Page 59 of Legacy (The Sovereigns #2)

I pause, then huff a quiet laugh against her shoulder, pressing one more kiss there.

“No, Tesoro,” I say, voice low, reassuring. “There’s no one out here. I would never let anyone see you like this. You’re for me. Only me.”

She lets out a small breath, her body relaxing.

“Okay,” she whispers, and I hear the trust in that word, the quiet relief.

I slide out of her slowly, pulling her back against my chest, one arm looping under her knees, the other around her shoulders as I lift her into my arms.

She makes a small sound, a tired, contented hum, her arms wrapping around my neck as she buries her face against me.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, Tesoro,” I murmur, pressing my lips to her temple. “Then I’ll take you back to bed.”

“But the meeting…. don't leave without me,” she mumbles.

“I'm not going anywhere without you Tesoro.”

And I carry her inside.

** *

Pulling into the underground lot of NovaRael, I kill the engine. Adriana opens the door before I can get to her side.

“I should’ve fought you harder on that outfit,” I mutter, eyes dragging down her legs as she steps out. Her heels hit the pavement like a threat.

She doesn’t flinch. “I look fine, Angelo.”

“That’s the fucking problem. You look too good. Why didn’t you wear a shirt under that thing? Your tits are on display, and those are mine.”

“It’s a blazer dress,” she snaps, slipping her hand into mine. The warmth of her skin is the only reason I’m not dragging her right back home. “It would look stupid with a shirt. And unless you’re paying for a reduction, they’re staying exactly as they are.”

She stops, grips my jaw, and kisses me quick—sharp and silencing. “Such vulgar words out of that beautiful mouth.”

I grunt as the elevator dings open and we step inside. My hand tightens around hers.

“Just remember who you belong to.”

Her eyes gleam up at me. “Hard to forget. I can still feel you inside me.”

My groan is low. Feral. “Keep talking like that, Tesoro, and we’re not making it upstairs.”

She smirks. “Maybe that’s the plan.”

When the elevator opens, my hand slips to the small of her back, fingers grazing over the curve of her ass like I’m branding her. My wife is fucking perfect.

A sudden squeal breaks through my thoughts.

Vasilisa barrels toward us barefoot, laughing, blonde hair flying like gold thread.

“Adriana! You look gorgeous. White suits you.”

I scowl. Tiny isn’t wrong. That’s the damn problem. More eyes on my wife.

Adriana beams. Vasilisa giggles.

Santo’s not far behind. He wraps an arm around his wife like he’s locking her in place, nodding at me, then at Adriana .

He’s looking at her too long. It’s the first time I’ve ever wanted to gouge my brother’s eyes out.

“No shoes?” Adriana asks Vasilisa, her voice breaking my murderous thoughts.

Vasilisa shrugs, cheeks flushed. “Must’ve left them in the office.”

Santo clears his throat, his gaze landing on mine. “They’re waiting in the conference room. Maksim’s already there.”

Of course he is.

Gone for weeks, back for one day, and he thinks he runs shit.

We head down the corridor toward the heavy doors. Santo pushes them open. Everyone’s here, my men and Maksim’s. Scattered shadows filling the room.

Santo drops into a chair and pulls Vasilisa into his lap like it’s instinct. They move as one.

I guide Adriana to the seat beside mine at the head of the table, my hand resting on her thigh. She looks at me, soft smile tugging at her lips.

“Nice of you to join us, Amatos,” Maksim drawls, sprawled in his chair like he owns the place, hair dyed midnight blue today, the metal in his face gleaming in the light as his gaze flicks to Vasilisa. “Nice to see you again, Kisa.”

She smiles; sweet and lethal. “Feeling’s not mutual, cousin.”

Santo doesn’t blink. Just pulls a snack cake from his jacket, unwrapping it like it’s a weapon and hands it to her. She takes a bite like it’s peace.

Maksim’s eyes cut back to us, but for a split second, they soften when they land on Adriana. It’s quick, but I see it—the ghost of the smirk, "Nice dress."

“Nice hair,” Adriana notes, dry amusement in her voice.

Maksim’s lip twitches, a spark of whatever dynamic they had when she wasn't speaking to me.

I don't like it.

“Let’s get to it,” I say before I aim my gun at his face. “We know where Arsen is. What’s the move?”

“We flood the compound,” Maksim snaps. “Overwhelm them. Break them.”

“You want to send everyone?” I raise a brow.

“We can’t fuck around and play slow. NovaRael pulled the intel you two got, it checks out. The underground ring is legit, but they’re small.”

Beside him, Vaska twirls a knife like he’s bored. “Quick. Fast. Efficient. Cut them off at the knees.”

Adriana shifts beside me, clearing her throat.

“You want to send all of you?” she asks. “Including my husband? And Santo?”

Maksim’s eyes snap to her, the softness gone. My hand grips the edge of the chair. He better choose his next words carefully.

“Your husband’s the Don. Why would he sit at home? To babysit you?” he smirks, but there’s a flicker in his gaze, a hesitation.

“He is the Don,” she says coolly, “which is exactly why he’s important. Not to babysit me, Korsakov, but because if he, his consigliere,” she gestures to Nico against the wall, “and his underboss all walk into a half-cocked ambush and die—then what?”

This is what they don’t get. She’s not just a lawyer or a pawn in some alliance, she’s a queen. And they’re lucky she’s on our side.

Maksim’s jaw ticks, knuckles whitening on the table, and for a breath, he looks like he might explode.

“You don’t have much faith in your husband, Castillo,” he spits.

“It’s Amato,” she corrects, voice a whip. “And I have all the faith in the world. But we’re not willing to risk Cosa Nostra the way you’re willing to gamble the Bratva.”

For a moment, silence stretches. Maksim’s eyes flick to her, and for just a heartbeat, something like reluctant respect flickers there.

“She’s right,” Vaska mutters, breaking the tension. “We need to be smart, not sloppy.”

Maksim’s jaw flexes, but he leans back, drumming his fingers against the table, eyes narrowing at Adriana .

“Alliance or not,” Adriana says, steady and sharp, “the preservation of Cosa Nostra comes first. We need a better plan; or we’re out.”

Maksim smirks. “Or you’re out? ”

“Yes,” she says firmly. “You’re underestimating the Armenians. Everyone has a failsafe; and I guarantee they have theirs.”

Santo hums, brushing crumbs from Vasilisa’s lap as she adds calmly, “She’s right. We don’t need all our forces. We need the right ones. Diversion. Containment. Eyes first. Then fire.”

Maksim’s smirk falters.

“So the women speak for us now?” he scoffs.

A voice cuts through the room as the doors swing open.

“Women tend to be right. At least in my household.”

Luciano Castillo.

Adriana’s head snaps toward him. “Hermano,” she startles.

He grins. “Hermanita. Good to see you at the helm—right where you belong.”

Maksim curses under his breath. His men shift, tension spiking.

“What the hell are you doing here, Castillo?” Maksim snarl.

Luciano chuckles, low and dark. “I was settling business. But I’m part of this alliance, aren’t I?”

“Thought you didn’t want in on the war,” I say, eyes narrowing.

Luciano meets my gaze, unblinking. “I didn’t. But when it comes to my bloodline…” His eyes drift to Adriana, softening for a moment. “If my sister needs me—I’m here.”

Good.

When I called the bastard about sending men to guard Adriana while I go into this war, he hung up on me. Glad the fucker changed his mind.

Adriana’s brow furrows. “I didn’t ask for your help. Or speak to you.”

“Still angry with me, then?” Luciano chuckles, sliding into an empty seat. “That’s fine.”

Maksim doesn’t take his eyes off him .

“Adriana’s right,” Luciano continues, gesturing between me, Maksim, and himself. “We don’t go to the front lines. We’re too valuable.”

Coward.

“Bullshit,” Maksim snaps, leaning forward, eyes flashing. “If you’re too pussy to go to war, then go back to your sunshine and sail your fucking boat.”

Luciano smiles, slow and cold, but his eyes are deadly. Before he can speak, I cut in.

“Korsakov, we’re not going in reckless. NovaRael can run full undercover surveillance before we bleed men. We send a few in, hollow that shit from the inside out. Strategy, not recklessness.”

“Bylad!” Maksim shouts, slamming his fists on the table. “This is why we formed the Sovereigns—so we’d have enough men to bleed! My soldiers are willing. Are yours? ”

“You—”

“Ayla,” Adriana says suddenly cutting me off, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed.

Maksim snaps toward her. “What?”

“If Angelo dies, I go back to Florida, under Luciano again. If Santo dies, Vasilisa ends up back in your care. And if you die… where does she go?”

She doesn’t blink.

“Better yet, where does Ayla go?” Adriana presses, voice like a blade. “Who does that girl belong to, Maksim? Who protects her if you’re dead?”

Maksim goes still. No breath. No words.

Then he stands.

The chair scrapes across the floor, loud and final.

“Do what you have to, Amato,” he bites out, eyes locked on mine. Then to Vaska, clipped: “We’re done.”

He storms out, his men following.

Luciano’s laugh chases them out of the room.

The door slams shut behind Maksim.

The room falls silent .

Only Luciano remains laughing, slow and deliberate. He starts clapping, the sound echoing against the steel and glass like gunfire after the battle’s over.

He leans back in his chair, eyes locked on Adriana with amused admiration.

“Hermana,” he drawls, “you’re ruthless. Using his what—his woman? Against him? Nice.”

He stands, straightens his cuffs, and throws me a nod before sauntering out like he owns the place.

Silence again.

I turn to the room. My voice is calm. Final. “Santo will send assignments. You’re all free to go.”

Chairs scrape. A few murmurs ripple through as my men file out.

Santo stands, Vasilisa still curled in his lap. He lifts her easily, her arms looping around his neck.

He claps a hand on my shoulder, and for the first time in a long time, there’s pride in it. “Talk to you later, fratello .”

Vasilisa gives Adriana a soft, quiet smile.

Then they’re gone.

And finally, it’s just us.

I turn to look at my wife.

She’s lounging like she didn’t just take down a giant with her words. Arms folded, expression unreadable. But the pulse at her throat tells a different story—steady, fierce.

“You were incredible,” I say, voice low. “I’ve never been more proud of you.”

Her eyes meet mine, and something shifts in them—like maybe she needed to hear that more than she’d ever admit.

“I did good?” she asks, unfolding her arms as she leans toward me.

I capture her lips, my hand sliding to the back of her neck.

“You were a fucking queen,” I murmur against her mouth.

She moans into the kiss.

And fuck, I love her for it.

My queen. My Tesoro. The reason I’ll win this war.