Page 130 of Tragic Empire

Ana is practically purring in my lap and I arch a brow at her tone. “Hello, Wife. What are you up to?”

“Oh, nothing too serious,” she assures me but there’s a sultry glimmer in her lovely caramel eyes. “I was just going up to our room and wanted to let you know that we’re home when I had a thought.”

The table has gone quiet, no one bothering to pretend not to be listening in on us. Nosy bastards.

“Did you?”

“Mhmm,” Ana hums. “Remember how you were a little concerned about my dress being so… tight?” Teasingly dragging her fingers down my chest, she makes my skin pebble under my shirt.

Where is she going with this?

“I recall,” I reply gruffly. The fabric is like second-skin, it would be hard to forget.

“Well… I thought about it, and you were right.”

Nothing good can come from your wife telling you that you were right. It’s a trap, it’s always a trap. Men are never right.

“Oh?” I ask, eyeing her suspiciously.

“Yes, I hadn’t even thought about how snug it truly was until coming home,” she explains with a seductive smirk. “I thought, how embarrassing it would be if I came in to say hello to you all, and my poor brothers had to bear witness to something as scandalous as panty-lines.”

Oh, shit.

Oh, fuck me.

I watch in utter fascination as she pulls a hidden item from behind her back. Twirling familiar white lace around her manicured fingers, she pushes the fabric into my chest like a gift and grins. “So, here you are, my love. No lines to worry about.”

My hand shoots up, wrapping around the lacy scrap of material, attempting to conceal it from the table of men. They’ve all already seen it, of course. I’m torn between being pissed that other people are witnessing this moment and thrilled that Ana feels safe enough around us to pull off such a stunt. My vexing little wife is going to be the death of me.

I barely hold back a groan as she smacks a quick kiss to my cheek, inhaling her sweet scent. “Enjoy the rest of your little game, hmm? I think I’m going to take a nice hot bath.”

Before I can object, she’s off of my lap and strutting out of the room, leaving her soaked panties in my hand. Every eye in the room is on me, some of them glinted with amusement, others with distaste.

“Jesus Christ,” Matteo—of course, it’s Matteo—breaks the silence. “Isthatwhat being married is like?”

My lips spread into a small smirk.It is for me, apparently.

“Yes,” Emilio brags at the same time Dad replies, “Not even close.”

Leon just frowns and shakes his head. “Definitely not.”

“No comment,” Dmitri adds, being the only other married man in the room. No answer is all the answer my brother needs in this case.

“Three out of five, then,” Matteo concludes. “I like those odds, maybe I need to start looking for a wife.”

“God help us all,” Apollo mutters before tipping back his drink.

Matteo rolls his eyes. “Dick.”

“I don’t think many marriages are like Cassio and Ana’s,” Armani tells him. “She has his name tattooed in seven different places on her body.”

“She does?” Dad asks, bewildered at the new information.

Fuck yes, she does.

And now I have her name inked on the right side of my heart, taking up most of the space on my peck.My three favorite letters, branding me for life.

“Yep,” Armani confirms, smirking. “I would know, I put them there.”