Page 8

8

EMMY

I feel like I've been run over by a train, my head pounding and my wrists sore, but now that I'm in Alessandro's arms, I know that everything will be okay.

He tucks me into the passenger seat of his car, then sinks to the ground next to me, taking each hand into his and looking over the abrasions from the ropes one by one. Then he takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning my face side to side, frowning at the blood on the right side of my face.

"Where else are you hurt?"

His voice is low and gruff, and I can see the rage simmering beneath the surface of his calm expression. He's barely holding onto his control, and I can't help but shiver. He's never been sexier than he is right now, protecting me, ready to destroy anyone who stands in his way.

"My head hurts," I admit, tears threatening to fall from my eyes, "and my wrists. But I'm okay."

He looks at me for a long moment, rises, and opens the driver's side door. "I'm taking you back to my apartment. I'll call the doctor we have on payroll, but you aren't leaving my fucking sight tonight, Emilia. Understand?"

I nod, knowing better than to argue with him when he's this wound up. The drive back to his place is short, but it feels like an eternity. He carries me up to the apartment, and I'm too tired to protest. By the time he lays me on his bed, I feel like I could sleep for a week.

"Don't leave me,” I plead when he stands, the idea of being alone in the dark suddenly overwhelming.

Alessandro pauses in the doorway, his hand on the light switch. "Never. I'm just going to let the doctor in.”

The doctor arrives within minutes, and after confirming that I’m not concussed and don’t need stitches, Sandro is visibly less tense. I drift off as he steps into the hall, lulled by the sound of his voice talking with the doctor.

The next thing I know, a pair of gentle hands lifts me up, and I force my eyes open to see Alessandro carrying me to the bathroom. He sets me on the counter and turns on the shower. When the water is warm enough, he helps me undress, and I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

There's dried blood crusted on the side of my face, and a huge purple bruise blooming on my jaw. I look like hell, but I don't care. All I want is to be close to Sandro.

He leads me under the spray of water, helping me wash away the blood and grime from the warehouse. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, as he carefully cleans my body. When we're both clean, he wraps me in a towel and carries me back to the bed.

I let him dress me in one of his T-shirts, then burrow against his chest, needing to feel him close. He holds me tight, kissing my forehead.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I should have protected you."

"It's not your fault." I shake my head. "You didn't know Marco was the one who betrayed Enzo."

"I should have known." He sounds pained. "I should have seen the signs."

"No one else did." I lift my head, looking into his eyes. "You couldn't have known. It isn't your fault."

He doesn't answer.

I sigh softly, resting my head on his chest again. "Can you just hold me? I need you."

Sandro does as I ask, and at first, it's perfect. Being in his arms is all I need at first, but as the tension winds down, it's replaced by a thrumming fear over what has happened to me today.

I'm alive , I keep telling myself. I'm alive.

And nothing makes me feel more alive than when Sandro is inside me.

I shift in his arms until I can press my lips to his, and he responds immediately, kissing me back with a hunger that takes my breath away. It's like a switch has been flipped, and now the only thing either of us can think about is getting closer.

His hands slide under the shirt I'm wearing, skimming up my sides until he finds my breasts. He teases my nipples, making me gasp. "Sandro..."

"Are you sure, tesoro?" he asks, his voice a low growl. "Because if we start this, I'm not going to stop until I've fucked you senseless."

"Yes," I whisper, kissing him again. "Please, Sandro, I need you. I need to feel you."

He doesn't need any more encouragement. He rips the shirt off me in one swift move, baring my body to him. He groans at the sight, leaning down to take a nipple into his mouth. The wet heat of his mouth sends shivers through me, and I moan.

Sandro kisses and sucks at my breasts until I'm trembling before he puts his hands on my hips and coaxes me into flipping over onto my knees, his palms moving to cup my asscheeks. I wiggle back into his touch, sucking in a breath when his questing fingers graze my back entrance.

"I want to fuck your ass, Emmy," he rumbles. "I want to give you something so intense that I burn all the fear of today away."

"Yes," I pant, pushing back into his hand. Anything to feel him inside of me, to be one with Alessandro. I trust him.

His finger rubs back and forth over my tight ring, making me shudder. I’m nervous, but my arousal wins out.

"So fucking sexy," he growls, leaning down to kiss the back of my neck. Then he's gone, and I hear the sound of the nightstand drawer opening, followed by the snap of a bottle opening. A moment later, he's back, and I feel the cool touch of lubricant as he drizzles some between my cheeks.

His finger swirls through the slick liquid, rubbing over my puckered hole before slipping inside. I gasp at the strange intrusion, but the pleasure of the sensation quickly takes over.

"So fucking tight," he groans, thrusting his finger in and out. "I can't wait to fuck this virgin little hole."

I whimper, rocking back against his finger. He adds a second digit, stretching me carefully.

"That's it, tesoro. Take it. You're going to look so fucking gorgeous with my cock buried in your ass."

Sandro slowly works me open, adding a third finger when he thinks I'm ready, until I'm practically begging for more. He gives my ass a playful smack, then he pulls his fingers out, gripping my hips tightly.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes," I moan. "Please, Daddy."

He lines himself up with my ass, then begins to press forward. The pressure is intense, but it doesn't hurt. It feels incredible. I take a deep breath and push back against him, and his cock slides inside of me, inch by tight inch.

"Fuck, Emmy, your ass feels so good."

"Yes, Daddy. Please fuck me."

He doesn't need any more encouragement. His grip on my hips tightens and he starts to move, thrusting in and out of my ass in slow, deep strokes. The feeling is overwhelming, and just like he promised, all other thoughts leave my mind. There's only room for Sandro and the things he's making me feel.

"Oh, God. Yes, Daddy!" I cry, pushing back to meet his thrusts. "Fuck me harder!"

"So fucking tight," he growls, slamming into me. "Such a good girl for me."

His hand slides around to my pussy, finding my clit and using his thumb to stroke it back and forth. Sharp, clear pleasure shoots through me, and I keen his name.

"Are you going to come for me?" Sandro grunts, his thumb working faster. "Are you going to come on my cock while I fuck your ass?"

"Yes, Daddy, yes!"

I can barely think, let alone form words, but I know I'm about to fall apart. Sandro knows just how to touch me to make me lose control, and he isn't letting up. The pressure in my core is building, threatening to explode...

And then it does.

My orgasm hits like a hurricane, crashing over me in wave after wave of pleasure. I scream his name, my entire body trembling as I ride the waves of ecstasy. Sandro groans, his hips stuttering against mine. "Fuck, tesoro, I'm going to come."

"Come for me, Daddy," I gasp. "Come in my ass."

That's all it takes. He slams into me one last time, burying himself to the hilt. I feel his cock pulse inside of me, filling my ass with his seed.

We collapse onto the bed, spent and satisfied. Alessandro pulls me into his arms, kissing me softly. "Are you okay?"

I nod. "Yeah, I'm perfect, actually."

He chuckles. "I'm sure you are. I'll be right back."

He slips out of the bed, and I watch him disappear into the bathroom. A moment later, he returns with a warm washcloth. He cleans me up, then tosses the cloth aside and joins me in bed again. I snuggle into his arms, letting out a happy sigh.

"You really are perfect, tesoro," he murmurs, stroking my hair.

I smile against his chest, feeling totally safe for the first time since I heard Marco behind me. Despite all of the trauma from today, Sandro has eased my worries, and in minutes, I'm fast asleep in his arms.

A week later, I'm back at my desk, feeling more rested than I have in a long time. I've spent every night since the incident at Sandro's apartment, and while we haven't done much more than sleep and have sex, I can't deny how much I like waking up beside him every day.

Now, though, something feels off. Sandro is working himself to the bone, and while he keeps me close, the flash fire connection between the two of us has cooled somewhat. He isn't hiding that we're together anymore, that's for sure, but with Marco and his cronies gone, the entire DeLuca family has been in an upheaval. No one is ever really concerned with me, but now I might as well be a ghost.

Not that I mind. That's my place, and I like it. I just wish I didn't feel like a ghost to Sandro, too.

I've made a decision, and I know he isn't going to like it, but it might be enough to snap him out of his stupor. I've been going home with him every night without a second thought, but today I'm going to finish my shift and go downstairs to my own apartment. I don't plan on telling him, just doing it.

It's the only way to prove that I'm not going to be a doormat. I know I want Sandro, but I also need to consider what it would mean to be in a relationship with a mafia Boss. It's a dangerous world, and the man who's supposed to keep me safe has been shutting me out lately.

I want to fix things. I want to help Sandro, but I can't do that if he won't let me in.

My decision is solidified when, at 4:45 PM, I still haven't seen him since we arrived together this morning. He moved my desk into his office after the Marco incident, but the big empty space just feels wrong without Alessandro. I pack my things up, hoping to avoid seeing him by leaving a few minutes early, so there isn't a confrontation in front of family and staff in Bellissimo .

Another change is my constant guard, a newly promoted associate-turned-soldier named Nico. He almost jumps out of his skin when I exit the office, which he's posted up outside of, and moves to escort me downstairs without a word. I don't bother complaining. I've done this song and dance now for a week, and there's no getting rid of Nico. Sandro must have put the fear of God in him.

My plan works, and Nico leaves me at my apartment door, not sure what to do. "I've got two locks on the door. You're dismissed, Nico. I'm fine."

"Mr. DeLuca gave me explicit instructions," he replies, shifting on his feet, looking uncomfortable.

"Do you want to sit outside my door all night?" I ask, arching a brow.

He shakes his head.

"Good, neither do I. Go home. If Sandro has an issue with it, I'll take the blame."

Nico seems to hesitate for another moment before he nods, and I know I've won. "If you need anything?—"

"You'll be the first one I call," I tell him.

He nods and turns back down the stairs, leaving me alone. I take a deep breath, letting myself into my apartment and locking the doors behind me. I have no idea how Sandro is going to react to this, but I know it needs to be done. I spend the next two hours cleaning my already-spotless apartment, and when there's a knock at my door, I'm elbow deep in soapy dishwater.

I turn off the water, drying my hands as I move to the door. When I open it, I'm not surprised to see Sandro there. He looks apoplectic, which doesn't surprise me, either. My heart races like a hummingbird, but I coolly cross my arms and lean against the door frame.

"What the hell are you doing here, Emmy?"

I wave towards the sink. "Dishes."

"Don't be smart with me, tesoro . I just got in, and imagine my surprise when the driver I sent to pick you up and bring you home three hours ago was still waiting out front. Why are you here?"

"I live here."

He stares at me for a long moment. "You've spent the past week in my bed, and now you're living here again?"

"You've been different," I say softly. "I don't want to be a burden."

He curses, running a hand through his hair. "You could never be a burden, Emilia. You're mine, and I will keep you safe."

"What about when you don't have time for me?" I ask, my voice barely audible. "I don't want to be someone you just take care of when you're not too busy running the family."

He pulls me to him, tucking my head under his chin. "You're more than that, Emmy. You always have been. I didn't mean to push you away, but with everything that happened..." He trails off, shaking his head.

"It's okay," I murmur, but he cuts me off.

"No. It isn't. You deserve better." He lifts my chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing me to look into his eyes. "You deserve the world, and I'm going to give it to you."

I planned on being harsher, more stubborn, but this man just makes me melt. The scent of his expensive cologne, the warmth of his touch, all work together to undo me.

Except when I stand on my tiptoes, expecting a long, lingering kiss, Sandro instead just gives me a quick peck before pulling back. I sink back to the flats of my feet, confused. "What...?"

"Shut the door and lock it, Emmy. I'll be back for you soon. Dress nice for me."

And without another word, he's gone, his heavy footsteps audible on the concrete stairs that lead back to Bellissimo . I stand in the doorway, blinking a few times, before shutting it and locking it like I've been told.

Well, that didn't go quite how I expected. I guess I need to get dressed.

When Sandro returns ninety minutes later, I've dressed for dinner, but his air of seriousness when I answer the door tells me that we're not going somewhere to eat.

No, this is Alessandro DeLuca, Boss of the DeLuca family, not my Sandro. I love both versions of him, but it's still a surprise?—

Wait, what? I love him? The realization is so startling that I stand in the open doorway, speechless until Alessandro reaches out to touch my shoulder. "Emmy?"

"Fine! I'm fine!” I chirp, overly bright. “Why do you ask?"

Amusement filters through his seriousness. "I didn't. Are you ready?"

I shake my head, filing away the thought of loving the most dangerous man in Chicago for later, and look down at the black fitted dress I've put on. It's nothing I would wear to work, but hopefully it will work for whatever Alessandro has planned. "Do I look okay? I still have no idea where you're taking me."

"You look perfect , tesoro . Don't bother with the coat, we're just going to the meeting room upstairs."

"Oh. Well, okay." I don't bother to hide my confusion, but I've also learned that if Sandro doesn't want to share, he isn't going to, and there's no point in pushing.

I can feel any easiness bleed out of Sandro as we take the elevator to the meeting room floor, and by the time we're outside the door, he's still as stone and almost unrecognizable from the man I wake up to each morning. I can hear the voices from inside, and my confusion deepens. What the hell is going on?

I feel all of their eyes on me the second I step into the room.

The air is thick with cigar smoke, the smell of whiskey, and the power of all the gathered men. Men who built the DeLuca empire long before Alessandro took over.

And now, they’re all looking at me. I recognize all of them—newly promoted Underboss Lorenzo, all of Alessandro's Caporegimes, and their top soldiers. I've seen them all a million times, but never once have I had their attention directly on me, let alone all of them at once. I'm usually underfoot, unnoticeable, but tonight I am noticed.

Tonight, I am anything but invisible.

I swallow hard, my fingers curling into the fabric of my skirt. Sandro stands at the head of the table like a king before his court. His presence dominates the room, dark and commanding, his suit perfectly tailored to his broad frame. His gaze locks onto mine, and just like that, the storm inside me settles. He lifts a hand to me, silent but expectant. The same hand that has cleaned blood from my face, that has made me come undone in bed. It might look like an order to some, but to me, it's a reassurance.

I take it.

His grip is firm, grounding, and when he pulls me forward, my legs move before I can second-guess myself. All of a sudden, I'm at the head of the table with him, an unimaginable place for someone like me. Silence stretches between us and the men. Some of them watch me with curiosity, others with barely concealed doubt, and a few with clear disapproval.

Sandro doesn’t tolerate it.

“This is Emilia Moretti.” His voice cuts through the quiet like a blade. "You all know her, and if you don't, you will after tonight."

The men glance at each other, as if hoping that someone might explain what is going on. I'd like an explanation, too, because I feel like I'm on the verge of being sick.

“She is mine.”

The words are simple and stark. Coming from Alessandro, the Boss, it means something. I don’t know what I expected him to say, but hearing it aloud, in front of these men—these dangerous, powerful men—makes my skin rise with goosebumps. He's not looking for approval; he's telling them with no room for argument.

Sandro squeezes my hand, his warmth steady against my skin. “From this moment forward, she is under my protection. You will show her the same loyalty and respect you show me.”

I barely breathe. No one speaks; no one dares to. When the Boss makes a declaration, all they can do is shut up and listen.

“You will not question her place,” he continues. “If you do, you answer to me.” He pauses and lets the words sink in.

“Betray her,” —his voice drops low and lethal like a viper ready to strike— “and you betray me.”

I swear I hear someone swallow. I know what they must be thinking. I'm nothing but a secretary, someone Enzo pitied and kept around, never knowing what a crucial part I've played over the years. I don’t look like I belong here, next to a man like Sandro. But Sandro doesn’t care what they think, and it's his confidence that makes me realize I don't care, either.

I lift my chin slightly, even though I can hear my blood rushing in my ears.

"Any questions?" None of the men dares to speak, and Alessandro nods in approval. But he's not done. “Now, I want to hear it.”

Another long pause, and finally, Lorenzo finds enough courage to speak. "Hear what, Boss?"

"Swear your fealty to her. All of you. Emmy is my woman, and if I am to lead this family into the future, then I need to know that every single one of you will protect what's mine. Let Marco be a lesson. After he fucked with her, I broke every bone in his face before he was given the mercy of death. So swear it."

For a long moment, I think that they will all remain silent, but then Lorenzo speaks again. “I swear fealty to Emilia.”

A second follows.

“I swear fealty to Emilia.”

Then another.

“I swear fealty to Emilia.”

One by one, the voices ring out, filling the room. Some are firm, some are reluctant, and some I know are purely for Sandro's sake, but in the end, they all say it. When the last vow is spoken, the room falls silent again. My chest rises and falls, but it still feels like I can't get enough air.

Sandro tilts his head down, his dark eyes locking onto mine. The edge in them softens slightly as he lifts my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles.

"You are mine, tesoro, and now everyone knows it. You're untouchable."

I exhale shakily. When he said he was going to give me the world, he meant it. “Because of you.”

His gaze doesn't leave mine, but when he speaks again, it's to the gathered men. "I'm trusting all of you with my wife. Don't make me regret it."

There are shocked murmurs, but my gasp is the loudest of them all. "Your what?!"

Sandro reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, red velvet box. He opens it, revealing a shining diamond solitaire ring. "My wife," he repeats, smiling at me. "Emilia Moretti, I love you. Will you marry me?"

I don't even hesitate. "I love you, too! Yes, oh my God. Yes, Sandro!"

I should be shocked, should be stunned, but instead, tears of joy are freely flowing down my face, joy blooming in my chest like a rose garden.

There's a murmur around the table, but Alessandro doesn't seem to care. He slips the ring onto my finger and pulls me into a deep kiss, sealing the deal. I lean into him, feeling the eyes of all the men on me, but this time, I want them to look. Hell, I want the entire world to witness this moment.

I'm marrying Alessandro DeLuca. The future is ours.