Page 164 of Dirty Mafia Torment

“You still got the hots for me?”

Her cheeks flush. “Maybe.”

A growl builds low in my throat. “But you made me suffer, waiting until I came for you.”

“I’m vindictive like that.”

I scoop her into my arms and carry her to the kitchen table, before laying her across it. “I’m going to put a baby in you right now, so you’ll never escape.”

I’ll get down on one knee later. Right now, I need her shaking with pleasure and laughing through tears.

Fina loops her arms around my neck and pulls me close. “Then show me. Over and over. Prove I’m yours and only yours.”

FINA

I waitfor weeks for Renzo’s proposal.

It never comes.

He’s wined and dined me, in expensive restaurants and small trattorias. One morning, he woke me before dawn and walked me from our new apartment, past the restaurant and club, to the river. He held my hand and kissed me as daybreak spilled color across theTiber. Another time, he took me to the opera, which I adored while he endured for my sake. And once, at the old barn on the farm, I was sure he was about to drop to one knee … instead, he chained me in the hay and fucked me until my knees buckled.

Be patient, I tell myself. He promised.

We’ve both been busy. Renzo’s in charge of Rome now while Dante’s in Los Angeles, running the West Coast in my father’s place. That’s right—Don Lombardi out, Dante in.

While Renzo charmed the Midwest Casino Trust into freeing the Eleven’s investments, I set my sights on Sebastiano Beneventi. I coaxed, I provoked, and when his silence stretched long enough to rattle me even over the video call, I pushed harder, demanding a favor for taking Renzo off his hands.

Terrifying and calculating, the most powerful capo di tutti capi in the Life and soon to be my father-in-law, and I didn’t flinch. Across the screen, I stared him down with every ounce of nerve I had, daring him to underestimate me. His low, amused laugh was music to my ears. “Cazzo. You two deserve each other.” Then he gave me what I wanted: my father branded an embarrassment, stripped of his place in the Eleven, and banished from the famiglie.

In the Life, respect is worth as much as money, and now my father has neither. He’s ruined. Alone. And I made sure of it. The last nail in in his coffin, hammered in by his own daughter.

Renzo’s on a mission to knock me up, and I can’t stop wondering what kind of parent I’ll be. What I won’t be is cruel or unfeeling, a hollow excuse for a mother.

My family is in Rome now, and I’m surrounded by people who love me here. Bianca’s still a shameless flirt, Camilla’s finally letting her hair down, Riley’s nearby, and Sandro’s almost tolerable when he isn’t bossing everyone.

Do I miss the States? Sometimes. But we return often enough, the demands of the famiglie business pulling us back and forth.

Do Renzo and I clash, fight, laugh?

You bet.

We test limits. We fuck.

We love.

And Renzo always knows how to stoke my curiosity. My knees still ache from last night.

“Are you ready?” His voice brooked no argument, pure authority, as he set the scene. We’re pushing boundaries before he softens our games with the promise of a baby.

“I’m about to lose my fucking mind,” I warned. His muscles tensed, lifting me off the bed as the shibari rope bit into my breasts and thighs. Below me, the mattress was spread with every wicked toy imaginable, a sinful buffet that could rival Sandro and Riley’s entire armoire.

“You’re at my mercy now,” he said, grinning, before suspending me in ropes and teasing me until every nerve in my body surrendered.

Renzo and I have been exploring Rome with a passion, too. Today, we’re on a private Colosseum Underground Tour, winding through corridors rich with history.

Our guide leads us into the arena. The space is vast and ancient, the echo of the gladiators’ footsteps shifting with the earthen floor. Sunlight slices across the weathered stones, glinting like it’s spotlighting every failure, every triumph etched into the ruins. In the Hollywood Hills, people “die” to get the right parking spot, to shop at the trendiest store, or to make the next great movie. Same illusion of drama with wildly different stakes.

I glance at Renzo, and notice the guide has slipped away. “Where did he go?”