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“And my love. It’s all yours. Everything.”
I lift her into my arms and carry her out of the casino, not giving a damn that
Stefano’s body is still there. I’ll call in a cleaning crew. Right now, Millie needs me. I don’t want to let her go while I drive, but I place her in the passenger seat. We hold hands the entire way to my place.
“Come here,” I whisper when we arrive, helping her out.
I pick her up again, and she doesn’t protest, simply wraps her arms around my shoulders. My strong, beautiful girl is broken. No. Not broken. Just bruised. And I despise myself for that.
“It’s not your fault,” she says, as though reading my mind. “We didn’t choose to be born into our families.”
But we can choose to leave them. Milana Genovese is my family. I’m hers. We don’t need the power or the money. We only need each other.
EPILOGUE
Milana
Ilaugh as I run down the beach, the water lapping at my feet. Salvatore is close behind me. In a matter of seconds, he whisks me into his arms, and we fall into the water. I splash him when we surface.
“Christ, you’re fucking perfect. You know that?” he asks.
“And what exactly is perfect about me?” I tease, wrapping my legs around his waist.
He grabs the straps to my bikini and unties them, pulling my top free and tossing it toward shore. I honestly don’t care if it gets carried away by the waves. We’re the only ones here.
“These are perfect. Soft. Sensitive. Responsive. Perfection when they harden beneath my touch.”
And they do. Like fucking pebbles. They ache for him. For his touch, his lips, his tongue. His damn teeth.
“And these, these are perfect,” he says, trailing his thumb over my lips. “Your taste. Your smile. The way they wrap around my cock.”
I kiss him, deep and sensual. My pussy is throbbing as I rub against him, reaching between us to free his dick. I slide my panties to the side and impale myself on him.
“And what about this? Is this perfect?”
He squeezes my ass, pumping into me. He promised me no one else would ever touch me again. I belong to him. I hated being a possession of Stefano’s. Hated being owned by someone else.
Salvatore Moretti owns me. Every inch. Every part. All of me.
But I own him, too. We walked away together. Chose another life. Chose each other. He appointed Colvin as the head of the families. Made sure everything was in order. And we haven’t looked back since.
“It’s absolutely perfect,” he murmurs. “I love you.”
“Are you sure this isn’t lust?” I joke.
He grins. “From lust to love, Millie. From lust to love.”
THE END
