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I pour every ounce of betrayal, every spark of hate, into it. My tongue swirls against his, tasting that dark, addictive edge that’s all Enzo. His lips are relentless, sucking my tongue, his teeth nipping, sending fire through my veins. I tilt my head, deepening the kiss, my mouth open, greedy. My fingers twist tighter in his shirt, pulling him closer.
He responds, his mouth harder, like he’s trying to consume me, to erase every thought that isn’t him. It’s too intense, my lips swelling, my breath stolen, and I’m drowning in it, in him, my body screaming for more even as my mind screams this is wrong.
Luis’s laugh sounds faint, distant, but I don’t care, not now, not with Enzo’s mouth on mine, his tongue fucking my mouth like he fucked me that night. My heart’s a riot, my skin buzzing. I press closer, my chest against his, feeling his fast heartbeat that matches mine. His lips move with mine, urgent, unyielding, and it’s like the world’s burning down around us—the cellar, Luis, everything fading into the heat of this kiss.
It’s a mistake, a surrender, but I can’t stop, not when it’s this raw, this explosive, my body alive with him, my lips locked with his, lost in the fire we’ve ignited.
11
Enzo
Fina’s mouth is a fucking inferno, her lips bruising mine, her tongue a wild, desperate thing tangling with my own. The kiss is chaos, raw and unyielding, her teeth grazing my lip, sending a spark of heat through me that’s all want and lust. Her nails are digging into my chest through my shirt, and I’m drowning in her, in the heat of her body pressed against me, her heartbeat slamming against my ribs.
The cellar fades, Luis’s mocking laugh a distant buzz, nothing compared to the fire she’s lit in me. My tongue pushes deeper, claiming her, tasting her, and it’s not enough, it’ll never be enough.
She’s my enemy, my wife, my fucking obsession, and right now, she’s mine, her mouth open, greedy, pulling me under. I groan into her mouth, my hands itching to grab her, to rip her clothes off and fuck her right here, but something snaps in me, a shred of sanity I don’t want.
I tear my mouth away, panting. My lips are raw and my cock throbs painfully in my pants. Her eyes are wide and wild, her chest heaving, lips flushed from our war.
I step back on almost wobbly feet, despite my heart kicking up a protest, every nerve screaming to pull her back, to keep going, to lose myself in her. But I can’t. Not here, not with Luis watching, not when she’s got me so twisted I can’t think straight.
“If that’s your play to free Luis,” I rasp, my voice rough, unsteady, “it won’t work.” The words are a shield, a weak attempt to regain control, but they sound hollow, even to me. I’m an idiot for ending it, for trying to be sane with her. I don’t want sane. I want wild, reckless. I want her body under mine, her screams in my ears, and the thought makes my blood burn hotter.
Her laugh is cold as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, green eyes blazing. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she snaps, stepping closer, her voice pure venom.
She’s trying to pretend the kiss didn’t rattle her, but it’s a lie. I see it in the flush of her cheeks, the way her breath hitches. She’s as fucked up by this as I am, but she’s Fina, all fire and defiance,and she’s not giving me an inch. She won't ever let me take a mile.
“Let him go, Enzo,” she says, her voice low, deadly. “Or it’s war. You’ve got five days.”
Did she just give me a fucking ultimatum? No one would get away with this. But she's not no one, she's Fina, she's my wife. Luis snorts, his cocky grin widening like he’s won something. My rage flares, not just at her, but at him, at myself, at this whole damn mess.
“Get out, Fina” I say calmly, my control flaring. Despite my outward calmness, my voice is a warning.
She doesn't flinch, just holds my stare, chin high. Then, without another word, she turns, her boots echoing as she storms up the stairs, the iron door slamming behind her.
The cellar’s quiet now, just Luis’s ragged breathing and my pounding heart. I turn to him, my fists clenching, my blood roaring. He’s still smirking, his bruised face twisted with amusement, like he’s got me figured out.
“Hell of a show, Mancini,” he rasps, his voice rough, taunting. “She’s got you by the balls, huh?” His laugh is a spark to my fury, and I’m on him in a second, my fist slamming into his jaw, the crack of bone against bone ringing off the stone walls. His head snaps back, blood spraying, and I hit him again, my knuckles splitting, the pain a release for the frustration boiling in me.
“You think you’re clever?” I snarl, grabbing his collar, yanking him forward, his chains rattling. “Keep laughing, and I’ll rip your fucking tongue out.”
He chokes, blood dripping from his split lip, but his eyes still gleam and it makes me want to break him, to erase self-satisfying smirk and the memory of Fina’s kiss in one brutal swing. I shove him back, my chest heaving, my hands shaking with the need to hit him again.
I head to my study, the manor’s halls cold and silent, the portraits of dead Mancinis glaring down like they know I’m losing my grip because of a woman. A woman whose family had been involved in the death of my mother. A woman who should be my enemy.
I should hate her. I'd started out this whole thing hating her. When did that turn to lust? Probably that first night, years ago, when I hadn't even known who she was. This is a whole lot complicated.
Fuck.
My lips still burn and the taste of her kiss lingers. My cock’s still hard, a fucking traitor that won’t quit. In my study, I pour a whiskey, the glass cold against my bruised knuckles, and down it in one burn. The fire in my throat is nothing compared to the one she’s left in me.
I sit, staring at the empty hearth, my mind replaying her ultimatum. She’s a Rossi, a tool, but she’s more, and it’s fuckingwith me. I need to focus. I need to deal with the traitor in my ranks, the mess with the Gallos, but all I can think about is her mouth, her body, the way she fights me and pulls me in at the same time.
I call Matteo and Adriano, my voice clipped as I summon them to the study. I need a new course of action. They both arrive quickly. Matteo’s easy grin fades into a curious frown when he sees my face. Adriano’s calm gaze steady, like always, a small smile creasing the frown lines on his face. These two are the people I trust most, their sharp minds a rock I lean on in any shitstorm.
I lean back in my chair, resisting the urge to light a cigar. “We’ve got a problem.” They both say nothing, their expressions urging me to go ahead. “The Gallo prisoner said something before he died. Something about my mother, about a deal gone bad years ago, tied to the Vitale crew.”
My mother’s name feels like a weight. It's a scar I don’t touch with just anyone. I haven't mentioned her in a conversation in a long time. Her memory is a sacred treasure that only I am allowed access to. Matteo’s eyes narrow at the implication of this, his jaw tight. Adriano leans forward, his hair catching the lamplight, his face focused, no hint of anything but loyalty.