Page 9

LUCA

A line of houses stretches along the far side of the long street before my estate, their silhouettes crisp against the dimming light.

From my window, perched high above the world below, I have the perfect view.

The terraces are alive, people sprawled across their decks, lost in indulgence.

My eyes linger on one couple, the girl astride the boy on a lounge chair, her body arching, her head thrown back in raw, unrestrained ecstasy.

The night thrums with desire. The air reeks of sex.

And nothing outside comes close to the vision before me, the woman in my arms, pressed against the floor-to-ceiling window. She’s stunning, flawless, and undeniably mine. My wife. I’m going to claim her, again and again, until there’s no doubt in her mind who she belongs to.

“Look at you,” I whisper in her ear, compelling her to moan as she glances at the soft reflection of us on the glass.

“Look at how gorgeous you are.” I turn her around and snake my arms around her, lifting her so that her ass is pressed behind, pinning her between me and the endless world beyond.

“Valentina,” I sigh out her name, and then thrust my cock swiftly into her.

She moans out loudly, her eyes becoming saucers, and I pull out the next instant. The result is an incredibly satisfying groan. “No!”

“Hm?” I smirk. “Dare I say you are enjoying yourself?”

Before she can respond, and the way she tightens her arms on my shoulders is response enough, I angle upward and thrust in again.

She’s so hot, so tight, she’s everything I’ve craved in a woman.

Her mouth hangs open, and she instinctively wraps her legs around my waist as I fuck her, moaning with each thrust.

“I might have to feast on that cunt of yours again, if you continue being such a good little wife,” I say as I thrust into her. “You want that, don’t you?”

“God help me, yes,” she cries out, shivering in my arms as I slide my cock in and out of that perfect little pussy.

My mouth covers her perky tits, sucking, biting, and pinching them between my lips and teeth. She spurs me on, her fingers trailing circles until she finds my balls and curls her small palm around them, slowly moving her own body up and down to match my stride. Fuck. What a woman.

I pull out and without warning, turn her around, aligning by back with her chest, one hand massaging her cunt, the other pressing firmly down on her back, so her ass is at level with my dick.

Just there, I pause. She’s still trembling, her asscheeks raised just enough to tease the tip of my cock. I slide it against the folds of her core, and it glistens with her juices. “Fuck,” I groan.

“Please,” she says, her voice low, strained. “Don’t make me beg.”

I thrust into her, my hips going in, long deep strokes, pulling all the way out then pushing in again.

Her moans and cries get dirtier by the second, and I fucking love it.

She’s an animal, although she doesn’t know it yet.

My hands reach out for her breasts, and I grab them, pulling her back so her palms slam on the glass as I ride her from behind.

Valentina Salvatore will be the end of me. I have never had someone this gorgeous, infuriatingly innocent, and at my mercy at the same time. Good that she belongs to me, because if she didn’t, I raze the city to have her.

My cock eases between those perky buttcheeks as I lift her hands overhead, pinning them above her. She moans, her eyes fixed on our reflection and the glittering lights of a million cars moving below us. I’m sure some people are on their balconies, watching us.

It's perfect. Let everyone know who she answers to. She’s mine. And I always get what’s mine.

“Oh God, I’m going to come!”

“No.” That’s all I say, without slowing down, continuing to drive into her, hard and fast.

“Wha—”

“Not until I say you can, sweetheart. Or this stops here.” My voice grows silky. She protests with cries, but doesn’t disobey me.

“I can’t take it anymore— pl?—”

“No.”

She groans in frustration and clenches her cunt around my cock, drawing a surprised exhale from me. “F—” Slivers of my cum leave my cock in strands, entering her core as I keep fucking her, not stopping until every last drop has filled her.

But I’m not done. Not even when I pull out, breathing like a fucking rabid wolf. I’m not near finished with Valentina Salvatore.

I turn her around, pick her up, and carry her to our bed. I push her back on the sheets and admire the glistening juices dripping from her core. Dropping beside her, I bite lightly along her neck.

Her breathing quickens, and her heartbeats grow rapid.

Her nipples are hard. She moans as my teeth graze her neck, her body telling me in every way how much she craves this.

My fingers slide between her lips, and her knees buck visibly.

I keep teasing her until she’s a livewire, barely allowing my fingers to touch her, just circling her clit.

“Please,” she moans to me. “Please, I need?—”

The words descend into an incomprehensible mumble. She tries grinding against me, to pull my fingers deeper inside.

“Don’t move,” I command huskily, withdrawing my fingers.

“Please…” she tries again, arching her back up, her hair falling in a lush cascade behind her. She’s never looked more beautiful than now, with her lips parted, her brows crossed, her eyes burning holes into mine.

“Hm,” I respond, as if I’m contemplating things. My fingers reach out again. The slowly glide over her clit, drawing out a prolonged groan from her.

I rub lightly, nibbling on her neck. I know she’s very close to the edge. And when she comes, I intend for it to be spectacular. It’s worthless if it’s anything less, that’s why I’ve been denying her up until now. I’m just the mafia king, I’m not a monster.

Ever so slowly, I begin gliding two fingers into her core. She moans out, begging me to go faster and harder, but I keep my ascent slow. With a third finger, I begin rubbing her clit, until she’s just short of exploding on my hand.

She’s shaking, clenching fistfuls of the bedsheet. “Please let me come,” she asks between moans, clenching and twitching over my fingers.

“Not yet,” I murmur, continuing to finger her pussy and clit. She fights to hold it back as I go on, spreading it over a minute, then two, then five.

“PLEASE!” Her moans are becoming high-pitched. Soon.

Her body begins convulsing. At that precise moment, I insert my already-hard cock into her.

She comes immediately, her pussy vibrating against my shaft as I fuck her like it’s the only thing that makes sense in the world.

I wrap my arms around her as she takes the reins, moving her ass back and forth with dirty little words coming out of that perfect mouth as I hit the deepest part of her.

With a barely restrained groan, I turn her around, lying back down as she straddles me, her hips swaying and bucking wildly as she rides my cock.

Her hair flies around her as she bounces up and down, head lifted up, lips parted in a long moan.

It’s that sight that makes me come once again, and I pull her down, holding her to me as I thrust myself into her.

“Yes,” she groans as my heat matches and floods hers, as she shakes and trembles and clenches against my cock, her pussy drinking every last drop of my cum.

When it’s over, she stays like that. And I hold her, breathing hard.

That was spectacular.

“Wow,” she whispers against my chest. “I have no words.”

For a change, I’m not sure I do either.

She slowly moves away and sits down on the bed beside me. I cup her chin lightly. “You should get some rest.”

“What are you going to do?” she asks evenly.

Interesting question . I’m going to think about things.

“Work,” I say firmly. Rising from the bed, I stride to the closet, pulling out an oversized t-shirt. Tossing it to her, I say, “Put it on. It’ll keep you warm.”

She catches it, her movements hesitant, her gaze lingering on me for a beat before she nods. “Can I freshen up before I sleep?”

I flick a hand toward the ensuite. “Go ahead.”

She pulls the shirt over her delicate frame, the fabric swallowing her, making her seem smaller, softer.

With careful steps, she moves toward the bathroom, her body tentative, as though testing its limits.

She disappears behind the door, and the sound of the lock clicking echoes faintly in the now-quiet room.

For a moment, I remain still, watching the closed door. Then I turn and leave, stepping into the courtyard. The cool night air hits me like a whip, sharp and unapologetic, but it doesn’t cool the storm brewing inside. My body thrums with a controlled power, my mind sharpening like a blade.

The darkness wraps around me. I rake a hand through my hair, tension coiling in my muscles as I force my thoughts into order. Valentina’s presence lingers—her scent, her breath, her body. She’s in my veins now.

I move through the courtyard to the spiraling staircase leading down to the main hall on the ground floor. I cross the expansive main hall without pause. The heavy doors leading to the gardens groan softly as I push them open.

The night is alive here—crickets chirping in the distance, a faint rustle of leaves carried by the breeze.

The air smells of earth and blooming flowers, rich and sharp against the cool night.

I walk along the stone path, flanked by perfectly manicured hedges and towering trees that stretch into the darkness.

Ahead, Donna Maria sits like a shadow, her form hunched in a worn rocking chair. The faint creak of wood and the tap of her cane against the stone ground are the only sounds in the courtyard. Her presence feels heavier than the night itself.

“Donna Maria,” I greet, my voice low and guarded.

Her gaze lifts, sharp as a hawk’s. “Luca,” she replies, her tone colder than the breeze whipping around us. “You’ve tied yourself to a fire you cannot control. And for what? A woman with a pretty face and no spine to speak of?”

I stiffen, fists curling at my sides. “Valentina is more than you think. She has strength, and she will grow into this life.”

Donna Maria snorts, leaning forward on her cane.

The firelight flickers across her weathered face, highlighting every line etched by years of wisdom and cruelty.

“Strength doesn’t come from waiting for a storm to pass, Luca.

It comes from walking into it. She hasn’t walked through anything.

You married a girl who doesn’t even know the weight of her own name. ”

I clench my jaw, the words cutting deeper than I want to admit. “She’s learning. She’s mine, and she’ll adapt.”

“She’ll break you,” she spits, her words venomous. “Mark my words, boy. You’ll lose sight of who you are, of what this family demands, and all for a woman who will never understand the blood in your veins. Your father?—”

“Don’t,” I growl, stepping closer. “Don’t bring him into this.”

Her mouth snaps shut, but her eyes burn with defiance. The silence stretches, heavy with all the things neither of us can say.

Finally, she leans back in her chair, her voice a low murmur. “You think you can mold her? Test her all you want, Luca. But if she runs, what then? Will you chase her? Or will you remember where your loyalty lies?”

I stare at her, the weight of her warning pressing down on me. I want to argue, to tell her she’s wrong, but the doubt festers, creeping like a slow poison. Is Valentina strong enough for this life? Strong enough for me? Or am I setting us both up for failure?

“I’ll do what needs to be done,” I say finally, the words heavy in the air. “For the family. For us.”

Donna Maria nods, though the judgment in her eyes doesn’t fade. “See that you do, Luca. Or you’ll regret it.”

I turn on my heel, her words ringing in my ears as I stride back toward the house. But instead of heading to the bedroom, I pull my phone from my pocket, dialing Marco. It’s late, but I know he’ll answer.

“Luca,” Marco’s voice comes through, groggy but alert.

“I need you at the estate tomorrow,” I say, my tone clipped. “Bring the papers and the file on Valentina. Everything.”

“Understood.” There’s no hesitation, only the efficient acknowledgment I expect from him.

I hang up and stand in the shadows of the courtyard, the phone heavy in my hand. If Valentina is going to stay, I need to know she can handle it. I’ll push her, test her, and force her to show me what’s buried under all that defiance and fear. If she breaks…then Donna Maria was right.

But if she doesn’t?

The thought ignites a murderously quiet rage inside me. A grim smile tugs at my lips as I look up at the darkened windows of the bedroom where Valentina sleeps.

We’ll find out soon enough.