My expression darkened and for a second, my anger threatened to spill out through my mouth. But one look at my beautiful wife had me reigning it in. I calmed myself before asking, “She’s got you doing Vero books? Running numbers?”
My tone, although even, must have given away my displeasure because Vittoria instantly jumped to excuses for her sister. “It’s just that I’ve always done them and nobody knows my system so I guess it’s just easier if…”
I put my hand to the laptop lid and began to push on it. Slowly, it closed, giving her enough time to snatch her fingers back.
What I said next was not up for debate. “It’s late and we’re going to bed.”
“But I need to…” The worry in her gaze as she glanced at the shiny exterior of the laptop had my jaw clenching.
Something about her restlessness brough on my own and I truly hadn’t meant to growl the words at her. “They can wait.” She shrunk in on herself and regret coursed through me. I sighed, closing my eyes.
Fucking hell.
For months, I watched Vittoria grow from an undernourished bud to a poised, dew coated, sparkling white rose. And, goddamn Vincenza Vero, the motherfucking strangling vine, comes back on the scene and here we are again. I was not going to let Enza suck the spirit out of my wife. Not when it had taken her this long to find it again.
Fuck Vincenza and fuck her manipulative power trip. Tomorrow, I dealt with the Vero Famiglia and let them know how this was going to go down.
I hoped I sounded convincing when I said, “I’ll get it back to them.”
I must have because when I attempted to scoop her up a second time, she let me and her mouth worked my pulse point, sucking and kissing, the entire way up to our bedroom. Her eagerness meant what should have been a nice, comforting welcome home turned into an impatient fuck against the column post of my bed with one arm twisted behind her back while the other scratched at my forearm as my hand wrapped around her throat.
But afterwards, exhausted but sated, we dozed wrapped in each other’s arms. I stoked her luscious hair and she ran her fingernails over the coarse stubble at my jawline. Our faces close, we breathed as one, unable to stop from planting barely-there kisses wherever they could reach. And when Vittoria nuzzled into my throat, my heart thumped hard in my chest. I didn’t think there was more natural feeling in the fucking universe than being here like this with her.
I liked it a lot.
Together, we slept.
We slept soundly.
Chapter18
Boundaries
Ettore
“Tor?”
I tried to be quiet as I readied myself for the day. Obviously, not quiet enough because she blinked sleepily through one eye, holding herself up on an elbow as she drowsily asked, “Where are you going?” Her sleep softened face had me pausing just to take it in.
My heart did the strangest thing.
The next time it beat, it beat for her.
She looked utterly edible. I couldn’t help myself from stepping forward and sitting myself down next to her. My head dipped and I pressed my lips to her exposed shoulder. “To take care of a small problem.” As if it were a compulsion, my hand settled on her hip but refused to behave, roaming the softness of her curves in ownership. But I didn’t have time to play this morning. “It’s early. Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you when I get home. We’ll have breakfast.”
She was too tired to argue. She blew out, “Okay,” through a stifled yawn and when her head hit the pillow once more, her breathing steadied almost instantly.
I watched her sleep a moment longer before I stood and made my way to my car. The sun hadn’t yet risen. I drove to the modest looking two-story home. The alarm system was basic and took me less than seven minutes to disarm, less than three minutes to find a way to let myself in and less than two to find him, cloaked in darkness, asleep in his bedroom.
His light snuffles told me I hadn’t woken him, so when I took the empty seat in the corner of the room, lifted it and placed it by his bedside, I lowered myself into it, resting my ankle on my knee. I fished my zippo lighter out of my jacket pocket and began the habit I picked up in my teen years of flicking it open, watching it light, then flicking it closed again.
Each time it lit, the soft glow of the flame caused his features to shadow. A minute of this and I noticed him stir. Slowly, at first, and then when he became aware that he wasn’t the only person in the room, he shot up in panic as I flicked open my lighter and left the flame burning.
In alarm, he panted out a hoarse, “What the hell?”
“Good morning, Como.”
Flick, flick. Flick, flick.