“I love how good you fuck me,” she ground out. “I’m gonna come.”
She kissed him, then started bucking while she cried out through the release. When her insides clamped down around his cock, he exploded inside her.
Their mutual groans filled his ears with the sweetest sound while they surrendered to the intoxicating passion.
Staring into her eyes, he knew. For a ruthless assassin who had astrongdislike for the law, he was falling in love with a top-secret law enforcement agent … and he was powerless to stop it.
18
MORE TRUTHS
LUCIANO
As Stuart drove him to Baltimore in his bullet-proof Range Rover, while wearing one of Stuart’s Kevlar vests, Luciano’s phone buzzed with a text from Simone.
Thanks for the zhuzhing this morning and for the *strong* urging to contact Peter Hirzog
You’re easy to love, Simone
That text said it all. Shewaseasy to love.
He spent the hour-long car ride on three video meetings regarding his spring clothing lines, he made eight phone calls, participated in a video meeting with his distillery, and fired off too many texts to count. He squeezed every moment out of his workday, in part, because he ran a global empire, but also because downtime gave him time to think about the one who got away.
The killer who shredded my life.
In Baltimore’s Little Italy, Stuart drove past the popular tourist restaurants, and into the heart of the district. Three more turns and Stuart parked in front of an upscale restaurant that served genuine Italian cuisine. More importantly, it was the epicenter for the Garibaldi family, still run by Carlo Sr.
As expected, the front door was locked. He knocked and Benita opened the small window in the old, wooden door.
“Sì?” asked Benita.
“Benita, it’s Luciano Santini and Stuart Fletcher.”
She smiled. “I don’t have my glasses on.” She slammed the little window shut, opened the door. “Good to see you, Lulu.”
He stepped inside and was enveloped in a warm hug. She eyed his chest. “What are you wearing. You got somethin’ on under your suit?”
Luciano glanced over at Stuart. “My security detail insists I wear body armor.”
“What’s that?” Benita asked.
“A bullet-proof vest,” Stuart replied.
“Stuart, you take good care of our Lulu.” She smiled up at him. “And you’re such a good eater.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
In addition to running the restaurant, Benita was Carlo’s wife and gatekeeper. Luciano handed her a Santini gift bag and she peered inside. “Grazie, hon.”
“He’s meeting with someone. Lemme get you boys something to eat.”
If Luciano had just finished a five-course meal, he wouldn’t have refused her. She seated them at a table in the back. A server set down a basket of warm bread. Within minutes, he and Stuart were enjoying bowls of homemade spaghetti, each with a giant meatball. His favorite comfort food. Twenty minutes later, he was ushered into the back room while Stuart waited at the table.
Papà was almost eighty, but he wasn’t ready to relinquish his power to Carlo Jr. After Luciano kissed each of his cheeks, he waited for Carlo to offer him a seat. Sitting without being invited was presumptive and disrespectful. Luciano might not be running the Santini family business anymore, but he still followed the expected customs.
Carlo tapped the chair catty corner. “Sit, Lulu.”
Luciano eased down. “You look good, Papà. You’re wearing the suit I sent you.”
