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The way she sucked my cock dry with her voodoo pussy.
Maybe having sex wasn’t the best idea, because quite frankly, I’m going to crave it all the time now. Feel it, taste it, want it, and need it. She created a monster, put a spell on me.
I need to focus on work. On new enemies. On the weapons that keep getting intercepted and new rivals doing dealings on my docks. But instead, I’m lost in a vicious cycle.
It's aggravating.
“Nico?” Her voice fills the room, and I sit up on my elbows. She stands in some silk night own that leaves nothing to the imagination, and her hair is wet and pulled around to one side.
“Yes, Emelia.” There’s no attempt to make my voice sound anything less than irritated.
“I’m sorry. That was too far. I didn’t mean to bring him into this. We agreed to wave a white flag, and that was a low blow.” She fidgets her hands, moving her wedding ring around her finger.
“Listen, I know this life is more than one step farther than what you wanted, but I can’t keep doing this with you. Either you get on my side, Emelia, or we will have to end this. That’s all there is to it.”
“I know. I get that. Just… please don’t be upset. Tonight was scary for us both. Well, for me at least. I’ve never been shot at before.” Being voluntarily vulnerable is new for her; I can tell. Though she is being forthcoming, her body language is riddled with an unwelcome feeling.
“I’m used to it, but I’m a man of my word. You follow the rules, put some trust in me, and all will be fine. I won’t let anyone hurt you, okay?” I tell her this, sitting all the way up and looking at her.
“Okay. I just wanted to come in and say sorry.”
Is this part of what her father did to her? Her mother? There are so many layers to Emelia. I peel back one, and another’s edge comes loose. It’s hard to decipher, but so am I. Two complicated people, living in a complicated world.
CHAPTER SIX
EMELIA
THE HONEYMOON
Nico wasn’t kiddingwhen he said we needed to get to our honeymoon. After we had sex, we had an argument, I apologized, and then the next day we were on a jet. The flight was extremely long and filled with rest, light conversation, and two rounds of intense fucking.
That’s the one thing I can say about this marriage—the sex will always be enjoyable.
I don’t think Nico is someone I can see myself relishing the company of, but he isn’t the worst conversationalist. In fact, it was more than tolerable this entire flight. He is highly intelligent and has a plethora of interesting stories from his well-lived life in the mafia. I would say it extends past the definition of wild. Actually, I would dare even say he’s had a tormented and damaged life. Made men don’t seem haunted or affected by the life they have led, but no normal person with an ounce of humanity in their body can say this life doesn’t affect them at all.
There were moments, especially when he briefly shared a snippet of his life with me—one where his father and mother played the main characters of the story—that I saw something. A glimpse of pain? Disparage? The possibility of freedom from this life?
Who am I kidding? We are not free and never will be, and this marriage only solidified our destiny. Being in the mafia comes with one thing that is always guaranteed—you don’t know freedom. The chosen ones may have more privileges and can move about as they please, but it still comes with limitations and duties.
Then there are people like me who are born to be tools. We are the damned.
And right now, I can't tell which one Nico truly is. Is he really one of the chosen, or part of the damned?
The jet lands and I stand, reaching for my small overnight bag, and Nico snaps his fingers. I nearly tell him to pick someone else to snap at like a dog, when I look up and see he was actually doing it at one of the guards he brought to watch over us. The tall, blond-haired man rushes to me, takes the bag from my hand, and gestures for me to follow Nico. The second my body is blanketed by the hot sun, I smell the salt water and freshness of the air. You don’t get that in the city.
Nico descends first, his suit crisp and unwrinkled. You would think he just stepped into the expensive outfit and hadn’t spent hours sitting on a plane. My dress is white with thin straps that tie atop my shoulders, and the bodice is made up of lines and curves that mimic a corset. At my hips, it A-lines into a flowy sundress.
My hair is curled, and my makeup is light with sunscreen, mascara, and lip gloss. I knew we would spend most of our time on the sands of Greece and hopefully in the deep blue waters.
“Emelia?” His sharp voice whips through the wind, and I look at Nico.
“Sorry. Just taking in the view. In a rush or something?” I ask, continuing my descent.
“Yes, I would like to get to the yacht before I’m ancient.”
“A yacht? We’re in Greece. Don’t you think a resort would be more enjoyable?” So I won't be spending as much time on the beach as I thought. I'll be on a boat. Trapped at sea with a man I enjoy fucking and having small bouts of conversation with. Great.
“Safety, wife. The yacht will add an extra layer of safety for now. But I will make sure to take you to spend time on land, if you insist. Now, let’s move before dawn comes and we miss dinner.”
