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He nods at my words, knowing my intention. I’m at war with my cousin, I could die, and Lorenzo will take over if that day comes. It’s imperative he has their respect. “Also, it will keep them on their toes. You can use whatever force is necessary, but only if you have to. You know I don't condone the killing of an innocent.”
“No problem. Do you want Francesca to stay?”
“She can take a vacation as well.”
“You’re going to cook and clean?”
“I’m capable of doing both. I only want surveillance workers in the house, but I only want them to be watching the grounds.”
“Damn, what do you have planned?”
I smile at him, but I don’t tell him I plan to fuck my wife in every single room in the house multiple times.
“Now that we have that settled, I’m going to grab some breakfast and go back to my room. You can access me via text message, but only for emergencies. Understand?”
“Perfectly clear.”
I stand from my chair, head out the door, and make my way into the kitchen. Francesca is there mixing something in a bowl.
“I was preparing breakfast. Pancakes and eggs.”
“Very well. Thank you. As soon as they’re done, I’ll take them up to Viviana.”
I take a seat at the island and wait for her to cook. Then she places the plates on a tray and hands it to me as I stand.
“You can have the rest of the week off, Francesca.”
“What?”
“I’m giving the staff a vacation.”
Her eyes are wide, but she smiles. “I don’t know what to say . . . I . . . thank you.”
Not used to being thanked or showing anyone mercy, I give her a tight smile and walk out the door.
When I walk into the room, I’m not surprised that she is still sleeping in the same place I left her.
The sheets are draped over her, but it doesn’t cover the top of her chest and face. Placing the tray down on the bedside table, I take a seat on the bed.
“Viviana.” I place a kiss on her forehead. Her nose wiggles in her sleep.
I lean down and kiss her lips.
“Viviana,” I say again as I move to sit back up.
“Mmmm.” Her hand lifts to rub at her eyes. Then she starts to blink as the room comes into focus for her, she looks toward my voice.
“Morning,” she groans.
“It is, indeed.”
She snuggles in closer to me. “What time is it? How late did I sleep?”
“It’s not late at all. It’s only eight thirty.”
She stares at me like I have something on my face.
“And you woke me . . .” she trails off, feigning shock.
“I did.”
“But it’s so early.” She’s pretending to whine now, and where normally I wouldn’t like this banter, with her I do.
“You’re lucky I didn’t wake you when I first wanted to.”
“I don’t even want to know what time that was. I would have beat you up.”
“Is that so . . .”
I watch as her eyes dilate at my words. Her tongue licks the top of her lip, which she then bites.
“What would you have done about it?” she asks, her voice sexy and sultry.
“I would have tortured you, of course.”
Her chest heaves, and I know if I place my hand between her legs, I’ll find her desperate for me.
“First, I have to feed you.”
That makes her cheeks go red.
“Food, Viviana. I have to feed you food,” I clarify as if she’s a little girl who wants to eat a bar of chocolate.
“Oh.”
I move from where I’m sitting and stand to get the tray. That’s when she finally notices it, and a giant smile spreads across her face.
“You brought me breakfast in bed.”
“I did.”
“Who are you, and what did you do to my husband?”
I inhale deeply, and then I exhale. She’s right. My behavior is not just foreign to her, but it’s foreign to me. It’s like I’ve done a complete one-eighty, and I don’t even recognize myself. That being said, I know our alone time is limited, and I want to enjoy every minute of it, including feeding her. This woman makes me do crazy things.
It’s something about the way she looks, the way she speaks, and how honest she is. Even though I’m sure it’s bad for me, I indulge in it anyway.
“I brought pancakes. I’d like to take credit for making them, but I can’t.”
“Francesca?”
“Who else?” I shrug, and she laughs.
“She’s kind of amazing.”
“Yes, she’s been with me a long time.” I don’t need to say what I mean. I’m sure that my wife can read between the lines. Francesca was one of the girls my uncle kept.
I take the tray and place it on her lap.
“All this is for me? Aren’t you going to have any?”
“I don’t eat very much breakfast, not until after I’ve worked out.”
“You didn't work out this morning?”
