It’s past midnight, and my office is bathed in darkness. A single antique desk lamp illuminates the space, casting shadows onto the wooden bookshelves.
I like working in the dark. I find it easier to focus. And I really need to focus if I want to get to sleep in the next hour.
It’s not like me to procrastinate, but it’s been a long week, and I’m drained.
We’ve still got no new leads on who’s behind the Il Caminetto attack. With the trail growing cold, I’m getting less and less optimistic we’ll get to the bottom of this anytime soon.
On top of that, an issue with my capo in Rochester kept me in the city for longer than I would have liked. We captured a Bratva informer who’s been doing surveillance on us to find out which businesses pay us protection. My left hand still fucking aches from hitting his thick skull.
Maybe getting his body back in a suitcase will make the Russian pakhan realize he should stay the fuck out of our state.
Last night, when I got back home after being gone for four days, Cleo was sitting cross-legged on the couch in the living room with her computer in her lap. The moment she saw me, the lines of concentration in her forehead softened, her eyes widened, and her lips quirked up. She missed me.
“You’re back,” she said, those two words underscored with relief.
A strange feeling passed through me. One I couldn’t name. The sensation started at the center of my chest and spread with every step I took toward Cleo. She watched me approach, pulling on her bottom lip with her teeth, and asked me about my trip.
Instead of answering her, I leaned down and kissed her. It was chaste. Sweet. It was probably just my exhaustion muddling my head, because in the moment, I didn’t want to fuck her. All I wanted was one simple kiss from my wife.
She didn’t pull away. She leaned into me like it was exactly what she wanted too.
And that tiny movement was everything.
I rake my fingers through my hair. I almost have her. By now, I’ve realized that the way past her defenses isn’t through her body, but through her mind.
Tesoro mio. So sharp on the outside, but she’s all soft inside. How did I not see it earlier?
She craves for someone to accept her for who she really is. Acceptance is one of many things her parents never gave her. She hasn’t been enough for them her whole life. They told her she is flawed, wrong, undesired.
But I desire her. Her flaws give her character. She is just right for me.
I might never be able to love her—my ability to love was ruthlessly trained out of me—but I can appreciate her. It will be enough for her, because it will be more than anything she’s ever gotten before. She won’t know the difference. How could she?
Our game is almost at its end. She put up a far stronger defense than I anticipated, but with each passing day, I chip at it bit by bit.
I’m a patient man.
I’ve been repeating those words so often in these last few days they feel like a prayer. It’s only a matter of time before she finally surrenders to me, and I can declare checkmate.
I was right all along. Cleo is a puzzle, one I’ve nearly managed to solve. And when I do, she won’t occupy so many of my thoughts.
The tension will dissipate. The intrigue will be over. And my mind will be calm again.
Nero was wrong. He thought she would unmoor me. That she would make me lose control. But no matter what my consigliere thinks, I’ve stayed in control the entire time we’ve been playing. And that’s the way it’ll always be.
There’s a knock on the door. I glance up from my laptop. Since it’s late, the staff has been dismissed for the evening. A shiver of anticipation rolls down my spine.
“Come in.”
My wife appears in the doorway, a stack of papers in her arms. She’s dressed in the same outfit I saw her in this morning—a white blouse and a pink skirt that stops mid-thigh. Her copper hair is loose, cascading over her shoulders.
She’s so beautiful.
“What is it?” I ask.
She leans against the doorjamb. “I need your help. Do you have time right now?”
I tear my gaze away from her bare thighs and nod. “Of course.”
She comes inside, closing the door behind her. “Loretta and I have started planning on how we can repay all of her debts.” She puts the stack of papers on my desk. “I’ve called most of her creditors today asking to put repayment plans in place that will give us some breathing room.”
Things between my cousin and her must be going well. “That’s a good idea.”
“There’s one creditor that won’t give us an extension for some reason. It’s the fabric supplier and starting next week he’s refusing to deliver any more stock until the debt is repaid.”
“How much is it?”
“A hundred thousand dollars.”
I lean back in my seat. “How long will it take Loretta to pay it back?”
“We’ve implemented some changes to how she runs her business, and I think we’ll see things start to turn around quickly. Assuming her sales double, she’ll pay him back in six months. If they triple, it’ll take four months.”
“Do you have numbers to back this up?”
She pulls out a USB from her pocket and slides it across the desk. “The financial model and all of our assumptions are here.”
I take the USB and plug it into my laptop. When I open the Excel file, it’s an effort not to show my surprise. “You made this?”
She sits down across from me and nods.
“How?”
“A lot of hours watching videos on YouTube.”
This financial model is better than most of the ones my capos show me whenever they have a new idea. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been promised there was no way for me not to make a return, only to look at the numbers and realize the idea is a dud.
I scroll through the spreadsheet and spend a few minutes playing with the assumptions. Everything Cleo said about the repayment timeline checks out.
I look up at her. “I’m impressed.”
She rolls her eyes. “What? Did you think I was a moron? I’ll have you know math was my best subject in high school.”
That’s news to me. “It was?”
“I was nearly top of the class.”
Interesting. I lean back in my chair. “Are you asking me to pay this?”
Her back straightens. “No. I’m not here to ask you for money. I already sent this to the supplier, but they won’t budge. I was hoping you could look at the contract and see if there’s anything there we can use. I’m apparently much worse at reading legalese than I am at the numbers.”
“Is that what this is?” I nod at the stack of papers.
“Yeah.”
I pull the papers toward me. “Let me take a look.”
Ten minutes later, I have no choice but to deliver bad news. “There’s nothing in the contract that will help.”
Her face falls.
“But I know this supplier. The owner is Gino Ferraro’s cousin. We’re invited to have dinner with the don at his house next week.”
“We are? Since when?”
“Since a few days ago. I’d like you to join.”
Her eyes light up. “Okay. I can talk to him about this then.”
“Good idea.” I glance back at the business model. “The six-month projection looks good, but I think there are some problems with your long-term view.”
“There are?” She stands up and comes to my side of the desk.
“Take a look.” I toggle to the correct sheet and walk her through my logic.
She bends at the waist and reaches for my laptop. I catch a whiff of her floral shampoo.
“Hmm.” She nibbles on her bottom lip. “It’s possible I used the wrong numbers for the cost per square meter. I guess that should go down the more fabric we buy.”
I lean back in my chair and glance at her ass. Her skirt’s ridden up, nearly high enough for me to see her panties. My hand twitches. I’ve given her space after she fled from me that time in bed.
Be patient. Let her come to you.
But she did come to me, didn’t she? She’s here, late at night, the house empty.
“Do you think I should decrease it by ten or twenty percent?” she asks.
She might push me away if I touch her. But I need to fucking touch her. I lift my hand and wrap my palm around the back of her thigh.
She sucks in a low breath. I wait. Give her time to adjust or to shove my hand off her the way she’s done so many times before.
But seconds pass, and she doesn’t.
This emboldens me. I move my fingers in a light caress against the inside of her thigh. “I think fifteen is a good guess.”
Goosebumps erupt over her flesh. She types in the new number. “Done.” Her voice is hoarse. “Any other feedback?”
“You should probably increase your marketing expenses in Q4.” I inch my hand higher, stopping when I reach the edge of her panties. “Once you pay off the debts, you’ll want to double down on growth.”
“Okay.”
Slowly, I start to move the tips of my fingers back and forth along the edge of her underwear. Her skin is so soft and warm here.
Her elegant throat bobs. “By how much?”
I shift in the chair, my cock straining against the fabric of my slacks. She still hasn’t pulled away, so I go farther. To the damp lace fabric covering her pussy. To the valley that molds to her slit. She gasps and squirms against my hand.
“Ten percent.” My voice drops an octave lower. The lace grows more and more wet with every swipe of my thumb.
She’s frazzled now. She mistypes the numbers, deletes them, types them in again. Her hands are shaking.
“I think I need to—”
I increase my pressure, and she chokes on her words.
“Need what?” I slide a finger under the lace.
A satisfied groan rumbles inside my chest. Drenched. My wife is fucking drenched for me.
“I should increase the he-headcount.” She’s panting now. “We’ll need to hire someone to help with the marketing.” The sentence comes out in one breath.
Her wetness coats my digits, and there’s so much of it. My dick weeps at the thought of sliding through all this wet, warm heat.
I draw a circle around her clit. “Good idea.”
With a shaking hand, she adjusts the numbers and then slams the laptop shut. A puff of air escapes past her lips, and she lets her head fall forward.
Slowly, I rise out of my chair, brush her hair over her shoulder, and bring my lips close to her ear. “Do you want me to stop?”
The air fills with the sound of her heavy breathing. Anticipation tightens inside my gut.
She swallows. “No.”
I press a kiss to the side of her neck, my body buzzing with triumph. “Good girl.” She whimpers. “I’m going to feast on you, tesoro. You’ve kept me so fucking starved.”
I roll my chair until it’s directly behind her, sit down, and lift her skirt.
I groan.
Red lace panties stretched over a firm, round ass. So fucking perfect. I hook a finger around the fabric and pull it aside to examine her.
Fuck me. Her cunt is dripping down her inner thighs, and it’s the best thing I’ve ever seen. That pussy is made to be eaten.
I shove the panties down her legs and make her step out of them.
“Put your elbows on the desk.”
She’s trembling, but she does as she’s told. Her perfect, glistening cunt is right where I want it—in front of my face.
I wrap my hands around her legs and pull my chair closer, and then I spread her open. Gently, I run the pad of my thumb over her little asshole, and then I dip it inside her folds. So tight and warm. I lean in and drag my tongue over her wetness.
“Oh God,” she moans.
Her taste floods my senses. Fuck, I’ve waited for this for so long, and it’s somehow even better than I imagined. I lap at her, pushing her thighs apart, pushing my tongue deep inside of her, pushing all her fucking reservations out of her body with every slow swipe.
“You taste so fucking good,” I growl against her as I push a finger inside of her.
A shiver runs through her. She’s strangely quiet, with the exception of her throaty moans. I have to remind myself that this is new to her.
Right?
I pull away from her, and she whines at the loss of my tongue.
“How many men have done this to you?”
“What?” She glances at me over her shoulder, her cheeks red and her eyes hooded.
“How. Many. Before. Me?”
She huffs a disbelieving breath. “Rafe, right now?”
“Tell me.”
She tugs on her bottom lip. “A few.”
Possessiveness cuts through my haze of lust. “After I make you come, you will write down their names.”
She holds my gaze. “Why?”
“So I can kill them all.”
Her wetness gushes over my hand. I look down. “Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” I curl my finger inside her.
She gasps. “Shut up.”
“They ever make you this wet?”
Her brow arches. “They never took a break to chitchat, so at least they had that going for them.”
This smartass. “You’re going to pay for that.” Before she can bite back some snappy retort, I pull my finger out and run my tongue over her.
Her moans turn more frenzied when I press my fingers against her clit and start drawing tighter and tighter circles around it. She drops her forehead to the desk. Her pussy starts clenching. She’s close. I wish I could see her face when she comes.
I pull back while my fingers keep moving in faster and faster circles. The view is spectacular. Round ass, dripping pussy, and her little pink skirt bunched around her waist. I palm my cock through the fabric of my pants. “That’s it, tesoro. You have no idea how good you look like this.”
She mewls something unintelligible and comes apart.
I lean forward and suck on her opening, letting her juices flood my mouth.
A groan spills past my lips. My fingers dig into her thighs, and I keep her there until I get my fill.
It takes a while for her legs to stop shaking. Slowly, I let go of her and push my chair back. I’m too worked up to take her to the bedroom. I want her to unzip my pants, take out my cock, and impale herself on it.
She pushes off the desk and turns around, her cheeks red and her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.
I stand up and anchor one hand on the desk beside her, my wrist brushing against her waist. Her hooded eyes meet mine. I lean down and claim her lips.
For her sake, I hold myself back. The kiss starts off slow and mellow. She’s relaxed after she just came so beautifully for me, and her body melts against mine.
I cup her breast and groan into her mouth when I realize she’s not wearing a bra. Her back arches as I tweak her nipple through the thin fabric of her shirt. The thought of finally being able to explore her body for as long as I wish weakens my knees.
This fucking woman.
She breaks the kiss when I lower my hand to her damp inner thigh and cup her bare pussy. Her eyelids flutter, and her tongue darts out to lick her bottom lip. I grab the back of her head and kiss her again.
This time, it’s not gentle. I tug and bite and thrust my tongue inside her mouth, rubbing it against her own. She doesn’t back down.
She kisses me back.
Intense. Needy. Perfect.
Slowly, I push one finger back inside of her. She makes a surprised noise that I really want to hear again, but before I can get anywhere with that, a buzzing sound cuts through the air.
I glance down at where my phone is lying on the desk behind Cleo. The screen shows Nero’s name.
Why the fuck is he calling me this late?
I don’t care. Whatever it is, he can deal with it. But it keeps fucking buzzing.
I tear my mouth away from Cleo with a groan. “Fuck. I have to take this.” I grab the device and bring it to my ear.
Cleo’s eyes widen. “Are you serio—”
“What is it?” My fingers are still inside my wife’s pulsating cunt. I nestle the phone between my shoulder and my ear and press a hand over Cleo’s mouth.
She shakes her head, bucking against me, but I pin her to the desk with my thigh.
“We need you at 37 Ringold. Caught another Bratva fucker sniffing around a construction site.”
I curl my fingers inside of Cleo, pressing against her G-spot, and she stops fighting. She makes a muffled moan against my hand.
“Who’s with you?” I remove my hand from her mouth, grab my phone, and mute it. “Are you going to come for me again, tesoro?”
Cleo’s green eyes flash with outrage, but there’s enough lust in her gaze to almost mask it.
“Jeremy and Vinny. We think this guy might be a higher-up. Someone might come looking for him soon.”
Irritation buzzes beneath my skin. I don’t want to go torture this fuck. I want to drive my cock inside my wife’s tight cunt and hear her moan my name. I want to make her mine. I unmute the phone and put my hand back over Cleo’s mouth. My fingers thrust in and out of her, hitting just the right spot. Her eyelashes flutter. She digs her nails into my biceps.
“Are you coming?” Nero asks.
“I was about to until you called,” I say under my breath. Cleo snorts against my palm.
“What’s that? Can’t hear you.”
Honestly, fuck my life.
“Yes. I’ll be there,” I snap. I’m a don, not a teenage boy. I can wait a bit longer.
I hang up the call and press my thumb against Cleo’s swollen clit. She grinds her hips against me, her body seeking its release. My hand moves from her mouth to tangle with her hair. “Come for me, tesoro,” I growl. “Let me see it.”
She sobs, her green eyes hooded. “Oh fuck.” And then she tosses her head back and rides her climax, wave after wave.
I stare at her, drinking it all in. The drama of her orgasm plays out across her pretty face, and I can’t look away.
Something warm spreads through my chest at how good it feels to please her. But it’s over all too soon.
I pull on her hair until our foreheads touch. “I have to go,” I say against her lips. “But when I get back, we’re going to finish what we started. This game is done. You’re mine, Cleo. Do you understand? You’re. Fucking. Mine.”
