I return to the party and search for my husband. He’s standing outside by the bar, surrounded by his capos and their wives. I squeeze past them and take his hand. “Come with me.”
He gives me a curious look but doesn’t argue when I pull him after me.
I guide him down the illuminated path that leads into the garden and walk along a wall of dense bushes that conceal us from view. I stop, press my back against the foliage, and tug on Rafaele’s lapels until there are only inches between his body and mine.
He stares at me, brows furrowed. “What’s going on, tesoro?”
“Rafe, I have to tell you something.” My voice is trembling. I’m acting weird, jittery from the adrenaline and everything else.
His eyes narrow. “Did something happen?”
“No. Nothing bad.”
The tension in his shoulders eases. “Then what is it?”
“I just…there’s something I want to say.” It comes out as a whisper. God, I sound completely terrified.
What if he rejects me? What if he says he doesn’t feel the same? That he’ll never feel the same? I don’t know. But I can’t keep doing nothing. That’s not who I am. I take a deep breath.
Suddenly, understanding flashes across his expression.
My heart drops. Oh no. I think he just guessed what’s coming. There’s no time left to waste. I have to tell him. “I l—”
His lips crash down on mine, silencing me.
A fracture appears inside my chest. Maybe I should pull away, but I don’t. Instead, I whimper and pull him closer.
He wraps his arms around me and holds me tightly. He bites and tugs on my lips, sliding his tongue in and out, his body hard and hot against me. We break apart, and then he’s back. He won’t give me more than a second to catch my breath.
I’m not an idiot. I get it.
He doesn’t want to hear what I have to say.
The backs of my eyes prickle, but I push the feeling down. It’s not hard, not when his hands are under my top now, hot and possessive, and he’s tweaking my nipples and making my skin buzz. I moan into his mouth, and he falls to his knees before me, hikes up my skirt with one palm, shoves my wet panties aside, and drags his tongue over my burning flesh.
I let out a broken gasp. Yes, this is good. This is easy. Him giving me pleasure, and me accepting all that he’s willing to give.
What if that’s all he’ll ever give? Is it enough? Forever?
I give my head a hard shake, ignoring the pinch from the twigs poking against my scalp.
“Hold your skirt. I need both hands.”
I clutch onto the fabric, and he spreads my legs apart a few inches farther, giving himself better access. He pulls down my panties and shoves them into the back pocket of his slacks.
He licks my opening and then moves back up to my clit. I shudder when he sucks it into his mouth, moan when he swirls his tongue. Heat blankets my body. I slide my fingers into his hair and hold on to him as he brings me closer and closer to the edge.
Suddenly, his mouth is gone. He pulls me down to the grass, his movements harried, desperate. His face appears above me, wet with my juices.
“Why did you stop?” I pant.
“I need to be inside you,” he grunts, undoing his tie and pulling it off his neck. He balls it up and stuffs it into my mouth. I make a muffled sound.
“Shhh. I don’t want our guests to hear your screams.”
The only warning I get is the clank from him undoing his belt buckle, and then he shoves into me with one hard stroke. A scream tears its way out of my throat, muffled by his tie. My eyes roll to the back of my head. I’m so full, so stretched.
“You okay?” he asks, his chest rising and falling with harsh breaths.
I press my heels into his thighs, urging him to move. I’m right on the edge again, my orgasm within reach. He doesn’t need more encouragement. He starts thrusting, soon settling into a relentless rhythm against my G-spot.
So damn good. My eyelids flutter. He pulls the neck of my dress down and wraps his mouth around my nipple, tugging on it with his teeth. “You going to come hard for me, tesoro? You better be quick. Someone might wander down to the garden. You know I’d have to kill anyone who saw my birthday girl getting railed.”
I sob against the wave of pleasure that crashes into me. My climax bursts, every nerve ending firing, every bit of oxygen removed from my lungs.
His cock slips in and out a few more times before he groans and spills inside of me. “Fuck.”
I clutch onto him. Above us, the sky is full of twinkling stars, and one of them cuts an arc through the darkness.
He removes his tie from my mouth and stares down at me. His breaths come out as pants. His blue eyes shimmer with something, something he can’t voice, something he may not even understand.
I sit up and fix my clothing into place. He plucks a leaf out of my hair and kisses my forehead. “I made a mess out of you.”
I laugh softly. “Yeah.” In more ways than one.
This was meant to be a distraction, but the three words are right there again, ready to spill out. Something holds me back. Maybe it’s the fact that he can look at me like that, like I’m the most precious thing in the world, while keeping so much from me.
Why hasn’t he ever confided in me about the horrors he’s lived through?
Doesn’t he trust me?
Doesn’t he see by now how far I’ve fallen for him?
The morning after the party, I wake up hungover. It’s worth it, because last night. Was. A. Blast.
Around ten, after Luca brought out my cake, most of the guests I didn’t know very well left, and then the real party started. Someone brought out a karaoke machine I didn’t know we owned, and everyone sang me “Happy Birthday.” We did rounds of shots. I’m pretty sure there’s a video of Vale and me dancing on a table. And most importantly, all of our men somehow managed not to kill each other. By the end of the night, Gemma convinced Ras to put on one of the themed shirts I bought, and he drunkenly told everyone he loved the little parrots on it. I grin at the memory and snuggle up against Rafaele.
His body shifts. “You awake?” Rafaele didn’t seem that drunk last night, but his voice still has a rasp to it.
I turn my face up to him. “Yeah.”
He looks tired. “I just got a call. There’s something I need to take care of.” He gazes down at me and brushes his fingertips over my lips. “I’m sorry. I wish I could stay in bed with you all day.”
A butterfly appears inside my stomach. Then I remember how he cut me off last night, and the butterfly disappears. He wouldn’t let me tell him that I love him. Why?
Because he doesn’t feel the same, and he doesn’t want you to ruin everything.
My throat tightens. Maybe he needs more time. His mom told me to be patient.
I force a smile. “Don’t apologize for being a good boss. I’ll see you tonight.”
After Rafaele leaves, I have breakfast in bed and watch a rom-com for a bit before I finally decide to get my ass up. I told Loretta I’ll be in today since we’re receiving a big shipment of fabrics, and she’ll need help doing inventory. And Gemma, Mari, Vale, and I are meeting for a happy hour at a restaurant nearby. I want to take full advantage of having them here, and I also desperately need some advice.
A half hour later, I step inside the shop. The bell we recently installed rings above my head. “Loretta?” I call out. “It’s me.”
She comes out of the bathroom looking a little green. “No need to shout.”
I grin. “You okay?” When Rafaele dragged me upstairs, she was singing karaoke in the living room while hanging off Nero’s arm.
“Drank too much,” she says in a harsh whisper. “And my voice is completely gone.”
I burst into giggles. She rolls her eyes and gives me the middle finger. “Don’t laugh at my misery. It’s all your fault, you know. I can’t even remember how many shots you poured down my throat, you little she-devil.”
“I don’t remember you complaining.”
She groans. “You’re a bad influence.”
We get to work. The delivery is a big one—hundreds of rolls of fabric that need to be catalogued and put in the right place. Our hangovers make it even more difficult, but we power through, fueled by coffee.
Around one, we take a quick break for lunch. Sandro walks us to the deli, and he’s looking rough too.
“Can you not park in my customer parking?” Loretta asks. “You’re scaring people off sitting there looking all glum.”
“I don’t look glum,” he protests. “I’m just reading the news.”
“Well, read it on the other side of the street, will you?”
“Fine,” he grumbles. “I’ll move the car when we get back.”
We have our lunch and get back to work. Later in the afternoon, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I check the screen. It’s a text message from Vale.
Something’s wrong with Gemma. Ras is driving her to the hospital right now. I’m almost at the corner of Clinton and Rivington—come quick.
My stomach drops. What? Was there an accident? Is it the baby?
I grab my purse and dart out of the shop. Loretta calls after me, but I ignore her. My feet hit the pavement, and I’m off running.
“Cleo!” Sandro shouts from somewhere behind me and a car door slams.
I ignore him too. My sneakers slap against the street as I sprint to the location Vale mentioned in her message. The thought of Gemma being hurt or of her losing her baby nearly makes me stumble. This can’t be happening. Not when Gem is finally doing so well.
My lungs burn from exertion. I don’t think I’ve ever run this fast. I cut across the street, and cars grind to a stop and honk all around me. I sprint to the corner Vale said she’d be at. There’s a black limo waiting there. The door of the car opens, and I throw myself inside. It shuts right behind me.
“What happened?” I pant. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness inside the car.
When they do, it isn’t Vale staring back at me.
It’s Papà.
He smirks. “Hello, daughter.”
Something pricks against the side of my neck, and then everything goes black.
