RAFAELE
I wake up to sunlight glaring directly into my face.
God, why is it so bright?
I groan and try to dodge the light by turning away, but my arm is weighed down by something.
It takes me a second to process that something is my wife. She’s here, nuzzling against my chest instead of lying on the other side of the bed. One of her legs is slung over my hips, her curly hair is tucked beneath my chin, and her arm is wrapped around my waist.
A satisfied smile tugs on my lips as images from last night come flooding back in. She finally gave in to me. Finally begged. Finally came to terms that she’s fucking mine.
It’s enough to make me forgive her for hiding her father’s plan from me for two weeks. She probably tried to talk herself into going against me, but in the end, she couldn’t do it. In the end, she realized that she belongs with me.
I tug Cleo closer and drag an absentminded hand down her bare back. Her skin is so smooth. She shifts against me, her leg brushing against my already hard cock.
I want to fuck her again.
And again.
Hearing her moan my name sounds like a perfect start to my day.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I bite back a groan and reach for it, doing my best not to disturb Cleo. It’s an incoming call from Nero. Ugh. I have to take this. I texted him after Cleo fell asleep and told him to find Garzolo. I wanted that cockroach in my torture room before the sun was up so that I could give him exactly what he deserved. Carefully, I untangle myself from my sleeping wife, duck into the bathroom, and close the door.
“Did you get him?”
“Garzolo is gone. No one’s seen him since he left the dinner.”
Fuck. I grip the phone tighter. “His driver?”
“Garzolo drove to Ferraro’s on his own. His guards were a few blocks over in his penthouse, but he never returned. He must have been afraid Cleo would tell you what he asked of her and thought it best to skip town.”
Damn it.
I should have set Nero on Garzolo as soon as Cleo told me about his plan, but my head was somewhere else. That was a stupid move. I should have known that Garzolo was a flight risk. This is going to turn into a mess once his family starts asking about his whereabouts.
“If we can’t find him in a few days, I’ll need to step in to stop this from escalating.”
“How are you going to explain this to his family? They might suspect foul play.”
Of course they will. Their don disappears right after sitting down with me and Ferraro? Doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.
If Nero had caught Garzolo, I would have roughed him up and demanded he tell his capos he’s taking his retirement early in exchange for his life. He’d do it, the fucking coward. I’d have given him a few weeks before I disposed of him for good. But with him just gone, this becomes more delicate. If the Garzolos think I killed their fucking don, his capos might turn on me.
“The family is mine. They all know I’m Garzolo’s successor, and now that I’m married to Cleo, no one will dare question my right to assume command if he’s skipped town.”
“If you move in too soon, it won’t look good.”
“Let’s give Garzolo five days to come back and face me like a man. If he doesn’t, schedule a meeting with all his capos so that we can get this moving.”
“Got it.”
I hang up and rake my fingers through my hair, feeling irritated. What was I thinking? All of this could have been avoided if I’d set Nero on Garzolo quicker. I roll my shoulders, trying to get rid of my building unease.
Last night, I wasn’t acting like myself. I was too fucking focused on deflowering my wife. Well, I’ve done it now. Bloody sheets and all.
Does that mean my life can finally go back to business as usual?
I thought getting what I wanted from Cleo would free me from this obsession. But where’s the relief? Where’s the mental clarity I was hoping for? It’s not here, that’s for fucking sure. Even now, after I’ve just screwed up with Garzolo, my head’s still preoccupied with Cleo. A part of me wants to skip work and stay in bed with her all day.
Jesus. Fuck.
I open the tap and splash some cold water on my face.
When I imagined myself with a wife, I always had a clear picture of what that marriage would look like—comfortable companionship with some sex sprinkled in. I’d appreciate her, and she’d respect me. We’d put on a united front in public and keep a healthy distance from each other in private.
After all, nothing good comes from getting too entangled with another person. Especially for someone in my position.