Page 21

Chapter Twenty

Rafaele

M y entire life and purpose within the mafia shifted off its axis the moment I married Nora. It shifted even more when I began to feel for her—something I never expected—and then it shifted again when I realized she felt the same way. But now? Now, she’s not just my wife and lover. She’s carrying our child. A part of us growing inside her. The thought leaves me in awe.

I want to worship her every moment of the day, to take all the burdens I can from her shoulders, but she won’t allow it. She’s a warrior, my woman—strong and resilient—and she faces everything with a quiet determination that both humbles and amazes me. I know, deep down, that she’s a gift from the gods. It takes someone exceptional to care for a man like me, and yet, I have her.

She’s not visibly pregnant yet; it’s only been three months. But I already find myself watching her every move as if I can somehow protect her from all the dangers, both seen and unseen. The mafia world has never felt more threatening than it does now, knowing she and our child are a part of it.

The thing is, I never expected this. Not love. Not a family. Yet here I am, and for the first time in my life, everything feels… fragile. I’ve never had something so precious to lose.

This morning, she steps out of the shower, steam billowing out behind her. The sight of her—wet, radiant, every inch of her glistening in the soft morning light—makes my chest tighten and my cock twitch. Without a word, I grab a towel and gently begin to dry her off, my hands lingering on her curves, tracing the lines of her body as if I’m memorizing every detail.

She raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Don’t you have a meeting today?”

I pout dramatically, pretending to sulk as I continue drying her, my fingers brushing across her skin with reverence and desire. “Do you really want me to leave?”

She chuckles, shaking her head, amused but indulgent. “I’ll be fine, Rafaele. I’ve got work to do too.”

I drop the towel and step closer, letting my hands rest on her hips as I pull her to me. “Forget work.” I lean down, pressing soft kisses along her jaw, tasting the faint hint of her soap mixed with her natural sweetness. “Let me take care of you. Worship you.”

Her breath hitches, and she looks up at me, her eyes darkening. “And keep Paolo waiting?”

“He can wait,” I murmur, my mouth moving to the curve of her neck, my hands caressing her damp skin as I sweep her into my arms, cradling her against me as if she’s the most precious thing in the world—because she is. The knowledge that she’s carrying our child fills me with a fierce joy I can barely contain. I bring her to the bed, laying her down gently, my eyes never leaving her face. She looks up at me with that soft smile, and I feel it—this ache, this incredible feeling I can’t name but can’t deny.

I keep my eyes on her as I discard my suit before I bend down to kiss her, soft and slow, pouring everything I feel into it. Her lips part beneath mine, inviting, and I can’t hold back. My hands glide over her, mapping the curves of her body, and when my hand settles over her stomach, a surge of pride and wonder hits me. My Nora. My light .

I brush a strand of hair from her face, whispering, “You’re perfect,” letting my hand drift lower, caressing her thigh and then her hips. She shivers beneath my touch, her lips parting with a sigh that drives me wild.

I press a trail of kisses down her neck, pausing to taste the delicate skin, moving slowly, savoring every inch of her bare body beneath me, her beauty taking my breath away. “I don’t deserve you,” I murmur, my voice thick.

Her cheeks flush, her eyes shining with warmth, and I can’t hold back any longer. I kneel at the edge of the bed, spreading her thighs, pressing soft kisses along the sensitive skin, watching her body react to every touch, every kiss. She’s trembling beneath me, and I feel a fierce satisfaction, knowing I’m the one making her feel this way.

“Rafa…” she breathes out, her voice a soft plea.

I don’t answer; instead, I lower my mouth to her, tasting her, savoring the sweetness of her arousal. She gasps, her body arching beneath me, and the sound only drives me to give her more. My tongue moves slowly, deliberately, tasting her, feeling her respond, her body tightening with every stroke. Her hands tangle in my hair, her breath hitching as I flick my tongue over her clit, teasing, drawing her higher and higher.

The way she moans my name, the way her thighs tremble beneath my hands—it’s intoxicating. I could lose myself in this, in her, forever.

I slide a finger inside her, feeling her walls tighten around me. She’s close, so close, and I want to push her over the edge, to hear her scream my name. I add another finger, my mouth working her clit as I thrust slowly, watching as she comes undone.

“Rafaele!” she cries out, her body arching as she shudders, her orgasm taking her over completely. I don’t stop, drawing out her pleasure, savoring every second as her body trembles beneath me.

When her breathing finally slows, I pull back, kissing my way up her body, letting my hands trail over her curves. She looks up at me, her face flushed, her eyes heavy with desire, and I know—there will never be anything more beautiful than this.

I position myself above her, brushing my thumb over her cheek. “Are you okay?” I ask, voice husky as I line myself up with her entrance. “I don’t want to hurt you… or him.”

She laughs softly, her hands sliding down to grip my arms, pulling me closer. “We’re perfect. I’m perfect.”

With a slow, deep breath, I press into her, groaning as I feel her warmth surround me, the perfect fit. Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me deeper, and I set a slow, gentle rhythm, savoring every gasp, every shiver of pleasure that courses through her.

Her hands slide over my back, gripping me as I move faster, her body meeting mine, her breaths mingling with mine. She whispers my name, her voice a soft, broken plea, and it sends a thrill through me, pushing me closer to the edge.

My hands grip her hips, holding her close as I thrust deeper, harder, losing myself in her, in the way she responds to every touch, every movement. I can feel her nearing the edge again, her body tightening around me, and I let myself go, my rhythm turning rougher, my hands digging into her skin, desperate to take all of her.

Her cries grow louder, and I feel her tighten around me as she reaches her peak, her body trembling, and her nails digging into my back. With one last, deep thrust, I come inside her, groaning her name as pleasure takes over, my body shuddering with release.

As we collapse together, breathing hard, I pull her close, pressing soft kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, and her lips. Holding her, I know I’ve never felt anything so perfect.

I kiss her forehead one more time before standing up with a sigh. I begin to put my suit back on, my gaze drifting to her—my pregnant wife, lying in the soft morning light, her body wrapped in that glow only she seems to possess. Her lips are swollen from our kisses, her face flush with that perfect pink hue she always has after an intense orgasm. She smiles sleepily, her eyes half-closed, utterly content, and I can’t help but grin, feeling like a damn superhero leaving her like this, knowing I’m the only man who ever will.

This feeling—seeing her like this, knowing I’ve put that look on her face—is more intoxicating than anything else. I feel more powerful in this moment than I ever do in a torture chamber. It’s a different kind of strength, a raw, possessive satisfaction that nothing else comes close to.

I lean down, pressing one last lingering kiss to her lips before I finally pull away, leaving her to drift back into her peaceful haze. As I step out of the room and make my way to join Paolo, the thrill of the morning clings to me, making me feel like a man who’s just conquered the world.

When I get in the car, the smirk Paolo throws me tells me he’s ready for his usual teasing.

“I thought I’d have to send in a rescue team,” he says as I slide in beside him.

“I don’t need rescuing from Nora.”

“No, not you—the poor woman. Ever since you discovered your functioning cock, I’m shocked she’s still able to walk.”

I shoot him a glare, but it’s half-hearted. He’s not entirely wrong; it’s nearly impossible to stop touching her or to keep my hands to myself. I glance down at those hands now, noting the strange duality: they’d held my wife this morning, brought her pleasure—and soon, I’ll use them for the work that feeds the darkness within me.

“You know your kid is going to be one lucky little bastard,” Paolo says, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Yes, I know. Nora will be an amazing mother.”

Paolo snorts. “Who cares about that? They’ll have me as their godfather. That’s like being blessed.”

I roll my eyes but chuckle, letting his absurd confidence lighten the weight of what lies ahead today.

“I’m still surprised Alexei kept his word,” Paolo remarks as we head toward the warehouse, where three Russians are waiting—for me, specifically, to make them talk.

“I knew he would. Alexei’s the most levelheaded pakhan I know,” I reply. “He understands the price of harsh decisions. If the rumors are true, he lost his wife and child to them.” I pause, glancing over at Paolo. “Besides, he needs to snuff out traitors almost as much as we do.”

“Yes, if they actually talk,” Paolo mutters, raising an eyebrow.

I can’t help but laugh, a dark smile spreading across my face. “Oh, they’ll talk. They always do.”

As we pull up to the warehouse, the low hum of machinery and the echo of dripping water set a grim backdrop for what's about to unfold. Inside, two Russians are chained to metal chairs, eyes blazing with defiance despite the bruises already forming on their faces. Their posturing, though, only fuels my anticipation.

Paolo hands me a pair of pliers, his smirk a silent promise of what’s to come. I start with the first man, gripping his hand and trapping one of his fingers between the metal jaws.

“You think Alexei will stand for this?” he snarls, spitting on the ground.

I twist the pliers without warning, shattering the bone with a sickening crunch. He gasps, the color draining from his face as he grits his teeth to keep from screaming.

“Oh, he’ll stand for it,” I reply, tightening my grip on the tool and moving to the next finger, pausing just to let him feel the anticipation. “Alexei’s a man of practicality. And he’s practical enough to give up deadweight like you.”

“Lies,” the second man hisses. “You’ll regret this. Alexei will bring war.”

I turn, raising an eyebrow at him, amused by his courage. “Maybe,” I say, shrugging. “But not for you.”

The defiance dims as I slide a knife from my belt, tracing its tip along the second man’s forearm, letting him feel the sharpness graze his skin. His breath hitches.

Without warning, I drive the blade into the stomach area just below the ribs. He screams, and I laugh; I know the pain must be excruciating due to the nerve density in the area. It’s a sensitive spot with many organs, which will lead to slow bleeding and gastric acid leaking, increasing the agony. It’s one of my favorite spots. Blood oozes from the wound, pooling on his shirt as he writhes.

I lean close to his ear. “Who gave you up? Tell me.”

He stays silent, jaw clenched, so I pull the blade free and stab again, in the kidney this time, twisting it harder. His mouth opens in a soundless scream, his head lolling as waves of agony overtake him.

The first man’s bravado shatters, terror flooding his eyes as he begins to babble. "It’s… it’s Sergio!" he gasps, the words tumbling out in a desperate pant. "He’s the one who told us about all the deliveries."

I leave the knife lodged in his partner’s side, the man’s life draining with every passing second, and turn to grab the pliers. Gripping the first man’s thumb, I squeeze until the joint snaps with a sickening pop. "Sergio? He’s dead. Try again."

The man gasps, his voice barely coherent as he struggles through the pain. "It’s his wife—Sofia. She’s… the one feeding us information."

I freeze, the name stopping me cold. Sofia? It sounds absurd—she has no access to sensitive information—but there’s a nagging feeling I can’t shake. I glance at Paolo, whose skeptical frown mirrors my own disbelief.

“Do you think it’s smart to lie to me right now?” I murmur, pulling the knife free from his dying partner’s body, the blade slick with blood. “Because one way or another, you’ll die. But how it happens… that’s up to you.” I cast a glance at the man next to him, who’s choking on his own blood, gurgling as he fights for his last breath.

The man trembles, his face pale, panic spilling from his wide eyes. “I swear! Sofia’s feeding Yuri all the information. She’s the whore sucking his cock.”

“Who’s Yuri?” I ask, pressing the knife on his jugular.

His eyes widen as he realizes he’s said too much, and, in a sharp movement, he lunges forward, pressing his throat into the knife, ending his own life before I can react.

“Fuck!” I roar, yanking the knife free as a stream of blood spills from the fresh wound. Frustration boils inside me as I glance down at the two dead Russians. This mess has dragged on longer than any problem I’ve ever had to fix, and though the raids on our shipments have lessened, they’re still happening. Unacceptable.

Paolo steps up beside me, his expression grim. “Do you think he was telling the truth? About Sofia?”

I grit my teeth. “Maybe. But I don’t see how. We never discuss business in front of women.” Except Nora. But that’s different. “Still, I’ll need to confront her. If she’s close to a Russian and leaking intel, she’s getting them from a man in the famiglia, and we need to shut this down fast.”

Paolo sighs, shaking his head. “She’s always been trouble.”

I roll my eyes. “I know. The worst part is that I’ll need my father’s approval first. Sofia’s his favorite for reasons I’ll never understand.”

Paolo raises an eyebrow. “And what about Yuri?”

“I’ll call Alexei on the way to my father’s. He needs to confirm who this Yuri is—if he’s even real.” I shrug off my jacket. “But first, help me get these two into the incinerator.”

“Fine, but I’ll take the big one. Your ego is already heavy enough.”

Once the bodies are stowed and the incinerator roars to life, I check myself for any stray blood. Miraculously, despite the mess, not a single spot has landed on me. With a satisfied nod, I pull out my phone as Paolo and I head back to the car.

As we drive, I dial Alexei’s number. After a few rings, he picks up.

“Lucchese,” he greets, his tone all business.

“Alexei. I need you to confirm someone for me—a Yuri. Ring any bells?”

“Yuri?” Alexei pauses, considering. “There’s a low-life Albanian Yuri I know of, but he’s hardly a player. I can’t imagine any of my men betraying the bratva for someone like him.”

“Money changes loyalties,” I scoff.

He chuckles darkly. “Maybe among the Italians, but not with us Russians. I’ll look into this Yuri. And if he’s real, we’ll handle him together.”

“Good.” I hang up, already feeling the weight of this tangled mess pulling me back under. We continue driving until we arrive at my father’s estate. The conversation waiting inside will likely be as pleasant as the one we just left.

As we pull up, the heavy iron gates close behind us, and I step out of the car. I turn to Paolo, leaning in through the window.

“Wait here,” I say, my tone firm.

Paolo raises his hands in mock surrender. “Gladly. You’re the one who enjoys those chats, not me.”

I let out a dry laugh, heading toward the house. I make my way to his office, finding him behind his desk, scribbling notes with that ever-calculating look in his eyes. He barely glances up as I enter.

“Oh, a surprise visit from the sottocapo. To what do I owe the honor?”

I ignore his backhanded comment and sit across from his desk. “I’m here to talk about rodent control.”

His smirk fades because this problem is as much his as it is mine.

“It’s taking you far longer than it used to, Rafaele. I’m disappointed.”

As if I care about his opinion of me. “If you think you would do better, then please take over. I have enough on my plate and?—”

“What did you find out?” He cuts me off, knowing full well he could never handle it the way I do.

“Sofia may be involved,” I say, watching him carefully.

He finally looks up, his expression one of smug amusement. “Oh, so they fooled you too? Who would’ve thought you were as gullible as your brother.”

“Women can be traitors too, Father,” I say, my voice low but steady.

“Yes, for cheating, maybe,” he sneers, “but they don’t have the brains for anything more sophisticated.”

I scoff, shaking my head. “Keep underestimating them, and it’ll be your loss.”

He narrows his eyes, his tone dripping with condescension. “And keep overestimating them, and you’ll always be a fool. Is this sudden confidence in women thanks to your pregnant wife ?” He practically spits the words, his gaze sharp and taunting.

My jaw tightens, but I keep my voice level. “Nora has nothing to do with this, nor does her condition change the fact that Sofia might be a problem.”

He points a finger at me. “Sofia has suffered enough. You think she’s a threat? She was involved because Sergio forced her, nothing more.”

“Did he?” I challenge, my voice low but unwavering. “Who’s to say she wasn’t the mastermind all along?”

My father scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Please. We both know that man had her under his thumb. She was so in love, she did everything he asked. And you already made her pay enough for it watching his death. You’ll leave her alone. That’s final.”

“Sofia, a poor, helpless victim?” I almost laugh. My father’s so entrenched in his view of women as weak and incapable. If Sofia wasn’t the brain behind her husband’s betrayal, she was certainly a willing participant. But my father refuses to see it, too convinced of her innocence—or, perhaps, too blinded by his own outdated beliefs.

“Your faith in her will be your mistake,” I say quietly, letting the impact of the words settle.

He raises his chin defiantly, his lip curling. “And your sudden eagerness to suspect everyone will be yours. You think you can see into people’s souls now, Rafaele? All because a woman has stirred your heart?” He practically spits out the last word, a bitter edge in his voice.

I open my mouth to argue, but just then, Paolo bursts into the room, his face pale, his eyes wide with something I’ve never seen there before—pure fear.

“What—” I start, taken aback by his uncharacteristic entrance.

“It’s Nora,” he says, his voice shaking. “They called me when they couldn’t reach you. She… she was taken to the hospital.”

A hollow dread fills me, colder than anything I’ve ever felt. My breath catches in my throat, and my heart thunders in my chest, drowning out every other sound. My father’s sneering face, his words—everything fades into nothingness. Only one thing matters now.

“Nora?” I barely recognize my own voice, raw and desperate.

Paolo nods. “They couldn’t get through to you. We need to go. Now.”

I don’t wait another second. I push past my father, ignoring his indignant calls, my legs carrying me faster than they ever have. Nothing exists but the need to get to her. Paolo is by my side, rushing out the door, and before I can reach the car, he grabs the keys.

“Let me drive,” he insists, his tone brooking no argument.

My hands are shaking too much to argue. I slide into the passenger seat, gripping the dashboard as he floors the gas, the tires screeching as we tear out of the driveway. The world outside is a blur, the pulse of fear pounding in my ears, loud and insistent. I can barely breathe, each heartbeat a reminder of how desperately I need her to be okay. I undo my tie, trying to relieve the pressure against my throat, but it doesn’t change a thing. This pressure is pure, unadulterated fear—something I’ve never felt before but saw so many times in the eyes of my victims, and I’m now on the receiving end.

In the silence between us, I feel Paolo’s hand grip my shoulder briefly, a rare gesture of comfort. “She’ll be alright,” he says, though his voice trembles slightly, betraying his own worry.

But all I can think of is her face, her laugh, the way she looked at me this morning, so blissfully satisfied. The possibility of losing her… it claws at my chest, threatening to suffocate me.

“Please,” I whisper, though I don’t know if it’s to Paolo, to fate, or to any higher power willing to listen. “Please let her be alright.”