Owned by the Italian Mafia Don: Chapter 22

My wife is the aftertaste of really good whiskey. She burns, warming you from the inside out. There’s the dizziness that accompanies after too much has been had, but it feels good. She feels good, but she’s an acquired taste.

People who can’t handle her will be hungover the next day. She’s too strong for the likes of weak and inferior people.

She’s made for men who enjoy the pain of the burn because it’s the only way to survive the fire she breathes.

Rosie rolls onto her side, facing me, her curls an absolute mess, and there’s a wrinkle from the pillowcase indented in her cheek. She sleeps hard, but I haven’t been able to rest all night. Every move she made; I was worried someone was here to pry her from my arms.

Today is the day we meet Bianchi and I’ve never been more nervous in my entire life. I roll out of bed without disturbing her, sliding on my sweatpants.

She mumbles, rolling to my side of the bed to snag my pillow. She holds it to her chest, and I grin.

She likes me.

And one day, I’m going to get her to love me.

I do my business in the bathroom, wash my hands, and head to the kitchen. Immediately, I smell the espresso machine and Matias standing there while he makes his latte.

“Good morning. Make me one too?”

“Fuck no. Make it yourself and don’t pull that authority on me either.”

“Fine,” I yawn, knowing he wouldn’t talk to me like that if anyone else was around. “Where is everyone?”

“Making rounds, gathering the payments from the strip.”

“Any issues?” I ask, remembering what happened last week.

“Not yet. Everyone has paid. Gianni is worried about a casino but nothing he can’t handle while we deal with Bianchi.”

“I want to get this over with,” I grumble, running my hands through my hair. “I need to get Bianchi away from Rosie so we can move on.”

“You like her, then?” Matias asks, sliding me a mug so I can prepare my own latte.

“Like her? You could say that.” I more than like her. I’m absolutely obsessed with her.

“Because if you don’t want her, I think she’s amazing and I’d love to—”

Before he can blink, I have a kitchen knife in my hand and aimed at his throat. He isn’t afraid. He only rolls his eyes, blows on his latte, and takes a sip. “If you go near her,” I warn. “I’ll kill you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He shoves me away from him. “Death threats. Typical. You wouldn’t dare kill me. We’re too attached. You’d be devastated.”

“I’d live.” Barely. Not that I’d admit that to him. We are twins so we are close in ways people don’t understand. I’d never hurt my brother but the thought of him with Rosie is betrayal. I’ve never minded when we have shared women in the past, but Rosie is forever off-limits.

“So,” he sips his coffee. “This arranged marriage thing worked out for you too, huh? Same with Carmine?”

“Luckily,” I say. “She pushes every single button, but I love it.”

He doesn’t say anything, just hums in thought.

“What?”

“Then you know the only way to keep her safe is to kill Bianchi.”

“We can’t do that. It will start a war and we aren’t ready for a war. We need to remain on…decent terms. Things need to be like they were before this stolen gem situation happened.”

“That won’t happen. Not as long as you are married to his enemy.”

“Well, if he dares to take what is mine, I’ll kill him. She isn’t the only reason why I don’t want a war, Matias. I don’t want you or any of my men getting hurt. I want no one to die because of this and if it means playing nice with this fucking asshole, then I will. For now.”

“Maybe playing it safe isn’t the way to go, Ari. Maybe we end this now.”

“No, there’s too much at stake now. This isn’t just about proving strength. It’s about strategy and being smart. I have to outsmart a man like Bianchi. So we sit tight. We will meet with him. After I get the information I need, we will move on from there.”

Matias’s eyes shift over my shoulder, and I turn around to see a sleepy-eyed Rosie standing there. She’s in my T-shirt and it hangs down to her knees. No one has ever made a shirt look so fucking good. I want nothing more than to bend her over this kitchen island and fuck her in it.

She’ll be bathed in my bruises while I grip her hips, my come dripping from her tight cunt, and my shirt will be pulled above her ass so I can watch my cock slide in and out of what is mine.

Fuck, I’m getting hard thinking about claiming her all over again.

“Good morning, Tesoro.” I stretch out my arm toward her and she comes without argument, nestling perfectly against my side. “How did you sleep?”

“Good. What’s going on? You two sound serious.”

“Just discussing logistics of how everything should go with Bianchi. Nothing new,” Matias explains, reassuring her with a smile. “Can I make you a latte, Rosie?”

“You’ll make her one but not me?” I make sure I sound hurt. “That’s just rude.”

“You’re not cute. She is.”

“Don’t call her cute,” I rumble, tightening my hold around her waist.

Rosie giggles, then takes a seat on my lap. I place my chin on top of her shoulder, sliding my hand around her stomach to pull her back against my front. Burying my nose against her neck, I inhale, and the sweetness of her perfume is a ghost against her skin from yesterday. She smells so good.

“Get a fucking room,” Matias says, setting her mug down in front of her.

“I am in a room,” I say. “And if you don’t like it, find yourself in another, brother.”

“Don’t mind if I do. I need to check in with Gianni, anyway. I’ll see you in a few hours.” He raises his mug to me, saying goodbye as he heads down the steps and to the tech room.

“You’re cute in the mornings,” she says, holding the mug in her hands. “You’re snuggly.”

“Men like me aren’t ‘snuggly,’” I say while kissing the side of her neck.

“Yes, you’re right. Not at all. You’re so cold and distant in the mornings. Really,” she says, the hint of sarcasm tinging her voice. I choose to ignore it.

I move her hair out of the way and kiss the back of her neck. I love the way she gives me access. The smooth flesh is flawless, and I think about when we met, how she’d rather have died then let me this close. I shut my eyes and choose to just feel her, roaming my hands up and down her arms, the tips of my calloused fingers caressing her. My breath tickles the back of her neck and her breath itches, which makes her stop before taking a sip of her coffee.

My lips drag down her throat, slow and steady, as if I don’t have an entire empire to run and no seconds to waste, but if I did, I’d waste them all with her.

Her skin pebbles in reaction to me, a slight tremble working its way through her body.

“Ari,” she moans my name, but it isn’t loud, it’s a long, drawn-out hush.

The chemistry between us is building and the tension is reaching new heights. I press my forehead between her shoulders, rocking it back and forth to try to calm myself down. My chest rising and falls, my lungs struggling to take a breath that isn’t full of fucking lust. I’ve never needed anyone the way I need her.

She presses her ass against the long hard ridge of my cock, and I groan, digging my hold into her thigh.

“We can’t,” I whisper, wishing this moment was happening any other day but today.

“Why?” she asks, rocking herself against me. “Real fast? Please.” She leans her head against my shoulders, grounding her ass against my cock. “I feel good. I’m not sore. I want you.”

“We have to—” I lick my lips groaning from the friction. “We have to get ready. We need to be prepared.”

“We will be. It isn’t for hours. Please,” she begs. “You want a baby, don’t you? We can’t do that unless we have sex. A lot. It’s not easy getting pregnant, Ari. You’ll have to fuck me all the time. Do you not want to?”

I growl and slam her forward, pressing her against the kitchen island. I yank down her panties and lower my pants enough for my cock to spring free.

“I want you all the time.” I curl my hand in her hair and guide my cock to her entrance. “Never question that. Do you feel how fucking hard you make me? I’m in a constant state of need with you.” We moan in unison as I sink in, her ass pressed against my thighs as I settle to the hilt. “Fuck, Rosie,” I curse, then kick the chair back and her chest is against the counter. My hand is between her shoulders, holding her down while I slide out.

“Damn, you feel so good. So tight.” I curl over her, placing one hand on her hip while I bite into her neck. “This will be quick. This will be rough. I will not apologize for how I’m about to fuck you. And if you come or not, it won’t be my problem.” I yank her head back, hoping it hurts and her mouth falls open. “And then when we come home, I’ll take care of this greedy pussy.”

“No,” she protests on a whine that makes me smile against her shoulder. “Don’t make me wait. I’m burning up for you. Don’t leave me like this.”

I reach under the shirt and dive my hand between her legs, slipping my fingers through her pussy until I feel the swell of her clit. I pinch it, rolling it between my fingers and she moans, pressing her cheek against the counter.

“Only because you ask so nicely.” I slide out and thrust back in, nothing stopping me from burying every inch inside her, and something about that has me releasing a feral force. Something possesses me. I ram into her unapologetically, her ass shaking with every hard flex of my hips. “You wanted this,” I say to her, moving my hands to her shoulders to get a better grip as I drive into her. “You came in here, knowing I wouldn’t be able to resist you. You knew I’d pull your panties down your legs so I could feel the tight grip of this pretty desperate cunt. Isn’t at that right?”

Our skin slaps together and her moans echo through the kitchen. I know anyone in the house can hear us. No one will come into the kitchen.

Not if they want to live.

She slips, falling more onto the counter which drives my cock in further. I groan, loving how deep I am and by the sounds leaving her, she does too.

“Fuck, you already have me so close. I’m going to come, Tesoro. I’m going to fill this pretty pussy up.”

“I’m so close, Ari. Don’t stop.”

I lift her from the counter and slam her against the fridge, pinning her hands above her head while fucking her relentlessly.

“God, that’s it. You take this cock so well,” I whisper into her ear, the magnets falling form the fridge from how hard I’m slamming her against it.

I continue roll her clit, then drift my hand up her sides and cup her tit, the weight of it in my hand causing my hips to stutter.

“Ari. Ari,” she curls our fingers together and meets me thrust for thrust.

She’s close.

“That’s it. Call out my name,” I growl. “Let the entire fucking house know who you belong to.”

“Oh, fuck. Ari. Oh, god. Yes. Ari!” she screams, her muscles clamping around me and it beacons my own orgasm.

I groan, filling her with hot, heavy streams of my come.

“You’re fucking trouble.” I kiss her jaw before placing my forehead on her shoulder, trying to steady my breath.

“I know,” she says on a tired, relaxed laugh.

I spin her around and pick her up, wrapping her legs around my hips, and the gesture causing both of us to moan.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking you to the bedroom so I can lift your hips.”

“You’re obsessed with having an heir,” she says, lying her head against my shoulder.

I open our bedroom door, then kick it shut. I ease her onto to the bed and lift her legs and hips, still not pulling my cock out. If I could, I’d lock myself inside her to improve our chances.

And she’s wrong.

I’m not obsessed with having an heir. I’m obsessed with her having my child. I’m obsessed with the thought of her pregnancy.

I want it to happen now.

I want her bound to me in every single way.

I don’t know how to tell her that, so I keep my mouth shut and stay inside her until I’m soft and slip out.

We stay in bed for hours and fall asleep.

I only wish we don’t have to wake to the nightmare of Bianchi.

***

“How are you feeling?” I ask her as we drive to the club where I met Bianchi and Rosie killed one of his men.

The sun has set, and the night sky has poured darkness on the city. There are no stars tonight but there are thick gray clouds building. In the distance, thunder rolls and a light patter of rain pellets against the windshield.

We’ve been on the road for a few minutes and a heavyweight has been cast in the car.

“I’m nervous, but I’ll be okay,” she replies, twisting her hands in her lap. “I don’t think I’ll say anything. I think that’s my best bet. I’m afraid I might go tell him to fuck himself.”

I snort, then toss my head back and laugh, sliding my hand through hers. “You know, I won’t lie to you. I’m worried about that too.”

She playfully punches me in the shoulder. “I wouldn’t.”

I lift my brows and tilt my chin to my chest, staring at her in disbelief.

Rosie pouts. “Okay, I might, but I’ll try not to.”

“I know.” I rub my thumb across the top of her hand. “It’s going to be fine. Let me lead, okay?” I bring her hand to my lips and kiss her knuckles.

I sigh, hating this part of the job. I hate meeting with people I don’t like and hate it even more when I have to meet people I want to kill. I’d rather spend the day in bed with Rosie, rolling around in pleasure until all that’s left for her is to pass out from exhaustion.

That sounds like something I need to schedule. Maybe when all this blows over, I can whisk her away to the Maldives and take her on a real vacation. I’ll fuck her by the ocean every day and night until the waves crash against us and have no choice but to remember my name as she cries it out.

Gianni checks behind us to make sure Matias and a few of the others are still there. There was no way in hell I was going to show up without backup.

“What if something bad happens? What if this is all a trap to get you alone and kill you, Ari? What if this is his plan?”

“It isn’t because he needs me. I have more respect in this city than he does. If he wants any chance of making a name for himself. My networks and connection are all over the globe. I have markets he can’t even dream about. If he truly wants an alliance, he’ll keep that in mind.”

“What if he kills me?” she whispers so quietly, I can barely hear her.

“If he dares to make such an attempt, I’ll gut him where he sits and make a crown from his bones to sit on your head like the queen you are, Tesoro.”

“You better watch out, Mr. Milazzo. You keep saying things like that and I might do something stupid and fall in love with you.”

“Mmm, I suppose I’ll just hope you’ll have a moment of weakness and become stupid for a second,” I tease just as the car rolls to a stop in the parking lot of Amor’s. There are cars in the parking lot and line outside the door waiting to get in. “He won’t do anything tonight. The place is packed. If he really wanted to try something, he would have shut the place down and it would have been a private meeting.”

“That’s reassuring,” she says, her voice wavering.

I look her up and down, taking in how fucking gorgeous she looks. She’s wearing a tight green dress and she surprised me by straightening her hair and while it looks stunning, her curls will always be my favorite. I hadn’t realized her hair was so long. It’s down to the middle of her back, but since her hair is so curly, it stops just above her shoulders when it isn’t sleek.

She’s wearing a white diamond necklace and earrings to match. The only thing missing is a real engagement ring, but I need something that will signify us, something with meaning. She deserves more than a basic ring every other woman has.

“Ready, Ari?” Gianni asks from the driver’s seat.

“I am. Is Matias in position?”

“He’s parking now.”

“Great. We all enter together. I want to show him I don’t trust him,” I state.

“I think it’s better if you go in with less,” Gianni explains. “He won’t find it threatening.”

“He’s going to be threatening. It’s only fitting. I want a man flanking us and behind us. If anything happens, you focus on getting Rosie out safely. Am I clear?”

“Ari. No. What? What are you saying?”

I ignore her. “Are we clear, Gianni?”

“Crystal,” he grits.

Gianni gets out of the car and opens the back door for me. I get out, holding out my hand, and my wife’s slender fingers glide across my palm.

The streetlight provides enough light for me to see how fucking gorgeous she looks tonight. She’ll be gaining a lot of attention from others and that savage possessiveness has me sliding my hand around her side. I tug Rosie to my side, so she’s stuck to me like glue.

Her heels click against the pavement, the black Jimmy Choo’s are high, making the lean muscle in her legs more pronounced.

Matias is at my side and Gianni flanks Rosie’s. Three other men walk behind us, and I stop at the front of the line, cutting all the men and women who are there for a good time.

“Milazzo.” It’s all I say, and he opens the door for me.

“Hey, what the fuck?” A man shouts from the line.

“Is there a problem?” Gianni asks, moving his jacket so the stranger can see his gun.

“N-no,” he stutters.

“That’s what I thought. Keep your tongue tied because you have no idea of what’s going on around you,” Gianni spits, making the grown man feel like a child.

I step foot inside the club and the lights flash just like the time they did when I first saw Rosie. The music is loud, the beat pulsating through the air. The women on the poles roll their bodies to the rhythm and slowly untie the top of their bikini until their breasts are illuminated against the purple lights flashing.

A man shoves his way through the crowd and when he stands in front of me, he looks me up and down then his eyes settle on Rosie.

“You came,” his voice darkening my mood like a shadow in a well-lit hallway.

“Obviously,” I drowse, wanting to seem bored.

“Follow me.”

We follow closely behind the man that reminds me too much of a hitman, the kind that has a murderous glint to his eye, and I immediately pull Rosie to my side even more. It’s hard for her to walk but I refuse to have her out of reach. I need to be able to protect her.

Rosie tenses next to me as we walk by the room where she killed a man. I know it still bothers her, haunts her even because every now and then when I look at her she’ll be staring into nothing, unblinking, and her face will be pale. Then, there are the night where I wake her from a restless sleep. I’m not sure if it’s a nightmare or maybe I’m overthinking it and she’s fine.

I watch as her eyes linger on the door that’s shut, hiding the room where it all happened. I kiss her cheek, not wanting her to think about it.

If that didn’t happen, I wouldn’t have met her, and honestly, the world is a better place without another man like me.

The man guiding us to the meeting with Bianchi stops in front of the last door at the end of the hall and opens it.

Bianchi is sitting on a plush leather couch, a woman on one side while another is dancing on a stage, wrapping her legs around a silver pole.

Clouds of reeking smoke fill the space and a few men in the back corner are rolling blunts and smoking them while the girl next to Bianchi bends down and does a line of cocaine from the table.

The hitman-looking guy turns around. “Spread your arms and your legs. I need to check you for weapons.”

“I’m not spreading my legs for you, and you won’t be touching my wife unless you want to die.”

“I promise I won’t get too handsy,” he says in a thick Italian accent.

I grip him by his shirt and shove him. “I don’t need a weapon to kill you. Say that again and I’ll rip your fucking tongue out, so you won’t ever be able to speak again.” I stand in front of Rosie, protecting her from all the men in this room.

“Now, now, let’s play nice,” Bianchi announces with a clap of his hands. “Can one of my girls check her over?”

“No,” I say, lifting Rosie’s arms and taking her purse form her hand.

“It’s okay,” she whispers to me so only I can hear. “I’ll be fine.”

“No one is touching you but me,” I explain.

Her hair falls over her shoulders, tickling the skin just above her breast and I’m envious. I’d give anything to kiss where the tips of the strands touch.

I rub her body, not giving any of these assholes a show because I know they will like it.

“She’s clean.”

“And you?” Bianchi questions, grabbing a blunt from the mound of drugs on the table.

“I guess you’ll have to trust me.”

He doesn’t say anything as he lights the end, an orange ember burning bright in the dark room. I don’t wait for him to ask us to sit down. I take a recliner and place Rosie on my lap. She scoots until her back is settled against the nook of my arm.

Bianchi leans forward, placing his elbows on his thighs and blows out a cloud of smoke. “Trusting is a thing of the past now, Milazzo. We had an agreement. You broke that agreement.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” I tsk, shaking my finger at him as if he is a child. “Our agreement was I keep an eye out for the stone. That’s it. I haven’t come across the stone, so I haven’t gone back on my word.”

“Yes, you have. You’ve done something a lot worse. You’ve married the sister of the fucking traitor.” He slams his fist against the counter, the cocaine puffing into a cloud and the girl next to him cries. She waves her hand in the air, trying to sway the drug cloud to her nose. “Not only that, but I know she killed one of my men. Witnesses are an amazing resource to have. Renaldo.” He snaps his fingers and the guy who brought us into the room leaves, then comes back a second later with a man who has seen better days.

He has a black eye and a busted lip.

“Meet the bartender who saw your wife go into the back room with one of mine,” he explains. “Is this the woman you saw the other night?”

Rosie’s fingers dig into my thigh as she slowly looks at the bartender who can barely stand. Renaldo has him lifted up by his shirt.

The poor guy coughs, his good eye landing on Rosie.

“I…I don’t know. The girl I saw had super curly hair. This woman looks different and when I met her, it was dark. I can’t say for sure,” he explains.

“You don’t know?” Bianchi growls.

“I’m sorry. I can’t say.”

“Get rid of him.” Bianchi waves Renaldo away.

“No, no, no. Wait. I’ve been loyal here. I haven’t done anything wrong!” the bartender screams as he is dragged out of the room to god knows where.

A shaky breath escapes Rosie as she tries to keep it together. I feel her body shaking against mine and I tighten my hold on her around her waist. She must be terrified. Even with a mouth and attitude as wicked as hers, it can’t save her from the pain a man like Bianchi can bring.

“I’ll forget the transgression since my only witness can’t prove who she is. The man who was killed is a body that can easily be replaced,” he says as if this man’s life didn’t matter.

I’d be furious if one of my men died. They are my family. My brothers. We protect one another, but I suppose that’s the difference between me and Bianchi.

“Tell me, where is your brother, Ms. O’Connor?” Bianchi directs the question to Rosie.

“I don’t know,” she says with a shrug of her shoulder. “I haven’t seen him in weeks. He’s always running around the city.”

“Do not lie to me, girl.”

I lean forward, meeting Bianchi’s stare. “We are here to speak to you, but I won’t have you disrespecting my wife. You’ll either direct your questions to me or you’ll call her by her name.”

My enemy lifts his hands in surrender. “Apologies,” he says, sounding bored.

“Your brother has something of mine, Ms. O’Connor and I want it back. “

“I’m sorry. I don’t know where he is.”

“Bullshit! I need that gem. Don’t lie to me!” he yells, and he is able to be heard over the music. The stripper on stage looks down at us, her eyelids hooded. One of her breasts is free from the small triangle bikini top, her pink nipple pierced with a hoop.

She slides her body along the pole, dipping down, then stretches her arm to the table to roll her finger in the white powder scattered about. She lifts it to her nose and inhales the snow staying around her nostrils.

I need to get Rosie out of here.

“Tell me where he is, and I promise I won’t hurt him.”

“How do you know my brother took anything that belonged to you? I wouldn’t think he’d come this way.”

“Yes, well, after some tracking and looking at security footage, I was able to identify him. So where is he? I won’t ask again,” he threatens, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

Wait.

If he is asking about Rosie’s brother, then it wasn’t Bianchi who attacked us on the airstrip, and he doesn’t know that Caplan has been out of the country. Bianchi didn’t see him leave. If it wasn’t Bianchi who attacked us, who was it?

I study Bianchi, noticing his nervous twitches and how he rubs a hand over his mouth constantly as if he is stressed. He pours himself a shot of vodka or maybe tequila, something clear and disgusting, then shoots it back. His eyes shift down and he rubs his temples.

I know what a panicked man looks like and it hits me that Antonio Bianchi is a man in debt.

He owes someone and his payment is that damn diamond.