Rosalia

It takes three months before we can go back home. Adrian Drakos generously hosts us for the first month of that, until we feel confident that no one else will be following us to Greece. Then we take up residence in a private rented home, with so much security that some days I feel stifled.


But most days, I just feel happy—happier than I've been in so long. Greece becomes our home away from home for a little while, a place for Angelo and I to fall deeper in love as the fear and grief of the months, weeks, and days before slowly softens and becomes something more manageable. I still have nightmares, but he's always there to soothe me back to sleep, and they're fewer and fewer as the days go on. And as our time in Greece stretches to two months, and then three, I find that I have something to tell Angelo—but I want to wait until we're back home.

Slowly, as we wait it all out in a place that—like so many others for us now—has both good and bad memories, the pieces of it all come together. They might have sooner, if my father hadn't kept me so in the dark about anything to do with his business—and if he hadn't trusted Enzo, a man who I'd never felt comfortable around, so completely.

'Promise me you'll listen, if there's ever anyone I feel unsure about," I tell Angelo one night as we lay in bed, not long after finding out the role that Enzo played in it all—that he helped the Romano family breach our defenses, helped change the guard logs—and that he was responsible for the information that led Enzo here, to Greece, and to us.


'I listened to you about Enzo when I first arrived, didn't I?" Angelo asks, and I have to concede that he did. The fact that hewouldn'thave been Angelo's right hand—something I think he suspected from the start once he knew what was in my father's will—was a driving force behind his defection. Enzo promised him wealth and power and a place that he wouldn't have achieved otherwise. Whether or not Enzo would have kept his promises, Enzo believed him.

'Sometimes I wish we could stop being who we are," I whisper in the darkness, curled against Angelo's side. 'All of these machinations, the betrayals—even if we're careful, there's no guarantee it won't happen to us one day. Sometimes, I wish I could just be ordinary."


'I know." Angelo turns onto his side, looking at me. 'There's your father's legacy to think of. He entrusted it to us both. We can't just run away from it. But we'll—try to do things differently. You're going to go to Northwestern when we go home. When we have children, we'll raise them to think about things differently, to look at the world in a way that the families around us now don't. Your father tried to do that with you, and we'll continue it." He kisses me softly, and at that moment, I want more than anything to tell him the secret I'm holding onto. But I don't—not yet.

I want to save that for when we go back home.

The moment we walk in the doors, I'm glad that I did. Even with all the bad that's happened here, walking into the familiar wood-floored foyer, with the scent of vanilla and the hint of lemon cleaning supplies filling the air, the furnishings and decorations and art that are all so familiar, I feel like I'm stepping back into an embrace.

'I think I could sleep for a year," Angelo groans, and I laugh softly, taking his hand.

'I have something I want to show you first."

I don't know the other bosses' wives well, though Angelo has gotten to know Nikolai Vasilev and Theo McNeil somewhat, since he arrived here and took my father's place. I went out on a limb and called Marika McNeil, asking her if she could help me while we were in Greece—and to my surprise, she did. With the help of her sister-in-law, Lilliana, Nikolai's wife, they sent me pictures back and forth for weeks, asking for approvals and choices. It all led to this—the room that I lead Angelo up to on the third floor, just down from our bedroom suite.

Angelo frowns at me. 'What's this?" he asks, and I smile at him, trying to contain myself.

'Close your eyes," I tell him, and I open the door, leading him inside. 'Now you can look."

It takes him a moment for it to dawn on him. I watch as he looks around the room, taking in the yellow wallpaper with tiny ducks on it, the white wainscoting, the cheery art on the walls, and the rocking chair with the soft blanket thrown over the back. And then his gaze lands on the crib along one wall, and I see realization spring into his eyes.

'Rosalia"

He's speechless, and for a moment, I'm worried. He'd said, after all, that he wanted time with me—that he wasn't sure if he was ready yet for a baby. But we'd also made the decision in Greece to let things happen as they would, and I bite my lip, nerves working their way through me.

'Are you happy?" I ask finally, and he nods quickly, still looking around the room as if he's not sure that he's really standing here.

'I—of course I am. How—when—" He's still spluttering, my usually composed and elegant husband unable to string his words together, and I laugh. I can't help it.

I go up on my tiptoes, taking his face in my hands and kissing him softly. 'Marika and Lilliana helped me while we were in Greece. I couldn't have done it without them. It was really sweet of them, too, since they hardly know me." I bite my lip, taking a step back as I look around the room. 'Maybe I'll finally have some friends. Lilliana and I can figure out this mom thing together."

'Fuck," Angelo breathes, reaching out and crushing me to his chest. 'You're really pregnant. I didn't think—I'm happy. I'm really happy. I just didn't think it would happen so soon—"

He kisses me again, his mouth drifting to my neck, my collarbones, down between the open neckline of my shirt before he sinks to his knees, pressing his mouth against my still-flat stomach. He stays that way for a long moment, his hands on my hips, before he suddenly stands again, sweeping me into his arms and carrying me out of the nursery and down the hall to our bedroom.

'You are already pregnant," he murmurs, his fingers hastily undoing my buttons, 'but that doesn't mean we need to stop this."

'I see absolutely no reason why we should." I laugh, kissing him again as he slips my shirt off, his hands already at the zipper of my jeans. I'm just as eager to get his clothes off, to be in ourbed again. As wonderful and romantic as our vacation turned out to be, this is our home, and this is the place where I fell in love with my husband.

We stumble back to the bed together, Angelo's bare skin against mine as he kisses his way down my body again, lips brushing over every inch of me. 'We can go back to all of our games tomorrow," he whispers against my skin. 'But tonight, it's just us. Do whatever you want, Rosalia. Come as much as you like. I just want you."

When his mouth slips between my thighs, lips and tongue sucking and licking at all the spots he knows so well now, it only takes me seconds to fall apart against him. I cry out his name, fingers clawing into the blankets as he keeps going, his tongue working me through my orgasm and into another as I writhe beneath him, bucking against his mouth.

I feel his fingers slip into me, two and then a third, thrusting and curling inside of me as he sucks on my clit, his tongue fluttering over the pulsing nerves. I still want more—I want him inside of me, but I can't speak through the pleasure to beg for it. All I can do is moan his name, twisting under him as he makes me come again, and then he finally moves up, his mouth crushed against mine again as I feel his cock push urgently between my legs.

I can taste myself on his lips as he kisses me, but I don't care. I slide my fingers through his hair, down to the back of his neck, my legs wrapping around his hips as he slides into me, hot and hard and slow, until he's as deeply inside of me as he can be. His fingers lock with mine, raising my hands over my head, his hips moving in a constant rhythm as he kisses me, every part of his skin touching all of mine. All I can think is that I belong to him, that I always have. As he rocks inside of me, the pressure of his body grinding against my clit sending me over the edge into another orgasm, I know exactly what I want.

'I want to be yours," I whisper against his mouth, breaking the kiss. 'Allof me," I whisper the word with emphasis, unable to describe exactly what it is that I want, my cheeks flushing hot and red just from the thought. But I can tell from the look on Angelo's face that he knows exactly what I meant.

'Are you sure?" he murmurs, going very still inside of me, but I feel his hips twitch, his cock throbbing. I know he wants it, too.

My teeth sink into my lower lip, and I nod. 'Yes," I whisper. 'Please. I want—I want it."

Angelo groans, thrusting inside of me once more, and then he pulls out slowly, letting me feel every thick inch of him as he slips out. I let out a soft whimper at the loss of him inside of me, feeling empty and hollow, but he doesn't leave me that way for long.

His fingers slip inside of me, coated with my arousal, and I moan as he thrusts them into me once, twice—and then slides them lower, spreading my arousal over the small, tight hole beneath. I gasp as he circles it, slowly pressing a finger inside, his gaze on mine as he watches me.

'Tell me if it's too much," he murmurs. 'I'll stop—we can finish this in the shower. Or not at all, if you're in too much pain. I'll always stop if you need me to,dolce."

'I will," I whisper. 'But I want you. Please—"

His finger slips deeper, his other hand going to my clit, teasing me into a frenzy of arousal until I'm gasping, nearly on the edge again. When I tumble over into another orgasm, moaning his name, he adds a second finger, thrusting into me gently as I fall apart, and when I look at him, I can see that he's almost painfully hard, his cock brushing against his stomach, visibly throbbing. I know how badly he wants me, how hard it is to hold back. Still, he goes slowly as he always does, careful to make sure I'm ready before I feel his fingers slip out, his cock brushing against where they were a moment before.

'Are you sure?" he murmurs, and I nod, moaning as his fingers brush over my clit again.

'Yes," I whisper. 'Please."

Angelo groans as he pushes into me, just the slightest bit, and I gasp. It hurts at first—a burning pressure even more intense than when we slept together the first time, but the unmistakable look of pleasure on his face and the sounds he makes turn that pain into a strange kind of pleasure almost immediately.

'God,you're so fucking tight," he growls. 'Fuck—I was already close, and now—"

He goes so slowly, just like the first time. Inch by inch, he presses deeper, his fingers rolling over my clit in slow circles that leave me moaning and writhing beneath him, the pain disappearing into a sort of fullness that—mingled with Angelo's pleasure and the filthy way that this all makes me feel—turns into something that feels so fucking good.

'I'm going to—" my voice breaks off on a moan, my hips arching up, pushing back so that Angelo slides the rest of the way into my ass. He lets out a choked, strangled sound as he goes absolutely still for a moment, his fingers still working my clit.

'Yes—" he breathes. 'Fucking come on my cock. Come with my cock in your ass. My good girl. Sweet, beautiful girl—" He nearly moans it as I come apart, bucking underneath him as I throw my head back, the pleasure sweeping over me as I tighten around his cock and I feel him push forward. My legs are pinned back against my chest as he groans, his face buried against my shoulder as I feel him jerk and shudder against me, the hot rush of his cum filling me as his lips graze against my throat, whispering how much he loves me as I arch against him, the two of us pressed tightly together as we come.

He slides out of me a moment later, rolling onto his back next to me, breathless. 'Are you alright?" he asks, glancing over at me, and I laugh softly, turning to curl against his chest.

'I'm fine," I whisper. 'I promise. It was exactly what I wanted."

Angelo wraps his arms around me, holding me close. 'You are perfect," he murmurs. 'More perfect than I could have ever dreamed." His lips press against the side of my head, the two of us tangled together as I close my eyes, blissful in the arms of the man I love. 'I love you," he says softly, as if reading my thoughts, and I tilt my chin up to kiss him once more, already slipping away into sleep.

'I love you too," I whisper. And then I drift off, safe and protected, knowing the future I have in front of me is the one I've wanted all along.

--

In the shadow of a bloodied throne,

Where power whispers in the night,

My father's empire now my own,

But danger lurks beyond the light.

Angelo Bianchi, stern and cold,

Twice my age, with secrets deep,

He returns, my fate to hold,

In shadows where the devils creep.

My heart, a tangled web of dreams,

Sees not a guardian, but a man,

In his eyes, a fleeting gleam,

Of something more than just a plan.

He speaks of duty, ties that bind,

Of marriage for my safety's sake,

But I crave the passion he hides behind,

The silent vow he dare not break.

For him, the choice is clear but hard,

To keep me safe, a path of thorns,

Yet in my chest, a raging heart,

That only for his love, it mourns.

Angelo, my shield, my sword,

Can't you see? The danger's near,

But it's not the mafia I abhorred—

It's losing you, my greatest fear.

You promised me protection's grace,

But I need more than just a guard,

In your arms, a safer place,

Than any fortress, high and hard.

So here we stand, on fate's sharp edge,

With my empire in your hand,

Marry me, and make the pledge,

Or lose me to a ruthless land.

For I am not a child, you see,

But a woman with a love so fierce,

That only you can set me free,

From this world, so cold and pierced.

Choose me, Angelo, not out of duty,

But for the fire we both deny,

For in your arms, I find my beauty,

And in your love, I'll learn to fly.