Page 75 of Intense (Beneath The Blaze #3)

STEPHANIE

I sit in silence trying to comprehend the last few hours while Finn goes to fetch my bag. Even this moment is a test. The doors are open. I could attempt to run from him.

But I don’t want to. Not now. I want to wrap my arms around him and tell him everything is going to be okay.

My husband is part of the mafia. I’ve been blackmailed by his enemies. Yet, none of that bothers me. I’ve never felt safe, not until I fell for Finn.

When he returns, he gives me a soft smile as he hands me my bag. I pull out another sundress, this time red, and slip it on while he gets Nyx, and she settles around his neck.

“No panties?” he asks.

“More for you to rip off me? I’ll end up with none if you carry on.”

He lifts me up to my feet and laces his fingers through mine.

I follow Finn’s lead out of the room and down the hallway toward the main set of doors.

“One chance to leave, temptress.”

I squeeze his hand tighter.

“I’m not going anywhere without you.”

He turns, really looking at me this time, his eyes searching mine like he’s trying to burn the truth out of me.

“I don’t want to ruin you, too,” he sighs.

I tug him closer, my grip catching on his chin until his face tilts toward mine.

“I was broken a long time before I met you, psycho.” A grin curls at my mouth. “You just gave me the freedom to be myself.”

His tongue drags along his teeth as he smirks.

“Freedom to be yourself, huh? You mean you want me to facilitate your murderous ways?”

I nod slowly, biting back my smile. It feels good to not just be seen but to be accepted.

“Yeah. That’s what a good husband should do, right? Bury the bodies for me?”

He chuckles, and his fingers circle my throat like a warning.

“Are you burying mine too? Or am I going to need a bigger cleanup crew?”

I press a finger to his lips, shaking my head.

“Not if we make them look like accidents.” I wink.

“Fuck, you’re a menace, aren’t you?” he whispers.

“Only to those who deserve it.”

I rise onto my toes and press my lips to his.

“Let’s keep it that way, eh?” he says, a seriousness flashing in his pale eyes.

“I’m not crazy, Finn. I’m not someone they’re going to make documentaries about.”

“I know. Although I can’t say the same about myself. We do have to be careful. There are rules in my world that you’ll have to follow. Do you understand that? The mafia is different.”

I blow out a long breath.

I’m sure I have a lot to learn about his way of life, but I want to. I want to know everything there is to know about Finn. I want to be part of it in every way. With him I have a purpose, that little spark I was missing this whole time.

I love my job, yes. But there was always something missing. Life was always a little dull. Until I fell madly in love with Finn. The pieces are finally fitting together. We make each other whole.

“I understand, sir.”

“Good girl.”

He opens the metal door and leads me through a dark corridor. Then it’s like stepping foot into another world.

A mansion that’s elegant, with glittering chandeliers, neutral tones, tasteful wallpaper, polished wood, and plants thriving in corners.

He has fucking plants.

Not just a house. A palace. A home.

We stop at one door, and Finn carefully unwinds Nyx from his throat, placing her into a room that looks like paradise, with glass tanks, heat lamps, and no way for her to escape. She’s safe. She belongs here.

We head down the grand staircase into the living room.

“Wow. Finn. This isn’t what I expected.”

He strides to the kitchen and puts coffee on. I’m still spinning, taking it in. The air smells divine. The place is spotless.

I’d pictured a cold bachelor pad. A shell. Not this.

“What did you expect? Zebra print walls and some inspirational quotes? Something like, Only you can be the one to make it happen ?” he mocks.

I bite my lip to keep from laughing.

“Yeah, something like that. Or a gold toilet. Rich boy,” I tease.

He chuckles.

“Who says I don’t have that? Gotta waste my money somehow.”

My mouth drops.

“Shut. Up. No, you do not.”

He hands me my coffee, and I smile; it’s perfect, oat milk and a sprinkle of sugar. Exactly how I take it.

“Thank you.”

He nods, then gestures with his cup.

“Go on, explore. This place is your new home.”

I nearly choke, almost spitting onto his pristine rug.

“Excuse me?”

He tugs me into his chest, his fingers biting into my waist.

“My wife will live with me. You want this, right?”

I stare into his eyes, the fight bleeding out of me. We are a team. That’s how it was always meant to be.

“Sounds fun. Roomie.” I wink.

A growl rumbles from his chest, his grip on my hip hardening.

“That isn’t how this is going. You’re mine, love.”

My heart flutters wildly.

I slip from his hold and wander down the hallway until I find his office. Shelves climb high with books and medical journals, leather-bound volumes older than either of us. Wooden desk, polished floor.

His footsteps follow close behind.

I trail my hand across the desk until he spins me to face him.

“Does this feel like home?”

I set my coffee down on his paperwork, placing both hands on his chest, feeling his heart pick up under my palms.

I smile. “Anywhere you are is now my home, Finn.”

His expression darkens as he nods. “I feel that way too. But, I do have to go away for a little while, love.”

My smile falters. “Where? Not prison, I hope.”

He runs his fingers through my hair.

“To London. There’s a man there, the one who tried to kill Conan. The one who killed my father. The family who fucking ruined me.” His jaw grinds, rage simmering in every muscle.

“You’re going to kill him?”

He chuckles low.

“Kill? We’re going to make him wish he was never fucking born. We’re going to torture him and every one of his men until they’re begging for death. It’s not just a kill, love. This is ending a war that’s gone on for decades.”

I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him down to me.

“That’s hot, hearing you speak like that. I bet your enemies are petrified of you.”

A shiver runs through me. My husband is terrifying.

“I’d like to think so. Conan is the one they fear most because of his size and his fury. I’m the quiet one they know will slit their throats.”

I drag my finger along his neck.

“Oh yeah? You like it messy?” I bite down hard on his skin, tasting him.

“Sometimes. Depends on where the mood takes me,” he says with a menacing grin.

He lifts me onto the desk, spreading my legs open.

“I really should get some more clothes delivered here.” I flutter my lashes.

“Already one step ahead of you,” he says with a wink.

“Good. Because I’ll need outfits for London.”

His expression shuts down.

“No.” His voice is firm.

“No? You’re telling your wife no?”

I snap my legs closed, but he growls and yanks them back apart with a sharp tut.

“Temptress. I am not taking you into an active warzone to watch me torture a man.”

I pout.

“I want to watch. I want to see how you work. I want to learn from you.”

His hand clamps around my throat.

“And it’ll really turn me on,” I whisper.

“No. Stephanie. You do not want to see me like that.”

“Yes. Finn. I do. Take me with you. Please.”

He shakes his head.

“You have work.”

“You’re my boss. I’d like to request vacation for a few days,” I counter.

His grip tightens, lips brushing mine.

“It’s dangerous.”

“More dangerous than what you just did to me?” I spit back.

“Low blow,” he whispers.

“I can look after myself. You won’t have to babysit me. I just want to be there for you.”

He steps back, studying me with a predator’s patience.

“You can fight?”

A grin tugs at his lips.

“I—uh—may have taken some self-defense classes. You know, being a young stripper, I had to have some kind of protection.”

He nods once, then straightens, his gaze sharp.

“Punch me.”

“Pardon?”

“Did I stutter, love? Hit me. Show me you deserve to join me.”

He’s not joking. I slip off the desk, clenching my fist. As I step in front of him, I’m torn with a mixture of excitement and nerves. But I want to prove myself.

“In the time you’ve taken to contemplate the punch, I could have killed you already,” he mutters, completely unamused.

I pull back my fist, and it lands square on his jaw.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t even blink.

Fuck.

“Finn.” My voice is cautious.

“Again. Harder,” he barks.

I grit my teeth and swing again, with a lot more power this time.

His head goes back with the impact, and he rubs his cheek as he looks dead at me. And my fucking psycho husband smiles.

He smirks. “Atta girl.”

Then he surges forward, slamming me back against the bookshelf.

“What now?” His voice drops to a whisper, heat and threat tangled together. “How are you getting me off you?”

A thrill shoots through me.

I fight him, straining against his hold, knowing this is only the beginning. He’s strong; I know I don’t really have a chance in hell. But I’ll try.