Page 25 of Death (Mafia Empire #3)

SANTIAGO

This trip to the island turned out in my favor. I’m no longer nervous about the future because Ciara’s made it clear she wants to stay with me.

Thank fuck.

I don’t know how I would’ve handled having to leave her with Grace.

Eladio is recovering well, and I get to spoil Ciara today for her birthday. Things are looking good.

Lying awake in bed at one am with my arm tucked under my head, I’m too excited to sleep. I’m waiting for five o’clock so I can wake Ciara and we can watch the sunrise together.

A soft shuffling noise has my eyes flicking to the partially open door, and climbing out of bed, I switch on the bedside lamp.

Before Ciara, I used to sleep naked, but since she’s been living with me, I wear sweatpants so I don’t accidentally traumatize her even more.

I walk to the door, and opening it, I find Ciara sitting on the floor right outside my bedroom.

Looking terrified, her eyes dart up to me, and she whispers, “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No.” I crouch down. “Why are you sitting on the floor?”

“I had a bad dream.” Her eyes sweep over my chest, and the fear quickly vanishes from her face.

Holding out my hand to her, I smile. “Want to sleep by me?”

She quickly places her hand in mine, and as I help her up, she says, “Please. If it’s okay.”

“It will always be okay,” I assure her.

I get to have her in my bed.

I lead her into my room and wait for her to climb onto the bed. The light blue shorts and T-shirt she’s wearing has me struggling not to stare at her legs, ass, and the clearly visible curves of her breasts.

Who would’ve thought blue balls would take me out at the age of thirty-eight?

When I bought clothes for her, I made sure there was a variety because I didn’t know what style she preferred. At first, she lived in sweaters and slacks, but since coming to the island, she seems to be growing more confident.

I lie down beside her and switch off the light again. Not letting the chance pass me by, I turn onto my side and reach for Ciara, pulling her close to me.

Lying face-to-face with her, I push my arm beneath her head while brushing her hair away from her shoulder with my other hand.

“Better?” I ask.

Her eyes shine in the dark. “Yes.”

Unable to stop myself, I grip her tightly to my chest. I place my hand behind her head and rest my cheek on her hair.

Ciara’s arm moves over my side and she presses her body fucking hard to mine.

Fuck this feels good.

I rub my hand up and down her back before gripping her hair in a fist and practically squashing her in my arms.

The love I feel for her overwhelms me, and I press a kiss to her head, a tremble shuddering through my body.

Her breathing speeds up, and it sobers me right the fuck up. Pulling back, I ask, “Too much?”

She shakes her head, closing the small distance I put between us. When I wrap her tightly against me again, she whispers, “It just feels very comforting and safe.”

“Good,” I murmur, soaking in how fucking incredible this moment is.

It’s been a month since I found her, and even though she still has to start therapy, she’s made a lot of progress. I plan to bring up the group meetings or one-on-one sessions with our resident psychiatrist when we return home.

Her voice trembles when she asks, “Have you found him?”

“Not yet. But I will,” I assure her.

“Will you kill him?”

I pull back again, and staring into her eyes, I brush my hand over her cheek and hair. “Do you really want to know?”

When she nods, I reach for the bedside lamp and switch it on again. Picking up the stack of tarot cards that’s lying beside my phone, I say, “Usually I let the person choose a card before I kill them.”

Ciara reaches out and takes the cards, slowly looking at each one, then she says, “I like the black and gold.” Her eyes dart to mine. “What does each card mean?”

The corner of my mouth lifts. “With ‘The Devil’ and ‘Judgment’, I get to choose how they die.”

She holds up a card. “Strength?”

“I fight the person until either one of us is dead.” Her eyes widen, and it has me quickly adding, “I’m really good at fighting. You don’t have to worry about me.”

I watch as she glances through them again, then she shows me another card with a gold pillar on it.

“The Tower means I throw them off a building.”

“Why do you make them choose? Why not just shoot them?”

“Some people deserve more than a bullet,” I answer honestly. “By them choosing a card, I leave it up to fate.”

Ciara nods, and she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth when she looks at the card with the Grim Reaper printed on it.

“Death,” she whispers.

Before she can ask the meaning, I say, “That one’s too gruesome for your ears, mi sol .”

Her eyes flit to my face again. “Are you going to let Nolan choose a card?”

I stare at her for a moment, then ask, “Would you like to pick his card?”

She glances through them all, then stops on Death again. “Is this the worst card?”

“Yes. The person will suffer for weeks.”

She hands me the stack while keeping one for herself. “I choose Death.”

My lips curve into a smile. “Good choice.”

I’m going to have that fucker’s limbs removed one at a time until he loses his mind.

I set the pack of cards down on the bedside table and switch off the light.

When I turn back to face Ciara, she snuggles against my chest again, gripping the tarot card in her hand.

“Try to sleep, mi pequeno sol .”

She rubs her cheek against my skin. “Night, Santiago.”

“Night.” I begin to trail my fingers up and down her back, and a few minutes later her breaths even out as she falls asleep.

Closing my eyes, I enjoy the feel of holding my woman in my arms. I keep dozing on and off until my alarm starts to sound from my phone.

I quickly turn it off, and before I can turn back to Ciara, she scoots closer and stretches out, throwing her leg and arm over me. She hugs me as if I’m her personal pillow, and it has a grin stretching over my face.

There’s not a chance in hell I’m waking her up, and I decide to let her sleep so I can hold her a little longer.

CIARA

Waking up, my mind clears instantly when I feel Santiago’s muscled body beneath mine. Somehow, I ended up sprawled all over him.

Opening my eyes, it’s to one heck of a view of his six pack. I’m still trying to process all the hotness that’s his abs when I notice the bulge beneath his sweatpants.

He doesn’t have an erection, but still, the outline of his manhood is near impossible to ignore.

I wait for the panic and fear to hit, but instead, my cheeks flush hot, and my stomach fills with a nervous tension I’ve only felt once before. It was when I had a crush on a boy at school. Nothing ever came of it, though, and it wasn’t as strong as what I’m experiencing now.

Oh my God. I’m crushing on Santiago and staring at his cock.

I quickly sit up, brushing a hand over my hair in an attempt to tame it.

“Did you sleep well?” Santiago asks, his voice not groggy at all, telling me he’s been awake for a while.

“Yes.” I shoot him a nervous smile and scoot off the bed. “I’m going to make coffee. Can I pour you a juice?”

“Please. I’m just going to freshen up.”

Nodding, I walk out of the bedroom as fast as I can and head straight for the coffee machine. I switch it on, then run to my bathroom and quickly brush my hair and teeth before hurrying back to the kitchen.

Opening the fridge, I see a cocktail blend of fruits, and I pour some into a glass for Santiago. I spin around to put the carton back in the fridge but almost drop it because he’s standing right in front of me.

He takes the carton from me and sets it down on the counter, then he frames my face with his hands and leans down.

My heart practically bursts from my chest as I realize what he intends to do, but he only presses his mouth to mine for three seconds max before pulling back, and I feel disappointed it didn’t last longer.

“Happy birthday, mi sol .” He stares deep into my eyes, and it feels as if he’s promising me the world. “I hope today will be amazing for you.”

Only then does it sink in that it’s my birthday.

“Have your cup of coffee and get ready because I have a surprise for you. Dress for the beach.”

A smile spreads over my face, and I quickly add sugar and cream to my mug before taking my coffee to my bedroom, so I can drink it while I’m getting ready for the day.

While I sip on my beverage, I glance over the clothes that were packed for me.

Dress for a walk on the beach.

Crap. No sneakers and socks. Unless I take them off.

Wanting to look pretty, I dig through the clothes until cream fabric with large, tan-colored leaves catches my eye. The pants are high-waisted and flare wide around the legs, and there’s a matching cropped top.

I set the mug down on the dressing table and quickly change into the outfit. The top has thin straps, so I’ll have to go braless for the day.

Walking to the mirror, I check my reflection. The pants cover the scars on my ankles, making me feel brave enough to wear sandals.

I gather my hair and tie the strands in a ponytail, so it won’t blow in my face during the walk.

Standing in the middle of the room, I glance around me. “Okay. I’m ready.” I pat my hand against the chain around my neck, checking that the ring is still there as I leave the room.

Halfway to the kitchen, I remember my cup of coffee. As I turn around to get it, Santiago comes out of his room. He’s wearing light brown pants and a white button-up shirt.

He glances up from where he’s done rolling up a sleeve, then a grin tugs at his mouth. “Wow. That’s officially my favorite outfit on you. Well, besides your pajamas.”

The compliment gives me a self-esteem boost and makes me feel pretty.

When he holds out his hand, I don’t hesitate to take it. Excitement fills me as we leave the house, and in this moment, I feel a little like the woman I used to be.