I didn’t know teaching Sienna how to fight could give me a raging hard-on like that. But I guess I had it coming, because the woman just breathing my way turns my cock into a fucking sledgehammer.
The moment we walk back into the house, the air between us is thick enough to choke on. I almost follow her straight up the stairs to find relief, and with the sultry way she’s looking back at me over her shoulder, I know damn well she wants it too. It takes every single ounce of my restraint to keep my boots planted on the marble floor.
As much as I want to pin her against the nearest mattress and forget the rest of the world exists, reality hits me like a bucket of ice water. Valerio wouldn't interrupt my time with Sienna unless he found vital information. With Luca still on the run, a free agent hunting for my head, I can’t afford to be fucking happy or relaxed. Not yet. Not until that bastard is rotting in the ground.
I clear my throat, forcing my voice to remain steady despite the absolute fire burning in my gut.
“You did well,dolcezza.” I kiss her lips briefly.
“Thank you.” Her smile is lethal.
"I’ll see you later," I tell her, my gaze lingering on her lips for one long, punishing second.
She swallows hard and nods, turning to head up the stairs. I watch her climb until she rounds the landing, then I turn on my heel and stride down the opposite corridor. I wipe the desire off my face, letting the cold, ruthless mask of the Don slide back into place as I push open the double doors of the meeting room, where Valerio and my top men are already waiting for me.
I stride into the room and take my place at the head of the table. "What's the news?"
Valerio looks up, his face an unreadable mask, though there's a distinct sharpness in his eyes. "Giulia just reported Nino’s death. According to her, he was in the middle of taking a shower, slipped, and cracked his skull open."
Valerio is staring pointedly at me, probably thinking I had something to do with it. I didn’t. I wish I did.
I feign pity, letting out a dark, mocking sigh. "Tragic. I’ll give Giulia a call later to offer my condolences." I dismiss the deadman with a wave of my hand and lean forward, getting straight to the point. "Did you find anything about Luca?"
Valerio’s expression hardens, the unspoken look about Nino instantly evaporating. "The men with Luca yesterday... we ran their prints and checked the surveillance chatter. They were Kuznetsovs. The Russians are actively working with him."
I hum, tapping my fingers against the polished wood of the table. The Kuznetsovs are a brutal crew, but they don't do charity work. "They probably have a contract with Luca. He promised them a piece of the Gallo pie once he takes my seat."
"I think that too, boss," Valerio agrees, pulling up a map on the digital monitor behind him. "Which means he has heavy backing now. But we got a break. One of our informants just pinged us with intel on Luca's probable location. He's holed up in a warehouse district near the docks. I need your permission to take the men and raid the place."
I stand up instantly, checking the spare magazine at my hip. The white-hot anger from last night—the memory of seeing my wife on that concrete floor—flashes behind my eyes.
"You don't have my permission to go without me," I growl, grabbing my coat. "I’ll go with you. Nobody ends Luca but me."
We leave the premises immediately, heavily armed and locked in, following the fresh trail straight to Luca.
We chase Luca all day, and every time it seems like we get close, he slips right out of our grasp. The bastard is running scared, moving from one burner safe house to the next.
It’s annoying, frustrating, and frankly gets on my goddamn nerves. My shoulder is throbbing under the fresh bandage, and my temper is pushing past its absolute limit.
By the time I finally return to the estate night, I’m buzzing with pure annoyance, a headache pounding behind my eyes.
The irritation only increases when I quietly push open the door to our bedroom and find Sienna already fast asleep. Because of Luca, I’m forced to come home late, and my wife is tucked under the blankets, dead to the world.
A dark part of me resents the timing. If she were awake, a simple smile from her would calm me down instantly. Make me happy. Just hearing her voice would strip away the stress of the entire wasted day.
I quickly take off my tactical gear and step into the bathroom. I take a fast shower, washing the scent of gunpowder and the city's grime off my skin, before changing into a pair of comfortable sweatpants.
I walk back out into the dimly lit bedroom and get into bed with her. I move slowly, easing myself under the heavy duvet with extreme care, trying my absolute best not to disturb her or irritate her bruised ribs.
But even fast asleep, the moment my warmth hits the mattress, Sienna instinctively shifts toward me. Her body seeks mine out in the dark, her hand blindly reaching up to rest against my bare chest.
I let out a soft breath and let her. I wrap my good arm around her waist, pulling her flush against my side until we end up completely curled together, our legs tangled in the sheets.
Just like that, all the fierce annoyance and lingering rage built up from the day completely deflates. The silence of the room replaces the ringing of gunfire. Holding her like this, it suddenly feels like I’m holding the entire world in my hands.
I pull her just a fraction tighter against me, a protective weight settling deep in my bones as if she might disappear if I let go, and press a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead. Cocooned in her scent and her warmth, the exhaustion finally wins, and I sleep.
Sometime during the night, the peaceful silence of the bedroom is violently shattered. I’m pulled brutally awake from the depths of sleep when Sienna wakes screaming––a raw, terrified sound cutting through the dark.
