Page 61 of Legacy (The Sovereigns #2)

Angelo

S he’s rushing.

Again.

Mia moglie.

My wife, is never on time.

A smirk tugs at my lips as I wrap my hand around her wrist just as she turns—searching for a purse that’s already in her hand.

Her head snaps up. Eyes wide. Frantic.

“Breathe.”

She swallows. Stills. Takes a shallow breath.

I step forward. She steps back, until her spine presses flush to the wall. I cage her in, looming.

I press a kiss to her soft jawline and feel her breath shudder.

“You need to relax. You’re going to be fine.”

“But I—”

“Shh.” My teeth graze her pulse point.

A breathy sigh escapes her lips.

Pulling back slightly, I trail my eyes across her face, landing on her eyes.

“You’ve got this,” I praise, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

She’s gorgeous. Wild curls twisted in a bun. Face flushed. Lips parted.

She shouldn’t be leaving the house. I should drag her back to bed .

“Angelo, no,” she says, firm, but her eyes tell a different story.

A smirk plays at my lips.

“I’m just looking.”

“I’m going to be late. We can’t.”

“Okay,” I answer, soft and low.

“This is important to me.”

“I didn’t say anything,” I chuckle, stepping back.

“You’re giving me that look,” she says, breathless.

“I’m just looking at my wife.”

She chuckles, exhales a soft sigh. Her face relaxes.

“You should open your own firm,” I say. “I don’t know why you’re bothering interning with anyone else.”

She rolls her eyes. Those beautiful brown eyes.

“I just passed the bar. There’s no way opening my own makes sense. Plus who would trust me enough? I have to work my way up.”

“You don’t.”

“Angelo…”

“ What? You don’t. You could open your own firm. People will come.”

“Who? Your men who are always in some sort of mafia trouble?” she arches a brow. “And with my last name…”

She shakes her head.

“There’s millions of Amato’s. How would anyone connect the dots?” I say, settling on the couch as she slips on her heels.

“Using your name or my maiden one doesn’t matter, Castillo isn’t much better.”

Your name.

I hate when she says that.

It’s our name.

“Open your own,” I repeat.

She gives me a pointed look.

“So you can have your men guarding every door? It’ll look like a front.”

I laugh. “No one would notice them. They can be discreet. ”

“You talk so much shit about Santo, but at least Vasilisa knows she’s being watched.”

Ouch.

“Hey. She’s locked up all day, a caged little bird. You—you’re free. You can go wherever you want. Live your life.”

“So long as you’re watching from the shadows,” she says lightly.

Too lightly.

But the words hit deep anyway.

“I’m still a bird. Just tethered.”

She leans in and kisses me, soft and quick; like a habit.

Like she didn’t just brand my chest with something I don’t know how to fix.

“I’ll text when I’m heading home. Will you be here all day?”

I barely hear her. That last word is still echoing.

Tethered.

I nod, then realize what she asked.

“No. I’ll be at the estate, but I’ll be back. Santo and Vasilisa will be there tonight.”

Her brows furrow.

“For Elena’s birthday,” I answer.

Her eyes widen. “I forgot. I need to make some calls, get things prepped.”

She’s getting that frantic look again. I lift my hand.

“It’s handled. I took care of it.”

She freezes. Tilts her head. Chuckles.

“You took care of it—or Vasilisa did?”

I smirk. “She’s the second best Amato to join this family. You know it was her.”

“Second best?”

“Only to you, amore.”

She shakes her head and chuckles, that smile lighting up the room. She blows me a kiss before the elevator doors open, and then she’s gone .

Every time she leaves, it feels like a piece of me goes with her.

I shoot a text to Enzo.

‘With your life.’

A reminder.

My wife better be safe.

***

She’s a fucking vision.

I’ll never get enough.

The fabric drapes over her body like it was made for her—every curve, every dip, every soft, infuriating inch of her cloaked in that deep crimson silk. My color. My curse. My fucking addiction.

She stands before the mirror, lifting her hair. “Can you zip me up?”

I move behind her slowly, fingers brushing the base of her spine. “You sure you want me to touch this dress, Tesoro? You might not make it to dinner.”

She glances at me through the mirror. “We only have an hour.”

I hum low in my throat. “That’s more than enough time for me.”

My fingers catch the zipper and begin the slow pull upward, but I pause halfway. My lips find her neck, pressing a kiss just below her ear. She shivers.

“You wore this for me.”

“For the party,” she lies, voice already breathless.

“Liar,” I whisper against her skin, letting my teeth scrape lightly, leaving a promise. “You wanted me to lose control. You wanted to be touched.”

“Angelo…”

Her name in my mouth is a prayer and a warning.

I grip her hips and press her against the dresser, hard enough to make the glass bottles on top rattle.

“You’re killing me,” I mutter, burying my face in her neck.

“ Every time I think I’ve reached the limit of how much I can want you, you walk around like this and prove me wrong. ”

“You think you get to walk around looking like this, in my color, in our house, and not tempt me to fuck you?”

She arches back against me, that perfect body begging to be claimed. That’s all I need.

I drag the zipper down, slower this time, the sound loud in the silence as I peel the dress from her shoulders, kissing each inch I uncover like I’m branding her. She gasps as it pools around her feet like blood on marble.

“No bra,” I tease, cupping her breasts with reverence and greed, thumbs brushing over her nipples until she whimpers. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

She huffs. “Shut up and kiss me.”

I spin her around, grip her jaw, and crush my mouth to hers. She moans into the kiss, and I swallow the sound, tasting her surrender.

I lift her onto the dresser, tearing her panties down and tossing them aside like they’re nothing. She’s already dripping, thighs trembling as I sink to my knees before her.

“Spread for me, Tesoro. Let me taste what’s mine.”

She does, shaking, so fucking beautiful it hurts.

I drag my tongue through her, slow and deep, letting her taste flood my senses, drowning me. She cries out, fingers tangling in my hair, trying to ride my face. I let her. I want her wild. I want her ruined.

“Inside,” she gasps, voice wrecked, nails biting into my shoulders as she pulls me up. “Now.”

I unzip my pants and slide into her in one hard, aching thrust. Her eyes flutter closed. My hands grip her thighs, keeping her wide open for me as I thrust deep, slow, and controlled.

“ There it is, that’s what you need right?” I rasp, thrusting deep, slow, dragging every inch of my cock against her walls. “That stretch? That ache ? My cock filling every part of you, marking you. No one else will ever touch you. No one else will ever get to see you like this. ”

Her head falls back toward the mirror and I catch it, forcing her to look at me as I bury myself deeper.

“Eyes on me,” I command, my hand wrapping around her throat, just enough pressure to hold her there, to make her feel it. “Don’t you dare look away while I fuck what’s mine.”

She whimpers, lips trembling, eyes glassy.

“I want you to know who you belong to when you’re walking out there tonight with my come dripping down your thighs.”

Her pussy clenches around my cock, her breath breaking.

“Say it,” I demand, my voice rough, pushing deeper, making her take every inch. “Say who you belong to.”

“You,” she gasps, falling apart.

“That’s right,” I hiss, pushing deeper, dragging another broken moan from her mouth. “ Say it. Let the walls hear it. Let the floor remember the sound of you coming undone for me.”

She’s shaking—flushed, ruined, and I still don’t let up.

“You were made for me. Every part of you. Your mind. Your mouth. This perfect body. Mine .”

“Yours,” she breathes out.

I brush my thumb across her lips, then slide it into her mouth and watch her suck it with wide, desperate eyes.

“That’s right,” I whisper, voice low from how hard I’m holding back. “Even if I lost everything, my empire, my name, my family…I’d crawl back to you on my hands and fucking knees. Just to taste you one more time. Just to feel you like this again.”

She gasps like she can’t take any more. But she will. She always does. She was built for me.

I slide my wet thumb across her bottom lip before pressing one last kiss to her open mouth and thrusting so deep she sobs into my mouth.

“Now come for me, Tesoro,” I murmur against her lips. “Let me feel it. Give me everything.”

And she does .

She breaks, utterly breathtakingly. My name a scream from her lips. Her pussy clenches around my cock, tight and pulsing. I fuck her through it, holding her down as her body milks every drop from me. I bury myself deep, spilling into her, marking her from the inside out.

She collapses against me, breathless, shaking, and I hold her there, my hand cradling her head.

“I know,” I whisper, arms wrapping around her. “I’ve got you. Always.”

After a moment, I brush her hair back and kiss her cheek.

“We still have some time,” I say, voice rough with affection and smug satisfaction. “You think I can zip that dress again without ruining it?”

She lets out a soft, breathless laugh against my shoulder.

“Doubt it.”

The elevator chimes.

A sharp, echoing sound that slices through the heavy silence like a warning shot.

Adriana stiffens against me. “ No —tell me that’s not them already.”

I glance at the clock, then smirk. “Guess they’re early.”

She groans into my chest. “Of course they are.”

I press a kiss to her collarbone, then slowly, reluctantly, ease out of her, hissing as I do. Her breath stutters, her thighs still trembling.

“I have to clean up,” she whispers, eyes wide as I zip up my slacks and tuck my shirt back in, casual as ever.

I crouch down instead, fingers snaking along the floor to pluck up the crimson scrap of silk she had the nerve to call panties. I hold them up between two fingers, let my gaze drag up her still-naked body with a look that says mine , then fold them once and slide them into my pocket.

“Angelo,” she breathes, eyes wide. “You’re not taking those.”

I lean in, pressing a kiss just below her jaw. “I’m not taking anything. I’m keeping what’s mine.”

She opens her mouth, ready to argue, but I press a finger to her lips.

“Stay here. Fix the dress. I’ll handle them. ”

I smooth a hand through my hair, roll my shoulders back, and head toward the hallway. Each step pulls me farther from the warmth of her, but I don’t look back. I don’t have to. She’s mine.

By the time I reach the foyer, the elevator doors are already open.

Nico nods, stepping aside as the chaos pours in; Elena’s laugh, Riot’s boots on my marble floor, Santo’s shadow in the background with Vasilisa beside him like a star caught in orbit. Luca’s quiet nod. Familiar faces. Family.

I meet them in the entryway with a smile, cool, sharp, like I didn’t just fuck my wife senseless with a dinner party looming.

My hand is still in my pocket.

And Adriana’s panties are right there with me— right where they belong.