I didn’t turn as I said, “Figuring out what you’re hiding from your Capo.”
The plane journeyto Chicago was silent.
I tried to make conversation, but Adriano was glued to his phone, rapid-typing texts, and Milan insisted on doing whatever it was that ‘work’ entailed.
Probably putting a hit out on someone or committing something violent.
After we landed, a young Outfit soldier by the unfamiliar look of him, offered to drive us, but Milan, being the control-freak asshat he was, just took the keys to the huge black vehicle and drove us himself.
We pulled up to the biggest penthouse I’d ever seen, and I held in my gasp, knowing how Milan felt about any sound out of my mouth. There were at least fifteen floors made of pure, dark, tinted glass, and an infinity swimming pool on the balcony at the very top. I wondered if it was a bad idea to ask Francesco Carbone to give me a tour.
I felt giddy as the concierge took one glance at Adriano and waved us through to the elevator, but that was doused in a violent reality check when Milan’s fingers attempted to snatch mine from where they rested at my sides.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I hissed through my teeth, slapping his hand away.
“Holding your hand,” he said plainly, facing forward, refusing to look at me. “That is what a loving, caring, talented husband does, is it not?”
I pursed my lips, so I didn’t laugh.
I hated him. He was dangerous. Funny, but dangerous.
“Yeah,” I said, stepping closer to Adriano on my other side. “But that’s not actually you. You’re rude, and you hate me.”
“I do not?—”
The elevator doors pinged open, and my jaw dropped to the floor, right alongside Milan’s.
The man I had barely managed to see on the night of the attack, Francesco Carbone, was lounging on a leather couch with a semi-naked woman between his legs. The sounds of sucking and moaning reminded me of being in my studio, though it was messier and less feeling than how Elena and Matteo came together.
Francesco’s penthouse was the one with the pool, and it was as grand as it seemed from the outside. It was all black leather and surprisingly motorcycle-themed. He displayed a range of biker jackets, helmets, and gloves as though they were artefacts, and I liked that he had some kind of personality. Most men, if not all of them, in theFamigliawere bland as hell; maybe the Outfit was where the fun happened.
The Capo was intimidatingly tall even in a slouch, but he lookedyoung. He had floppy black hair and a clean-shaven face that made him seem almost youthful, but I didn’t miss the dark edge that emanated from the tension in his body.
The woman sucking him off didn’t look like a prostitute, maybe a girlfriend instead, but he was staring anywhere but at her until he saw us and his gaze darted straight to Adriano. Francesco groaned loudly as he gripped the woman’s blonde mess of hair, hard enough to make her squeal, and drove his cock in and out of her mouth with a desperation he hadn’t just had until his teeth were snarling and he was coming with Adriano locked into his eyes.
Milan looked mildly amused and a little disgusted, if he was even capable of expressing that through his unmoving face, but it was Adriano’s expression that said the most. His nostrils flared, his upper lip quivered as if it wanted to snarl, and his hands bunched into tight fists by his thighs.
He was angry, but it was more than that, softer than that.
I’d seen that look on my mother’s face a thousand times. It was the look of not being surprised but it hurting all the same. My father had cheated on my mother so many times that she was numb, past the torment that Adriano was feeling, but it all only had one name.
Heartbreak.
Holy fuck.
Adriano was hiding that he was in love with the Capo dei Capi of the Chicago Outfit!
I wanted nothing more than to paint them, the look between them, the forbidden air that hung heavily between their bodies, and the combination of sated lust and unsatisfied love that hung like a noose around Francesco’s neck. It was the perfect combination of everything that should, but couldn’t, be painted, like Elena and Matteo.
If anyone saw them, their love would be forced to end for more reasons than one.
“You could’ve warned me you were coming, Milan.” The Capo dei Capi sighed, dismissing the woman into the elevator with a swish of his hand. “Especially visiting with this beautiful girl. I wouldn’t have gotten my rocks off in front of her if I’d known.”
“But you would everyone else?” Adriano growled.
Francesco plastered a wide, happy smile onto his cheeks as he redid his pants, his dimples popping and his jet-black hair falling in stray strands before his forehead. “Nothing you haven’t seen before, Adrian.”
He was definitely the man from the wedding. He had the cross earring in one ear, but in this light, he didn’t look so much like the dark, mysterious guy I’d thought he was. Sure, he was decked out in black, but he almost shone with kindness and softness, a lot like Adriano.
