Every Minute I Love You (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 3)

by Kailee Reese Samuels

  “I won’t make you wait to know what it says. I will tell you now because I love you so. Your mother isn’t Lucilla. And your father isn’t Cesario. Kaci found out when you were fourteen because she gave the file to Chance.

  Her initials are all over the documents, Sal.

  Uncle Vinny and your oldest sister Stella… She was fifteen and he was twenty-nine. And maybe that’s why, you are so fucked up. You’re the product of a hitman and a whore. And you’re asking me why I cannot stay? And they all know—Lucilla, Cesario, Vinny, Michelle, Serene, Dom, Kaci—because there was a list…and they have kept it a secret for years.”

  My hat falls as my knees buckle and I fall to the floor.

  “I cannot stay because I don’t know that the trigger in my mind isn’t the bullet aiming at you. And maybe that is why I can never get enough of you because you will always be in my crosshairs. You were always my target. And they never wanted you to know, but I think you should—because I am eternally and forever yours and you are mine.”

  My arm droops to my lap as I sit in shock and rock. I pull my hair as it hits like a landslide of a lifetime betrayal.

  Stella is my mother… Uncle Vinny is my father… My parents are my grandparents… and Luca was my great grandfather…

  Their incestuous romance gone very awry with one pregnancy…one baby…one son…Nick Veramonte was my half-brother…and Fran is my half-sister…and Cat isn’t my sister, but my Aunt…and everyone thought I knew…and that is why everyone thinks I killed Nick…and why Cesario dislikes me so much…because I was never his and he never had a son. He never had a legacy.

  And I have the only one that ever mattered.

  Every single fucking thing makes sense.

  Why Kaci shielded the truth from me…why my grandfather disowned Vinny…why Luca coddled me because everyone hated me so…

  …but it wasn’t my fault…I didn’t do it…I didn’t ask for this…

  No longer, am I a Silvestri/Veramonte and Mazza/Raniero.

  I am a Veramonte/Raniero from Stella Raniero.

  And a Silvestri/ Veramonte from Vinny Veramonte.

  The product of a hitman and a whore was so fucking accurate.

  Oh, shit, this is gonna be fucknasty.

  “Shit! Dad… Cesario!” With my tears sprinkling like a fountain, I send the text to Mass.

  “STOP! DO NOT DO IT!”

  He sends a thumbs up.

  “Where are you?”

  “By your car.”

  “I’m on my way!”

  Grabbing my hat, I open the door to see Iris, looking beautiful in a silk peach pant suit with glittery copper colored heels and matching purse. Her hair is twisted up with little copper and diamond butterflies and a few strands frame her soft face. She’s holding my suit and smiling.

  God, I love her so damned much.

  “Hi!”

  “Hi…” I whisper, breathing heavy.

  Pressing my hands to her cheeks, I kiss her lips hard in the alcove of the doorway. Her sweet surrender makes the rusty dagger in my heart hurt far less as I see my brothers looking on with a shocked expression at my public display. “Stay here. Lock the door. Do not let anyone in but me.”

  “I know your knock,” she says wiggling her brows. “I’ll be here.” She blinks.

  I run as fast as I can from the room and past the boys, who all mutter about what is wrong. “You fucking knew…” I challenge, briefly stopping to look Dom in the eye. “You fucking knew!” I yell, no longer caring who hears me. Everyone stares as Emily stands in the cathedral with worry. “And you didn’t ever say a goddamned word to me. You just let me keep believing the lie.”

  “Sal,” Deacon says, laying his arm on me. “You need to stop yelling.”

  I shrug away and shake my head. “Don’t.”

  “Salvatore…”

  “No!” I shout, angrier than I have ever been. “You don’t get to say anything to me now! Not now or ever again!” I turn away as Deacon starts to follow. “Let me go!”

  I sprint through the parking lot with a nod to Mass. He follows as I lead our way into the sea of SUVs. I stop and bend over with my hands on my knees.

  “What’s up?”

  “Do you have a smoke?” He pulls the box from his jacket and flips it open. I take one, and he flicks the lighter in the darkness. I exhale, trying to calm down and not give myself a heart attack. My lip quivers as the tears and frustration don’t stop. “… Did you know?”

  “Yes,” he replies, glancing down. “I did. That’s why I asked you about a dozen times if you were sure. And that is also why Nero are so very interested in you.”

  “Because I’m half of a fucking monster…”

  “Vinny would have been incredible if Pietro hadn’t disowned him. Now, he’s as good as a mutt knocking on our door. And it’s not that he hasn’t tried, but we can’t open it. It would be a great disservice to the breed, even though he technically did nothing wrong. Nero Bianco Pietro Veramonte sat on the board next to Nero Bianco Luca Raniero, your candidacy was never even questioned, Sal. You were validated and worthy of our consideration from the day you were born. The Commission had a hand in everything from your time at Sibyl to the cognitive architecture experiment. We knew; we condoned it.”

  “My whole life has been a lie.”

  “Only from your perspective,” Mass gently imparts with a wisdom. “From The Commission’s perspective, you were one of the great successes, but don’t ever think you don’t have power to wield responsibly because you do. You can change things. You can make an impact. I asked for your consideration because it would be an honor to work with you, not because I need the job.”

  “You need to go,” I ease, knowing there is no point in killing Cesario anymore. All it does is put the target on my back from my uncles…who aren’t really my uncles anymore but great uncles.

  My family tree just got impaled by a tornado.

  And everyone I thought I knew, I don’t know at all.

  “Let the impact of the trauma settle,” he urges, setting his hand on my arm, as I think back to the wreck I passed and the wounds they suffered. The scars last forever. “You’ll come around.”

  I sigh with the burden weighing heavily on my shoulders. “I don’t know…”

  He leans closer and kisses both of my cheeks. “Don’t forget, they may have made you, but you,” he whispers, pressing his pointer finger to my heart. “Define Salvatore. No one else. Make choices for you.”

  82

  Slaughter the Horses, Bury the Innocent

  Taking the slowest walk ever back to the church, I prioritize the order of how to handle all of this—Iris. Emily. Family. Brothers. I watch the taillights of Mass’ sports car leave the lot. Deacon will ask if I got a refund. I snicker and stroke my goatee as I stride up to the doors, say a prayer, make the sign, and blow a kiss.

  “Help me,” I whisper, opening the doors. Almost everyone is in the cathedral in their seats. Deacon is waiting by the table with the grotesquely large arrangement of fresh flowers. “… Is Iris?”

  “She’s still in the dressing room, Sir.”

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” I say as Emily rushes towards me. She is pissed. I glance at my watch, we’re thirteen minutes late.

  “Are we doing this?”

  “I’m going to get dressed right now,” I lie, knowing the suit will not be on my body tonight, but Iris damn sure will. I give her a smile and a kiss, playing the everything is great card, as she holds my hands. “I just had some business to attend to.”

  She complacently nods, accepting whatever shit I throw at her—as long as she makes it to being Mrs. Sal Raniero by the end of this, nothing else matters. “I love you, Lucas.”

  Without hesitation, I confess the love I have for the girl I’ve practically raised. “I love you, Em. I’ll be right there.” I wink.

  She beams a huge smile at me as her big blue moons sparkle. “I’ll be waiting.”

  Deacon and I are shoulder t
o shoulder as we watch her walk off. “She has no clue you’re about to break her heart.”

  “No.”

  “Did you tell Mass to go?”

  I nod. “Ya, I’ll tell you all about it later.”

  “Dom already did,” he mutters, laying his hand on my back. “And I’m sorry. But I have you. And that girl in the dressing room does too. I’ll hold off the sharks; go get her.”

  “I am,” I claim, stealing a red rose from the floral arrangement. “She is in so much trouble now.”

  “Don’t I know it,” he snarls and gives a wink. “I love ya, bro.”

  I walk away and turn back with a love and peace sign followed by a point. I bring my fingers to my lips and blow a kiss. He catches it and shoves it to his crotch. I shake my head with a chuckle. His sad blue eyes aren’t quite as sad as they once were as Cat comes up beside him and they smile. Tucking his fingertips in his slacks, he nods with happiness.

  Look what I did, Master Salvatore.

  Be proud of me.

  I got the girl you wanted me to have.

  Adjusting my hat, I breathe and crack my knuckles. I lock my fingers together and stretch them. Rolling my neck, I knock on the door three times in quick succession.

  Iris opens the door, looking more beautiful than ever before. She giggles at the rose in my mouth as a blush rises on her cheeks. Her fingers slip around the stem and she brings the petals to her nose. “Hi!”

  “Hi, my name is Sal,” I nervously mumble, showing up with no walls blockading my heart. “You want to go for a latte and a chocolate croissant before spending the rest of your life with me?”

  “Yes!” She delightfully squeals and takes my fingers, pulling me inside. I lock the door. “What happened? Are you okay?”

  I pull the phone out of my back pocket. “This happened.”

  She blinks. “What is this?”

  “You told me about Vinny and Stella when I was in England.”

  “Yes,” she says, blinking with a stunned expression. “You just now heard it?”

  I nod. “Twenty minutes ago.”

  “I thought you lost this phone…”

  “I did,” I reply, taking her in my arms. “Why didn’t you ask about it?”

  “… What was I going to say?” she asks, looking up with those faceted sapphires that see right through my fucking soul. “I didn’t know how to handle this. I thought, maybe you heard it and just didn’t want to talk about it. You’ve had Lucilla and Cesario as your parents for twenty-eight years, I didn’t know how you would feel.”

  “I told Mass to leave.”

  “I know, he texted me,” she says, pressing her hand to my chest. “He’s going to Atlantic City for a few days.”

  I gaze several times over her fair porcelain skin before wrapping my hand around the back of her neck. I dip to kiss her lips and we soar as I pick her up. She latches her legs around my waist. Between our hot, tender kisses, I breathe, “We’re not ever being apart again, Iris.”

  “… Is that a promise?” she questions as I set her on the table. “Because I cannot lose you again.”

  “No more loss.” My fingertips smooth over her neck to the tease the bare cleavage. “I need you,” I mumble into her mouth, unable to resist her lure. It is too great; it always was. “You have to go break off a wedding.”

  “I know I do,” I whisper, unbuttoning her slim-fitting jacket. “Did you wear peach just for me?”

  “Would I do anything like that, Mr. Raniero?”

  “Nevah!” I flirt, carefully pulling it off. “You’re going to drive me wild with all these lace camisoles you’ve been wearing. Ms. Nakamura, you aren’t wearing a bra…”

  “No, I didn’t want to.” My lips linger on her shoulder as my hand slips beneath the fabric and I feel the warm arousal of her nipple in my palm. “Are you really about to fuck me before going to break her heart?”

  “Would I do that?” I grin, stripping my shirt off. My hat falls to the floor.

  “Yes, because you’re an asshole at times,” she says, unhooking the belt on my jeans. Her fingers twist the button and she pulls my zipper down. “And that’s okay because I can be a bitch.”

  With the tension rising, I lock my lips to hers with a ferocious intensity. She is going to be my wife, my lover, my submissive, my girl for the rest of her life. “These have got to come off, baby.” She quickly unsnaps the hook on the side and draws the zipper down. I lift her up and the loose pants fall from her body. “You’re not wearing any panties either, Iris.”

  “No, Sir.” She innocently blinks with her long black lashes. “Master likes easy access.”

  “Oh,” I reply, brushing the back of my finger up the inside of her thigh. “You have a Master.”

  “Yes,” she whispers, tucking her hand beneath the denim. Her fingers graze over my hardened shaft. “And he is you.”

  “You’re so naughty.”

  “Maybe you should spank me,” she suggests, kissing my neck. “Hard and long until I cry and scream your name, Salvatore.”

  I love hearing my name fall from her lips. I will never tire of her calling for me. Salvatore, come take in the groceries. Salvatore, come fix the shower. Salvatore, change the baby’s diaper. Salvatore, make me dinner. Salvatore, make love to me. It will never get old.

  “… Is that so?” I sink a single digit between her folds, taunting her clit and plunging into her wetness. “Are you with my baby yet?”

  “Not yet.”

  “We’re going to have to practice this,” I say, pulling the camisole out of the way and sucking on her nipple. “A lot.”

  “Yes,” she whispers, arching towards my body and running her hands through my hair. Her gentle fingers feel so good as she scratches her nails on my back. “You put as many of your spawns in my belly as you want.”

  I drop the playful attitude and turn serious as I lick my lips. “… Do you mean that?”

  “Of course,” she confides. “We can have a whole soccer team if you want.”

  I grin. “Can we go home to Texas?”

  “I never planned on being anywhere else.” Her palm strokes on my dick tighten with an urgency as I give a wolfish grin. “I love how your cock feels like hot velvet in my hands.”

  “Are you going to keep talking dirty?”

  “I can!” She giggles, biting her lip, and moving her hand to the back of my jeans. They fall. “Make love to me, Salvatore.”

  “Is this going to be a thing with us?” I ask, scooting her to the edge of the table and taking my shaft from her fingers. “Every time we see one another, we’re going to start fucking?”

  “Probably,” she says, kissing my lips as I wade in with just the tip. “That is so fucking mean.”

  “It’s so good, and you know it!”

  “Give it to me, you badass motherfucker.” Never one to disappoint the lady, I thrust in deep, filling her up with all of me. “Oh, God… I will never get over this moment when you are first inside of me and all of my nerve endings are electric. It burns so good.”

  “Tell me,” I charm, pulling out to the tip and ramming into her again. “You get me so fucking hard in your wetness. All I want to do is stay inside you forever.”

  I close my eyes as the pictures of Iris and me are the only ones I see. Her hands move from my shoulders, over the scars on my back, and she heals them with an indescribable magic. This is what recovery is. This is what pure addiction truly is. Loving her so much that I will give up absolutely anything and everything because with her, it is all necessary.

  She writhes against me as we collide and succumb to the love. And we drown in her waves and ignite in my flames. We are the chaos and the calm, the eye and the storm. With every thrust, she surrenders to my prayer of love. She is my mantra. She is my religion. She is my new system. And every waking thought will be in providing and caring for her love. I want to grow this love like a farmer tending the earth and enjoying the magnificence of the blooms and beauty. And I know it won’t be eas
y. Good and bad things will happen, but we’ll get through them together. We’ll sacrifice together and flourish in intimacy.

  Iris is it—my one, my all, my only love.

  Her fingers trickle from my ass and over my back. “It is so good. We are so good.”

  “Iris…” I mutter as we thrash our flesh against one another, no longer in a battle of wills, but uniting as one. And it is so sweet and tender and fierce and romantic. “I love you so much.”

  “I know, baby,” she whispers, clutching my guns and digging her sharp nails into my skin. “I love you, Sal. I always have and I will forever.”

  I slow down the rhythm, needing to be inside of her soaking hollow for just a little bit longer. Please, God, give me just a few more minutes of this. She’s like silk on my cock, spiraling her dripping webs around me, all to consume me fully.

  And I take it. I beg for it. I will kneel for it.

  “Shit,” I ramble out, almost incoherent, high on the love. “I can’t…” I grimace, struggling to stop because she feels so amazing. “I’m not ready yet…”

  “Salvatore, we can do this again.”

  “If I go…”

  “I follow,” she whispers, kissing my lips and rolling her hips against me. Hell, she is moving…taking my cock…and staking her claim… This perfect flower is all mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. “Stay still.”

  And she does.

  “Breathe with me.” We comprehend the magnitude of the tumble, falling into the depths of love I never dreamed imaginable with every inhale and exhale. I calm. I trust. And I put my devout faith in this love. “Pray with me.”

  I blink up, unsure of what to say. “I’ve been told I need to find someone to pray with my whole life.”

  “I’m the one,” she confidently boasts. “And you are mine.”

  “I’m scared of hurting you,” I confess, buried deep within her tomb. “I’m scared of losing you.”

  “I’m a hell of a lot tougher than you know, Raniero.” My eyes wet with tears because she sees through me. “You’re not really afraid of hurting or losing me. You’re afraid of not being enough. And I’m telling you, you are more than enough. You’ve always been more than enough. And I don’t care who the fuck you came from, you are all mine.”