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“I had something else in mind.”
“And what might that be?”
I sink to my knees, opening my mouth, my back arched. I put my hands on my thighs. “This was the submissive position, right?”
He looks at me and nods, reaching for the zipper on the front of his pants. “Good girl,” he says. “This is why I married you.”
Forty
Vincenzo
The next few days pass pleasantly enough. Perhaps the most relaxed time I’ve ever had in my life.
We fuck. We watch old movies. She’s educating me on the value of Cary Grant and I’m making her see that Jimmy Stewart is where it’s at. We cook together. We eat together.
I could genuinely see this working out between us.
Until my brother calls.
Tells me he wants to talk. I read between the lines. He’s working up a deal with the Beluccis, hoping to use them to back up his claim. Son of a bitch is threatening to burn my buildings down unless I agree to meet. Middle of the working day. A lot of people will die.
When I hang up the phone, I go find Ophelia. Operation Petticoat is on pause and she’s got her hand in the popcorn when I walk in. “What’s up?” she asks, seeing the look on my face. “Who died?”
“I’ve got to go back to the States,” I tell her.
“Do I have time to pack?” she asks, getting to her feet at once.
I smile, kissing her forehead. “You are amazing,” I say.
“Me? Why? What did I do?”
“You don’t argue. You don’t ask questions. I say I’ve got to go and you’re on your feet a moment later.” I kiss her again. “It’s all right. You stay here, enjoy the sun. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“I’m not going with you?”
“It’ll be easier if you stay here. If you go up to the second floor, down the far right side, near the balcony. I’ve put something in the end room for you, should keep you busy while I’m gone.”
“What is it?”
“A surprise. Look, I need to leave. If I don’t make it back, the details of the famiglia consigliere are in my study. Name’s Angelo. Top drawer, in the notepad. You get in touch with him and he’ll make sure you get paid what you’re owed.”
“What’s a consigliere?”
“Kind of like my accountant.” I glance at my watch. “I need to go.” I kiss her a final time, not knowing if I’ll see her again. “I love you,” I tell her, turning and walking out before she gets a chance to react. I don’t want her to respond, not now, not when I might be flying off to my death.
Michael wants to talk.
There’s no way I’m going in blind. I’ll change the location of the meet when I get there, pick a site I can control with my people nearby if it all goes south. I won’t kill him unless I have to but I won’t shy away from pulling the trigger if he goes for me.
I don’t want to die.
Not anymore.
For many years, I didn’t really give a shit if I died or not. That’s why I was so happy to get stuck into a brawl when it came to it. Gunfights too. I got a reputation for not giving a single shit about anything or anyone. No one knew it wasn’t because I was fearless, it was because I didn’t care whether or not I survived.
Not anymore. I want to live. I want a family with Ophelia. I want a marriage that lasts more than a month. I want a lifetime with her.
The thought scares me but it scares me more to think of letting her go.
