by Soraya Naomi
“Of course, I am. I’ve been going over that day constantly, and I’m sure someone’s messing with me.”
Luca scalds me with a petrifying glare. “I don’t want to hear one more word about that message!”
“Okay,” I relent since I have no proof, and so far, I’m only becoming increasingly baffled while I investigate.
Besides, my relationship with my husband is more important, so I power on, wanting to clear the air because we’re both undoubtedly keeping things bottled up. “But at least I don’t drink away our problems.”
His chest deflates as he exhales loudly. “I’m not.”
“I’m so afraid that you are though, Luca. You drank on Monday and you had a drink this morning. You think it unwinds you, but it affects the depth of your worries.” Then I inch closer and gaze up as he towers over me, his fresh soapy cologne cloaking me, although I resist the appealing scent. “And you lied about Monday. You weren’t at the club.”
“I know you know,” he replies evenly. “Did you think I didn’t hear Cam speaking at dinner last night?”
I rear back, yet I’m not surprised. Luca’s a perceptive man and never shows his emotions outside these four walls, which is most likely why no one believes me. Because I’m the one who appears to be unbalanced, yet Luca’s the one who might be losing it, leading him to drink and fly off the handle.
“I was at the club; I was just drinking at the bar upstairs where no one saw me,” he adds, and my eyes widen.
With that same blonde bartender?
I hadn’t expected this response. Also, no one sees him drinking, meaning he’s hiding it from the Syndicate because everyone knows Luca isn’t one to consume alcohol and being drunk isn’t allowed.
“Why didn’t you ask me where I was if you thought I was lying?” He watches me keenly. “I noticed your reaction at dinner, and I was waiting to see if you’d come to me. Because my wife normally would, but you didn’t.”
Unfortunately, my own actions are making him question me, and it’s resulted in Luca alienating himself from me without him even realizing.
“Who’s the bartender?” I suddenly demand.
He arcs a brow. “No one.”
“She’s the only one who knows you’re drinking, isn’t she?”
“Christ, Fallon! My drinking isn’t the problem here. I don’t get drunk, but I need something to relax. You make me more anxious with your strange behavior.” He pivots around, and I see the muscles bulging through his dress shirt.
But his drinking is the problem; it makes his concerns tangle with his anger. Luca’s traveling down a dangerous path since he uses it to sedate himself when he feels lost. Apparently, he sees me as the primary cause.
“You blame me that Noah got hurt...” I muse out loud and he cranes his neck, his torn stare sending me an affirmative answer.
Although he ignores my statement, he grits out, “I’m always the underboss who has to play mind games with everyone when I’m out there”—he irately signals out the window—“but when I come home, I have you to count on. You’ve been my solace, up until Sunday, anyway. When I come home now, all I do is worry more about you. While we have the remodel coming up and while I’m still fishing in the dark about what happened on New Year’s Eve and last Sunday!”
His obvious frustration pulls at my heartstrings, and I grasp that I’ve been underestimating the depth of Luca’s torment as I look at his tall, commanding frame that’s drenched in sadness.
“Which is why I need everything with Michael to run smoothly,” he continues, his voice rough as it rakes over my senses. “With the new team, nothing like this will ever happen again.”
Maybe I should just accept the present circumstances, because this form of miscommunicating is estranging Luca from me. Still, I’m disappointed that Luca discounts my story. He’s the one who opened my eyes to a ruthless world I refused to see when I married him and indirectly joined the Syndicate. I don’t believe in good and bad anymore – everyone does everything to gain power and money. Everyone has dark parts, myself included. Although Luca’s dark parts are frightening when he’s in full underboss mode or when he drinks alcohol. His darkness is ingrained in him since he holds so much power. He can’t afford to be stressed, so I need to set my own worries aside to take care of him. I’ve chosen him as the father of my children, and he’s the strongest of all four of us – I must support him instead of upsetting him.
Tenderly, I cup his cheek, caressing the stubble across his angular jaw, and I decide to trust Michael since Luca does.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how much Noah’s accident had affected you. But I get why you feel lost. I felt like the worst mother alive, but he’s fine, and I thank God for that, Luca. All we can do now is move forward. I feel like we’ve taken ten steps back within three days. You look at me with doubt and it hurts me—”
A howl coming from the baby monitor interrupts me. Sliding my hand down Luca’s face, I let go of him and turn into the wide hallway and then into the bedroom that’s lightly illuminated since the vanity lamps are switched on. Stopping at the foot of the framed bed, I lean over the pink crib, seeing Milana twiddling her arms beneath the sheets. Reaching down, I feel that her belly is hot, so I swipe the wool blanket down to uncover her.
“You were warm, weren’t you, baby?” I murmur and blow over her head, making her cries lessen until she sighs as she cools off.
Her eyes droop before I move to the vanity and settle down in front of the mirror in the velvet padded chair. My reflection stares solemnly back at me, and I try to calm down before returning to Luca, giving him a moment to collect himself as well.
My hope isn’t in vain because Luca comes inside the master suite, drawn to me, and as he passes me, his fingers graze my shoulders before he halts at the cribs. He kisses Noah and then Milana before he walks back, and when he stands behind my chair, our gazes clash in the mirror.
Luca rests his hand on my shoulder, and I cover it with mine. In this quiet moment, my deepest fears pour out, “I’m sorry. I want you to stop looking at me like that...”—I grip his hand while a tear streams down my face—“it’s killing me. I miss you so much. I miss your love.”
Luca goes down on his haunches to cradle my cheek. I turn my head until we’re nose-to-nose while his thumb swipes my tear away.
“Non piangere.” Don’t cry. “It hurts me when you hurt.”
“Then we need to stop this, Luca. I promise I’ll be honest with Michael so that the kids and I are safe always, for you.”
“Grazie.” Thank you. He gently brushes his nose over mine, taking in a deep breath to place a kiss right behind my ear, a gesture that heals the fractures in my heart.
“Anche tu mi sei mancata.” I’ve missed you too.
I understand his Italian very well by now. “Everything sounds better in Italian.”
Luca looks up, the corner of his mouth twitching as he sweeps my mahogany hair over the other shoulder, skimming his finger up my exposed neck.
The tender movement makes my head tilt to the side, and Luca kisses a path up to my cheek, whispering, “Lo adori quando parlo sporco in italiano.” You love it when I talk dirty to you in Italian.
“Sì.” Yes.
All of a sudden, his hand dances down my front. With a flick of his fingers, he unbuttons my jeans, wrenching them down when I lift my hips so that I can kick them off along with my boots. Then in one smooth movement, Luca grips the hem of my sweater, I raise my arms, and he yanks it over my head, leaving me in my plum lace bra and panties.
He shifts behind me and when he catches my gaze in the mirror, his green eyes glimmer with carnal yearning. Roaming his large palms down to my cleavage, he molds my breasts, his hot breath hitting my earlobe as he orders, “Allarga le gambe.” Spread your legs.
Instantly, my legs widen in invitation and Luca presses his mouth to my cheek as his hand roves over my stomach, leaving a hot trail in its wake. Reaching the seam of my panties, he slips beneath
the fabric to cup me, and I gasp from the delicious prickle it kindles as he makes lazy circles, nuzzling me and breathing harshly. My back arches as my body moves into his touch, the sensational friction sending me into nirvana. Then Luca gives me a wicked smile while we watch each other with half-lidded eyes.
Around a groan, he asks, “Vuoi che mi lecchi la figa?” Do you want me to lick your pussy?
“Sì.” Yes.
He nudges his finger inside, and I whimper unashamedly loudly. With his other hand, he holds my chin to turn my head to him and press his lips onto mine, forcing his tongue in with intoxicating assault. While our tongues dance, his finger drives into my wet channel in a matching rhythm, and when he pushes another one in, I ride them, my hips bucking to meet his thrusts as he roughly withdraws and then plunges back in. Every cell and nerve come alive with pure desire for him.
“Ah! Luca...” I pant, my wetness coating him, just when he growls, “I’m going to give you what you want.”
He swivels the chair and goes to his knees between my legs, his hands roaming over my thighs and to my hips. Grabbing my ass, he pulls me forward and my arms wind around his neck while he slants his mouth over mine again and we writhe into each other.
My body burns while I succumb to Luca’s expert kisses as his lips drag down my throat and he unhooks my bra with one flick. Using his tongue to circle the contours of my breast, he peers up with fire in his irises and covers my nipple with his mouth, sucking hard. His fingertips rake up my spine and then down, creating more exhilarating longing, before he kisses his way down my belly, removing my panties when I lean back.
Luca places one of my feet on the makeup table to spread me wide, giving himself a perfect view of my exposed position, completely naked while he’s fully dressed. His palms peruse my inner thighs, yet he stops with his thumb at my center, his focus exclusively on me. On us. And I feel cherished again. My head falls back from the arousing anticipation until he rubs the tip of his thumbs over my folds.
“Oh, yes!” I moan, causing him to grin and press harder.
“Tell me what you want me to do?” he commands.
“Taste me,” I murmur just as he dips forward and slices his tongue over my core.
Then his hands switch to my ankles, one propped on the table and the other on the floor, and he orders, “Keep them there,” before he dives in to suck me.
My body bucks while Luca holds my feet, and my legs are wide open. As I glance down, I tangle my fingers into his dark hair, grabbing it and messing it up when he adds more pressure and licks me for endless moments. Writhing in my seat, my feet move, but Luca keeps me confined while I thrust my hips up, sensing passion building deep inside.
“Fuck! Fallon,” he growls, gently nipping me and making me pant as a tidal wave of pleasure overwhelms me.
My hips buck up so that Luca releases my feet, and when the stars rain down on me, I bite my lip and reach the pinnacle, whimpering before I go slack to catch my breath.
But Luca stands up quickly to disappear into the bathroom, leaving me perplexed – I want to continue and please my husband. Feeling a little rejected, I cross my legs to cover myself. Yet I’m also happier because he’s let me in again. Or has he?
All of a sudden, I realize that I didn’t seduce him. He managed to skillfully seduce me without giving me assurance that he’ll stop drinking. Regardless, I’m glad he’s opened up about the nature of his concerns, so he probably needs a bit more time to feel like himself. And I’ll honor my promise and trust Michael. I only want my children to be safe as well. This is the life I lead, and I won’t lose my husband over a situation I can’t understand.
However, the human mind doesn’t work that way. There’s a voice inside my head that can’t be shut down, and ultimately, it tears Luca and me apart in ways we could have never foreseen.
CHAPTER 16
Fallon
I’M ROCKING NOAH, LOUNGING on the couch on Thursday night and stroking my finger over the red mark on his cheek while he’s in dreamland. Thankfully, his cut is almost healed. As he breathes loudly, I’m watching Netflix on the huge flat screen when the elevator door swooshes open, revealing Luca, who’s holding up a rectangular brown box.
“Buonasera.” Good evening.
“Hey, you’re early,” I greet him, looking at the round black and white clock hanging in the kitchen that shows six p.m.
Strolling inside, he appears less preoccupied than in recent days as he loosens his maroon tie and closes the distance between us to peck a kiss on my lips. Relief floods me since he smells minty fresh and I don’t detect alcohol.
“For you.” He lifts his arm, the box suspended on his palm.
With a smile, I stand up to give Noah to Luca before accepting my gift. Opening the lid, I see a burgundy hardcover book. “Did you get me another edition of...” Taking it out, I read the title: The Count of Monte Cristo, which is my all-time favorite classic. I began collecting different covers of the book when I was a teenager and Luca has found me several new ones. “Oh, Luca. Thank you so much! Where did you find this edition?” I flip open the novel covered with a thick red fabric and gilded letters.
“I have connections everywhere,” Luca murmurs, kissing Noah’s head and caressing his cut.
“Is this a peace offering?” I tease as he sets down the box on the oak coffee table.
He cocks his head. “Do we need one?” Which means: will you obey me – I know him better than he knows himself by now.
“No,” I reply, flipping open the book and smelling the paper, making Luca smirk before he glances down at my black wrap-around dress that ends at my ankles.
“Why are you dressed? Did you go out?”
“I went to the mall with the twins and Michael,” I say, wondering if Michael didn’t already update him, but he acts surprised as he sits down, embracing Noah firmly. Seeing Luca relaxing because of our presence – which is all he and I both wanted – strengthens my bond with him instantly. This is how we cope in this mafia world: sometimes we just need to let things go to not endanger our love.
“Do you like Michael?” he suddenly asks as I fold Milana’s blanket while she sleeps in the bassinet next to the couch.
“He’s a little closed off, like you. But he was great with the kids. I panicked at the store when both of the twins started crying, and he picked up Milana and calmed her down.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, and he has this way of making you feel comfortable with him, like Adriano does.”
“That’s why he was boss in New York. Did he tell you anything personal?”
“Not really. He told me how you and he met at college and how he became boss when he was young. By the way, does he always wear black because of his fiancée’s death?”
“Yes, he used to wear colors,” Luca replies around a sad smile.
“He doesn’t talk about her at all.”
“I noticed it too. It probably still hurts too much.”
“Probably. He’ll talk about it when he’s ready. So, yes, I do like him.”
Luca shows a grin, which turns salacious. “Don’t like him too much.”
“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Mr. DeMiliano,” I fire back, picking up the remote to stop the TV series I was watching. “If you’re worried about that, then you shouldn’t have forced him down my throat.”
Luca lets out a laugh as brown collides with green, and for a moment, we’re simply Luca and Fallon. Two people who adore each other and are building a marriage.
Then elation fills me when he suggests, “Let’s go out to dinner to Francitalia. Just the two of us. It’s early.”
“But Julia can’t come now,” I answer and add as a joke, “Maybe we should ask Michael to babysit them?”
“Is he home?”
“He said he would be.”
“Ask him then,” Luca counters.
“No, you ask him.”
“Fine.” Chuckling, he takes out his phone and brings it up to his ear, waiting
a beat before saying, “It’s Luca. I wanted to take Fallon out to dinner for an hour or two, so can you watch the twins if you’re staying home?”
After a moment, he laughs again. “Okay, we will. Thanks, man.” Then he puts his phone back in his pocket. “We have to feed and change them.”
Amused, I wander over to the armoire by the dinner table and grab two diapers, and we change the twins before placing them next to each other in the large, twin bassinet.
Just as we get finished, the bell buzzes and Luca goes to the elevator to push the button and open it, inviting Michael in.
“You’re lucky that I already ate,” Michael says, sauntering inside as Luca fixes his tie and I get my white wool coat from the bar stool.
“Did you prepare them like I asked?” Michael probes.
“Yes. But don’t panic if they poop,” I tease, and he shoots me a feigned glare, seemingly comfortable with me.
More importantly, I’m fine with leaving my kids in his care, which is a wonderful sensation.
“I’m taking my wife out. Call us if anything comes up, Michael.” Luca entangles our hands as I wave to Michael, and Luca leads me to the door, bestowing a calm yet wolfish smile on me. One he shows only me.
That night, we enjoy a romantic date with scrumptious food, and he manages to dispel all my uncertainties. I begin to understand that I’ve learned to adapt to unpleasant circumstances quickly, just like the other Syndicate members.
THE DAYS FOLLOWING, Luca starts coming home early while we contain our worries to keep our family together and ourselves sane. Daily life consumes my time as we take care of the twins and watch them grow, and I hold on to moments of happiness with everything I have. But there’s an elephant in the room we both ignore – it keeps nagging at me as long as I have no answers. Nonetheless, I continue as I promised my husband. I never go out without contacting Michael, and I always carry my gun with me. Luca was correct in saying that the new structured guard team would lessen our fears.
Two weeks later, I’m reclined against comfortable white cushions at the library window holding Noah, whose cut has faded entirely, while I read on my e-reader. But when my phone beeps from the living room and I stand up, I experience déjà vu and am thrown back to that moment when my son was harmed. Every time I receive a message from Luca, I wonder about that Sunday.
