Page 82 of Wounded King

Zia Rosa's features soften. "I get that. Come here, dolcezza. I missed you."

With a small cry, I throw myself against her ample bosom and savor her warm softness. She puts her arms around me and presses me with surprising strength. Her embrace says so much more than words. I can feel her unconditional love for me, and it brings tears to my eyes. I don't think my mom ever hugged me the way Zia Rosa is doing right now. She's like the grandma I never had but so often wished for.

"I'm sorry, Zia Rosa."

"It's alright, bambina. Next time you come to Zia Rosa, before you make any rash decision, capiche?"

"Capiche." I smile at her and am rewarded by a long kiss against my forehead.

"And you," she turns to Marcello.

"What did I do?" I nearly laugh despite everything that has happened so far today. Watching this giant mafia boss turn into a petulant little boy is the funniest thing I've ever seen.

"Ti amo," she says simply. "There's lasagna in the oven and garlic bread. Help yourselves. I need to get home."

Curiously, I notice that Marcello looks uncomfortable after hearing those words. Zia Rosa cocks her head, waiting for the natural response to her words. But nothing comes from him.

"Oh, you big brat." She sighs, turning on her heel and enveloping Marcello in one of her big bear hugs. "I know you love me, too."

Marcello grunts some kind of affirmation, looking even more uncomfortable.

After she's gone, Marcello turns to me, "Will you be okay here alone? I need to check on something with Luciano."

"The men you took prisoner?"

He doesn't answer, only nods curtly.

"If this is going to work," I move my hand back and forth between us, "then we need to talk to each other."

"And we will, as soon as I'm back," he promises.

I shake my head, "That's not what I meant. I meant I need to know what's going on."

His expression is unreadable. "As I said, we'll talk about it as soon as I'm back. In the meantime, try to relax, tesoro. How about a hot bath?"

A bath sounds actually heavenly right now, and I know that he needs to go, but there is one more thing I need to know. "Felix?"

"Alejandro is on it," He promises. "Will you be okay?"

I nod and watch him walk to the door through which Zia Rosa just vanished. He hesitates. His shoulders straighten as if he's come to a decision, and my heart plummets. But then he turns and strides toward me. Uttering the growl I've missed so much, he grabs my hair and bends my head back, before landing his lips on mine.

His kiss is hard and punishing. It holds all the pent-up desire I feel as well, and I cling to him with all I have, responding to his kiss as if this were our last.

Way too soon, he lets me go. "I won't be long," He promises, then leaves.

The ride to the warehouse is quiet. Luciano is even more close-mouthed than usual. I spy a long red hair on his lapel, but I don't comment. When he's ready to talk about the fiery redhead, he will.

He's more of a brother to me than Angelo ever was. We've bled and buried bodies together, and he helped me build my empire. There's nothing we haven't shared—except the women we don't talk about. But even brothers need boundaries. Now and then, a man deserves a corner of his life that's just his. As long as it doesn't interfere with the job, I let him have it. I don't like secrets, but loyalty buys a lot of leeway.

The warehouse is a little way from the docking stations. I've been looking to find a closer place to buy, but all of them—unsurprisingly—are owned by other mafia bosses who won't—understandably—sell.

"What do we know?" I ask Marco when Luciano and I enter.

"Nothing yet, boss, they're both tight-lipped. We smacked them around a bit, but nothing."

The two men are seated, tied to their chairs, facing each other. Not my first choice, but I've seen this work. It's a fifty-fifty shot, depending on the men.

"I have an important meeting to get to, so let's make this quick," I announce. Both of their faces are swollen and caked with blood, barely human anymore. One man's arm dangles uselessly at his side, the shoulder clearly dislocated, twitching against the rope that binds him to the chair. I place my hand on top of it, and he winces. "One of you is going to tell me what I need to know, so why don't we cut to the chase?"