Angelo

The next morning, before the alarm goes off, I'm slowly dragged out of sleep by the feeling of warmth surrounding my cock, the soft flutter of a tongue beneath the head, and the light chill of the air on my chest and thighs. I blink my eyes open to see the sheets tugged down and Rosalia curled between my legs, her fingers playing gently along the shaft of my cock while she surrounds the head with her lips, fluttering her tongue. Her eyes dart up to meet mine, and she smiles, letting go of me for just a moment.


'This is what you wanted, right?" she asks softly, and I nod, groaning as I lean back into my pillows.This is a dream. This can't possibly be real.I'd told her exactly what I wanted, expecting a negotiation or for her to not want to participate in at least some of it, but everything has been what she's wanted, too. Her lips are still brushing my cockhead, and she looks at me, as comfortable there between my legs as I could possibly desire.

'It's exactly right,mi vida," I murmur, reaching down to stroke her hair.

'Do you need to come?" Her fingers trace the throbbing vein along the top of my cock.


'God, yes." I'm throbbing,aching, harder than I can remember being when I've woken up in a long time. 'Just like that this morning, I think, sweetheart. Just play with me with your mouth until I come."

It's hard to believe it's real. Rosalia does exactly that, stroking and licking and playing with my cock until I let go in her mouth with a deep groan, my cum painting her lips and tongue as she licks it all up and swallows the rest. I roll her over with a growl, spreading her legs and sliding down to devour her until she comes all over my face, and we end up having breakfast in bed after all of that, followed by a leisurely shower. I very nearly end up fucking her in the shower—I haven't been inside of her again since the morning after I took her virginity, careful to let her recover—but I force myself to wait. I have a long day planned for us, and I don't want to take too long enjoying each other.


'What are we doing today?" Rosalia asks as we make our way downstairs. Her hair is braided in a pretty halo around her head, a few pieces loose, and for once, I'm confident that she has both bra and panties on before we go out. I checked for the latter, slipping my hand under her brightly patterned sundress to check, and then rewarding her by nudging them aside and giving her a few quick kisses to her clit before tugging them back into place and leaving her like that before heading downstairs. I'm already thinking of the things I could surprise her with today, the plans I've already made for our honeymoon that she doesn't know about yet—and all the ways I can spoil her. It's a feeling that I've never had with anyone else, this desire to lavish her with affection and surprises, and I'm enjoying it as much as I know she will.

'I thought we could do some shopping for our honeymoon," I tell her with a smile as we get into the back of the SUV. The way her eyes widen is instantly gratifying, and she lets out a small squeak of anticipation.

'Our honeymoon? Are you already planning it?" Her hands nearly clap together, and she fidgets in her seat with excitement. 'I can't wait! Where are we going?"

'That's a surprise until lunch," I tell her firmly. 'But you'll have some hints. For one, you're going to want to buy some new bikinis—and I expect you to show me every single one before we choose."

Her excitement is palpable—and adorable. It makes the trip as much fun for me as it is for her, seeing her eagerly awaiting the day ahead of her. I can't help but think of the last time we went out together, when I took her to dinner to tell her that Rizzo wanted her to be married sooner rather than later, and how different things are now. How much has changed in such a brief time.

I can tell that she's enjoying showing off for me, too. She parades every single one of the bikinis that she tries on in the first store in front of me, in every color and pattern I can think of, coming out of the dressing room and turning this way and that so I can see every angle. I have half a mind to follow her back into the dressing room and fuck her in one of them—especially after one, in particular, that's a few scraps of black fabric held together by gold chains and not much else—but I manage to keep myself from getting us both in trouble, remembering that soon enough I'll be able to fuck her in it overlooking the beach from our resort.

'Some new clothes too, I think," I tell her when we leave, after buying her five of her favorites and mine—including the one with the gold chains. 'And shoes. Is there anything else you need?"

Rosalia's eyes are sparkling—I can tell she's enjoying every bit of this. 'What are you offering?" she asks teasingly, holding onto my arm as she goes up onto her tiptoes, kissing me sweetly. 'You're spoiling me, Angelo."

'I've never had anyone that I wanted to spoil before." It's true. I've paid for shopping and spa days out for girlfriends before, but I've never gone along, and I've certainly never enjoyed it the way I'm enjoying today. I love seeing her so happy, love seeing the pleasure on her face and the excitement in her eyes. As we trail through designer store after designer store, purchasing shoes and lightweight dresses and flowy pants and blouses for what Rosalia has surely suspected by now is a warm-weather vacation, I find I don't get bored of seeing her show me outfit after outfit, clearly utterly thrilled by all of it.

'You should have an engagement ring one of these days," I tell her thoughtfully, as we pass the bags off to the driver before going to lunch. I run my thumb over her diamond and rose-gold wedding band, turning it around on her finger. 'There wasn't a lot of time to get you one. But I think—"

'There's no rush." Rosalia turns to kiss me again, going up on her tiptoes. 'We're married, and we're happy. I don't need any more jewelry for that."

'Well, one of these days, I might surprise you." I take her hand, leading her down the sidewalk with security trailing us. 'Now, I have a special lunch planned, and I don't want to miss our reservation."

I made plans for us at a sushi restaurant known for its omakase menu, and Rosalia lets out a soft sound of pleasure when we walk into the cool, dark restaurant filled with the soothing sounds of trickling water and soft music. The hostess leads us to a booth towards the back of the restaurant, and Rosalia slides in across from me, looking around with a small smile on her face.

'You really did go all out, didn't you?" Her smile spreads as the waitress arrives with a bottle of white wine, one that I'd already asked for before we arrived. 'You're really trying to woo me, aren't you, Angelo? You don't have to, you know—we're already married."

'I never want to stop treating you this way," I tell her firmly, pushing her glass of crisp white wine towards her. 'Especially when you're giving me so much, too." I feel a trickle of that guilt again as I say it, that fear that I'm somehow talking her into all of this, influencing her into wanting it, as much as all the signs point to the opposite—that she really does want it. 'This is—my wildest fantasy, Rosalia. I'm not sure I believe that it's real sometimes."

She gives me a soft smile, reaching across the table to brush her fingers against the back of my hand as she takes a sip of her wine. 'It's real, Angelo. And it's everything I wanted, too."

The first course comes—coconut-crusted calamari in a sweet soy glaze—and it's the perfect segue into what I wanted to tell her. 'So." I give her a mischievous smile, reaching for my own glass of wine. 'Any guesses as to where we're going for our honeymoon?"

Rosalia considers, picking up a piece of the calamari with her chopsticks. 'Somewhere sunny with a beach, obviously. Spain? Or the Amalfi Coast?"

'Good guesses, but no." I grin at her. 'Although I plan to take you all of the places that I possibly can, eventually—those included. We're going to Greece."

Rosalia's eyes go wide, and the instant excitement that I see on her face tells me immediately that I made the right choice. 'Oh, I've seen pictures," she murmurs excitedly, a smile spreading across her face. 'It's so beautiful. It's going to be so wonderful!" Her hand finds mine again, squeezing lightly. 'I can't wait. A romantic vacation just the two of us—it's everything I've ever wanted."

I watch her as she takes another sip of her wine, my heart feeling lighter than it has in some time. I'd thought for so long that this was the wrong thing to do—that marrying her, sleeping with her, even loving her would somehow cause me to lead her down a path that would make her unhappy, that she couldn't possibly want me.

That if she did, she wasn't thinking clearly. But the past few days have shown me that I think I was so very wrong.

That the best way of protecting Rosalia might have been as her husband all along.

She's exclaiming over the next dish—a small ceramic bowl filled with tiny marinated scallops and caviar on top—when I see something shift outside the window that catches my eye. There's a man standing across the street in a dark jacket, a beanie pulled low on his head despite the weather, and despite the fact that it could be anyone, something about it sets off an alarm in my head. I keep eating, carrying on half a conversation as I watch out of the corner of my eye as cars pass. One passes, and then another, and the man is still there—staring directly at our window.

Two more cars pass, and he's still there, not moving a muscle. And then there's a flurry of traffic, a light turning red as cars completely block my view—and when they're moving again, the man is gone.

It could be nothing. But I've spent years working in the mafia, working for Vincezio first and then for Luciano. I'm no enforcer, no assassin, but I'm trained to spot things others might not, to have my head on a swivel, to know when danger is close. And something about what I just saw feels wrong.

I motion for the waiter, hating the confused look that I see on Rosalia's face as I hand the man my credit card. I'd planned a romantic day out for us, and the meal has barely begun—but I can't risk it.

'Angelo?" There's a nervous quiver in her voice as Rosalia sets down her chopsticks and looks at me. 'What's wrong?"

'I saw something outside. Someone. It could be nothing, but I don't want you to be in even the slightest danger." I take my card back, sign the bill, and stand up as I reach for her arm. 'Let's go."

There's a brief moment where I see disappointment flash across her face, and then she nods. 'Okay," she says softly, and I can see the flicker of fear in her eyes.

I motion to the security that had faded into the background. 'Get added security at the house," I murmur to one of the men as I guide Rosalia to the door. 'Make sure every door, every side, every possible way in has at least two, if not three, men on it at all times. I don't want to take any chances."

'Of course, boss." The man is already pulling out his phone, moving towards the door, as I walk with Rosalia out to the SUV waiting at the curb.

'I'm sorry the day was interrupted." I look worriedly at her as she sits there, her hands twisted in her lap, her face paler than I've seen it in days. 'This isn't how I wanted it to go—"

'It's not your fault." She swallows hard. 'Do you think—you think it had something to do with who murdered—" Rosalia's voice quivers, and she can't finish the sentence.

'I don't know," I tell her honestly. 'But if there's even a chance, I needed to get you out of there." I pause, considering as the car moves out into traffic, my gaze sweeping the sidewalks through the dark-tinted windows for any signs of that man, or anyone else like him. 'I think we might need to move up the date of the honeymoon," I murmur, feeling that sense of unease growing. 'It might be a good idea to get you out of the country while my men are looking for who's responsible for what happened to your father."

'Far be it from me to argue with going on vacation sooner," Rosalia says lightly, but I can hear the tension in her voice, even as she tries to make light of it. I know she's afraid, and I'll do whatever I can to keep anything from happening to her—to keep her safe.

Including taking her across an ocean, if I need to.