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I gritted my teeth against the need flourishing inside me, a need that made me want shit I had no business in wanting with my wife. That mouth was going to kiss my children, those hands were going to hold my babies, and that body was going to give life to my heirs... but all I could think of when I looked at her were things that made me want to wreck her.
She was dressed to impress, so fucking sleek with it that she could have been attending a gala. Only in the lights from the streets did I see that, in her eyes, she was devastated.
Tonight had affected her in a way that only someone who’d murdered another person could ever understand. But on the surface, she looked like elegance personified. Her make-up was delicate, understated, apart from the bright slash of red on her lips, and her eyes were smoky as she stared at me, her hair tousled in waves that were neat but made me think of how it’d be once it was rumpled on my pillow.
The dress was a rich red, short, exposing all her calves and her knees, nothing that risqué but everything about it was tactile, down to the short cashmere jacket she wore to offset the chill in the air as well.
I wanted my hands on her.
I wanted her to be mussed.
That hair a rat’s nest, the slash of red on her lips to be marred and smudged from my kisses. I wanted panda eyes from her gagging on my dick, and I wanted those bounteous tits out, destroying the neckline of the dress forever as they provided a shelf for those mounds of heaven that I just wanted to fucking drown in.
Any other time, any other moment, I’d have had my hand up her skirt, my fingers in her pussy, making her ready for when we arrived home... and I actually disliked where my mind was taking me because I didn’t want any of that shit with her.
She was supposed to be the kind of wife like Ma.
I didn’t know if Da had a mistress, but I imagined he did. I didn’t begrudge him for it either. A man had needs, after all. Knowing Da, he’d be as much of a sick fuck in bed as he was out of it, and I didn’t want to think of my poor mother having to deal with his ass in the bedroom too.
My fingers tightened around the wheel as the urge to muss my fiancée up hit me, and the only way I could control it, the only way I could stop myself from doing something I shouldn’t, was to answer her.
She’d asked how Vasov’s usefulness had died a death, so I’d tell her. “You know what a Summit is?”
“When the four families get together.”
I nodded. “Exactly. There was a meeting... it didn’t end well.”
“What happened?”
“This is one of the only times I’ll ever discuss business with you,” I warned gruffly. “You need to understand that now.”
“I do,” she said softly. “I understand, and I don’t want to know anything that doesn’t appertain to my father.”
Well, that was a fancy word...
She wasn’t as much of a doll as I thought.
In all honesty, I wasn’t sure why I was surprised. Inessa had a voice, a brain in her head. Why shouldn’t her elder sister?
I guessed it was Mariska’s fault. She hadn’t been the brightest spark in the fire, but I hadn’t been interested in the stuff between her ears but the slit between her legs.
Grunting at her compliance, I murmured, “You know the Russians and Italians are at war?”
“I do.”
“We joined in; we’re at war with the Italians too, and so are some of our allies. The Don of theFamigliadied—” I didn’t tell her that was at Eoghan’s hands.
“There’s a space at the top?” she guessed. “Just like there will be with the Russians now.”
“Exactly. A power vacuum. Well, there’s a larger vacuum now because something went down at the Summit, something that shouldn’t technically have happened.” I tried to hide my satisfaction, but I wasn’t a miracle worker. I knew it leaked into my words because she shot me a look as I said, “Someone infiltrated the meeting and killed the potential leaders.”
“Christ,” she rasped, her eyes widening.
“Yeah. Anyway, in the subsequent discussions—”
She held up a hand. “Wait! This went on at the beginning of the meeting?”
“Yeah.” At least, that was what Da had told me this afternoon.
