Page 30

Vito frowns deeper, setting down the papers. “Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Fulvio’s not just a guard. He earned his place here.”

“And?” I arch a brow. “You think guarding my family is beneath him?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you implied.” My voice stays even, but there’s an edge to it. “There’s nothing more important than protecting my family. You, of all people, should know that.”

He pauses, then exhales slowly. “I’m just saying… bringing a Vescari into our fold, people will talk.”

I offer a thin smile. “What people think doesn’t interest me,” I reply, keeping my voice level. “Bruno isn’t a Vescari. Not really. And more importantly, he’s loyal to Francesca.”

Vito lifts a brow, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re bringing him in because of her?”

I shrug, playing the role of the indifferent boss, the man who still makes decisions with cold logic. “I trust her judgement. And he has skills we can use.”

He doesn’t respond right away. He studies me instead, just a second too long. Then he picks up the stack of papers he was reviewing before I came in.

“You’re making changes.”

“I am,” I say. “Problem?”

“Only if they come back to bite us.” He flicks through a page like he didn’t just issue a veiled threat.

I step closer and fold my arms across my chest. “If something bites us, I’ll know exactly where to look first.”

That gets his attention, and his gaze snaps up. There it is, that flicker of something buried beneath his usual calm. Not fear. Not guilt. But wariness. A hesitation I wouldn’t have noticed before. Now? It’s a fucking beacon.

He clears his throat. “Just saying. Don’t let your feelings cloud your judgment. We’ve seen what that does to men in this business.”

“Good thing I’ve never claimed to be anything but a man,” I say, turning away. “One who happens to know when it’s time to shake the board.”

I don’t look back as I leave the room. But I feel it—his eyes on my back, calculating. Trying to figure out if the game just changed without him realizing it.

And it did.

Tomorrow, the real show begins.

The house is quiet when I finally get home, shadows stretching long across the marble floors. It’s late. Too late to catch the twins still up, but I find myself moving upstairs instead of toward my office, drawn by instinct more than anything else.

I pass by Lucia’s closed door, her night-light spilling a soft glow into the hallway. It’s only when I reach Alessio’s room that I hear a soft murmur of voices and pause.

The door is slightly ajar.

I push it open gently and find her sitting on the edge of his bed, the moonlight painting a soft glow across her face.

Alessio is tucked beneath the covers, wide-eyed and animated as she adjusts the blanket around his chest. The plastic fencing mask rests beside him on the floor, his little wooden sword nestled under his pillow like a knight’s last defense.

I lean against the frame and clear my throat.

“Is the sword away? Am I safe to enter?” I ask, trying to sound casual.

Alessio’s face lights up. “Papa!”

His grin is instant, toothy, and a little lopsided. Francesca glances over her shoulder, her expression softening when she sees me.

“You’re safe for now,” she says, and there’s amusement in her voice. “But be warned, his blade is at the ready should you insult mermaids or pirates.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” I say, stepping inside. “I respect the sea.”

Alessio laughs, and the sound does something sharp and sweet to my chest. He shifts in bed, pulling the covers up higher. Francesca rises slowly and brushes a hand through his hair.

“I’ll go check on Lucia,” she says. “He wanted a story tonight. Do you want to do the honors?”

I glance down at my son, who nods eagerly.

“Of course.”

When she slips past me, her hand grazes my arm just enough to leave warmth behind. I sit on the bed beside Alessio and lean down so our foreheads touch.

“Once upon a time,” I begin, “there was a pirate prince who was fierce and brave… but had a soft spot for his sister and his Cece.”

Alessio beams, snuggling in. “Did he win the treasure?”

“He did,” I whisper. “But the treasure wasn’t gold. It was family.”

His eyes flutter closed before the words are done, his hand curled tight against his chest, the little sword resting just beneath it .

When I rise and step into the hallway, Francesca is just emerging from Lucia’s room. She closes the door gently, then turns, and for a long moment, we just look at each other.

There’s something in her eyes I can’t quite name. But it’s there. I’m not imagining it. There’s something between us.

“I’m going to work with Bruno,” I say. My voice is rougher than I mean it to be.

Her eyebrows lift, surprised but not unkind. “Good.”

I rub the back of my neck, suddenly nervous. “I want to make love to you again.”

A blush climbs my neck, ridiculous considering everything we’ve already done, but this feels different.

She tilts her head slightly, amused. “Nothing is stopping you.”

I take a step forward… and then stop. “I don’t want to just do it because I can. I want you to want it. I want it to be you choosing me—not a contract.”

She doesn’t hesitate. “It’s not because of the contract.”

And just like that, the air shifts. I reach for her hand, and she lets me take it.

“It doesn’t change anything,” she says, but it sounds uncertain. I don’t reply because I know that deep down, it does.

Wordlessly, I lead her to her room.

She follows silently, her hand warm in mine, but her breath quickens with every step. I can feel the tension between us, taut, humming, alive. When we reach the bed, I turn to face her, searching her eyes for any trace of hesitation.

There’s none.

I cup her face, kissing her slow and deep, like I’ve been starved for the taste of her. She melts into me, arms curling around my neck, and I walk us backward until the backs of her knees hit the bed. My fingers find the tie at the waist of her wrap dress and pull it loose.

She sucks in a breath.

“You stop me if this becomes too much.”

She nods, and I lean down to kiss her again. Not rushed. Not rough. Just… reverent.

When I part the dress, she shivers. Her bra and panties are lace, dark and delicate against her curves. She goes to hide herself, arms twitching like she wants to pull the fabric back over her, but I stop her with a hand on her wrist.

“Don’t,” I whisper. “You have no idea how fucking beautiful you are.”

She blushes, her gaze darting away.

I brush my knuckles down her side, over her waist, her hip, the curve of her ass. “You think I want someone small and forgettable?” I ask gently. “No, baby. I want this. You. Every inch of you. You’re a goddamn goddess, and I want to feel you riding me like you know it.”

Her eyes widen. “Me… on top?”

“Yeah.” I sit on the bed and pull her close. “I want you right here. I want to watch you fall apart while you take what’s already yours.”

She hesitates. “But what if I’m… not good at it?”

The question guts me.

I take her face in both hands, making sure she’s looking at me when I say it. “Francesca, you are perfect. You’re strong. Sexy. Mine. You’re not going to bad at anything, sweetheart. You’re going to break me apart .”

Her breath stutters, and when I kiss her again, she melts into it.

I strip quickly, watching her watch me. There’s no hiding my arousal—my cock’s already hard, aching for her. She lowers her underwear slowly and climbs into my lap with soft, unsure movements.

“It’s okay,” I murmur, guiding her into place. “Let me help you.”

I grip her hips, angle myself beneath her, and together we line up. She takes a breath, then slowly, slowly sinks down.

Fuck.

The heat, the tightness, the feel of her wrapped around me, it’s almost too much. My hands tremble against her thighs as she takes me, inch by inch, her body stretching to fit mine.

“Good girl,” I whisper, voice shaking. “Just like that. You feel so fucking perfect.”

She whimpers, bracing her hands on my chest, hips trembling.

“You okay?” I ask.

She nods, her cheeks flushed. “It’s… a lot. But good, really good.”

“I’ve got you,” I say, one hand at her waist, the other cupping her ass. “Just let me do the work.”

I start to move her, slow at first, gentle rolls of her hips guided by my hands. Her breath catches, eyes fluttering shut. She leans forward, resting her forehead on mine as our bodies start to fall into a rhythm.

“You’re doing so well.” I kiss her jaw. “So fucking gorgeous like this.”

She gasps when I grind her down harder, angling her hips just right. Her moan is breathy, uncontrolled.

“That’s it.” I groan. “Let go. Take it. Take all of me.”

I feel her start to tremble, her walls tightening around me. She grabs my shoulders, nails biting into my skin.

“Dante—oh my god?—”

“You can come, bella. Don’t hold back. Let me feel you.”

She comes with a sharp cry, hips jerking against mine, her whole body shuddering with the force of it. I hold her through it, every inch of me straining not to follow.

But when her eyes open again, dazed and wild and so fucking full of trust, I lose it.

I thrust up into her twice, hard, and then I come with a groan that sounds like her name and a prayer in one. My arms lock tight around her as I spill inside her, every muscle burning with it.

She collapses against me, breathless and trembling. I wrap my arms around her, tucking her close, our hearts thundering in sync.

“I love you,” I whisper against her hair. “I love you so much.”

She doesn’t speak, doesn’t say it back, and I don’t expect her to. But she stays right there.

And for the first time… I think she’s starting to believe me.