Dante just wants to get me safely to my husband.”

Hoping that’s true, I scoot to the edge of the seat and put my hand out for Dante to help me from the car. He assists me, not because he’s a gentleman, but so he can grab a firm hold of my arm.

“I’m coming with you,” Paul says.

Surprisingly, Dante doesn’t argue and lets the other man trail behind us as we walk into the hospital, heading for the Stanhope Wing. It’s empowering to have Paul at my back. He makes me feel secure, something I never experienced with any of Antonio’s other men. I wonder if I can keep him. Probably not. Antonio will suspect I’m up to something if I ask to choose my own bodyguard.

As we walk into the ultra-exclusive wing of the hospital, we find a couple of Antonio’s men stationed in the reception area. Dante just has to glare at the poor flustered woman behind the desk for her to buzz us through the secure entrance to the part of the hospital where Gio is being treated.

We take the elevator, getting out on the fourth floor. We walk along the corridor, turn a corner, and then all hell breaks loose.

CHAPTER 15

Antonio

Sitting idly has never been my strong suit, and I don’t do well in situations where someone else is in charge. Being at the hospital tests the limits of my patience. I hate that I hold little power here. I want to demand the doctors hurry up with their tests. We need to spend time with Gio, and so far, only my mother has had the chance to sit with him. I want someone to come in here and tell me my brother is awake and asking for me. If nothing else, I’d like more fucking information on what they’re doing to make him better. Unfortunately, no amount of intimidation is going to get me what I want. The staff might be wary of me and my family, but they won’t budge on hospital protocol and patient care. I suppose I should admire them for that.

I’m not happy with the lack of updates on the search for the shooter, either. Leo left here hours ago to get answers from his wife, and I’ve heard nothing from him since. Then there’s Dante, my supposed right-hand man. Who knows where the fuck he is? According to Matteo, he locked Vinnie up in one of our warehouses and then went to hit the streets to see if he could find anyone who knew anything about the shooting.

As I check my cellphone for the hundredth time, Alessandro crosses the room to where I’ve been leaning against the wall for the last hour, and puts his hand on my shoulder.

“I’m taking Emilia and Livvy home for a shower and a change of clothes.”

“Yeah, they’ve had a long night.” I look over to where my sister is resting her head on Matteo’s shoulder. She’s staring blankly into space, clearly exhausted. “You should take Mamma too.”

Alessandro makes a face. “I suggested it. She won’t leave.”

Her reluctance to go is to be expected, I suppose, but until we have more news about Gio, it seems pointless for us all to sit around waiting. If anything happens, it won’t take long for my family to get back to the hospital. I cross over to where my mother is sitting next to Olivia and crouch in front of her. She curves a hand around my cheek. Her eyes glisten, as if she’s on the verge of tears.

“You look tired, Antonio.”

It’s typical of her to worry about others before herself. “You should take a break, Mamma. Let Sandro take you home. Get some rest.”

She shakes her head as I knew she would. My mother is kind, gentle, but she’s got a backbone of steel. She knows her own mind, and she’s stubborn once she’s set on something.

“I am not leaving this hospital until Gio does.”

“That could take a while.”

My mother fixes me with a determined look. “If it takes all year, I will wait for my youngest son.”

I look to Matteo for help, but he shrugs, jolting Olivia, who sits up straighter.

“How about I bring you some fresh clothes, Mamma?” Alessandro suggests and she nods. “You need anything, Tony?”

“No, I’m okay.”

Alessandro and Emilia both kiss my mother on each cheek and then my brother helps Olivia up from her seat. She wobbles on her stupidly high heels but Matteo puts a hand at the small of her back to steady her.

“Come on, Livvy,” Emilia says, wrapping an arm around my sister’s shoulders. “Let’s get you home.”

“Poor Livvy’s dead on her feet,” Matteo says.

I cast him a stern glare, a warning to choose his words more carefully, but my mother doesn’t seem upset by his remark.

“She’ll be fine.” My mother’s tone is resolute. “And so will Gio.”

Matteo gets up from his seat, stretches out his arms, and goes to the window.

“Why isn’t Leo back yet?” my mother asks. “He’s been gone a long time.”

“He had something to take care of.”

My mother narrows her eyes. “Even if this is Carlo Bianchi’s doing, Vinnie was not involved.”

“You don’t know that, Mamma.”

She purses her lips and I know I’m about to get a lengthy rundown on my sister-in-law’s qualities that make it impossible for her to have plotted against us. Fortunately, I’m saved from that by a tap on the door. I get to my feet as Darryl, one of our newer recruits, pops his head into the room.

“Got a Detective Winters here to see you.”

He’s one of the many cops we have on our payroll. “Send him in.”

“Damien,” I acknowledge the detective as he steps into the room. At thirty years of age, he’s already got an impressive beer gut and an ever-expanding bald spot at the top of his head. He wears the weary expression of a man who took the wrong path in life and can’t find a way off it.

“Antonio.” He looks over at Matteo and nods to acknowledge his presence before turning his attention to my mother. “Mrs. Volante.”

“I’ll get straight to the point.” Winters usually does. It’s one thing I appreciate about him. “Do you know a Gino di Santo?”

The name is familiar. I glance over at Matteo. He’s frowning as if trying to recall where he’s heard the name before. Mamma is the first to speak, however.

“The chef from Roma?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Winters replies. “We believe Mr. Volante, uh, Leo Volante, fired him recently.”

The man worked for us since my father’s time, but he was getting sloppy, making mistakes in the kitchen that were driving our customers away. Leo let him go with a generous severance package.

“Yeah, and what the fuck’s that got to do with anything?” Matteo demands.

“Well, Mr. di Santo was found dead this morning, a self-inflicted gunshot wound.”

Matteo obviously hears an accusation where there wasn’t one. “Well, none of us did it. We were here.”

My mother tuts loudly. “He said self-inflicted, Matteo.”

If she hadn’t married my father and had six kids, my mother would have made a pretty decent lawyer. She doesn’t miss much, which is why I lied to her about where I’ve been the last couple of days. It wouldn’t actually surprise me if she knows I was with Isabella and is just choosing not to call me on my bullshit.

“Anyway,” Winters continues, “he left a note saying he was sorry he hurt the wrong brother.”

“You’re saying this di Santo shot Gio.”

“Looks that way. He was making noises about getting revenge. His intended target was obviously Leo.”

“You’re sure about this?”

Winters nods. “Just a tragic case of mistaken identity.”

My mother rises from her chair, shoulders pulled back, head held high. “First of all, Detective, no tragedy has occurred here since my son still lives. Second of all, if it was a tragedy, it would be no less so if this lunatic had hit the intended target.”

“Of course.” Winters turns an unappealing shade of purple as he withers in the face of my mother’s stern gaze. “My apologies, Mrs. Volante.”

She smiles tightly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need a breath of fresh air.”

“Take a guard with you,” I call out after her as she glides from the room. She’ll do as I ask. My mother is as security conscious as the rest of us.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

I hold a hand up to stop Winters before his groveling becomes unbearable. He’s suffered enough with my mother shriveling his balls for one misspoken word.

“Is there anything else?”

Winters shakes his head.

“Then don’t let us detain you.”

The detective doesn’t hang around. I watch him scurry from the room and then turn to Matteo.

“You’d better get ahold of Leo.”

“Oh, fuck, yeah. If he hurt Vinnie…”

He lets that thought hang in the air. If Leo used force to try to get his wife to admit she was involved in a plot to kill one of us, he’ll regret it. When he finds out she’s innocent, he’ll make damned sure we’re sorry for it, too.

“Just call him. I’m going to check on Mamma.”

As Matteo gets his cellphone from his pocket, I step out into the hallway. Several of our men stand to attention when they see me. I wave a dismissive hand, as it looks like a couple of them might follow me to the elevators. Going to see my mother was just an excuse. I need a minute to clear my head. The last few days have been intense.

Pushing through a double door, I come to an abrupt halt. A woman in a blue gown is standing at the end of the corridor, leaning against a tall, gray-haired man whose arms are wrapped tight around her. His chin rests on her head as he murmurs something to her.

It takes me a minute to realize what I’m seeing. My mother and Boris Reznov, head of the fucking Bratva, are hugging. It’s an intimate picture, but I could be reading it wrong. He might simply be offering her comfort.

That notion is dispelled a moment later when Boris pulls back. He takes my mother’s face in his hands and lowers his head. There’s nothing platonic about the way he kisses her. Fury boils in my veins. The Volantes have been allies with the Reznov Bratva for years, but there is no way I’m allowing this shit to happen.

“Reznov!” I bellow as I storm along the corridor toward them.

My mother springs back in surprise, guilt written all over her face. She tries to get between me and Reznov, but I push her aside as gently as I can, considering my rage. She screams as I draw back my fist and punch Reznov square in the face. There’s a satisfying crunch as he reels from the blow. Blood spurts from his nose. I hit him again and again and he goes down.

My mother shrieks again as I dive for Boris. He tries to defend himself as I grab his lapels and smack his head against the floor, but with his arms flailing, he doesn’t land a punch on me. I haul him up again, intending to crack his fucking skull open, when a shout stops me in my tracks.

“Tony, no!”

Looking up, I’m stunned to find Isabella, flanked by Dante and Paul, one of the guards from the Westport house. Dressed to kill, Isabella is a fucking goddess. The expression she wears is one of anger laced with concern.

While I’m momentarily distracted by the vision my wife presents, Dante rushes forward and drags me to my feet, away from Reznov.

“Calm the fuck down,” he hisses in my ear as I try to throw him off. “We’ve got an audience.”

As my mother drops to her knees next to the Russian prick, I glance around the corridor and realize we’ve drawn a small crowd. Some onlookers are hospital staff, others are my men. There’s even one woman in a hospital gown, an IV attached to her arm, gawping at us.

“Get the fuck out of here!” I yell and people scatter. I turn to my mother, who’s fussing over Reznov. “And you get the fuck away from that Russian bastard.”

“Antonio!” My mother tries to scold me as she strokes Reznov’s face with a tenderness that tells me she cares about the asshole.

“I’m serious, Mamma. Go back to the waiting room.”

She stiffens at the cold command in my voice, but doesn’t move. She actually looks to Reznov for guidance. He nods, and she gets to her feet. Shaking her head in disgust as she passes me, she walks away.

“Help Mr. Reznov up,” Isabella tells the giant at her back.

Paul does as she asked, grabbing Reznov under the arms and lifting him to his feet. I watch in disbelief as Isabella steps up to the Russian, raising her hand to his face and tilting his head one way and then the other, examining his injuries. She whispers something to him, then leans closer and gives him a quick hug. What the fuck? Have the women in my family gone insane?

“I love Ava.” Reznov turns and looks me in the eye. It gives me great satisfaction that his face is a mess. “We plan to marry.”

“Over my fucking cold, dead body!” I lunge for him once more, but Dante holds me back.

Again, Isabella murmurs something. Reznov nods resignedly, pats her arm, and walks away.

“Make sure he leaves,” I tell Dante. He follows as the Russian Pakhan staggers away. “And you,” I turn my ire on Paul, “get back to Westport before I shoot you between the fucking eyes for bringing her here.”

“No.” Isabella touches the big idiot’s arm. “Wait downstairs. I might need you.”

Like fuck she will.

“Yes, Mrs. Volante.” Paul accepts her order over mine. What the fuck did my wife do to deserve such loyalty all of a sudden?

As he moves off toward the exit, I march over to Isabella. Grabbing her arms, I back her against the wall. Her breath hitches as I lean in closer. Fear and arousal flare in her eyes.

“Now, my disobedient wife, you can explain what the fuck you’re doing here.”

CHAPTER 16

Isabella

My heart beats furiously as Antonio pushes me against the wall. It was shocking to see him attack Boris Reznov like that, but I guess it was always going to be explosive when his mother showed interest in a man. The Volante brothers are fiercely protective of Ava, and I suspect they have an image in mind of her being an eternal widow, mourning the loss of their father until the day she joins him in the afterlife. Not that her destination is likely to be the same as Marco Volante’s. If there is a hell, he more than earned his place there.

“I asked you a question,” Antonio snarls. “What are you doing here?”

Despite the violence simmering beneath the surface of his deceptively calm exterior, I know Antonio won’t hurt me. It’s hard not to wilt under his hostile gaze, though. Keeping my head up and my shoulders squared, I remind myself of why I came here. I wanted to show him a different, more determined side of myself. I can’t back down.

“You mean, apart from saving you from starting a war with the Bratva?” At least, I hope I did. My words to Boris were intended to smooth things over. I tried to assure the other man that Antonio wasn’t thinking straight, that there’s no need to break up their alliance. Ignoring the way my husband is glowering at me, I tut disapprovingly. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“That I don’t want some Russian fuck pawing at my mother.”

His sneer makes it seem as if it was some low-level foot soldier with his mother and not the billionaire head of a powerful organization.

I snort derisively at his attitude. “Is it really so bad? The Reznovs are your allies. Your mother and Boris are adults and neither of them are married. Ava’s still young. She shouldn’t have to spend the rest of her life alone.”

Ava only recently turned fifty, but Antonio acts as if she’s an old lady and not a woman with decades of life ahead of her. She’s still incredibly beautiful and, I have to admit, for an older guy, Boris Reznov is pretty damned hot. Silver fox doesn’t even begin to do the man justice. It would be a spectacularly bad idea to point that out to my husband, though.

Placing my hand on his arm, I caress it gently, trying to soothe his temper.

“Your mother deserves to find love.”

“Love?” Antonio spits. “You think they’re in love?”

“I do.” When Boris said he loved Ava, I felt every ounce of the sincerity in his words. “I saw how they looked at each other.”

“Fuck!” Antonio shoves away from me. He runs his grazed, bloody fingers through his hair, exasperated. “I don’t want to think about it.”

He’s going to have to deal with this sooner rather than later but I let the subject drop for now.

“How’s Gio?”

“He had surgery. We’re waiting for him to wake up.” Antonio moves closer. He puts his hands on the wall at either side of my head, caging me in. “Now, I’ll ask you again, Bella. What are you doing here?”

“I need to be here for Gio, for you.” I reach up and curve my hand around his cheek. He hasn’t shaved since yesterday morning, so his skin feels rough. “I’m your wife. My place is by your side.”

His jaw clenches as he considers what I’ve said. For several long seconds, he just stares at me. It takes everything I have in me not to look away. Now is the time to stand my ground, otherwise he’ll send me back to Westport, or the beach house, and our relationship will fall apart completely.

After what feels like an eternity, Antonio nods. “You’re right, Bella. I shouldn’t have left you behind.”

Though it’s not a clear apology, it feels like he’s saying sorry. He lowers his lips to mine. His kiss is softer than I’m used to from him, but it carries so much emotion I’m almost overwhelmed. His hand skims down the side of my neck as his lips caress mine. I shudder and sag against him as he pulls back.

Skimming the tips of his fingers down my cheek, he looks at me with a gentler expression on his face than I’ve ever seen. He’s never told me he loves me, but something tells me he’s building up to making a declaration. It never comes. The moment is shattered by the sound of a man clearing his throat.

Antonio steps away from me as Matteo saunters along the corridor toward us, wearing black pants, a white shirt, and his trademark cocky grin.

“Izzy.” He greets me with a kiss on each cheek. “This is a surprise. Need me to get rid of another body for you?”

“No,” I hiss, horrified that he’s bringing up the horrible business with Rico. I glance around to make sure nobody overheard him.

“Just a social call, then?”

My shoulders stiffen. Matteo is one of my oldest friends, but right now he’s looking at me as if I’m the enemy.

“I’m here to support my husband.”

“A man does need a loyal wife by his side.” Matteo tilts his head to the left as he regards me closely. “Are you loyal, Izzy?”

Although he addresses me by the pet name he’s always used for me, it’s without the affection we once shared. We were as close as brother and sister at one time, so the hint of suspicion in his voice is hurtful.

“I am.”

“I hope so.” He smiles tightly. “I’d hate to have to dump your body behind a strip club in Queens. You know, so soon after the last one.”

His remark is quite specific, so I’m guessing that’s what he did with Rico. It’s a reminder of the consequences of betrayal and also of what I owe the Volantes, as if I’d ever forget they’ve covered up what I did.

“You won’t have to,” I assure him. “I’ll never do anything to betray Antonio.”

“Good girl.” Matteo grins as if I’ve passed some test. Then he turns to my husband, who’s been watching our exchange with pursed lips. He’s never been comfortable with the past friendship between me and his brother. “Want to tell me what happened with Reznov?”

“What did Mamma tell you?”

“Nothing, but it’s clear she’s pissed. I heard a couple of the guys talking about how you laid him flat and you have blood on your shirt.”

Antonio glances down at his white dress shirt and curses. “I caught him kissing our mother.”

“And that warranted a beating?”

“He was kissing her, Matteo. Are you telling me you’re okay with that?”

“I don’t know. I mean, they are consenting adults, right?”

Matteo is being incredibly calm about this. In fact, he doesn’t even seem surprised by what Antonio just told him. My husband picks up on that too.

“You already knew about them?” I ask.

Matteo shrugs. “I had my suspicions.”

Antonio’s expression grows thunderous. “You didn’t think to share your suspicions with me?”

“No, because I didn’t know for sure.”

Antonio paces back and forth. He’s like a tiger looking for someone to maul. I wonder if he’d be this upset about his mother and Boris if he’d heard about it at some other time. Or is it just too much for him to deal with on top of the stress of waiting for news of Gio? He stops moving, takes a deep breath, and composes himself.

“Did you speak to Leo?”

Matteo nods. “Yeah, that’s why I was looking for you. I need to go pull his head out of his ass.”

Antonio doesn’t ask him why. He just dismisses his brother with a flick of the wrist. Matteo saunters off, apparently unbothered by being waved away like some lackey.

“What’s going on with Leo?” I ask.

“Nothing for you to worry about.”

Okay, message received loud and clear. Whatever’s up with Leo, it’s none of my business.

“Go sit with my mother,” Antonio says. “She’s in the waiting room.”

“Why? Where are you going?”

He doesn’t answer, just strides off along the corridor. I stay where I am for a minute, unsure of where to go. This place isn’t familiar to me. I head in the direction Dante was leading me before we came across Antonio pummeling Boris Reznov into the ground. Walking through one set of double doors, I find myself in a short corridor. I go through more doors and find myself in a foyer of sorts. Several men, dressed in the standard mafia uniform of black shirts and pants, stand around. I don’t recognize any of them, but the nods of acknowledgement tell me they know who I am.

“Uh.” Uncomfortable with the scrutiny, I clear my throat. “The waiting room?”

“In here, Mrs. Volante.” A young, dark-haired man who can’t be more than eighteen opens a door for me.

“Thank you, eh…”

“Jordan, ma’am.”

I flash him a smile as I walk into the room. Steeling myself to face the Volante family, I’m surprised to find Ava alone. She’s sitting in an armchair by the window. This is not the standard hospital waiting room. It’s more like the lobby of a fancy hotel, with the plush gray carpet, matching sofas, and paintings of tranquil landscapes on the walls.

“Isabella.” Ava’s greeting isn’t overtly hostile. If anything, she sounds curious about my presence here.

“Where is everyone?”

“Alessandro took his wife and Olivia home for a while. The others…” She shrugs. “Who knows?”

Contemplating whether it would be best to turn around and leave, I hover by the door. Ava regards me shrewdly.

“So the rumors are true? My son has taken you back?”

“He has.”

“Hmm.” She gestures toward the seat opposite her. “Come and tell me how that happened.”

My pulse skitters as I cross the room. The Volante men might be scary but to protect her family, there is nothing Ava wouldn’t do. She’s one of the sweetest, kindest women I’ve ever met, but if she thinks her children are at risk of being hurt, she becomes a lioness.

I sink onto the seat opposite her and fold my hands on my lap to stop them from trembling. Ava raises an eyebrow and waits for me to speak. I’m not sure what to tell her.

“I didn’t mean for Antonio to get hurt that night. He knows that now.”

“What does he know?”

“That Joey Gallo blackmailed me to let him into the house.”

Ava purses her lips. I really hope she doesn’t ask me what Joey used to force my hand. “How did Antonio find out about this?”

“I told him.”

“Why now?”

“There wasn’t a chance to tell him before.”

The older woman arches an eyebrow. It’s a bullshit answer, and she knows it. I’ve had a year to speak to Antonio and plead my case.

“I was ashamed of what happened and the longer I was away from Antonio, the more scared I was to speak to him.”

Ava nods. “But you changed your mind?”

“Not exactly. I ran into trouble, and Antonio helped me.”

“Did this trouble involve Rico Mancini?”

My eyes widen. “How did you know?”

Ava lets out a long exhale. “My son may choose to keep me in the dark, but I hear things. I know he’s been with you in Westport for the last couple of days and not on some business trip. I also know Rico Mancini is missing. He’s dead, I assume?”

I glance around the room warily. This isn’t a topic we should be discussing.

“It’s fine,” Ava assures me. “Matteo ensured there are no eyes and ears on us when we first arrived at the hospital. The place is secure.”

I can’t imagine how someone ensures privacy in a public building but I suppose the Stanhope Wing does cater to the super-rich who prefer to know they won’t have people eavesdropping on them.

“I killed him. He tried to…”

Before I can say another word, Ava leans over and pats my hand. “Then he got what he deserved.”

My eyes tear up. It’s not because of the lingering memory of Rico’s disgusting threats or guilt that I took his life. What brings me to the point of tears is that Ava just showed me I’m still part of the family, that whatever I’ve done, they won’t stand for anyone trying to hurt me.

Before emotion gets the best of me, I decide to change the subject. “So, you and Boris Reznov?”

For a moment, I think Ava’s going to tell me to mind my own business. I guess I can’t expect her to divulge details of her personal life to me after we’ve not seen each other for a year. Then she nods. “We’ve been seeing each other for some time.”

“You’re a lucky woman. He’s rich, handsome.”

“Not just that.” Ava smiles softly. “He’s kind to me. I’ve never known a man like him before.”

“Really?” I thought she and Marco Volante were the love story of the century. He was apparently cruel to everyone but her and their children.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Ava says. “Marco was a good husband. I grew to love him, but marrying him wasn’t my choice. My father gave me to him when I was eighteen. He won me without trying.”

“But Boris has to put the effort in.”

“He does.” Ava gives a girlish grin. “I’ve made him work for me.”

“Good for you.”

I can’t help thinking about my marriage. Antonio didn’t have to court me. He snapped his fingers, and I was his. I’d have liked to be romanced, just a little.

“Do you think my children will accept Boris?”

What she’s really asking is if Antonio will, because if he tells the others to respect Ava’s relationship, they’ll all fall in line.

“I don’t know, Ava. Maybe if you explain how Boris makes you feel.”

Her expression as she digests that idea is one of skepticism. Antonio’s not going to be swayed by her emotional investment in Boris. Silence descends and I don’t know how to fill it. Fortunately, I don’t have to suffer the awkwardness for long. The door swings open and a nurse in blue scrubs comes into the room.

“Mrs. Volante.” She looks at Ava, rather than me. “The doctors are finished with Gio. You can come and sit with him if you like.”

Ava gets to her feet and smooths down the skirt of the gorgeous blue gown she’s wearing.

“When Antonio graces you with his presence, will you let him know where I am?”

“Of course.”

As Ava follows the nurse from the room, I slump back in my chair. It’s a pain in the ass not having access to a cellphone. I don’t have to sit here alone for too long, though. Antonio comes storming back into the room, looking no calmer than when he left me in the corridor.

“Where is she?”

His tone is worryingly hard. For as long as I’ve known him, he’s referred to his mother as Mamma, displaying all the reverence the woman deserves for raising him and his siblings.

“She’s with Gio. The doctors have finished running their tests.”

Antonio shakes his head. He goes to the window. Raising his arm over his head, he leans against it as he looks out over the city. Though he’d never admit it, he’s hurting.

“Why don’t you go sit with them?” I suggest.

“I’ll see Gio later.”

Despite his prickly demeanor, I get up and go to his side. I lay a hand on his shoulder.

“You should speak to your mom.”

His answering grunt should be enough warning to drop the subject, but I can’t.

“Tony, this thing with Boris…”

Before I can get another word out, Antonio grabs me by the throat, whirls me around, and shoves me against the wall.

“Stay out of it,” he snarls. “What happens with my family is none of your fucking business.”

“Tony.”

“I mean it, Isabella. I don’t want to hear another fucking word from you.”

Letting go of my throat, he stalks off to the other side of the room and slumps into a chair. Tears burning my eyes, I turn and stare out into the pale blue sky. He doesn’t want to hear what I have to say? Fine. If that’s what he wants, he can have my silence. Let’s see which of us cracks first.

CHAPTER 17

Antonio

As Isabella’s hand skims down my bare chest, it takes everything I have in me not to react. For the past three days, my wife has barely said a word to me except in the unguarded moments when I’m fucking her senseless. She’s trying to prove a point, I guess, about letting her voice her opinion on what’s going on with my mother and Boris Reznov. The trouble is, I already know what she’ll say and I don’t want to hear it. Not yet.

I hold my breath as Isabella runs her fingers over my abdomen. She must know I’m awake. I’ve always been a light sleeper. Still, she continues with her tentative exploration. Lying on her side, she presses her lithe body against me as she trails her fingers lower. My cock stiffens as she finally gives it attention, stroking it softly.

As she moves to straddle my hips, I reach up and grab her waist.

“Tony!” she gasps. “I thought you were sleeping.”

Little liar. “No, you didn’t.”

Her cheeks redden. “No, I didn’t.”

She bends to kiss me, her long, dark hair falling in a curtain around our faces. Her lips are soft and warm as she presses them to mine. Her breath tastes minty fresh. She must have got out of bed to brush them. Huh. I guess I slept through that. As I open my mouth, intending to deepen the kiss, she pulls back and smiles down at me.

“Morning, handsome.”

There’s a gleam in her eye I don’t trust. “What are you up to? Bella?”

“Nothing.” She bites her bottom lip in a way that tells me there’s something. “It’s just, well, I invited Emilia and Vinnie over this afternoon. Ava and Livvy, too.”

My mother won’t come. She’s barely left the hospital, except to check on progress with the room she’s setting up in her house for Gio to be transferred to when the doctors say he’s ready. That could be awhile yet since he hasn’t regained consciousness, but she wants to be prepared. Matteo’s helping her to arrange it because he’s the only one of us our mother is happy to be around right now. Like me, Leo and Alessandro didn’t take the news that she’s been sneaking around with the head of the Bratva well. Matteo has been annoyingly calm about the whole thing.

“Okay.”

“I wasn’t asking your permission. I just want some space while they’re here.”

Over the last couple of days, Isabella has been getting to know her new sisters-in-law while we gathered at the hospital to be close to Gio. I should tell her off for her defiant tone, but I’m not looking for an argument before I even get out of bed in the morning.

“That’s fine. I’ve got business to take care of, anyway.”

“It doesn’t worry you what the Volante wives might talk about if you’re not there?” Isabella asks.

I contemplate that for a moment. I think it’s great that she wants to spend time with Emilia. She’s a sweet girl and has already proven herself to be a great asset to the family. Vinnie, I’m not so sure of. The woman likes to push people’s buttons, but she may be just what Leo needs. If she helps to curb his violent tendencies, just a little, then I guess it’s a good thing.

“What you talk about doesn’t concern me.”

“Perhaps we’ll discuss literature, then.”

I furrow my brow. She’s going somewhere with this, but I can’t work out what she’s getting at yet.

“If that’s what you want.”

She smiles tightly. “Perhaps we’ll start with Aristophanes.”

It takes me a minute to place the name of the Ancient Greek playwright. As soon as I do, I realize where my wife is headed with this conversation. “Lysistrata?”

“Precisely.”

“You’re planning a sex strike if I don’t comply with your demands?” I can’t help but grin at what I know is an empty threat. Reaching between her legs, I stroke her clit. Her lips part as she gasps. “I think you’d suffer as much as me. Perhaps more.”

Narrowing her eyes as I tease her swollen bud, she bats my hand away. She climbs off me, off the bed. She pulls on a white silk robe and cinches the belt around the waist. The message is clear. Access denied.

“Isabella.” I reach out to her. “Come back to bed. This is silly.”

She pushes her lips into a pout. “No, I have to try something, Antonio. Silence didn’t work, but why would it? You don’t value my opinion. My only use to us is as a warm hole to fuck.”

Sitting up in bed, I shake my head. “Isabella, that is not true.”

“Really?” She folds her arms across her chest as she adopts an aggressive stance.

“Yes, really. I care what you think, but what’s going on with my mother is family business.”

Isabella huffs out an indignant breath. “So I’m not part of the family?”

Fuck, I am digging myself in deep here. I get out of bed and go to Isabella. She backs off a step as I reach her, but I don’t let her retreat farther. Grabbing her hand, I pull her close. I drape my arms over her shoulders to hold her in place.

“Of course you’re part of the family,” I assure her. “But this situation has blindsided me, Isabella.”

She shoots me a sympathetic smile. “I get that, but did you think she was going to sit around mourning your father for the rest of her life? Ava’s still got years ahead of her. She has needs.”

My mouth twists. I do not want to think about that. “Drop the subject, Isabella.”

With surprising force, Isabella pushes me away from her. “Why did you bring me here, Antonio?”

I didn’t bring her here. She followed me from Westport, but I know that’s not what she’s asking.

“I want you.”

“For what? To look pretty on your arm and suck your dick on command?”

My jaw twitches. I don’t like her talking that way. “No, Isabella, I want you here as my wife, to be the woman by my side.”

She looks down at the floor. “It doesn’t seem that way.”

Emotional conversations are not my forte. I don’t have the right words to make things better with Isabella right now. I can show her how I feel. Pulling her close once more, I put a finger beneath her chin and tilt her face toward me. Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips. It’s an unconscious sign of her eagerness to be kissed. I’m happy to oblige.

The moment my lips touch hers, a primal desire to claim her fires through my veins. Knowing that’s not what Isabella needs right now, I hold myself back. When she parts her lips for me, I stroke my tongue over hers. This tenderness doesn’t come naturally to me. From the earliest age, I was taught to be ruthless. Though my father told me such qualities don’t belong in a marriage, it’s hard for me to rein in my urge to take what I want.

As Isabella winds her arms around my neck, I carefully untie the knotted belt at her waist. It’s like unwrapping a present as I part the edges of her gown to reveal her incredible body. No matter how often I look at her, I will never get enough of those long, lean legs and her perfect breasts.

Slipping the robe off her shoulders, I watch her face closely as I run my fingers along the cleft between her legs. Her mouth drops open as I caress her intimate flesh. As I slide two fingers inside her, Isabella gasps. She grabs my wrist, anchoring herself rather than trying to push me away.

There’s something intoxicating about the quiet moans she emits. I’ve held men’s lives in my hands, but nothing makes me feel more powerful than knowing I can make this woman come apart.

Circling my thumb over her clit, I fuck her with my fingers until her breathing is ragged and her head lolls back. When she sways, I withdraw my fingers from her sweet pussy, pick her up and drop her onto the bed. She bounces once and then lies there, legs spread, looking up at me with a slight smile on her rosy lips.

I grab her ankles and lift her feet to rest on my shoulders as I shove my cock into her.

“Bella,” I groan as she clenches around me.

“Tony, please.”

Though it just about kills me, I hold myself still, buried deep inside her. “Please what, Bella?”

“Fuck me, Tony.”

“Whatever you command.”

I rut her like a wild animal, taking her with savage thrusts until she’s panting with need. Each moan she emits makes my spine tingle. I’m not going to last, but I’ll be damned if I’ll come before she does.

Pulling out of Isabella, I flip her over onto all fours and drive into her from behind. I smack her ass hard as she pushes her hips back to meet me. The air fills with whimpers, moans, and the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh. I grab a handful of her hair and pull her upright as I continue to fuck her from behind.

I curve my left hand around her breast as I wrap my right around her throat and squeeze. She’s so fragile. If I was to tighten my grip, I could force the last breath out of her. As she realizes the power I wield, the pulse at the base of her throat flickers beneath my hand. The whine she emits is not one of fear, but arousal. My sweet little Bella likes a hint of danger.

“Come for me,” I demand as I pinch her taut nipple.

The high-pitched groan that comes from her tells me she’s getting close, but she’s not there yet. I tighten my grip on her throat, just a fraction. Isabella shudders as I bend to suckle on her neck, using enough pressure to leave a mark.

“Come for me,” I repeat, drawing my hand back and slapping her ass.

Isabella’s body tenses and so does mine. She shudders, her limbs trembling as her orgasm grips her. My balls draw up tight as her pussy clamps down on my cock. Throwing my head back, I coat her insides with my cum.

Pulling away from me, Isabella rolls over onto her back. Usually after sex she seeks affection, but not today. Rather than reaching for me, she rises from the bed and snatches her robe up from the floor. She looks like a queen as she drapes the garment over her shoulders and walks to the bathroom door.

“Hear your mom out.” She keeps her back to me.

“Bella.” My voice holds a note of caution. I’ve already told her to drop this subject.

She turns and sighs heavily. “I just want everyone to be happy, Antonio.”

It’s a nice thing to wish for, but whatever happens, someone is always left dissatisfied. “Then I fear you’re in for a disappointment, Bella.”

Her sad smile stabs at my heart. “You’re probably right.”

She disappears into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. As the lock clicks, I get the message. She’s shutting me out. I scrub a hand over my face. My relationship with Isabella is in a precarious situation. I need to get my family’s shit in order before it’s damaged beyond repair.

CHAPTER 18

Isabella

As I pour cups of coffee for Emilia, Vinnie, and me, I realize this is only the second time I’ve had guests at the house I share with Antonio. The first was when my friend Giulia visited, shortly after I got married. She dropped by with Matteo and we drank wine until Antonio came home and scolded us as if we were naughty teenagers. It was fun to spend an afternoon with my two closest friends. Today is different. It feels more like I’m at an interview, being assessed for my suitability for my role within the family.

Though I’ve met both of my brothers-in-law’s wives already, our husbands were there to smooth over any lapses in conversation. With Ava unable to make it and Livvy missing in action, I’m alone with two women I barely know. I have to admit the prospect of spending time with them makes me nervous. It doesn’t help that they arrived together, Emilia looking fabulous in pink cropped trousers and a white shirt and Vinnie wearing a gorgeous floral dress. From their relaxed manner with one another, it’s clear they’ve already bonded. I can’t help but worry whether they’ll make room for me.

If I’m being honest, I’m envious of them both. Emilia is head over heels in love with Alessandro, despite their marriage coming as the result of an arrangement between his father and her grandfather. I caught glimpses of her adoration for Alessandro when we were at the hospital. In unguarded moments, she looks at him as if he hung the moon.

Vinnie also appears to be blissfully happy. That’s nothing short of a miracle since she’s shackled herself to Leo, a man whose thirst for violence makes me shudder.

“So, how did you and Leo come to be married?” I ask Vinnie because I’ve only heard snippets of the story so far.

Vinnie picks up her coffee cup and takes a sip. “Well, I needed a husband to get out of a marriage my father arranged for me. You’ve heard of Umberto Gallo, right?” She looks at me and takes my grimace as confirmation that I do indeed know of the ageing mobster she’s referring to. “Well, I was not going to marry him without a fight, so I met with Antonio and said I wanted one of his brothers.”

Now I get why Antonio thinks Vinnie is too forward. He’s not used to women taking control of their own destinies.

“And Leo stepped up?”

“He did.”

“Just like that?”

It’s hard to imagine Leo Volante doing anything noble, so I wonder what’s in the arrangement for him. I mean, Vinnie is a beautiful woman, but surely that’s not enough to convince a rampant playboy to settle down?

“Well, I did put fifty million dollars on the table, but he didn’t want it.”

I almost spit out my coffee. “You offered him fifty million dollars to marry you?”

“I did, but he turned it down. He put it in our marriage contract that the money remains mine, no matter what. I can do whatever I want with it.”

“Anything?” Emilia asks.

“Well, he told me I can’t hire a hitman to bump him off.” Vinnie smiles fondly. “He’s so funny at times.”

I try not to let my skepticism show. Leo Volante is not a man I’d associate with a sense of humor or any positive personality trait. Then again, he was kind to me that day at the beach house, so perhaps I’m misjudging him.

“What will you do with the money?” Emilia takes a piece of the chocolate cake I baked, along with a carrot cake, to eat with our coffee.

“I’m thinking about a charitable endeavor of some sort. Sick kids or abused women, something like that. Leo’s got enough money to keep the lights on, so I can put mine to good use.”

As the other women chat enthusiastically about all the potential charities Vinnie could start, my mood drops. These two women will achieve great things. Emilia already runs her own hotel, and Vinnie can do whatever she wants. The most impressive feat I’ve achieved lately was baking a couple of cakes and laying everything out nicely on the table in the living room. I also arranged the flowers in the vase at the center of the coffee table, but that’s hardly going to put me in line for a Woman of the Year award.

“Are you okay?” Vinnie reaches across and touches my arm.

“Uh, yes.” I shake myself out of my slump. “Just amazed at how good a husband Leo seems to be.”

“Well, we haven’t been married for long,” Vinnie says, “and he has had his moments, but I think we’re good for each other.”

“I’m glad.” I mean what I say. Right now, things are still uncertain between Antonio and me, but I’d never be selfish enough to resent other people for having what I want.

“Are things okay with you and Antonio?” Emilia asks.

I shrug. “You know our story, presumably?”

The other women’s grimaces tell me they know the reason for my exile.

“Well,” I continue, “Antonio knows now that I didn’t intend for him to get hurt and we’re trying to put that night behind us. It’s not been easy.”

“Yes, but Antonio came for you.” Emilia’s expression is one of hope. I guess she’s a romantic. “That must count for something.”

“He had to come for me after I killed one of his men.”

Both women look at me, stunned. Vinnie puts her cup down on the table as if she’s afraid of dropping it.

“You didn’t know about that?”

“No,” Emilia and Vinnie say in unison.

My stomach drops. Is Antonio going to be angry with me for divulging that information? Perhaps he told his brothers not to tell their wives anything about it.

“Oh.” Vinnie’s eyes widen as realization dawns on her. “Is that why Leo ditched me when we were at the zoo?”

Leo Volante at the zoo is a topic we’ll have to circle back to later.

“Maybe. He came to the house after it happened.”

“He took care of it?”

“I guess.” I’m not sure who did what to clean up after me, but I know Matteo got rid of the body.

“The man you killed was Rico Mancini?” Emilia also sets her coffee cup down. “He’s the one who’s missing, yes?”

“Yeah. He was an asshole to me. For months, he threatened to hurt me. When he tried to do it, I fought back.” I take a deep breath. “I keep asking myself if I overreacted.”

Vinnie shakes her head. “Don’t do that to yourself. He tried to hurt you and you defended yourself.”

Emilia nods in agreement. “If it was me, I would have shot the son of a bitch.”

Alessandro’s wife has an innocent aura. Coming from her, the curse sounds all wrong.

“I didn’t shoot him, though. I hit him with a frying pan.” The image of it pops into my head and nausea rises in my throat. “Repeatedly. There was so much blood.”

After that gruesome admission, an uncomfortable silence shrouds the room. This is not how I wanted the afternoon to go. I invited the women over so we could lay the foundations for a friendship. Now I feel as if I’ve ruined it. I try to think of something to say but come up short. Thankfully, Vinnie finds a different topic.

“So, what do we all think about Ava’s Russian romance?”

Now this is a subject I’m happy to talk about. I want to know if I’m the only one who thinks Ava should be allowed to live her life as she sees fit. After all, it’s not like Boris Reznov is the enemy. Antonio does a lot of business with him.

“Alessandro’s waiting to see which way the others go,” Emilia says, “but I know Matteo is on Team Ava.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

“You’ve known him a long time, haven’t you?” Vinnie takes a bite of carrot cake and then moans appreciatively.

“We were friends at school. Three of us hung out together, me Matteo and Giulia Costanza.”

“What does Antonio think about your friendship with his brother?”

I shrug. “He doesn’t like that Matteo and I were so close, but he doesn’t make a big deal out of it.”

Vinnie nods. “Leo’s pretty cool about my best friend being a man.”

“That’s different,” Emilia says. “Beniamino is gay.”

“Yeah, but Leo wouldn’t care if he wasn’t. He’s too sure of himself to be threatened by another man.”

“That I can believe.” I take a sip of coffee. “But how does he feel about his mom and Boris?”

“He was shocked more than anything. He didn’t like that she’s been hiding things from the family, but he’s softening.” Vinnie flashes a wicked grin. “I threatened to take a vow of chastity if he didn’t at least think about things from his mother’s perspective.”

“I tried that with Antonio, but he pointed out I’d suffer just as much as him if I went on a sex strike.”

Emilia blows out a breath. “If that’s how this conversation’s going to go, I think we should open the bottle of wine I brought.”

“Good idea.” I get to my feet. “I’ll get the wine. Help yourselves to some more cake.”

Leaving the two women in the living room, I go to the kitchen and retrieve the bottle of Pinot Grigio from the wine cooler. Emilia said it was from a vineyard near her home in Italy. I can’t wait to try it. I’m not a wine connoisseur, but the way Emilia presented it to me suggests this bottle is something special.

It takes me a minute to find a corkscrew in a drawer beneath the window. The cork splits as I try to open the bottle, but thankfully I manage to ease it out without any pieces dropping into the wine. It would be sacrilege to ruin such a thoughtful gift. Grabbing three glasses in one hand, I take the bottle of wine in the other and head back to my guests.

When I get to the living room, Emilia and Vinnie are standing in the center of the room, hugging.

“What’s going on?”

The women step apart, and I see that Emilia’s crying. The smile on her face tells me they’re happy tears.

“Alessandro just texted Emilia.” Vinnie answers for the other woman who doesn’t seem capable of speaking right now. “Gio’s awake and talking.”

The sense of relief that washes over me is so powerful it almost makes my knees buckle. I quickly set down the bottle and glasses I’m carrying in case I drop them.

“That definitely calls for a celebration.”

My hands shake as I try to pour the wine, so Vinnie steps in. She fills three glasses, almost to the brim, emptying the bottle. She passes out the glasses to Emilia and me.

“To Gio.” She raises her glass. “And his speedy recovery.”

“To Gio.” Emilia and I both raise our glasses.

Sinking onto the sofa, I take a huge gulp of the wine. It’s refreshing, but I’m too overcome with joy to taste it right now. As Vinnie sits at the opposite end of the sofa and Emilia retakes her seat on the armchair adjacent to it, I smile tremulously. Antonio will be so happy his brother is awake. He’ll heal the rift with his mother and he and I will build our future together. Everything will be alright. Won’t it?

CHAPTER 19

Antonio

As Enzo pulls up at the hospital, my phone rings for the hundredth time today. I look at the screen and groan. It’s Piotr Reznov again. I’ve ignored his calls for three days, but he’s persistent. I suppose, considering what happened with his uncle, I should be grateful the Russian hasn’t kicked down my front door looking for me. In his shoes, I’d be out for blood.

Deciding I’ve put off what’s bound to be an unpleasant conversation for long enough, I swipe to answer the call.

“Give me a minute,” I tell him before lowering the phone.

I get out of the car, then turn and lean in to speak to Enzo. “Take the rest of the day off.”

“You sure, boss?”

I nod. “My brothers are here. One of them can drive me. Go spend some time with Alicia.”

Enzo smiles. “Thanks, boss. I appreciate it.”

I nod and shut the door. Just because my marriage is teetering on the brink, it doesn’t mean I want everyone else’s turning to crap. It’s not pure altruism that made me give Enzo the day off, though. If the men are getting shit at home, it distracts them. I need my people to have their heads one hundred percent in the game. It’s hypocritical. My mind isn’t entirely on business at the moment.

As Enzo drives the gray Mercedes away, I lift the phone to my ear. “Reznov.”

“Three days you ignore my calls and then you keep me waiting.” His Russian accent is very slight, but becomes more pronounced when he’s irritated. It’s his only tell. The man gives little of what he’s thinking away.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” My tone is completely unapologetic.

“What happened between you and my uncle must be addressed.”

“What do you want?” I enter the hospital and head for the Stanhope Wing. “You want to come punch me in the face?”

“It was more than that,” Piotr snarls. “You broke his nose, fractured his cheekbone. He has a concussion.”

Fuck! I knew I’d hit him hard, but I didn’t think I’d done that much damage. I’m amazed he could walk away. The Russian fuck must still be in pretty good shape.

“So, what do we do about that? You want to go to war over one beating?”

“If it was me, I’d be out for blood, but my uncle demands I keep the peace. It seems love has made him soft.”

“You think he loves my mother?”

“I know he does.” Piotr huffs out a breath. “So we must find a more civilized way to settle this.”

“Such as?”

“We will meet to determine that.”

“Fine.” I reach the elevators. “When?”

“In the next few weeks. Business can wait until your brother is out of the hospital.”

It surprises me he’s not demanding an immediate sit down. That he’s waiting because he knows I need to focus on my family shows a level of decency I didn’t realize he possessed.

“I appreciate that.”

“One last thing.”

I heave in a breath, wondering what else Piotr has to say.

“My men picked up chatter about one of your men. He claims you had his son murdered because he was fucking your wife.”

Fuck! He’s talking about Paolo Mancini. I am going to have to do something about that before it gets out of hand. Muttering my thanks to Piotr, I end the call and press the button for the elevator. It arrives almost immediately and I make my way to Gio, bypassing the waiting room. The minute I heard my youngest brother had regained consciousness, I raced over here. Nothing is going to stop me from seeing him.

As I push open the door to his room, I feel as if a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. There’s color in Gio’s cheeks once more. Don’t get me wrong, he still looks like shit, but his complexion has improved. He doesn’t appear so close to death anymore.

My mother, who’s sitting by the bedside, rises to her feet. She smiles at Gio and pats his hand. “I’ll give you and your brother a moment to talk.”

As she turns to me, her demeanor changes. There’s a distinct chill in her expression as she walks past me.

“Don’t leave the hospital.” My words come out more as a threat than a plea.

She nods stiffly. I hate her acting so cold. My mother is one of the warmest people I know, but I’ve hurt her and as much as it pains me, I’m going to have to make it right.

“What was that about?” Gio’s voice is raspy after having a tube down his throat for the last couple of days.

“Nothing for you to worry about.” Ignoring the skeptical arching of his eyebrow, I move closer to the bed. “How do you feel?”

“Like some asshole shot me three times. Do you know who did it?”

“Gino di Santo.”

Gio furrows his brow, obviously trying to work out who that is.

“The chef Leo fired from Roma.”

“Huh. What happened to him?”

“He ate a bullet. Left a note saying he was sorry he got the wrong brother.”

“That’s got to be embarrassing for you, right? The youngest brother of the great and powerful Antonio Volante, ambushed by a fucking chef and you don’t even get to dish out punishment.”

The snark in his tone tells me what happened hasn’t made him any less resentful of the family he’s been steadily distancing himself from.

“You still want out?” As hard as I try, I can’t keep the hurt out of my voice.

“Don’t take it personally, Tony.” Gio takes a deep breath and winces in pain that he quickly recovers from. “I love my family, but the life isn’t for me.”

“You still want to go to Scotland?”

He nods. “I won’t be climbing mountains anytime soon, but yeah, it’s what I want.”

“Then I won’t try to stop you. As soon as you’re able, you have my blessing to go do whatever you need to do.”

“Thanks, Tony.” He closes his eyes.

“I’ll let you get some rest.”

Reaching out, I squeeze his shoulder, then leave him in peace. I head for the waiting room, where I find a tense atmosphere. My mother is sitting at one side of the room while Leo and Alessandro occupy the wing-backed armchairs at the other.

“Where’s Matteo?”

“Meeting a supplier,” Alessandro says.

That’s right. Matteo is standing in for me at a meeting with one of our Irish contacts today. I guess it doesn’t matter that he’s not here. I know where he stands on the whole Boris Reznov issue. He’s ready to support our mother, no matter what she chooses.

“We need to talk,” I tell my mother as I go to sit next to her. Behind me, I hear my brothers getting to their feet. I turn to see them heading for the door. “All of us.”

My mother purses her lips. “Ganging up, Antonio?”

I shake my head. “No, but we need to sort things out.”

She nods curtly. Alessandro and Leo cross the room to sit with us.

“Tell us about Boris Reznov. What is this thing between you?”

It’s clear from the defiant tilt of her chin that my mother expects me to lay down the law. Usually I would, but Isabella made me realize I need to think about my mother’s feelings.

“I love him and he loves me.” She fixes me with a determined glare. “There is nothing wrong with that.”

“So why sneak around?” Leo asks.

“Because it’s exciting.”

The lure of the forbidden is hard to resist, but I doubt that’s the only reason she kept her relationship from us. “And?”

“I knew you’d make a big deal out of it.”

Alessandro snorts. “It is a big deal. Boris Reznov is not some ordinary Joe.”

My mother smiles mirthlessly. “You’d prefer it if I dated Vito from the bakery, perhaps. He’s always had a soft spot for me.”

“No.” Alessandro shakes his head.

“Or would you prefer I spend the rest of my life alone while you all settle down and raise your own families?”

I scrub a hand over my face. When she puts it like that, I realize how selfish I’ve been to think my mother would remain single.

“Okay, we get it.” I look to my brothers and they both nod. “But why Boris Reznov?”

“In part, because he reminds me of your father.”

I open my mouth to protest that the Russian is nothing like my father, but my mother holds her hand up to silence me.

“No, listen to me, Antonio. Boris is a powerful man. He has a sense of honor and cares deeply for his family. But our relationship is not like the one I had with your father. I’ve never had something like this before.”

“You saying you didn’t love Dad?” Leo sounds pained at the very thought our parents didn’t adore each other as much as they seemed to.

“Of course I did, but when we married, I was young. I was given no choice in the matter.”

“Mamma.” Alessandro moves to the seat next to her and puts his arm around her.

“It’s okay, Sandro.” She pats his knee reassuringly. “I grew to love him so much. We had a good life, an incredible life together, but there was no courtship. He didn’t win my hand with flowers and chocolates or walks in the park. Even when we were married, he didn’t scatter rose petals on the bed or cook my favorite meals.”

“So romance is what you’re looking for.” I should have known since she views her sons’ relationships through a rose-tinted lens. “There are plenty of men who can give you that. Safer men.”

“No, Antonio, what I’m looking for is a man who makes me feel like the center of his world, who takes my breath away with a single glance. I want a man who makes me weak at the knees, who shows me I’m still a desirable woman.”

I shift uncomfortably, not wanting to think about that aspect of their relationship.

“Did he ever ask you about business?”

My mother scoffs. “You think so little of me? You think I wouldn’t see through a man who was trying to use me?”

I shrug because I really don’t know the answer.

“Of course I wouldn’t,” she rages. “We agreed on day one not to discuss business. I know how this world works and when to keep my mouth shut. I am Marco Volante’s widow. Don’t you dare forget it.”

When her temper rises, my mother is formidable. Faced with her anger, I don’t feel like a notorious mob boss. I’m a son who’s disappointed his mamma.

“He’s planning to stand down.” My mother’s revelation catches me off guard. “He’s handing the reins to Piotr.”

I share a look with my brothers. We’re all wondering the same thing. Is Piotr Reznov’s ascension good or bad for us? Only time will tell.

“He’s doing that for you?” Alessandro asks.

“He is.”

If Reznov is prepared to step down, his feelings for my mother are obviously the real deal.

“Okay.” I nod resolutely. “You’re a grown woman. You know your own mind. If Boris Reznov is the man you want, I can live with it.”

“Thank you, Antonio.” She reaches over and pats my hand. “Does that go for the rest of you?”

Alessandro and Leo both murmur their assent. My mother stands and opens her arms wide. We all rush into her embrace.

“I love you boys so much. Nobody will ever mean more to me than you.”

There’s a moment of awkwardness as we step out of the hug and just stare at each other. None of us are good with emotionality. We stand there, not knowing what to say until Leo finally breaks the silence. “I won’t call him Daddy.”

Alessandro snorts with laughter. “It’s Papa, surely. That’s what some Russians call their Pakhan, right?”

I shake my head at the thought of addressing the Russian billionaire as Papa and laugh. Then my phone chirps with a message from Matteo, asking me to meet him downstairs in the cafeteria.

“I’ll be back later.” I lean in to kiss my mother’s cheek. “If Gio needs anything, let me know.”

Texting Matteo that I’m on my way, I head downstairs. I hope he’s not about to tell me there was a problem with the Irish MC who supplies some of the weapons my men use. When I get to the cafeteria, my heart sinks. I suspect the issue my brother needs to talk to me about is more personal. He’s sitting at a table by the window, opposite our younger sister.

As I pass Olivia’s bodyguard, Jimmy, I nod in acknowledgement. After being horribly disfigured in an acid attack while protecting my sister, he should have taken my father’s offer and retired. The man has paid his dues. But he refuses to leave Olivia’s side. Loyalty like that is to be admired.

When I get to the table where my siblings are sitting, my stomach drops. For once in her life, Olivia isn’t wearing makeup. Her fresh face makes her appear young and innocent but also reveals the dark circles beneath her eyes, the tear streaks on her cheeks. Why do I feel like I’ve just put out one fire only for another one to be lit?

“What’s going on?” I demand.

Olivia gives a delicate hiccup. Matteo reaches across the table and grabs her hand. “It’s okay, Livvy. Just tell Tony what you told me.”

I brace myself for whatever shit my family is about to unleash on me now. Olivia sucks in a breath and looks up at me, refusing to meet my eye. “It’s about Isabella.”

CHAPTER 20

Isabella

I’m in the kitchen rinsing out the wineglasses the girls and I used this afternoon when I hear the front door clicking shut.

“I’m in the kitchen,” I call out.

Spending the afternoon with Emilia and Vinnie has left me in a buoyant mood. I can’t wait to tell Antonio about my day and to ask him how Gio is. The minute he steps into the kitchen, however, I know something is wrong. My first thought is that his brother has had some sort of setback.

“Is Gio okay?”

“He’s fine.”

The dark gleam in Antonio’s eyes is unsettling. He’s a predator waiting to pounce, but I don’t know why he has me in his sights.

“Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know, Bella, you tell me.”

I frown deeply as I try to work out what he’s talking about. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No?” Antonio’s expression tells me he doesn’t believe that. “Come here.”

My heart races as I set down the glass I was holding and walk around to the other side of the enormous island that dominates the kitchen. Antonio’s eyes follow me every step of the way, making my skin prickle with awareness. Instinct tells me to run, but deep down I know he won’t hurt me.

“Take your clothes off.” His command is harsher than usual.

“What?” I glance around the room. There’s nobody else in the house, but it still feels illicit to strip off in the kitchen. “Here?”

“Here.” Antonio steps closer and I can almost feel the anger vibrating off him. “Now.”

“I don’t…”

“Are you scared of me, Bella?”

I lift my chin. “Should I be?”

He doesn’t answer. I suspect that’s because he’s suppressing a desire to assure me he won’t hurt me. Right now, he wants me on edge, afraid he might hurt me. There’s something going on with him I don’t understand, but I can tell he needs to vent his frustrations. Perhaps I’m crazy, but I’m willing to let him use me to do that.

“Clothes off. I won’t tell you again.”

I do as he asks, unbuttoning my blouse and sliding it from my shoulders. Then I kick off my ballet flats and reach around to unzip my skirt. I shimmy my hips and it drops to the floor. I step out of the pool of fabric it creates.

“And the rest,” Antonio says.

I unhook my lacy bra and slip it off and then remove the matching panties. Antonio says nothing but makes a spinning motion with his finger. I guess he wants to inspect me.

As I turn slowly, I feel his gaze searing my skin. With the brightness from the lights overhead illuminating me, there’s nowhere to hide. Every inch of me is on display. I come full circle to face Antonio again. His expression is impassive but his Adam’s apple bobs, letting me know he’s not unaffected by what he sees.

I squeak in surprise as he grabs my arm, spins me around and forces me to bend over one of the high kitchen stools. It’s not the most comfortable position. My breasts are squished against the hard surface of the stool and my head hangs low.

“Do not move!” There is no disobeying that tone.

I stay stock still as he drops to a crouch in front of me. He takes zip ties from his jacket pocket and secures my left wrist to the leg of the stool and then does the same with my right. As I ponder the reasons he’d be carrying zip ties around with him, Antonio stands up and removes his jacket. Then he rolls up his sleeves. If I wasn’t sure before, I know now I’m about to get a spanking. The question is, for what?

I don’t get a chance to ask. Antonio draws his hand back and smacks me three times, hard, in the same spot. They weren’t love taps to warm me up. Those hurt.

“Tell me what happened with Joey Gallo.”

My heart lurches. Why are we back to this? “I already told you what happened.”

I glance up at Antonio, but from this angle, I can’t see him properly. I do, however, hear him removing his belt. The air behind me shifts almost imperceptibly as Antonio swings the long leather strip. It hits my ass with a loud crack that makes me squeal in a mix of shock and pain.

“Tell me the truth, Bella.”

“I did. He blackmailed me. I told you that.” The words tumble out of me in a breathless rush.

Antonio lashes my bottom three more times with the belt, choosing previously untouched spots to strike each time. My flesh throbs uncomfortably, but the burn spreads to my core where it ignites an entirely different kind of fire. I clench my fists and try to ignore how wet my pussy becomes.

“What did he blackmail you with?” Antonio demands.

“Photos.”

“Of?”

I frown in consternation as we go back over the details of the story I told him. When I don’t answer fast enough, he pinches my poor, punished ass, making me shriek as a jolt of pain runs through my lower half.

“Me.”

Antonio spanks me with the belt again. My mouth twists in pain.

“Let’s try the truth this time.”

“I told you the truth.” My tone is insistent. “Why won’t you believe me?”

“Because I spoke to my sister.”

Oh, shit. He brings the belt down again, this time choosing to lay a stripe across the top of my thighs. I dance up onto my toes and wiggle my hips, crying out as intense feelings of agony and ecstasy war within me. How can this feel so bad and yet so incredibly good at the same time?

“And do you know what she told me?”

Tears prick my eyes, and I shake my head. “No.”

It’s another lie. I know exactly what she’s done. Each time I’ve seen her at the hospital, she’s avoided me. She can’t look me in the eye because she’s ashamed of letting me take the fall for what happened with Joey Gallo. She needn’t have worried. I didn’t blame her for the mistakes I made when I tried to get the photos back. I’d have kept her secret if she wanted me to.

Antonio grabs a fistful of my hair and forces me to look up at him as he crouches next to me. “My sister told me she took photos for some boy she liked and that they somehow fell into Joey Gallo’s hands. She told me she came to you for help and you promised to take care of it. Why did I have to hear it from her?”

“I don’t know.”

“I do.” The look of anguish in my husband’s eyes is too much to bear. “It’s because you don’t trust me. You never have.”

I want to throw my arms around him and tell him that’s not true, but I can’t, because I didn’t trust him to handle things without doing something that would wreck his relationship with Livvy.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t trust you then, but I do now.”

If my hands were free, I’d reach out and touch him, offer him reassurance. But I can’t do that while I’m bound like this. It’s not what Antonio needs, anyway. There’s an anger raging in him looking for an outlet.

“Punish me,” I whisper, afraid to say the words out loud. “Make it hurt.”

Antonio stares into my eyes. I don’t know what he’s looking for, but he seems to find the answer he seeks because he grunts an affirmation, releases his grip on my hair and gets to his feet. He moves behind me and spanks my ass with his bare hand again. I squirm with need.

The rasp of a zipper being lowered is the only warning I get before he forces my legs wider and impales me with his cock. I whimper as he drives in deep, his hipbones pounding against my poor aching ass as he fucks me.

“That’s it,” he growls. “Take every inch of my cock like a greedy little slut. Beg me for my cum.”

If any other man spoke to me in that manner, I’d be repulsed, but this is Antonio. I love it when he talks dirty.

He fucks me ruthlessly, making no attempt to give me pleasure. My nipples harden as they rub against the stool. My pussy is drenched and my clit pulses insistently. It takes an effort not to beg Antonio to make me come.

As I writhe beneath him, Antonio takes a bruising grip of my hips. He uses me mercilessly to slake his desire. When he reaches the moment of climax, he pulls out of me. Cum spurts across my lower back. I sag against the stool.

Antonio runs a hand over my bottom, a tender gesture. His fingers dip between my legs and stroke gently, eliciting a soft moan from me. For a brief second, I think he might take pity on me and gift me a climax. He doesn’t. Huffing out a breath, he comes around to release me from my bonds, cutting the ties with a knife he grabs from the block on the countertop. He helps me to stand up straight and looks at me with a mix of lingering anger and regret.

I reach for him, desperate for a moment of connection, but he steps away. Running his fingers through his hair, he watches as I go to retrieve my clothes.

“I’m sending Olivia to Italy,” he announces.

“What?”

“Matteo will take her and stay until she’s settled with our cousins in Tuscany. She can return when she’s learned her lesson.”

I’m lost for words. Antonio’s expression tells me his mind is made up, and it’s pointless to try to change it. My heart aches for Olivia. She’s young and she made a foolish decision. But sending her away isn’t the answer. She’ll feel rejected. I know that all too well.

“And what about me?” I ask, dreading the answer.

“I’m sending you back to Westport. Dante’s waiting outside to drive you.”

My heart sinks. I don’t know if I can stand being banished again. “Why don’t you just shoot me now? Put us both out of our misery.”

“I would,” Antonio snarls, getting right in my face, “if I didn’t love you so fucking much.”

Leaving me frozen in shock, he turns and storms from the room. I’ve waited so long to hear him tell me he loves me and he spits it out like a curse?

Tears run down my cheeks as I shake myself from my stupor and get dressed. I pull on my long floral skirt and then slide my arms into the sleeves of my white silk blouse. With trembling fingers, I fasten the buttons, then I slip my feet back into my shoes.

Not bothering to fetch my purse or find a coat, I step outside to find Dante waiting for me in an Aston Martin. I know better than to expect him to be chivalrous, so I open the passenger door myself and settle myself on the passenger seat.

“Nice car,” I say as I fasten my safety belt. “Trying to compensate for your inadequacies?”

Dante’s lip curls into a snarl. “I don’t want to spend two hours in a car with you any more than you want to breathe the same air as me, so cut the snark.”

Huffing, I make myself comfortable as Dante drives us off the property. He turns on the radio to some station playing hardcore dance music, and I stare out of the window as we make our way through the streets of Manhattan. My mind replays what happened with Antonio and I think up a dozen different ways that could have gone better.

Suddenly, Dante turns off the music. “For what it’s worth, I think he’s making a mistake. He’s better with you by his side.”

Coming from Dante, who’s never been my biggest fan, that does mean something, but I’m not about to get into a heart-to-heart with him about my feelings, so I say nothing. I close my eyes and let the motion of the car rock me to sleep. A while later, a voice wakes me with a start.

“Call Tony.”

I’m about to tell Dante I don’t want to speak to my husband when I realize he’s talking to his cellphone and not me. When the call goes unanswered, Dante curses. I furrow my brow, wondering what’s going on as he issues another command. “Call Leo.”

The urgency in his voice worries me. “What’s going on?”

“Be quiet!” he snaps as Leo answers the call.

“What the fuck, Dante!” Leo sounds pissed, obviously thinking that order was for him.

“Not you,” Dante says. “I’m driving Isabella to Westport. We’ve got a black Range Rover on our tail.”

I look over my shoulder. We’re not in the city anymore, or even on the expressway. I think we’re on the outskirts of Westport.

“Fuck! Where are you?”

“We got off the expressway five minutes ago.”

“And Tony?”

“At his house. He’s not picking up.”

Leo lets out a string of curses. “I’ll handle it. Keep Isabella safe. We’re coming for you.”

I don’t have the chance to feel any sense of relief. As Dante ends the call, there’s a deafening bang as something hits the rear of the car. I scream as we spin out of control. Dante slumps over the steering wheel. There’s a nasty gash on the side of his head. Shit. I’m on my own. I look for a weapon, but it’s too late. My door is wrenched open and a masked man leans in to grab my arm. The last thing that goes through my head is that I didn’t get the chance to tell Antonio I love him. Then I’m dragged out of the car.

“Rico Mancini’s body was found dumped in an alley this morning,” my captor hisses, “and you, you little bitch, are going to tell us who killed him.”

CHAPTER 21

Antonio

No matter how much shower gel I lather over my skin, I won’t be able to wash away the disgust I feel at myself for the way I treated Isabella tonight. She’s my wife, the woman I intend to raise a family with, not some whore I picked up in a seedy club. Fucking her so selfishly and then sending her away was a dick move. I was angry and acted without thinking, but that’s no excuse.

Really, I should have thanked Isabella for trying to protect my sister, for putting Olivia’s needs above her own. That she went about things in the wrong way doesn’t matter. Her intentions were good. They always are. I’ve never appreciated my wife enough, but that changes now.

When I get out of the shower, I wrap a fluffy gray towel around my waist and go to the bedroom. Isabella should be at Westport by now. Though I could call Dante and ask him to bring her back, I decide to go out there and get her myself. Hopefully, she’ll appreciate the gesture and hear me out as I grovel in apology.

As I cross the bedroom to the closet, my cellphone buzzes on the nightstand. I go to pick it up and discover I have dozens of missed calls. One is from Dante, who was probably calling to bitch about something my wife has done to piss him off. The others are from Leo. That can’t be good. The last time he tried this hard to get ahold of me, it was because Gio had been shot. Though I’m not a religious man, I send up a silent prayer that my brother is okay. He seemed to be doing well earlier, but until he’s back on his feet, I won’t be able to stop worrying.

I’m about to call Leo back when I hear a door downstairs banging shut. It’s not likely anyone could get past my security, but I’m not expecting a guest, so I grab my gun just in case. As I step out into the corridor, I hear a shout from the entrance hall.

“Tony! Tony, where the fuck are you?”

It’s Leo.

“Up here.” I get to the top of the stairs to find my brother storming up them two at a time.

When he reaches me, he pulls me into a hug and slaps my back. I have no idea what’s got into him.

“Thank fuck you’re okay!”

I untangle myself from his embrace. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You weren’t answering your phone. I thought something happened to you.”

“I was in the shower.” It’s stating the obvious since I’m wearing nothing but a towel and my hair is dripping wet. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Isabella’s missing.”

His words hit me with the force of a wrecking ball at full swing. I actually stumble backward. “What?”

“Dante was ambushed after he got off the expressway. Our guys in Connecticut found him injured and got him to the doc. Isabella wasn’t in the car. Someone took her.”

“She could have banged her head, wandered off.”

Leo shakes his head. “Dante called me to say they were being followed.”

“Fuck! Do we know who took her?”

“There are a few possibilities, but I just heard Rico Mancini’s body was found this morning. The family was notified three hours before Isabella was taken.”

Could the Mancinis have snatched Isabella? While they’re not the only suspects, they are the most likely. Since we made an alliance with the Bratva, the Albanians have kept out of our way. The Irish do a lot of business with us and we’ve only ever had minor issues with them that were easily resolved. That leaves the Bianchis, who’re currently too busy with their own internal struggles to mess with us. Vinnie’s father sent his only legitimate son to Chicago to marry a mob boss’s niece. He did so with the full knowledge Daniele would be murdered as he stood at the altar. Our people warned Daniele of the plot. He escaped with his new bride and her kids and returned to New York, guns blazing.

“It’s got to be Paolo Mancini.”

Fuck! I should have dealt with him as soon as Piotr Reznov told me he was making accusations about Isabella, but I got caught up in personal shit. This is all my fault. I didn’t see Paolo Mancini as a big enough threat to do something about him. Then I sent her away with Dante and no escort. Blinded by emotion, I didn’t consider the risks.

Leo nods. “His family was always loyal, but he was never the most proactive of men. I can’t believe he’d be so bold.”

“Grief is a powerful force.” I know if a member of my family was killed, I wouldn’t rest until every single person responsible was dead. “Where would Mancini take her?”

“Fuck if I know.”

As someone comes in through the front door, I stiffen.

“It’s Piotr,” Leo says.

I lean over the railing at the top of the staircase and see the Russian, dressed all in black, standing in my entrance hall.

“What the fuck is Reznov doing here?”

“He was at the hospital with his uncle when I got the call that Dante’s car was found. We left Boris, Matteo, and Sandro with the women. Piotr offered to help.”

I might not want to owe the Russian another favor but his assistance is welcome. Piotr employs some of the best hackers in the country and he’s got no emotional investment in getting Isabella back unharmed. He’ll be able to keep a cooler head than me.

“You should go back to the hospital. Keep watch over your wife.”

“Vinnie’s safe where she is. I need to be with you, where I belong.”

Since he got married, Leo’s been focused on his new bride. I understood his need to take some time to settle into his marriage, but I’ve missed having him with me.

I slap a hand down on my younger brother’s shoulder and squeeze tight, hoping the gesture conveys the love and trust I have for him. As the moment gets awkward, Leo clears his throat. “Go get dressed. Cousin Pete and I will set up in the study.”

I arch an eyebrow. “Cousin Pete.”

“Sure, when his uncle marries Mamma.”

Fuck, I do not want to think about that right now. I shake my head and tut disapprovingly, but I appreciate Leo’s effort to keep the mood light. He knows as well as I do that sliding into despair is counterproductive. I need to believe wholeheartedly that Isabella will be okay. Though I feel as if the ground beneath my feet is shaky, I need to get on with things. Business as usual. I’ll bet that’s why Leo accepted Reznov’s offer of assistance. He knows I won’t show weakness in front of the Russian. His presence will help keep my head in the game.

I leave Leo to do whatever he and Piotr need to do and go to get dressed. I choose my outfit carefully. Pants, shirt, socks, and shoes, all in black. I put on a platinum watch and roll my sleeves up to my elbows. I slide a black leather belt through the loops of my pants and buckle it.

Standing in front of the mirror, I take a deep breath and remind myself of who I am. Antonio Volante, feared mob boss. I will get my wife back in one piece and slaughter the men who took her. Then I will drop to my fucking knees before her and beg her to forgive me.

* * *

After three hours, I’m ready to burn the city to the ground to find my wife. I’ve never been a patient man, and it’s killing me that Isabella is out there somewhere going through fuck knows what and I can’t get to her. Leo and Piotr are working flat out to find her. I know that. Yet all they’ve come up with is confirmation that the Mancinis are the ones who took her.

A black Range Rover was caught by one of the security cameras outside my home. It gave us a decent view of the car. Paolo was in the passenger seat and his son, Gianni, was behind the wheel. There was another man in the back that we weren’t able to identify. Whoever he is, he’ll die bloody for his part in this.

From what we saw, snatching Isabella doesn’t seem to be something they planned. Their car was approaching the house when Dante pulled out of the driveway. They must have spotted Isabella and followed, hoping for an opportunity to grab her. I don’t know if their apparent lack of planning makes this situation better or worse. I fear it’s the latter. If they’re reacting purely on instinct, things could turn to shit.

“Why haven’t they called with demands?” I pace back and forth in front of the desk where Leo and Piotr each have a laptop set up.

“Perhaps your wife is all they wanted,” Piotr suggests.

My stomach lurches. If Isabella tells them she was responsible for Rico’s death, their only plan might be to kill her. I start pacing again. I don’t want the Russian to see the anguish on my face as I consider that possibility.

I come to a halt as Leo’s phone pings with an incoming message. He reads it and then turns his attention back to the screen in front of him. He clicks a few buttons and then glances up at me.

“I’ve got something.”

Moving around to his side of the desk, I stare at the image on the laptop. There’s a porch and some hanging plants. It seems to be one of those doorbell cameras.

“What are we looking at?” Piotr asks.

“It’s one of our properties, a beach house,” Leo tells him. “The motion sensors on the periphery detected movement.”

For several long seconds, nothing happens. Then two men appear on the screen, easily identifiable as Paolo Mancini and his son. To get into the house, they’ll need to force the lock. That’s presumably what they’re doing when a third man comes into view.

“Max Rossi,” Leo murmurs. “He’s Carmela Mancini’s kid brother.”

I don’t give a shit who he is. It’s Isabella who concerns me. Blindfolded and gagged, her hands are bound in front of her as the third man drags her toward the door. The quality of the image isn’t sharp enough for me to spot any visible injuries, but that doesn’t mean she’s unhurt. The way that asshole is jerking her around, I’d be amazed if she wasn’t bruised at the very least.

“I need to get out there.” It’s a two-hour drive out to the beach house from here. I don’t know how long Isabella can survive in the hands of three men who’ll show no hesitation in harming her if they don’t get whatever the hell it is they want.

“Where is this beach house?” Piotr asks.

“Amagansett, Long Island.”

“That’s quite a distance.”

“No shit.” My tone is impatient, but there’s no time to waste while others point out the obvious. “I’ll take the McLaren.”

I have a garage full of sports cars I barely drive. The McLaren, an impulse buy, is the fastest car I own.

“You can’t go alone,” Leo protests.

“I’ll be fine. I want you to stay here and access the security cameras inside the house. I want eyes on every room.”

“I can do that on my cellphone, and you are not going out there alone.”

“Neither of you is,” Piotr says. “We will get there faster in my helicopter.”

There’s no time to object. Piotr is already up and striding from the room, cellphone at his ear. He spits out orders in Russian as Leo and I follow. He ends his call and turns to us with a grin. “My pilot will be on the helipad on top of your office building by the time we get there. You will find suitable weapons on board.”

His confidence leaves me in no doubt that will be the case. “I guess I really owe you now.”

“Don’t worry, I have a suitable payment in mind.” He slaps my shoulder. “Now, let’s go get your wife.”

CHAPTER 22

Isabella

Being blindfolded, gagged and bound, then shoved into the trunk of a car should have left me terrified. Instead, Paolo and his henchmen have done me a favor. They’ve given me time to compose myself.

Once I got over the initial terror of being abducted, I was able to get my breathing under control. I calmed my thoughts and realized if I want to find a way out of this situation, I need to have my wits about me. Panicking won’t do me any good. Perhaps if I’d kept a cool head when Rico started pawing at me that day, all of this could have been avoided.

It feels like we’ve been driving for hours. With only a little room to wiggle around in, my limbs have become increasingly stiff and my muscles ache. The coarse rope they bound my wrists with is irritating my skin. Despite the intense discomfort, I can’t help thinking I’m better off than Dante. While I escaped the car wreck unscathed, he looked to be in pretty bad shape. He might not be my favorite person, but I’d hate for him to die. My husband’s inner circle is small. There are few men apart from his brothers he trusts. Dante is a man Antonio can rely on. I hope he survives.

When the car finally stops, one of the men comes and pulls me out of the trunk. A cool breeze whispers over my skin as he deposits me on my feet. At some point, I lost my shoes and I feel concrete beneath me.

My captor doesn’t give me a chance to get the feeling back in my legs before dragging me along a path. I can’t see where we are, but my other senses are on alert. The first clue to our location is the familiar squeak of a wooden gate whose hinges need to be oiled. Then I catch a scent I know well. It’s the delicate aroma of roses mingling with the fresh, salty smell of the sea. I’m almost certain we’re at the beach house. I listen carefully for the gentle sweep of waves against the shore. Yes, there it is, a final confirmation of where we are.

I wonder why they’ve chosen to bring me here. It seems risky to come to a property my husband owns. Then again, I suppose the house is empty since Antonio took me back, and the isolated spot makes it ideal for killing someone. I know that all too well.

Maybe the Mancinis suspect this is where Rico died and that if I’m forced to revisit the scene of the crime, I’ll be more likely to reveal what I know. They no doubt imagine my feminine sensibilities will cause me to break down and tell them everything if they apply a little pressure. They may be right. There’s no guarantee I won’t crumble and admit to what I did.

As we come to a stop, I hear what sounds like someone trying to force the front door open. It’s lucky there isn’t a neighbor for miles around because the noise would definitely attract attention. I’d be sick to my stomach if an innocent bystander got caught up in this. Made men are ruthless animals. They don’t leave witnesses.

After a while, there’s a crack as if the wood in the doorframe has splintered.

“No alarm?” From the gruffness in his voice, I think it’s Paolo who asks.

I’m pretty sure there is a silent alarm to alert Antonio’s men if someone enters the property, but I’m not helping these guys out with information about the security system. I don’t want them to know what Antonio told me, about there being cameras inside.

“Antonio didn’t think we needed one way out here.”

“Arrogant asshole thinks he’s untouchable.” There’s no mistaking Gianni Mancini’s voice. He sounds so much like Rico, it makes my skin crawl.

We walk inside and move along the corridor, heading toward the kitchen. Unease crawls down my spine, making me feel ill. Then we stop and move back again. The men’s hesitation about where to go brings me to a realization. I know the house and they don’t. That gives me an advantage. If I can get away from them, I can make a run for it.

As that thought gives me hope, I’m shoved to my knees on the carpeted floor of the living room. The blindfold is torn from my eyes. I blink three times to adjust to the light. The large, tattooed asshole I’m sure Paolo referred to as Max is standing behind me. In jeans, a battered black leather jacket, and scuffed biker boots, he’s dressed more casually than the other two. It makes me think he’s a street-level thug. Anyone higher in the organization tends to dress better. For most of them, impressing the boss is a full-time job.

Gianni Mancini leans against the wall beside the door, arms folded over his chest. He looks so much like Rico with his bulbous nose and piggy eyes, I want to vomit. Paolo, who’s a gray-haired version of his sons, is sitting on my favorite armchair like it’s his throne. I’m kneeling a mere yard from his feet.

“My boy is dead.” Paolo stares coldly at me. “I know you had something to do with it.”

Shaking my head, I mutter furious denials through the gag. Paolo signals for Max to remove it so he can hear what I’m saying. The gigantic brute yanks the gag down, jarring my bottom teeth, and leaves the strip of fabric hanging around my neck. I don’t like that. It would be easy to strangle me with it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t even know Rico was dead until he told me.” I tilt my head toward Max.

Paolo snorts derisively. “Don’t lie to me, whore. I know my son was fucking you and your husband killed him for it.”

Did Rico tell him we were having an affair? I wouldn’t put it past the greasy little fuck. “That’s not true. There is no way I would ever let that…”

“That what?” Gianni pushes off the wall and storms across the room. He grabs my hair and forces me to look up at him. “What were you going to call my brother, you fucking slut?”

If I had any sense of self-preservation, I’d keep my mouth shut, but my blood is boiling and I can’t contain myself. “That pig,” I spit. “That fucking disgusting pig.”

Considering his brother was a violent asshole, I should have predicted Gianni’s response. He draws his arm back and slaps me, hard, across the face. He releases his grip on my hair and I fall to the floor. Pain reverberates along my cheekbone and tears fill my eyes. Fear spikes my pulse as Gianni comes at me again, but Paolo gets to his feet.

“Gianni!” He shakes his head at his son, then looks at me. “Here’s what’s going to happen, you little bitch. You are going to call your husband and tell him to hand himself over. Then I’m going to make him watch while we take turns fucking your sweet little cunt over and over again. When we’re done, I’m going to slit your throat.”

“Nothing to say about that, cunt?” Gianni demands.

I glare defiantly at him, but I’m not stupid enough to say something that will make him hit me again.

“Get her up.”

Max immediately obeys Paolo’s command, grabbing my shoulders and getting me back onto my knees. Paolo holds out a cellphone to me. “Call Antonio.”

I hold my hands up, and he shakes his head. I guess they’re not going to untie me. With a bit of struggle, I take the phone and stare at the home screen.

“Can you get his number for me?”

Paolo frowns. “Don’t you know it?”

“Who knows phone numbers by heart?” I try to suppress a sly grin as I realize something. Only the chosen few get Antonio’s direct line. “Don’t you have his number?”

“No, I fucking don’t.”

He looks at Gianni, who shrugs. “I report to Dante.”

“Oh, no.” I can’t keep the amusement out of my voice. “Not the Dante you left unconscious when you ran his car off the road?”

“You smug little bitch!” Gianni slaps me across the face again, but this time I manage to stay upright.

“Get her out of my sight,” Paolo tells Max. “But don’t touch her until Antonio gets here. I want him to witness us beating the defiance out of her.”

Max grabs me and hauls me to my feet. I wince as his fingers bruise my upper arms, but I don’t protest. It would probably amuse this asshole to know he’s hurting me. I let him drag me from the room and upstairs. Behind us, I can hear Paolo and his son bickering about their next move.

There’s an unpleasant tang of blood in my mouth, but that last slap was worth it because I learned a couple of things about these men. The first is that Gianni is the overly emotional type. He acts without thinking. A man so easily triggered is bound to make mistakes. The second thing I learned is that they’re winging it. I thought forcing Dante’s car off the road was part of a carefully drawn-up plan. Now I’m certain it isn’t.

They’ve already made stupid errors. They brought me to a place that’s unfamiliar with no clue their every move is probably being watched. I mean, they just accepted it when I said there was no alarm. That’s beyond careless.

They also have no idea how to get in touch with Antonio to lure him here. I can think of a dozen different ways to get a message to my husband, but I’m not about to share them. Right now, Paolo and his son are in panic mode. I know they’ll figure out eventually that there are ways to reach Antonio, but the longer it takes them to get their heads straight, the better. Their haplessness buys some time for Antonio to get here and save the day. Assuming, of course, I’m right that the security system here is still active, and he knows where I am.

Max opens the first door we come to. It leads to a guest bedroom. He pushes me inside. He sits me on the edge of the bed then goes to the window. Apparently satisfied it’s not a potential escape route, he grunts and moves off into the bathroom. He emerges a moment later with a pair of nail scissors. Waving them in front of me, he grins as if he’s just confiscated a prize from me. I guess someone with the right skills could use them as a weapon, but I wouldn’t have been able to do much damage with them.

He walks from the room and I breathe a sigh of relief, but he’s back a moment later. My heart thumps furiously as he unbuckles his belt and slides it from the loops of his jeans. Paolo told him not to hurt me, but that might not stop him.

I shriek as he grabs my bound wrists and forces my arms up over my head, dragging me toward the top of the bed. He loops the belt through the rope binding my wrists and then uses the long leather strap to tie me to the headboard. A couple of tugs convince him it’s secure.

“You can’t leave me like this!” I protest as he heads for the door. “What if I need to pee?”

He shrugs. “Then pee.”

Chuckling at his own assholery, he walks out, closing the door behind him. Immediately, I set to work on trying to free myself. I rub the rope against the edge of the leather belt but can’t get the right amount of friction going to cut through. I change tactics and try to wriggle my wrists out of the rope, but it’s too tight. Giving up on that because I’m hurting myself, I grab the belt with both hands and try to pull it free from the headboard. That doesn’t work and I can’t risk wearing myself out, so I give up for now.

I close my eyes and consider what will happen when Paolo gets hold of my husband. Surely he won’t come here alone. He’ll have an army at his back. Will they storm in guns blazing, or take out my captors by stealth? The longer I lie there, the more doubt creeps into my mind. What if Antonio doesn’t come for me? He was sending me away when Dante and I were ambushed. He might not want to rescue me. No, scrub that thought. He said he loved me. Aargh! This situation is messing with my mind.

My eyes spring open suddenly as a strange roaring sound fills the air. It takes me a minute to realize it’s a helicopter. It’s not unusual to hear them overhead as the coastguard employs them in search and rescue efforts out at sea. This sounds incredibly close, though. When the entire house begins to shake and the windows rattle, my pulse kicks up a notch. Is the helicopter coming in to land?

The bedroom door flies open, and Max runs into the room, gun in hand.

“Your fucking husband’s here.” He loosens the belt and pulls me up from the bed. “Let’s go.”

As he pulls me along the corridor, I hear gunfire. I don’t know what weapons the Mancinis brought with them, but it sounds like war has broken out there. Then, suddenly, everything goes quiet.

“Bella?” Antonio roars.

Max slaps a hand over my mouth before I can answer. He bands an arm around my shoulders, using me as a shield. We reach the top of the stairs just as Antonio appears at the bottom. He holds his hand up as if telling someone else to stay back. Max lifts the gun to my forehead as Antonio raises his weapon.

“Drop it or I’ll kill her.”

Antonio doesn’t waver. “Then what?” His calm is impressive. It keeps me from freaking out. “You’re not walking out of here.”

“You’d let me shoot your wife?” Max challenges him. “I don’t think so.”

He presses the gun harder against my temple and I whimper. As Max tightens his grip on me, I screw my eyes shut.

“Bella, look at me.”

Even now, when I’m terrified of what will happen next, Antonio’s command is impossible to resist. I open my eyes and meet his steady gaze.

“I love you, Isabella Volante.”

“I love you too.”

With as much force as I can muster, I kick back against Max’s leg. His grip on me loosens just enough that I’m able to slip out from under his arm. I dive forward and tumble downstairs as a deafening crack splits the air.

“Bella!” Antonio yells as I manage to stop my fall halfway down the staircase. He runs to me and drops to his knees, frantically checking me for any injuries.

“I’m okay,” I assure him. “Just a bit shaky.”

Antonio helps me to my feet and keeps his arm around me as we come down the last few steps to find Leo and Piotr Reznov standing in the hallway. I hold up my bound wrists. “Can someone?”

“Oh, fuck, yes.” Antonio holds his hand out to Leo, who produces a knife from the back of his belt and passes it to him. He saws through the rope and rubs my poor chafed wrists.

“Are they all dead?” I ask.

Leo steps around us and looks up to where Max is lying with half his face missing. “Afraid so.” He sounds as if that pains him. I guess he was looking forward to torturing someone.

“Thank you for coming for me.” I offer Leo and Piotr a warm smile, which neither of them returns.

“It’s nothing,” Piotr replies. “We’ll soon be family, after all.”

“Get your girl out of here.” Leo goes and throws his arm over Piotr’s shoulder. “Cousin Pete and I will deal with the mess.”

Piotr’s jaw twitches in annoyance, but he allows my brother-in-law to steer him back into the living room to assess whatever carnage they’ve created in there.

“Cousin Pete?” I ask as Antonio takes my hand and leads me outside.

“Leo’s developed a death wish.”

“Hmm. Does that mean Ava and Boris are getting married?”

“Let’s think about that later,” Antonio says. “I just want to get you home.”

He leads me out toward the field at the side of the house where a sleek white helicopter is sitting.

“Are you allowed to land that thing there?”

Antonio shrugs. “Don’t give a fuck.”

He helps me get into the back and fastens my safety belt before going to speak to whoever’s piloting this thing. He climbs in, pulls the door shut, and sits beside me on the incredibly comfortable padded seat. I’ve flown in helicopters before, but this one is next level luxurious with its thick carpet and walnut trim.

“It’s Reznov’s,” Antonio answers my unvoiced question.

“Nice of him to let you borrow it.”

“Nice, my ass. He’ll extract his pound of flesh for this at some point.”

I’d like to tell Antonio he’s being too sceptical, but I know how this world works. Nobody does something for nothing.

“How’s Dante?” I ask as the rotors whir above us.

“Alive and kicking.”

“You won’t punish him for letting them take me?”

Antonio shakes his head. “No. It’s as much my fault as his.”

I swallow hard as I swivel around in my seat to face my husband. “Are you going to send me away again?”

Antonio grabs my hands. “Never again, Bella. I was an asshole tonight, but I am going to spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” He brushes the hair back from my face. His lips curl into a snarl as he sees the bruises forming there. With a tenderness I didn’t know he was capable of, he kisses me. Then he pulls back and gazes almost reverently at me. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” I lay my head on his chest and he wraps his arm around me.

“When I saw that bastard Mancini hitting you, it was the worst moment of my life.”

“I wondered if you were watching the house.”

“I was.” He kisses the top of my head. “I am so proud of you for holding your nerve, Bella. Most women wouldn’t have handled themselves as well as you did.”

Sitting up, I prod his chest. “I am not most women. I am Antonio Volante’s wife.”

“No, Bella.” He smiles softly. “You’re my queen, and I am going to worship at your feet every single day for the rest of my life.”

Laying my head back down on his chest, I sigh in satisfaction. I’m going to hold him to that.

EPILOGUE

Three weeks later

Isabella

I don’t usually lurk about in the corridor when Antonio’s in a meeting, but I am dying to know what he and Piotr Reznov are discussing. It can’t be Boris’s upcoming marriage to Ava. That’s all in hand and neither my husband nor the Russian ice prince have shown the slightest interest in the arrangements. I suspect Piotr’s come to exact his price for helping Antonio to rescue me.

As the door to the study suddenly opens, I startle.

“Mrs. Volante,” Piotr acknowledges me as he passes. The man is impossibly handsome, but his eyes are so cold I shudder.

Spooked all of a sudden, I hurry into the study and close the door behind me. Antonio is behind his desk. He hasn’t grown any more expressive in the past few weeks, but the grooves on his forehead tell me he’s not happy.

“What did he want?”

Antonio arches an eyebrow as if I have no right to ask. I think he’s going to tell me as much, but then he sighs. “Olivia.”

“What?”

“He wants to marry her to seal the relationship between the Bratva and our family.”

“But his uncle’s marrying your mom.”

“Yes, but since he stepped down, his men have been making noises about Piotr settling down. He needs a wife to win support from the old guard who want to see him married, with an heir or two.”

Antonio gets up and walks to the window. His shoulders slump as he looks out into the gardens. My heart sinks. “You said yes, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but only if he can gain her consent. I’m not prepared to force my sister into marriage. I let her down enough in the past.”

It kills Antonio that despite his efforts, he still hasn’t found the photos of Olivia that Joey Gallo tried to blackmail me with. If it wasn’t for Olivia’s confirmation they exist, I would think Joey made the whole thing up. But the pictures are out there somewhere and they won’t stay buried forever.

“But she’s in Italy.”

Although he relented on sending me away again, Antonio insisted Olivia go to Italy. He thinks being around their cousins there will help her mature a bit. Matteo accompanied her. He was supposed to see her settled and then return. For some reason, he’s chosen to stay in Tuscany for now. It’s pissing Antonio off, especially since Gio leaves for Scotland in a few weeks, when he gets the all-clear from his doctors. He pretends it’s because Matteo’s absence leaves him a man down, but really he just misses him. If he isn’t back before Gio goes, Antonio will be impossible to deal with.

“I told Reznov that. He’s going to fly out there.”

“You don’t think he’ll put pressure on her, do you? I mean, he could try to force her consent.”

“That’s something Olivia will have to deal with.”

“Antonio!”

“She’s old enough to know her own mind, Bella. Fuck, she challenges me and Leo at every turn.”

“But…”

Antonio cuts me off. “Are you trying to interfere in my business, Bella?”

His tone is stern, but not particularly harsh. Obviously fed up with this conversation, my husband wants to play.

I flash him a coy smile. “Maybe.”

“You know what happens to bad girls who interfere with their husband’s business, don’t you?”

Oh, I most definitely do. I bite my bottom lip. “No.”

“Get on your knees.”

I put my hands on my hips. “What happened to you getting on your knees for me every day?”

“Oh, Bella, that’s not what you want. You need to submit to me.”

He’s right. I crave his dominance. It’s become like oxygen to me. My heart skips a beat as I look into Antonio’s eyes and see past the naked lust to the love he has for me. Over the last few weeks, he’s taken every opportunity to show me just how much I mean to him. Keen to return the favor, I gladly sink to my knees.

The End

AFTERWORD

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I am not just going to punish her. I am going to reclaim her so ruthlessly and savagely that thoughts of owing her loyalty to anyone but me will never even cross her mind from now on.

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Claimed by the Alpha

Sadie MacDonald left home seeking freedom from the rules of her pack. She ended up broke, in trouble, and over the knee of an infuriatingly sexy alpha who has decided to take her as his mate.

A painful, humiliating spanking in the back seat of Marco di Angelo’s car during the ride to his estate—where the brute has made clear she will be staying with him from now on—proves to be just the start of his plans for Sadie. She will be taught to obey, then she will be claimed and bred.

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Carolina is given no choice in the matter, and when the feisty she-wolf disobeys the two firm-handed Highlanders they do not hesitate to strip her bare and paddle her thoroughly. But their stern correction leaves her not only sore and sorry but also burning with need, and as they master her quivering body ever more shamefully she cannot help longing to be marked and claimed.

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The Alpha’s Prize

Leonid Sobakhin has known for years that Francesca di Angelo is his mate, but a Russian alpha claiming an Italian princess would have risked a dangerous conflict with her pack. Until now…

Banished by her pack, Francesca is now an exile, and when selling everything she owns proves insufficient to maintain her lifestyle she resorts to auctioning off the only thing she has left.

Herself.

But Leonid has no intention of allowing other men to bid on what belongs to him by right, and when Francesca defies him and tries to carry out her plan he decides it is time to take what is his. She will be his mate and his queen, but first she will be punished so thoroughly and shamefully that even before he marks and claims her virgin body she will be in no doubt who owns her.

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BOOKS OF THE BRIDES OF TAAR-BRECK SERIES

Claimed by the Commander

After she is caught with forbidden literature, twenty-year-old Caroline Chatterton is arrested and brought before Earth’s corrupt, tyrannical High Council, but she is saved from a harsh sentence when Commander Andrew Rossingham of Taar-Breck claims her as his bride based on the terms of an agreement made years ago by her grandfather.

Before she kneels at Andrew’s feet to speak her wedding vows, however, the High Council requires that Caroline submit to both an intimate, humiliating medical exam and a shameful public spanking at the hands of her future husband. But though the punishment leaves her blushing crimson, when Andrew takes her in his arms and masters her completely she cannot deny her body’s response to his stern dominance and skilled lovemaking.

During the journey to Taar-Breck, Andrew begins the process of teaching Caroline obedience, and after she sneaks away in an effort to avoid a well-earned spanking she learns the hard way that naughty wives have their bottoms punished both inside and out. But with the High Council still seeking to hunt down her friends back on Earth, can Andrew tame his headstrong bride’s reckless behavior before she puts herself in danger yet again?

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Chosen for the Warrior

When nineteen-year-old Victoria Walton runs away from home to avoid being forced to marry the man chosen by her cruel stepbrother, she is terrified that she will be caught and harshly punished. The last thing she expects, however, is to be tracked down by a huge, brutishly handsome Taar-Breckian warrior, tossed over his shoulder, and carried aboard his ship despite her best efforts to resist.

Captain Allik Loarn has had his eye on Victoria for a while, and he plans to claim her as his mate. But the headstrong little human will need to learn obedience. When her disregard for his commands puts her in danger during their journey, Allik doesn’t hesitate to take Victoria over his knee for a painful, embarrassing public spanking, and her refusal to cooperate with the ship’s doctor during a routine medical exam earns her an even more thorough, humiliating punishment.

Despite her shock at being treated in such a shameful manner, Victoria cannot deny her body’s response to Allik’s stern correction and bold dominance, and it isn’t long before he takes her in his arms and masters her beautiful body completely. But when Earth’s tyrannical leaders set out to bring Victoria back home as a prisoner, will Allik do whatever is necessary to protect her?

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Taken as His Pet

Desperate to escape the stifling confines of Earth’s repressive society, Lucy Bainbridge has only one hope. She proposes a deal to a warrior of Taar-Breck, promising to serve as his pet in return for passage to his home planet, but when the huge, fiercely handsome alien immediately orders her to strip and kneel at his feet, Lucy wonders if she has gotten herself in way over her head.

Though Taryn has been watching Lucy for some time, intending to claim her and bring her back to his world when the time was right, he wasn’t expecting the beautiful little human to make the first move. But now that she is his pet, she will obey or be punished more shamefully than she can imagine, and her beautiful body will be his to use as thoroughly and as often as he pleases.

Lucy is shocked by Taryn’s plans for her, yet as she is intimately examined, soundly spanked, and fitted with a tail, her helpless arousal cannot be hidden. Her need for him grows stronger with every blush and every quivering climax, but will Taryn ever see her as more than just a pet?

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Tamed by Her Mates

Charlotte Calder wasn’t looking for romance when she left Earth and it’s tyrannical government behind, and she certainly wasn’t expecting to be claimed as a mate by four alien warriors. After she makes a rash decision and attempts to break the bond they share, however, Charlotte learns the hard way that she is theirs for life and her foolish behavior will be very thoroughly punished.

Despite her protests, Charlotte is stripped bare and put on display for a painful, humiliating spanking, and she soon finds herself blushing crimson as she is fitted with a collar and placed in a cage. As her fury grows with each new indignity, her need for them grows as well, but when they decide to reclaim her publicly she fears that the shame will be more than she can bear.

Though Charlotte does her best to remain defiant, their stern dominance arouses her deeply and before long she is screaming her helpless pleasure into the sheets as one brutally intense climax after another is ripped from her sore, well-used body. But with her mates in the midst of a war for control of their planet, will they be able to keep Charlotte safe from their many enemies?

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MORE STORMY NIGHT BOOKS BY SASSA DANIELS

Donovan’s Rules

Abby has grown accustomed to being indulged by her husband, the wealthy, powerful businessman Marcus Donovan, even to the point of being allowed to live in her own apartment for a period of time after she ran away in rebellion against the rules he put in place for her. But everything changes when one of his rivals displays an alarming level of interest in her.

Knowing that his wayward wife is in serious danger, Marcus dose not hesitate to take her in hand. Once Abby has been brought back to his estate, he makes it clear he will expect her to do as she is told and from now on any disobedience will earn her a painful, humiliating bare-bottom spanking. More embarrassing still, Marcus quickly proves more than willing to involve members of his staff in her punishments when he feels that a particularly shameful chastisement is needed.

Though his firm-handed discipline frequently leaves her with blushing cheeks and a sore bottom, Marcus’ stern dominance and masterful lovemaking rekindle the passion they once shared and Abby soon finds herself falling in love with him all over again. But will his decision to assign her a full-time bodyguard prove sufficient to keep her safe from the schemes of his enemies?

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Under House Arrest

Deep in debt and desperate, Lindy Halliwell makes the foolish decision to steal an expensive piece of jewelry. When she is caught red-handed, however, Lindy is faced with a difficult choice. To avoid a criminal record, she will be required to spend the next few weeks under house arrest at the estate of Jackson Davies, the stern, handsome gentleman who discovered her crime, and during that time Jackson will be free to punish her in any way he sees fit.

Lindy reluctantly agrees to the arrangement, but upon her arrival she quickly discovers that her ordeal will be much more humiliating than she anticipated. Before she knows it, she has been stripped bare for a thorough, intimate medical examination, and over the coming days she frequently finds herself over Jackson’s knee for a painful, embarrassing bare-bottom spanking.

Though the shameful chastisements leave her blushing and sore, Lindy cannot deny her body’s response to Jackson’s firm-handed dominance, and soon she is yearning for him to take her long and hard. When he claims her properly the pleasure is more intense than she would have ever dreamed, and their passion for each other grows with each passing day. But when the man to whom Lindy owes her debts comes looking for her, can Jackson keep her safe?

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His Conquered Bride

With her clan defeated in battle, nineteen-year-old Ailis MacDonnell has become the spoils of war. Forced into a marriage with Lord Alexander de Moray, she fears she will be used harshly by the foe who already took her castle from her. But though Alexander proves more than ready to punish his conquered bride’s bare bottom thoroughly for any disobedience, when her handsome new husband takes Ailis in his arms and claims her properly she is left utterly spent and satisfied.

Despite his stern demeanor and his willingness to chastise her as shamefully and as often as he feels it necessary, Ailis cannot deny her body’s response to Alexander’s firm-handed dominance, and her desire for him grows stronger with each passing day. But can she allow herself to fall in love with a man who will always be considered an enemy by many among her own people?

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His Headstrong Bride

From the moment he set eyes on Lady Margaret Baillie five years ago, Lord Iain de Moray has dreamed of ravishing her beautiful body so fiercely that she cries out his name as he makes her his own, but he would not have expected their next meeting to be the result of her sneaking into his military camp with a knife, dead set on settling a score with a man being held captive there.

When Margaret attempts to escape and refuses to answer his questions upon being apprehended, Iain does not hesitate to lift her skirts and spank her bare bottom soundly. Her continued defiance earns her the sting of his belt on her sore, already bright red backside, but in spite of everything the humiliating chastisement leaves her longing for him to claim her hard and thoroughly.

After Margaret’s desire for Iain is inadvertently put on shameful display, they are soon wed by the order of the king, but will the battle-hardened Scotsman’s firm hand prove sufficient to cure his headstrong bride of her reckless ways or will more intimate means of correction be required?

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Claiming His Captive

After being threatened by a man who claims her late father owed him money, twenty-six-year-old Hannah Carson reluctantly agrees to gather information for him. But Hannah’s situation goes from bad to worse when she is caught in the act of spying on a wealthy couple, and almost before she knows it she has been stripped bare for a humiliating search by the family’s head of security.

Cameron Fraser takes the safety of his clients very seriously, and when he spots a young woman acting suspiciously around them he makes it his business to find out who sent her. Hannah will tell him everything he wants to know, one way or the other, and he wastes no time in whisking her away by private jet to a remote castle where he can interrogate and punish her as he sees fit.

Though Hannah is shocked by Cameron’s readiness to shackle her in what was once a dungeon, his bold dominance leaves her deeply aroused, and a painful, embarrassing chastisement with a leather tawse merely increases her need for him to ravage her roughly and completely. But once Cameron has used and enjoyed his beautiful captive as thoroughly as he pleases, will he send Hannah on her way to face her troubles alone or has he decided that she is his to claim and keep?

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SASSA DANIELS LINKS

You can keep up with Sassa Daniels via her blog, her Twitter account, her Facebook page, and her Goodreads profile, using the following links:

https://twitter.com/sassadaniels

https://www.facebook.com/100015071292355

https://www.amazon.com/stores/Sassa-Daniels/author/B01N26XP2L

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16358193.Sassa_Daniels

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