He gives me a nod, tucking them to the side of the counter.
I take the stairs up to her apartment—her father’s apartment—two by two. Just knowing I’m near her makes my heart pick up a beat. I rap on the door with three loud knocks, before I remember her father is resting.
The door opens.
Felicity. My dear, dear, Felicity.
Her beautiful face shines like a beacon of hope. She sees me, her gaze taking in the suit, my face, and her features soften. “It’s you. I was expecting the man from the pharmacy.”
Are you glad that it’s me? Do you miss me? Do you want to come home?
Or has being with your father made you think of everything that was taken from you.
Everything I took from you.
I forget my carefully prepared speech. I gaze into her warm eyes, and I say the only two words that matter. “Come home.”
She looks down. Her hand hangs on the door. “I’m…not ready.”
I throw my hands up in surrender. “Bring your father. Bring anyone you want. The castle is your home just as much as it is mine. I never should have told you no.” It’s as close to an apology as a man like me can get.
She gives me a soft smile. Her gaze holds mine, but I can tell, I’ve haven’t quite reached her. She gives a shake of her head. “I’m sorry. But I’ll be home, soon.”
Home. It’s no longer a home when she’s not there. From the beginning I saw this marriage as a game, I saw her as something to conquer, something to win against.
I’ve lost.
I give her a nod. I lean over, kissing her cheek, inhaling the fragrance of her hair, making me remember her words on the airplane when I sniffed at her hair.
Are you smelling me?
I pull away, holding in a manic laugh at the memory.
I want to say, “See you at home,” but I can’t make myself form the words. I know she won’t be back. And this time, I won’t force her to come.
I give her one last look. “Goodbye. My Bella.”
“Goodbye, Vincent. And really, from the bottom of my heart, thank you, for everything.” She gives me a wave of her hand. Closes the door.
I return to the store to retrieve my flowers.
I’ll take them home. I’ll give them to Esme and Sophia to thank them for their help.
Even though they couldn’t change me from the beast.
Nothing can.
Felicity
As I close the door, pain rips through my heart. I’m not entirely sure why I couldn’t accept his offer. Perhaps because it came with no apology.
I try to imagine Vincent Russo saying I’m sorry. I can’t. It almost makes me laugh out loud to picture him trying to form the words.
Yet, I miss him. Terribly.
But something is holding me here. Something just won’t let me go home. Not yet.
I walk to the window, standing with my arms crossed over my chest. His sleek, black SUV is parked on the curb before the store. I always prefer to walk into town, he prefers to be driven.
The new shopkeeper my father hired is out front, sweeping the walkway. He’s so responsible, taking care of every aspect of my father’s store. He even dusts the cans on the back of the shelves, the ones you can’t see. He’s kind, warm, polite.
The type of man I’d always thought I’d marry. Every day when I go downstairs to gather fresh vegetables to cook soups for my father, he greets me with a friendly smile and a “Good morning.” I return the smile.
And I find myself missing Vincent.
Where is he?
I can just make out the sound of the bell tinkling as the front door of the store opens beneath where I stand. I peek over the awning as his dark head of hair appears. He strides to the car, his arms full of something.
What’s that he’s carrying?
It looks like a dozen purple roses. Like the ones he bought me, the first time he came to the store.
He glances up at the window. Is he looking for me? I’m not sure if he can see me through the filmy glass. But I can see him, and in his eyes, I see a world of apologies.
He is sorry, and he came here to make amends and apologize the only way he could.
With flowers. With two, gently spoken words. Come home.
Gazing upon him, I realize, as stubborn and pigheaded and controlling as the man is…he’s the man I always truly wanted, deep down in the very center of my being. Dominant and powerful and possessive, tempered by honor and integrity. A love as deep as it is fierce.
He’s mine.
And I want to be with him.
No matter how it is that the two of us first came together.
My torn heart mends.
I tear open the window, sticking my head out, and I call down to the street. “Vincent! Don’t go!”
His hand hovers on the handle of the car door. “Felicity?” He looks up at me, shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun.
“Wait!”
I rush down the stairs, through the store, and into the street.
He stands, flowers in hand, a look of hope twisted with despair etched on his face.
I nod to the flowers. “Are those for me?”
His brow knits. “Pardon?”
“I said, are those for me?” I point at the dozen roses in his arms.
“Yes.” He reaches out, handing them to me. “Ah, yes they are.”
I take the flowers, bringing them to my face and inhaling their sweet scent. “I remember these. You bought them from me, then later left them for me in a beautiful vase.”
His eyes soften, his shoulders relax. “Yes. You kept the vase. You brought it to the castle with you.”
My words come out so quiet, they’re almost a whisper. “I must have known somehow.”
“Known what?”
“Known that you were going to make a wonderful husband. Eventually.”
He gives a laugh of relief. “I hope you think so. I know I’ve been closer to a beast than a man at times.”
I stretch up on my tiptoes, planting a kiss on his lips. “I love them.”
He takes me in his arms, careful not to squish my bouquet as he does. He leans down, his breath tickling my ear. “And I, love you, Felicity Russo.”
The only words I needed to hear.
Joy dances through my body as I let his words swirl around me. “I love you, too.”
He kisses me, and in his kiss, I can feel his love.
Strong and true and possessive.
Just the way I like it.
15
Vincent
Christmas comes with all the love and joy a family could have. At least, I think. My own life before Felicity was work, ambition, conquest. Now, I find myself lingering by the fire. Drinking coffee with Sophia in her kitchen, when she lets me. Discussing boys with Esme—so many boys. A new one every day, the girl can’t keep her mind off them.
And I spend every waking—and sleeping—moment I can with my wife. She’s moved into my room, giving her large, beautiful bedroom to Esme.
I still have my cold, hard, killer edge, the respect of my men, and a blade strapped to the inside of my boot that can slice through a man’s throat. But now, I also have love.
Felicity has made me…sentimental. I still find the emotion…uncomfortable, but at my wife’s prompting, I’ve invited my younger brother, Giovanni, to stay with us.
For a few precious hours this Christmas Eve, I choose to let my guard down. I sit back in my leather chair, sipping bourbon with my brother as I watch the women of this house decorate a tree with gold, glittering ornaments, a gift from John Romano.
They are so beautiful as they sparkle beneath the white lights, I almost feel bad for my own gift to him. He is truly trying to make amends. I take a deep breath, another sip of bourbon.
The moment is so peaceful, it makes me think of what Alec said when we were in the Parrish and he was explaining the Bachman’s shield. The inventor of the shield calls it the falling action—the time you think you’re
safe, but then there’s a second attack just as you emerge from your safe house.
Will there be falling action? Will the Russo feud with the Romano family ever be ended, our bonds healed? Or will our war end in a bloody battle.
These are not thoughts for tonight. Tonight is for celebration.
As I refill my brother’s glass, I take in how much he’s grown. No longer a gangly teen, Giovanni is now a man. His hair is dark and thick and wavy like mine, but seven years my junior, he doesn’t have the silver at his temples. He wears a close cropped beard, a shadow along his stone cut jaw. Gone are his round cheeks, replaced by high, angled cheekbones. “Tell me, Gio. Do you like this Bourbon?”
He swirls his glass, crossing his long leg, propping the ankle of his black leather boot on the knee of his close-cut gray suit trousers. He holds the glass up to his eye, then after careful inspection, takes a long exhale, then another sip. He lets the liquor settle on his tongue, then brow furrowed, takes in the flavor. After a beat, he gives me a long look. “Tastes like shit.”
We break out into laughter, making me realize how much I’ve missed having him around. He runs a hand through his hair, leaving it on end. “You know I have no idea what I’m drinking. No matter how much money this family has, I’ll always prefer an ice cold bottle of beer to this cleaning fluid you drink.”
“Brando, bring my brother a beer.” I take his glass from him, setting it on the coaster between us. “You always did have simple tastes.”
He flashes me a grin. “And you always had to have the best, didn’t you. I think you’ve outdone even your own self with your lovely wife though.” His gaze travels to Felicity, as she hangs another ornament, a bright smile lighting her face.
“You should stick around. Settle down yourself. It’s probably about time.” My brother lives in America, enjoying a Wall Street job and faced-paced lifestyle. Probably a different girl every night. “Don’t you think it’s time you came back down to Earth?”
“By ‘Earth’ I take it you mean follow in your footsteps, come back to Italy, and return to the village we were born in?” He gives his head a shake. “I don’t know, brother. I’ve seen what it’s done to your hair.”
I give a chuckle. “You mean these lines of silver? Just wait, brother, stay around the Russo castle long enough and you’ll have your own.”
“I do miss you.” He gives me a smile. “And I see what a fine family you have for yourself. I’d like to spend time getting to know my new sister-in-law, your father-in-law, and Esme. She’s like a daughter to you, isn’t she?”
“She is.” I watch Esme as she climbs the ladder to put the angel on top of the tree. She’s always insisted on being the one to do so. When she was a little girl, I would lift her onto my shoulders so she could reach.
Now, she’s almost 18. Nearly a full grown woman.
Esme is the closest thing I have to an heir. My new wife and I have a special Christmas gift for her, one I’m looking forward to giving to her; the signed papers signaling our legal adoption of her.
She’s always been like a daughter to me, but now, the feeling will become truth in the eyes of the law, a statement to the village that though my blood doesn’t run through her veins, my name will be attached to hers.
She worries me sometimes, my sweet Esme. She’s sweet and shy, but often impulsive. As her father, it’s now my job to teach her, to rein her in. Felicity will help her blossom into womanhood and for that, I’m eternally grateful.
Brando brings my brother his beer. He sits, drinking it happily, catching Sophia up on every moment of his life since she moved back to Italy with me. She peppers him with questions, and he answers them all.
My wife joins her father, sitting by his side. She takes his hand in hers. “I’m so glad you’re here with us now, Dad.”
He pats her hand. “Me too, Felicity. I would have gotten pneumonia sooner if I knew it would bring me to Sophia’s cooking.”
Sophia shoots him a look. “Just stay out of the fridge tonight. If I find even one scoop taken from my overnight bread casserole, there’ll be hell to pay!” She shakes her fist at Felicity’s father, who’s known around the castle for his midnight snacking.
Felicity tilts back as she laughs, that beautiful noise bubbling from her throat.
My God, this woman is beautiful.
I want her. Now.
I sit my glass on the open coaster that rests on the tabletop beside me.
Rising from my chair, I cross the room. Giving her father a nod, I take Felicity’s hand in mine. “If you’ll excuse us for a moment. We’ve got a gift to see to.”
Felicity catches my gaze, a knowing twinkle in her eyes. She turns to her father. “We’ll be right back.”
As we exit the room, I catch the tinkling sound of Esme’s giggle. Are we that obvious? As Felicity goes up the stairs before me, I reach out, giving her ass a smack.
She lets out a squeal, swatting me away and running up the stairs in her heels. I chase her through the bedroom doorway, grabbing her around the waist and pinning her onto her back on the bed. “Haven’t you learned by now never to run from me? I’ll always get my way.”
“Not always, husband,” she teases back.
I grab the waist of her skirt, shimmying it down over her slip hips, exposing her pussy. “No panties? Naughty girl. You’ll have to be spanked for that.”
“No!” She attempts to struggle from my grasp. “Not happening.”
But her body tells a different story than her mouth. Her eyes widen, her cheeks flush, her breath comes faster. My darling girl does so love to be overtaken. I grab her waist, turning her hips, exposing the curve of her ass to my hand. I give her a few stinging swats and she squeals with delight. “Say thank you, sir.”
“Thank you, sir.” Her voice turns sultry. “Now take me.”
Undoing my belt, unzipping my pants, I free my cock, climbing over her. I give her ass another smack. “Say please.”
“Please, take me now, sir.” She grabs my collar in her hands, pulling me in to a kiss.
I devour her mouth, tangling my tongue with hers. I slip my fingers inside her. She’s wet and ready. She lets out a moan as I move my slick fingers up to her tender bud, swirling and pressing it until she whimpers. “Such a good, bad girl.”
She shifts her hips, wanting more.
I take my fingers from her, brushing them against her red lips, leaving a trace of her arousal. I kiss her, tasting her, all of her, as I enter her with my cock. She’s so tight, so ready, and she wraps her arms around my neck as her pussy tightens around my cock.
She breaks our kiss only long enough to whisper a warning in my ear. “We have to be quick. They’ll be waiting for us.”
“Let them wait.” I grab her ass in my hands, pulling her up tighter to my body, entering her deeper. We find our sweet rhythm and with every movement I make, I milk her luscious body, chasing down her pleasure. When I hit that perfect, magical peak, I wait for it—the sound that makes my life worth living—my wife calling my name.
Vincent. Vincent. Vincent.
Her cries throw me over the edge, igniting my own climax. I give a growl, holding her hips tighter in my hands, holding her to me, as long as she will let me.
She gives a laugh, kissing my cheek. I don’t want to leave this bed, I want to stay here forever, but now she’s swatting my shoulder, shifting her weight and wriggling out from under me. She hops up from the bed, cleaning my seed from her and straightening her clothing.
Excitement dances in her gaze. “Let’s go. We have to give Esme her gift before midnight. I want her to know she’s our daughter before it’s Christmas.”
She so kind, so thoughtful, so beautiful.
“Just a moment.” I straighten my own clothing. I go to the top drawer of my dresser, pulling out a little red box, the swirling words on top read Bachman’s Jewelers. “First, I have a gift for you.”
Her eyes widen with surprise. “You do? But you’ve already given me everythin
g.”
“Not this.” I cross the room to her, holding up the box. I watch her face as I flip open the lid. Inside the box rests a small, bright gold ring, in the shape of a crown. I lift it from the box, reading the inscription. “For the queen of my heart.”
She gazes at the little ring and no words come to her lips.
I take a knee. Holding the ring up to her, I say the words I should have said long ago. “Felicity, I’m sorry I was cruel to you. You are the light that leads my way and without you, I’m lost. Can you forgive me?”
“That’s…beautiful.” A hand flutters to her throat. “Of course.”
The final question hangs in my mind. I want to ask it of her, but am I brave enough to face her response, whatever it may be?
I need to know…I need to know if she would choose me.
I take a deep breath, and on my exhale, I release the words to her. “And Felicity, will you choose me to be your husband?”
The second of silence before her answer has my breath frozen in my chest.
Please.
She laughs, tears shining in her eyes. “Yes. Of course, I do. I love you.”
Happiness surrounds me, overwhelming me. “And I love you.” I slip the ring on her finger, stand before her, and kiss my wife.
My queen.
Epilogue
Esme
I finally have a father.
Felicity has brought so much to our lives, but the one thing that meant the most to me was when she brought the papers to Vincent to file for my adoption. He just needed a nudge, and Felicity provided it.
Now, I’m legally his daughter. Esme Russo. The princess of the mafia.
That gives me power? Right?
I hope so because there’s one person I want to wield it on. Luca Romano. The beautiful blue-eyed bully that pulled my braids in the schoolyard. He tormented me relentlessly, and last week, he took his torture to new levels. I blush thinking of his rough hands on me when he found me trespassing on his family’s property, the way he punished me like a naughty little girl.
Dark Crown: A Mafia Arranged Marriage Romance (Russo Royals Book 1) Page 15
