Deceptive - An Arranged Marriage Mafia Romance is set in the brutal world of organized crime. These Italians are not messing around.

Ekaterina�

�Oh my god, look at it!�

��Rina, don�t you dare.�

�Shut up, Casey. It must be mine,� I sigh rapturously.

�Honey, it�s like you don�t care if you live or die,� my best friend whines. �You cannot take that one, do you hear me? There are a million anti-theft features on a Bugatti and I don�t think I can dismantle them in time to-�

�Oh, we�re doing it,� I interrupted. �When do you think you�ll ever have another chance to ride in a Bugatti La Voiture Noire?�

Straightening my red jacket, I watch the valet wearing the same uniform leave the stand at the sweeping stone entry of the mansion after a fake call from Casey to pick up another car. I leave the cover of the boxwood hedge and step behind the valet drop-off just as the Bugatti comes floating up the drive like a unicorn.�

If that unicorn was entirely formed of a black carbon-fiber shell that was sculpted by hand with a quad-turbo W16 8.10L engine that produces 1500 horsepower, and an acceleration of 0-60 mph (0-100 km/h) in 2.4 seconds.�

Hustling over to the driver�s side, I open the door with an obsequious little bow.�

The man driving the unicorn does not deserve it. Harry Taylor is a billionaire tech whiz in London and a bloody idiot. He�s racked up sixteen DWI�s in less than five years. I don�t want to think of all the rare and beautiful cars he�s destroyed. The man should be in prison. In Siberia.�

There are some truly horrific gulags there, left over from the Soviet era but still very much in operation.�

I should know. My brother has put some of his most despised enemies in one of them as a punishment which they will never survive.

�Go soft on the gas pedal,� Harry Taylor snaps, throwing me the keys. �You�re parking it, not racing it in the Grand Prix.�

�Yes sir, of course,� I nod, keeping my eyes lowered. He won�t remember what I look like, these sorts never bother to really look at anyone who is serving them. I race around the back to open the door for his date as he stares off into space, I doubt he�s ever opened a door for anyone in his life. I vaguely recognize her as one of the models from Stella McCartney�s show at Paris Fashion Week last year.�

I was there, in the front row. Stella had invited my mother and me personally with the hope that Maksim and Yuri would be joining us.

What she didn�t understand was that Maksim would far rather be taking over a small, third-world country than sitting through a high-profile fashion show. In fact, I think he might have been taking over a small country that week� something that started with a K?

All these thoughts dissolve as Harry and his date disappear into the magnificent stone chateau just outside of Paris, where another billionaire is throwing yet another ridiculously extravagant party for his other nauseatingly wealthy friends and I am left alone on the circular drive with the most beautiful creation in Europe.

�Hellooo, kitten�� I sigh, petting the long slope of the Bugatti�s door as I open it.�

Casey spoke in my earpiece. �You have thirty seconds before that valet comes back from the wild goose chase. Pick me up on the east corner of the chateau.�

�Can I do a little baby talk first? This thing is so-�

�Twenty-five seconds, �Rina! You�re killing me here.�

Sliding into the butter-soft leather seat of the Bugatti is the closest thing I�d had to an orgasm that wasn�t from my own hand.�

�You didn�t just come, did you?� Casey asked, aggrieved, �Because that is so rude when I�m standing right here!�

I might have made the girl noise.

�Puritan.�

�Virgin!�

Okay, he wins this round.

�I�ll be there in seven seconds. Hold onto your bonnet.�

He scoffs and I hear the little �click� of him taking out his earpiece.

Giovanni�

�How�s your sweet intended?� Dario asked, a little grin hovering over his mouth like he was daring me to slap it off.

�Ekaterina is finishing her last month at La Sorbonne,� I said dryly, refusing to let him bait me. My little brother has endlessly harassed me for allowing my fianc�e to finish her teaching degree before we married. It was the deal I�d made with Maksim, Pakhan to the Morozov Bratva, and I would not go back on it.

�I can�t believe you�ve waited two years to get that hot ass in bed,� Dario stupidly taunted me, the comment ending in a yelp when I threw the TV remote at him, nailing him in the head.

�Watch your mouth, you stronzo. You�re talking about your sister-in-law,� I snarled.

�I�m going to have to up my game, you�re obviously not mad enough to be creative if calling me an asshole is the rudest thing you could manage.� Dario laughed at me, rubbing the mark on his forehead with a wince.

�She�s a good girl,� I said. �I don�t have a problem with giving her the time to finish her education. Besides, I suspect Mrs. Morozov has been planning Ekaterina�s wedding to me for months.� Shifting in my seat, I sighed, �Concentrate on what matters here. What else do I need to know from your visit home?�

Dario rose, stretching languidly, taking his time, and knowing I was seconds away from punching him in the throat. We were in my London office, one of my favorites, housed in a two-hundred-year-old building in The Square Mile. The tall, leaded-glass windows in my office looked out over some of the most expensive real estate in Europe. The room was filled with comfortable brown leather furniture, a big fireplace, and a well-stocked bar cart.

�I got a very agitated call from one of our Capos in Milan - Lorenzo Ricci - his niece and her best friend have disappeared.� He looks uncharacteristically somber, �Everything points to those Barone fuckers.�

My hands clenched into fists, �We�ve crushed their auction house in two locations. You think they�re back in business?� Alessandro Barone�s Mafia has been gaining strength in Rome and some of the smaller port cities in Italy, trying to take advantage of our attention being focused on growth in New York City and London. If he�s audacious - or stupid enough - to go after the families of our Capos, he�ll need to be put back in his place quickly. With excessive violence.

�Everything I�ve found from our more useful sources points to an alliance between the Barone Famiglia and the Moreau les beaux voyous,� he sighed, �I knew that slippery bastard would be trouble.�

Now, I groaned. We already have an agreement in place with the Moreaus; we don�t do business in France and they keep out of our way everywhere else. �If they�re in bed with scum like Barone, we might have to revisit our accords with them.�

�It also means we can�t just go in and blow up the place,� he agreed, now truly gloomy. Nothing made my little brother happier than shredding a building - and all the inhabitants - with explosives. He is always impressively thorough.�

Running my finger over my lower lip, I watch him pace irritably around my office. �Head over to Paris,� I said, �ask some questions without caving anyone�s skull in. Subtlety. I know you are capable of it when you make an effort.�

Picking up a glass paperweight, Dario tossed it from hand to hand. �You�re taking all the fun out of this,� he sulked a little, �if we do find the location, we�re going to have to move fast if Ricci�s niece was taken by these bastards.�

�Let me know,� I said, �if we must, we�ll show up at the auction to buy the girls back. If we can prove the Moreaus knew their new friends were targeting our famiglia, we�ll burn them to the ground and leave nothing but ashes and blood.�

My brother grinned like I�d just given him a puppy. Or a Ferrari. �Now you�re talking!� Dario said happily.�

�Get moving,� I sighed, shaking my head. �And no bloodshed until we talk, understood?�

Straightening his tie, he scowled at me. �Now that you�re the Don, you�re no fun at all.�

Checking through my emails after he�d left, I found one from Tania Morozov, Yuri�s wife. She�d sent me some photos from their second wedding that I�d attended last month. In one of the images, I was dancing with Ekaterina. She was looking up at me, smiling shyly, the overhead lights in the garden making her skin and her blonde hair glow.

Groaning, I adjusted myself as my rising cock rubbed against the zipper on my dress pants. Waiting for our wedding was turning into more of a challenge than I�d expected.�

I was used to having a woman when I wanted her, and then rarely seeing her again. Ekaterina was different. She was a sweet girl.

A good girl.

Ekaterina�

Francois and I have been engaged in a partnership long enough that I have my own digital remote to the gates guarding his maze of warehouses. Even with the excessive amount of safety features and signal jammers, the area looks rundown, like nothing of importance� which is exactly how he wants it to appear. His double steel gates open reluctantly, one after the other as Casey continues to whine.

�No, really. I bet he�s got one of these warehouses stuffed full of toes. Toe necklaces. Maybe toe jewelry. He sells them on the dark web and��

�Shush!� I snap, eyeing Georges sauntering up to my precious baby Bugatti. He�s Francois� son, a tweaker and he�s casually swinging a tire iron as he circles us. �Bonjour, Georges,� I say, attempting to look pleasant. He appears a little slack-jawed at the best of times, add in the spliff currently dangling from the corner of his mouth and the man looks like he can barely remember how to tie his shoelaces. �Where�s your dad?�

Georges itches his head vigorously enough to make me wonder if he�s got something crawling through his lank hair, which clearly has not seen a comb in the last month. �Eh� he�s��

I fight the urge to bang my forehead against the finely stitched Italian leather steering wheel. Something thuds against the back bumper and I shoot out of the car like my seat was on fire.

�Merde! Don�t you touch this car, you ass!�

�Just testing the durability of the bumper.� It�s Louis, half-tweaker and half-cunning weasel. He�s angling to take over Francois� operation one day. He gives me a greasy sort of smile. When it�s clear I�m not succumbing to his dubious charm, he gives up and jerks his head to the right. �Warehouse three,� he snapped, �he�s waiting for you.�

Back in the Bugatti, Casey berates me. �Holy shit I think he was going to stab you! Holy shit, �Rina! You can�t just yell at Louis like that! He�s almost as creepy as Francois!�

�Stop,� I hissed, �you can�t freak out here, we have to maintain a show of strength, remember?�

Francois� �office� is in a trailer wedged into the warehouse. Sparks are flying from two acetylene cutting torches wielded by filthy mechanics who are waving them around like they�re lightsabers. They�re casually cutting a Maserati apart and I�m praying they don�t scorch my baby�s perfect, gleaming finish.�

�My young friend!� Francois shouts from his trailer, �Come in, come in. What have you brought me today?�

�Bonjour Francois,� I said, �I�m about to become your most favorite person.�

�Really,� he says, lounging behind his cluttered desk. He wears a tattered mechanic�s shirt as �a note of irony,� as he told me once. He�s short and skinny with a mustache that never quite grows in and the sharp, shrewd eyes of a sewer rat. �Well then, seat yourselves. Speak freely. Let your words be known.�

I�m thinking Francois has also had a hit of something, because his language tends to get more flowery when he�s high.

�Thank you, Francois, we have a-�

�My brother,� he interrupts.

�What?�

Francois fixes me with a look of complete sincerity. �I wish to be addressed as �Francois, my brother� by a friend as dear as you. Our partnership is deep and true.�

�Uh� well, Francois my� brother, we picked up a Bugatti,� I said, just barely holding back my desire to giggle like a schoolgirl.

�Mon dieu,� he gasps, �what model?�

I lean forward, gripping the sticky surface of his desk. �A Bugatti La Voiture Noire. With a-�

�Quad-turbo W16 8.10L engine,� he finishes for me, rapturous. �Let us witness this beauty together!�

Stumbling out of the trailer, Francois halts at the sight of the gleaming Bugatti, and then reverently drapes his body across the hood. Casey and I look at each other uneasily. The hood must still be very hot from our joyride and I can smell something that vaguely reminds me of sausages on the grill, but he doesn�t move.

�En sa beaut� g�t ma mort et ma vie� In her beauty resides my death and my life�� he sighs, petting the car lovingly.

Maurice Sc�ve, I think, at least he�sa literate lunatic.��

Casey nudges me in the back. �We have to get going,� he whispers, �you have that final today and I have two papers due.�

�Francois my, uh, brother, I�m so happy that you share our joy, but we must be getting back to school. What do you think?� I say, reluctantly interrupting his little moment.

He rises, the side of his face is an alarming shade of red and he cups my face in his grimy hands. �You are my favorite person in the world, ma petite,� he croons. Then he snaps instantly back into business mode. �Four hundred thousand Euros.�

Casey blanches. He fancies himself as my �business manager.� �Four hundred- this is a seventeen million dollar car!�

Francois ignores him, still smiling at me in a misty fashion. �The sun rises upon you this day, Goddess of the Drift.� He�s stroking my ponytail and I shift uneasily.

�Four hundred Euros and a ride back to Paris.� I counter, wanting to get his grimy hands out of my hair.

Briskly clapping his hands together, Francois nods, �It shall be done. Speak no further of your wishes. They will be met.�

�Uh� that�s good,� I offer.

Giovanni�

Three weeks later�

�My boy! Over here.�

Looking up from my phone and numerous texts from Dario, I smile to see Uncle Salvatore waving at me. The side garden at his restaurant, Il Boschetto, is strictly for him and his guests. I wind through the flowering planters and pots of herbs outside of the blue-plastered walls of the building to reach his table. It�s perched on a hill overlooking the Gulf of Naples, and in the late afternoon light, all the buildings crowded together on the waterfront light up like an Impressionist painting.

�Uncle, buonasera,� I briefly kiss his right cheek. �How are you feeling today?�

He waves a hand. �The same as always. The doctor yells at me to stop drinking and tells me that the gout is something to take seriously.�

Sitting down, I drape a napkin over my lap and nod to the waiter who�s already bustling up with a glass of wine. �Didn�t King Henry VIII die from gout?�

He scoffs at me. �Don�t be using the British to try and bolster your argument.� My uncle may be in his late 60s, but his gaze is as shrewd as ever. �Why are you back home? I thought you were dealing with the club nonsense in London.�

�Two different problems,� I said, draining my glass and gesturing for another. �Dario�s chasing down rumors of another Barone Auction business.�

�The Barones�� he sneered, �your grandfather should have wiped them out fifty years ago. Upstarts. Newcomers, thinking they can just push into our territory.�

I hide a smile behind the new glass of wine. �Fifty years doesn�t exactly make them newcomers.�

Sal looks at me, immediately enraged. �Our family has been in the business since the Borgias ruled Italy with an iron fist, boy!�

�So, any organization with less than five hundred years in this particular line of work are mere novices?� I ask, carefully expressionless.

He points a finger at me, swollen with age. �I know when you�re baiting me. Your father really should have beaten you more as a boy to make you respect your elders. Remember, I can still take you in a fair fight.�

�I�ve seen you behead a man in less time than it takes me to straighten my tie. I have absolutely no doubt of that,� I said honestly, �and in an unfair fight, too.�

�Are you gentlemen ready for the first course?� Milo, a waiter who has worked here for years is hovering solicitously, a platter held high.

�Yes, thank you son,� Uncle says, leaning back to give him room to lead the table with food. Milo nods at me pleasantly before leaving silently. �Now,� Uncle tucks into the plate of antipasti, �before our guests arrive, tell me what else has you concerned.�

Running my finger over my lower lip, I watch the little fishing boats coming back to the harbor for the day. �Someone is trying to move in on our specialty. We�ve lost two jobs that I know they�re responsible for, and they took out one target before our man could move in.�

Sal whistles softly. �Of all the things I thought you would say, this was not amongst them. We have had a stranglehold on this industry for generations. The Yakuza, you think?�

�No,� I said, �not their style. We have our ways, they have theirs. This was new.�

Frowning, he pushes his plate away, leaning in on the table. �How so?�

�It was a high-profile target,� I spoke softly, even knowing that my uncle used signal jammers to keep conversations from being recorded. �Miles Carter.�

�Real estate, he owns a piece of the southern United States?�

�Something close, I�m sure,� I agreed. �I sent in Antonio.�

�One of our best,� he said, his brow still wrinkled, �how did this happen?�

Looking out over the harbor again, I said, �Antonio�s not sure. He reported that he made entry into Carter�s hotel room as planned, but he was already dead. Whoever it was made it look like a heart attack. Antonio found a needle mark hidden in his hair, nearly invisible unless you know what to look for.�

�Potassium chloride,� Sal nodded.

�The client wanted it to be something obvious, humiliating,� I continued. �I had ordered Antonio to put him into a noose, strip him, and make it look like auto-erotic asphyxiation. The client called me, demanding his money back because of the botched operation. But he knew nothing about another player.�

�He didn�t hire anyone else? Just to clarify,� he said.

I glare at him. �If you hire our family, you never need anyone else to get the job done,� I snapped.

Patting my hand, he chuckles. �I know, Gio, I do. So, this was freelance. Did they ever contact the client, seeking payment?�

�I had his phone and emails monitored,� I said, �and sent a couple of men to follow him afterward, but he was never approached for money.�

Draining his glass, Sal calls to the waiter to bring over the entire bottle. �So, this is a message, then. To us.�

�I�ve already sent out some of my best men to dig around and see what they can find. No one this ambitious comes out of nowhere,� I said, �they had to leave a trace, and we�ll find it.�

Our conversation was cut short by the arrival of the rest of our party, Peter Olsson, our new Monaco club investor, and his business manager.�

�Peter, how are you?� I rose to greet him, amused by his sour face.

�I am in a shit mood, that�s how I am,� he snarls. �Someone stole my Strassenversion last night.�

My brow rose, �A Porsche, correct? A one-of-a-kind model?�

�Yes!� Peter hissed, �One of only twenty in the world! The bastards stole it right out of my garage! That thing�s like Fort Knox, it�s better guarded than my safe.� He sullenly slumped down in his seat next to Devin, his business manager.

�That�s a shame,� I commiserate, �I�m assuming Interpol is all over it?�

Because we�re talking profit and loss now, Devin is aggrieved. �Apparently, there�s been a series of high-profile vehicles stolen all over Europe in the last year. All the police forces say they�re making finding the group responsible a priority, but one inspector - who clearly does not understand the rare value of this car - told us to just file the insurance claim, because this might take a while.�

�They�ll never find my baby,� Peter said sourly, �you know it was snapped up by a private buyer the minute it was stolen.�

�Losing a car that unique is a tragedy,� I said, �and unfortunately, you�re probably right.�

�Let�s refocus,� Uncle Sal intervenes, �why don�t we take a look at the business plan for this new casino, yes?�

�Excellent,� I said, handing Peter a flash drive to plug into his laptop. �You�ll see that the building is already under renovation in Monte Carlo. The business and architectural plans had to be approved by a member of the Royal Family. That alone took us nearly eight years. But now that the ownership is legalized and renovations are underway, it�s time for the next step.�

�And that�s where I come in,� drawls Peter. He�s an annoying little bastard at times, however, he earned his own millions and he is brilliant.

We talk through the funding and his portion of ownership and by the end of the meal of Arancini, Ossobuco, and truffle gnocchi, we are all in agreement.�

�Excellent!� Peter said, rubbing his hands as a plate of pistachio cream cannolis are set in front of him. �Why don�t we meet in Monte Carlo, say� the first week of June?�

�I�m afraid that week won�t work for me,� I said regretfully, �I�m attending a wedding in St Petersburg.�

�Oh?�

I grin, �Yes, my own, to Ekaterina Morozov. You should receive an invitation any day now.�

�Oh yeah?� Peter puts down his cannoli, �Maksim�s little sister, right? Do you have a picture?�

I�m somehow reluctant to show him a picture of Ekaterina, though it�s a ridiculous impulse. Pulling out my phone, I flip through the photos until I find one from Yuri and Tania�s wedding, holding it up. �Here. She�s graduating from La Sorbonne next month.�

He leans closer, giving a long whistle. �Well damn, Gio, I don�t blame you for missing the meeting.��

He�s greedily examining the image of Ekaterina; she�s wearing a dark blue dress with a modest neckline and her silver-blonde hair is piled on top of her head in some elegant twist. We�re both looking at the camera and she�s smiling shyly, with her gorgeous, sinfully full mouth, her head tilted slightly toward me. She has warm eyes, the color of the Caribbean Sea, unlike Maksim�s frigidly blue ones.�

I force a polite smile and pull the phone away, noticing he almost reaches out to grab it before realizing that would be a very bad mistake.

�I uh,� Peter clears his throat, �you�re a lucky man.�

�Agreed,� I said smoothly. �I do hope we�ll see you in St. Petersburg for the wedding.�

Ekaterina�

My phone rings as Casey and I are crossing the central courtyard of La Sorbonne, where magnificent old buildings of pale stone surround the manicured grass and boxwood hedges. He�s insisting, as always, that the only school cooler-looking than this one is Hogwarts.

�Who is it?� He props his chin on my shoulder, looking at the screen. �Oh, damn, honey! It�s your man!�

Rolling my eyes, I answered. �Salve, Giovanni,� I greeted him in Italian. I had already learned French when I was accepted here, but when Maksim told me I would be marrying into the Toscano Mafia, I immediately started lessons in Italian. I�m not completely fluent yet, but Giovanni has been very patient with my mistakes.

�Ciao,tesoro. How are you?�

Giovanni�s voice is a weapon, especially when he calls me tesoro - darling. It�s deep and resonant, and it makes me feel things. Filthy, tingling things.

Casey is softly singing �Big D Energy,� and I want to kill him. �You got the big dick energy��

�Ekaterina?�

Oh, god� I groan silently. �Um, I�m sorry, my friend�s just being an idiot. I�m well, and you?�

�Well, thank you.� I can hear papers swishing and I can picture him behind some massive desk making critical mobster-type decisions, like who to kill, how much to swindle, and which public servants need their bribe money increased. �Did you receive my flowers?�

Casey�s bent over, slapping his ass as he moves into the chorus, mouthing, �So much B D energy��

I turn my back on him and try to concentrate. �I did, and they�re beautiful. Thank you so much. It was so kind of you to send Russian lilies.�

�You mentioned once that you missed the flowers in St. Petersburg in spring,� he murmured, his voice is even deeper than when the conversation began and I swear my lips are going numb.�

�How can you remember little details like that?� I blurted, impressed, and fighting feeling soft and emotional about it.

His voice lowers again, more intimate. �I remember everything about you, tesoro. Don�t you know that?�

I give a little wheeze and he must have heard it, chuckling softly as I cringe.

�At any rate, I�m calling to apologize,� he said, suddenly all business again.

�Oh? For what?�

The thought of Don Giovanni Toscano apologizing for anything is as impossible to comprehend as Georges giving up meth or Casey deciding to stop being such a complete jerk. He�s loudly whispering, �Ask him his dick size.�

�I�m afraid I won�t be able to be there for your graduation. I have a meeting that day that I cannot miss,� he says, sounding regretful.

�Oh, I understand,� I said, too quickly apparently because this time, his voice is harder, more interested as if he�s found a loose thread to pull on.

�You sound almost relieved, tesoro,� he said. �You sound as if you don�t wish to see me.��

I press the heel of my hand against my forehead. Moron! �Not at all, I�m sorry if it seemed that way. I just know how much work you must do before the wedding- I just�� I fizzle out with a sigh. �I understand that your life is filled with responsibilities, every minute of every day.�

There�s silence for a moment, only the faint, buzzing sound of our connection. �I would like to be there,� he says finally, �very much. This is an important day for you.�

I�m torn between being deeply touched and incredibly relieved. Seeing Giovanni in my world means only one thing; my freedom is about to end. Even so, my lower half feels like something is tugging on it every time we speak, some connection that makes me flare up like a flame is passing through me.

�You are so kind to me,� I manage, �truly, it�s more than- well, I appreciate everything you do for me.�

�It�s more than what?� Giovanni asks, curious.

Of course. Of course, he would pounce on the one thing I didn�t mean to say. �Nothing.�

�More than�� he pursues, his voice softer again, some sly intent that makes me feel anxious and somehow exposed. �More than you expect from me?�

Is he a mind reader? Oh, god, that�s not good.�

�I just� know how busy you are,� I finish lamely, cringing as Casey rolls his eyes at me.

�Hmmm�� Giovanni purrs. �I will have to change your mind about your importance when we get married.��

This isn�t soothing. I feel panic welling up inside me and I feel like that little sparrow again, getting chased by the bird of prey. �I have a class in just a few minutes, Giovanni, I�m sorry.�

�Don�t apologize,� he says, all business again. �Good luck with your finals, and I�ll see you in St. Petersburg.�

�Grazie, I will see you in June. Arrivederci, Gio.�

�Arrivederci, tesoro.� His voice is warm as he says goodbye.

�Fuck, that man is so hot,� groans Casey, pulling up some Google images of Giovanni. �I mean, he�s got that whole Dark Lord of the Underworld action going. He�s so tall! How tall is he?�

�Um, 6�6 I think?� I lean over to look at the images on his phone. Giovanni�s in black swim trunks, on a beach.

�Where is this?� Casey sighs.

�I�m not sure, but it looks like Naples. That�s the family seat of power.� Giovanni does look amazing; powerful hands pushing back his short, dark hair, and high cheekbones. His eyes are narrowed in the picture, probably because he knows paparazzi are stalking him.

�He must work out like an animal every day to get a body like that. Those abs! He has an eight-pack, doesn�t he?� Casey is swooning like a Victorian maiden right now. �An eight-pack to go with that giant dick?�

�Okay, this is getting weird,� I said.

�Honey, I respect your �wait until marriage thing,� I know it�s mandatory with the whole Bratva princess deal you�ve got happening here.��

He�s ignoring me, still wrapped up in Gio and his hotness, which admittedly is completely accurate.�

Casey keeps salivating, �And those golden eyes of his? Holy fuck! I want to do filthy things to that man. I don�t even care if he makes an effort. Just relax, Gio honey. I�ll do all the work��

�You are deeply troubled, you know that, right?� I asked. �This is my fianc� you�re talking about.�

He shrugs, linking arms and we continue to class. �If you�re not going to do something with that giant dick, I�m certainly willing to take one for the team.�

�You are literally the worst best friend ever,� I sigh.

Giovanni�

The next day�

�There is an auction, and it�s tonight.�

I rub my forehead. �Damn those Barone fucks straight to hell. Where is it being held?�

Dario snorts derisively, �In Paris, of course. So, you know the Moreaus had to have facilitated it. Nothing happens in that city without their approval.�

�It looks like our alliance with the Moreaus is about to meet an unhappy end,� I snarl.

�Now you�re talking!� The idiot sounds genuinely cheerful at the prospect of bloodletting.

�There�s a limit to how many guards we can bring,� I said sharply, �pull in some men from the London office to act as buyers. Make sure they have enough funds to buy Ricci�s niece and friend if they are there.�

�On it,� Dario says eagerly.�

�Brother, this is not the time to rain death and fire, do you understand?� I said, �This is the time for diplomacy.�

�Right up to the point it isn�t,� he retorts, ending the call.

I shake my head. If the fucking Barones think we�ll be coming in, guns blazing, they don�t know our family at all. By the end of the week, however, I�ll make sure every member I see at the auction is stabbed, poisoned, or beheaded. Quietly. Not this noisy gunfire that the Americans and Russians are so fond of.

Ekaterina�

The night before�

�I told you it would work!� I�m laughing crazily and Casey�s holding on to his seat, white-knuckled.

�Oh, my god, woman I was freaking out,� he babbles, �I was just waiting for that giant fucker to turn around and see you making off with this car!�

�Do you feel that?� I�m ignoring his near-hysteria because this perfect creation has me by the throat.�

�Wh- what?�

�The twelve-cylinder power unit with a displacement of 6.5 liters,� I ramble, �it has a shifting seven-speed ISR transmission.�

�Yeah, it�s fucking amazing,� he agrees, �and also, I�m about to wet myself from fear. We did not plan this one, �Rina.� He may be freaking out, but I�m watching his hand stroke the dashboard like it�s a mink stole.

�You�re rubbing the Lamborghini-patented CarbonSkin, which is soaked in a very special kind of resin that stabilizes the fiber structure while allowing it to remain supple.� I know I sound like a phone sex operator right now but I can�t help it.

�You need to stop talking,� he wheezes, �because I swear I�m about to come. Seriously, give me a minute.�

We�re approaching an exit that I know takes us to a perfect stretch of road; unencumbered by any obstacles, just twists and turns that will make this precious baby come alive for me. �Have you accessed the signal for the anti-theft technology yet?� I ask.

�I have to wait for the specs to download on my phone,� he mumbles, tapping away, �but I�m seconds from getting the signal jammer in place.�

�Excellent,� I sigh, and make the turn onto the road that will witness the highlight of my life.

Casey looks up and sees the black ribbon stretching out ahead of us and swallows hard. �This is it, girl. The big one. Are you ready?�

I tighten my grip on the steering wheel. I can feel the rumble of the engine vibrate along my thighs. It�s different from an orgasm. It�s something else. Something injected into my DNA, maybe. Not just the car but the night and my dearest friend beside me and my last, precious days of freedom.

An invisible hand at the base of my spine is nudging me. Drive. Drive faster. You can outrun your future if you just keep driving�

My foot jams down on the gas pedal.

I�m too breathless to even laugh, I can only switch my gaze between the road and speedometer, over and over while my heart seems to expand like a balloon. There�s nothing else.

Two point six seconds, 100km.

Five seconds, 125km.

Ten seconds, 175km.

Twenty seconds, 200km.

�Don�t tell me how fast we�re going,� Casey screams. �I don�t want to know. If I know, I'm going to convert it into miles per hour and probably have an aneurysm.�

I can�t answer him, I can only pay attention to the insistent push telling me to drive faster. So, when the headlights come racing up behind us, I jump.

�Oh, fuck is that the police?� Casey shrieks. �I got the signal jammer set! It�s operational!�

�It�s too late!� I shout, �They must have had enough time to track us.�

My brain moves back into laser focus as I shift the Lamborghini into sixth gear. They will not catch us. Now it�s not my future I�m outrunning, it�s the Gendarmie. And Interpol. And a bunch of other law enforcement who really don�t like us.

Then, a helicopter swoops over us. Someone is shouting from a loudspeaker and I can�t hear a thing they�re saying at this speed but I�m pretty sure it�s something along the lines of, �Stop the car!�

There are three sets of headlights behind us now, though they�re all fading back, nowhere near fast enough to catch us. It would be like a sloth trying to nail a jaguar. Unfortunately, not true of the helicopter. The floodlight they�re using to follow us is sending black spots through my vision, though I�m terrified to even blink at this speed.

�Do you think your brother and your fianc� can bail us out of this?� Casey shouts in my ear.

That pushy fist at the base of my spine transfers to my stomach, twisting it into a knot. I had picked this stretch of road because of its relative desolation. There are no convenient hiding places, no groves of trees to hide us, no abandoned barns to slip the car into. As we tear around the next turn, I know it's over when I see the bank of headlights ahead of us.

�I�m so sorry Casey,� I�m numbly watching the digital speedometer creep back down. �This is my fault, I�m so sorry.�

�I could have refused to help you,� he�s nearly in tears. �I agreed to it. We�re in this together.�

My beautiful dream slows to a stop, along with the Lamborghini. I take Casey�s hand, squeezing it. �I will take full responsibility. I�ll make sure Maksim gets you out of-�

�This was the stupidest thing you will ever do.� The man next to my door is holding a gun to my head. He�s gigantic, and his dark face splits into a grin. �No matter how short or long that future is. But I�m betting on very, very painful. And very short.� There are five more men surrounding the car, and none of them are wearing Gendarmerie uniforms.

�I�m Eka-� Something hard hits the back of my head and I�m gone before I can get the rest of my name out.

Giovanni�

The auction�

I�ve lived long enough in the ways of the famiglia that I didn�t think there was anything left to surprise me. I was wrong.

My Ekaterina is swaying slightly on the stupidly high heels they�d forced on her feet. Her head droops to the side as if she�s falling asleep. All the same, she is almost painfully beautiful. Of course, these pigs would have saved her until the last as the most desirable prize.

�Number thirty-two is in her late teens to early twenties. You�ll note that there is an affidavit from the staff doctor that she is a virgin.� A frisson of excitement ripples through the crowd while a vein throbs violently in my forehead.�

�She stands 5�10 tall and weighs 140 pounds. Number thirty-two is in excellent health and allow me to warn you, she is quite fiery!� The auctioneer chuckles condescendingly, �She put up quite a fight and�� he winks at the audience and I vow right then to pull his fucking eye out after this is over. �She might need some taming.�

�Well, he couldn�t make this any more exciting for the freaks in the audience,� Dario hissed in my ear. He�s recovered from his shock faster than I have. �What the fuck is she doing here, Gio?�

�I have no idea,� I murmur, �but we are getting her out of here, as quickly and quietly as possible. I don�t see Moreau or anyone from the Barone�s near us, which they would be if they knew who she is and that she�s engaged to me.�

He nods. �Got it. What do you want me to do?�

�We can�t fight our way out of this�� I grit my teeth for a moment and continue. �Tell Emilio to stand by and be prepared to transfer as much money as necessary into the account. Alert our men outside to be ready to surround us and leave the instant I have her.�

�Done,� he whispers and leans over to Emilio on his other side.

I can see Ekaterina�s brow wrinkle; she�s trying to fight the drugs and understand what�s happening to her. Whoever dressed her had a heavy hand with the mascara and eye shadow. I�ve never seen her in makeup before; Ekaterina is always so beautiful that cosmetics aren�t necessary. In this case, it�s a good thing. She�s so heavily made up that she�s almost unrecognizable.

�We�ll start with an opening bid of five million Euros,� the auctioneer says. �Do I hear five million?�

A paddle shoots up. I look over and my fists tighten hard enough that the knuckles audibly crack. Carlos fucking Martinez, head of one of the most vicious cartels in Colombia. He runs his own trafficking ring, strange that he�d be here for new talent.

�Very good. Do I hear six million?�

Two more paddles. This can�t get worse.

Dario leans in again. �Is that the German freak everyone talks about? Isn�t he supposed to be a cannibal?�

�Shut the fuck up,� I hiss between my teeth. My brother is correct. I watch the German�s tongue grease over his rubbery lips.

�Excellent, do I hear-�

�Twenty million Euros.�

Heads turn to look at the man in the back and my blood turns to ice. Anton Vasiliev, Bratva of one of the Six Families in Russia. He hates the Morozovs, even though the Six are forbidden to move against each other.

�Thank you Monsieur,� the auctioneer is nearly pissing himself with excitement. He must get a cut of the profits. �Do I hear-�

�Thirty million,� I say, lifting my paddle and trying to look bored, as if I just want this over with.

�Thirty-five million.�

�Fuck, it�s the German cannibal again,� Dario murmurs.

�Forty,� Vasiliev cuts off the auctioneer, who mops his shiny forehead.

�Thank you, Messieurs, do I hear forty-one?�

I force myself to sit back, looking composed as the battle between the German and Vasiliev finally wears down.�

�The current bid for number thirty-two is seventy-three million Euros. Going once. Going twice-�

�One hundred million Euros.�

There�s a ballroom-wide shuffle as everyone turns to look at me. I keep my paddle upright, expressionless.

�Mesdames et Messieurs, this is a new record in the Barone Auction House,� the auctioneer couldn�t look happier, if only he knew that I�m going to gut him later. �One hundred million Euros. Do I hear a higher bid?��

There�s silence, and the German stares at me with hatred.�

�Very well. Going once, going twice� sold to Signore Toscano.�

�Collect the Ricci girls,� I tell Emilio. He nods and rises quickly, and I lean into Dario. �Stay with me. If it looks like anyone�s figured it out, cut their throat.�

Ekaterina�

When I wake up nothing hurts, which is a big improvement.�

Sitting up, I look at the sunshine stretching across the floor and attempt to put all the pieces of my memory back together.

It doesn�t help that I have no idea where I am. I know I�m with Giovanni. I can hear the water lapping against the side of the boat� so I�m on one. A boat.�

Deep breaths. Just focus on the details�

I�m in a stateroom, and it�s huge. I didn�t think yachts had rooms this size. It�s decorated in ocean colors- blues and greens, aqua pillows on the bed, and on a couch and two chairs in the corner. There�s a beautiful wooden floor, polished to the same gleam as all the teak fittings and trim, and a pile of books on a table next to the chairs. Other than that, there aren�t other hints that anyone�s ever used this giant, fancy room.

Dragging myself out of the too-comfortable bed, I look out one of the windows.�

We�re at sea.

What? What is happening here? How did I go from getting drugged by those freaks to being saved by my fianc� to� here? And where is here? �The ocean� seems like a somewhat overly broad answer.

�You�re awake.�

I whirl around and lean against the wall for a minute until my head decides to stop spinning, and then straighten up, trying to smile.

Giovanni strolls over to me, his hands in his pockets. He�s wearing tan trousers with a crisp white shirt. His sleeves are rolled up and I can see a couple of the tattoos he usually keeps hidden. I�ve learned that the Italian Mafia isn�t quite as brazen about ink as the Russians are.

�I�d say good morning, but I�m not sure what time of day it is,� I said, smiling awkwardly.

As he draws closer, I step back, knocking into the window. Giovanni�s handsome face is set in impassive lines, but his amber eyes are on fire with rage.

Oh, god. None of this is good.

�Do you remember what happened?� His deep voice is no longer warm, it�s cold, his words are clipped like he�s biting off every one of them as they come out of his mouth.

I rubbed my arms, moving away from the window. �You saved my life. I don�t know how you found me, but-�

�I wasn�t at the auction for you,� he cut me off. �We were trying to recover the niece of one of my Capos. Imagine finding my fianc�e there as the highlighted inventory for the evening?�

Flinching, I whispered, �It wasn�t my plan, believe me.�

�Hmmm�� he mused, circling me like a shark. �And what was your plan? Because stealing a rare sports car that is easily tracked by anti-theft technology seems profoundly foolish. And I didn�t think you were a stupid girl.�

All the blood drains from my face, leaving me light-headed again. �I- I can see where that would disappoint you,� I mumble.

�You know�� he�s still moving around me, �with a car of that magnitude, the Police Nationale are the last people you�ll see when you�re finally caught. Someone who owns a car so rare like that� where there�s only a handful of them in existence-�

�Three,� I blurt before I can stop myself. Based on his steely eyes, he doesn�t appreciate my interesting tidbit.

�Such owners don�t waste time with law enforcement. Because once they catch someone so colossally suicidal, they have a crew that exacts justice in a more satisfying way.� Giovanni moves toward me, and I step back in a strange little waltz. He slams his hands against the wall, and pins me between them, and I realize he�s cornered me. �What the fuck were you thinking?�

My mouth opens, and nothing comes out. There�s no way to spin this. There�s no story I can offer that�s going to dial down his rage. I suck in a deep breath, nearly coughing on it.

�I understand that you will want to end our engagement, I know Maksim will pay you back-� I wince, how much did he spend on me? I hope it wasn�t a lot. �Just please don�t break the alliance. My family�s been loyal to you-�

His hand is on my jaw, silencing me. �I paid one hundred million Euros for you.�

�Oh! My god!� I wheezed, �That can�t- that�s insane!�

�Do you know who was bidding against me?� His giant hand slides from my jaw to cup my throat. Loosely, not squeezing, but I can feel his thumb tracing my rapid pulse. �The first man runs one of the most vicious drug cartels in the world. The second bidder was Russian, one of the Six. Anton Vasiliev. He�s not fond of your family, is he?�

I shake my head numbly. �No,� I whisper. �He hates Maksim�s guts.�

�Imagine if he purchased you, darling, and discovered who you really were?� Gio�s practically whispering in my ear, and I�m terrified. Really terrified and I don�t know if he�s going to murder me himself or just throw me into the water and watch me drown. His fingers tighten. �Hmm?�

�It would be so bad,� I whisper.

�Oh, but wait!� He throws up his hands mockingly and walks away. �The cannibal.�

�The what?� My voice rises to the level of helium escaping a balloon.

�Gerhard Schmidt,� he supplies, leaning against the back of the couch. �A very wealthy industrialist with holdings around Eastern Europe. He has an unusual hobby. He buys young women and after a suitable period of torturing them, he eats them.�

My knees give out and I slide down the window to land with a thump.

�He was quite interested,� Giovanni continues, relentlessly. �He bid up to seventy-three million Euros before dropping out.�

I�m up and racing for the bathroom, just making it to the toilet in time. I haven�t eaten in so long that nothing comes up but bile, but I groan in humiliation as he strolls in, watching me in disgust.

Mouth tight, he wets a washcloth and hands it to me. �Clean yourself up,� he orders, �you have an hour. There are clothes on the chair next to the bed. Get dressed.�

My hands are shaking as I take a shower and brush my teeth, and then I just stare at my reflection. I�m still sheet-white from the story about the German cannibal who almost bought me. And Giovanni- ahundred million Euros? Maksim will kill me. Will he even pay it? Will he tell Giovanni to just dump me somewhere?

No. My brother loves me. And anyway, Ella would never let him disown me. There�s nothing Maksim wouldn�t do for his wife.�

A hundred million Euros. No one is worth that kind of money, certainly not me. Then, I remember Casey. How could I have forgotten him? Was he part of the auction? Please god, don�t let the German cannibal have purchased him!

Flying out of the bathroom, I stop short to realize I�m alone. Just as Giovanni had said, there�s a white dress on the chair with matching underwear and high-heeled sandals. It�s a pretty dress, a white, gauzy thing that flows down to mid-calf. I yank on the sandals and set out in search of the man who likely hates me right now. But I must convince him to find Casey.

�Holy� is this an aircraft carrier?�

I walk out of the stateroom and get my first real look at the yacht. The Russian Oligarchy are notorious for their super-yachts, and I�ve been on a few. But nothing compares to this. It�s not just the size, there are bigger ones, I�m sure. It�s the beauty of the thing.�

The lines and curves of this ship are like art- the white fiberglass sides swirl and swoop along like the waves we�re cutting through and the teakwood decks shimmer like the water. I�m on one of the upper levels, and there�s a huge pool below me. Deckhands in pristine white uniforms bustle around doing� whatever deckhands do on a ship the size of Paris itself.

�There you are.�

It�s Giovanni, and he doesn�t look particularly happy to see me. He�s changed into a dark suit with another white shirt, open at the neck and he looks� delicious. Terrifying, but gorgeous.

�I want to thank you for your kindness,� I rush ahead with my little speech, �I am horrified that you had to pay so much to get me back, I�� I wring my hands, looking for the words that will make him stop looking at me so coldly, the ones that will make him listen. �To be honest, I probably don�t deserve it after doing such a stupid, stupid thing.�

He�s still silent, just watching me with his hands in his pockets, looking like some GQ dream come to life.�

�I know that you�re disgusted with me and I don�t blame you. I�ll accept any decision you make regarding our future. But please- my best friend Casey was with me in that car. He got taken, too. Was there a blonde guy - my age - in the auction?�

He�s still silent, his face cold and impassive.

�Please, he�s my best friend. When I came to La Sorbonne, no one would talk to me, they were scared to even be around me. But Casey�s this brash American and he did not care about anything. He wasn�t afraid of my brothers; he didn�t care about their money or the Bratva. He was just� my friend. He didn�t even want to take that-�

�Steal,� Giovanni interrupts me.

�What?�

�You stole that Lamborghini,� he clarifies.

�Yes,� I agree in a whisper, �I uh, I stole that car. The only reason he was there is because he wouldn�t leave me on my own.�

He gives a mirthless chuckle, looking out over the water. The fading sun still lights up his pale amber eyes and� Really? This is what I�m thinking about when Casey could be dead somewhere?�

�I know you�re still a virgin,� he says coldly, �because the auctioneer announced it. It was quite instrumental in driving up your price.��

�Someone looked at- they examined me?� I nearly shriek.

�Apparently,� he smiles unpleasantly. �But as I was saying, while you at least chose to be loyal enough to keep your virginity, why would I rescue your little boyfriend? That�s an audacious thing to ask of your fianc�, don�t you think?�

�What? Boyfriend?� I laugh weakly in relief. �No, Casey�s gay. Totally gay.� Then I realize what he said and I�m angry, too. �I never dishonored you or our agreement,� I said stiffly. �I never did anything improper. With anyone.�

He tilts his head curiously, examining me. �You can see where I would find it difficult to believe a car thief.� Giovanni strolls closer, lifting his hand and putting it around my neck again. �What other things have you been doing, my not-quite good girl?�

�I�� My mind�s racing and I can�t think of what to say. What does he know? What could he have found out about me? The man had spies everywhere but how much of my life at La Sorbonne could they have dug into in the span of a few hours? I decide to stay on point.

�I made a mistake. I know it was unacceptable, and I never meant to embarrass you. As I�ve said, I understand that you�d want to break our engagement and I�ll take full responsibility with my family and my Pakhan and submit myself for-� I audibly gulped, �For punishment. But I�m begging you, please help me find Casey. He doesn�t deserve what�s probably going to happen to him if we don�t get to him in time.�

His fingers are sliding up and down the thin skin of my throat, and they�re calloused, like a man who works with his hands, not a rich, pampered Mafia Don.�

Giovanni�s always been a mystery to me. Stern, and scary. He�s been kind to me, though. Until now.

�Since you�ve begged me so sweetly, I�ll put a team on it. They�ll find him, if he�s still alive,� he agrees.

I stifled a sob and nodded against his hand. �Thank you. So much.�

He smiles and it is not a nice one. �Consider it my wedding gift.�

�Oh?� I ask, a little confused. He doesn�t seem like he�s in the gift-giving mood.

His hand slides from my throat and takes me by the wrist. �Come with me.�

�Where are we going?� I said, following like an obedient duckling.

We descend the steps and end up by the pool. There are lit Japanese fire lanterns floating on the surface, and a man wearing a priest�s collar standing nearby. My feet suddenly feel stuck to the deck.

�What�s- who�s that?� I stutter.

Giovanni pulls me along to stand before the priest, who does not look particularly happy to be there. �This is The Most Reverend Bishop Gallo, he�s here to marry us.�

�Tonight?� I wheeze. �Right now?�

He kisses my hand, his lips cold against my skin. �Right now, darling. If you still want your wedding gift.�

Giovanni�

�You�ve found her? She�s safe?��

I�d rarely heard Maksim Morozov sound anything but calm and urbane.

�Yes, she�s safe and here with me,� I said.

�Slava Bogu - thank god,� he breathes. He speaks to someone in the room with him, and I hear his wife Ella cry out in relief. �Thank you, Giovanni. I owe you a debt I cannot repay.�

�Oh, it came at quite a cost,� I say wryly, �but worth every penny to bring her home safely.�

�How so?� Maksim asks. �How did this happen?�

�Your sister stole a rare Lamborghini, one of only three in the world.�

�What?� he shouts, �There�s-� He takes a deep breath. �Go on, please.�

I keep my voice low, opening the door to my stateroom. Ekaterina�s lying face-down, one arm sprawled across the bed. She�s sleeping the sleep of the utterly exhausted. The sheet�s just covering her perfect little ass.

After I tell Maksim everything, there�s silence for a moment.

�Ekaterina knows how to drive?� he finally said, too stunned to sound like his usual, composed self. �I don�t know what to say, Giovanni. I never- I still can�t believe it, even though I believe you, if that makes sense.�

�I understand,� I said, �and while I certainly have many, many questions she�ll need to answer, the important thing is that she is safe.�

�Thank you,� he says, �I will send down her bodyguard immediately to bring her home. I never should have allowed her to go to university without him. She�s just� always been such a good girl.� He chuckles humorlessly.�

�That�s the other thing we should discuss,� I say casually. �I married Ekaterina tonight.�

His voice is razor-sharp. �I beg your pardon?�

Ah, now, here comes The Pakhan.

�I married your sister tonight,� I repeat patiently, �I flew Bishop Gallo in to marry us here on my yacht.�

�Why would you do this?� Maksim is shushing a clearly agitated Ella.

�The car she stole belongs to Nolan O�Rourke. Based on everything I know, he�s not aware of her identity. But he sent a crew after her to deliver an extremely nasty punishment. I don�t think he�ll ever find out that it was Ekaterina, but I�m taking no chances. Between being officially married to me and being the sister of the Pakhan of the Morozov Bratva, the chances for repercussions would be minimal.�

Laughing bitterly, he says, �Nolan fucking O�Rourke. He�s a bastard.�

�He�s a sociopath and an asshole!� Ella shouts.

Chuckling, I say, �I agree with both of you. Ekaterina even admitted that she knew who he was when she stole his car. She said it was� on her life list? She was very agitated by then and didn�t make much sense. But regardless, I believe this was the right decision.�

�My sweet little sister stole Nolan O�Rourke�s one-of-a-kind Lamborghini,� Maksim says. �No one will ever believe this.�

�No one should ever know this,� I remind him pointedly.

�Agreed,� he sighed. �I will wire you the one hundred million Euros immediately. That was not a cost you should have to absorb.�

�It�s not necessary,� I said, �consider it as her bride price. Look, it�s late here, and I need to sleep. We can speak again soon and I will have Ekaterina call you.�

�Giovanni,� I can hear the Pakhan again. �Ekaterina is still my sister. My family.� A chill spreads over his tone. �I need to know that you will still treat her with the respect she is due.�

�I would not have married her tonight if I didn�t intend to protect her and care for her,� I said sharply. �Our agreement hasn�t changed.�

Thank you,� he said, thawing slightly. There�s urgent whispering and he asks, �Ella would very much like to speak to you before you go.�

�Certainly,� I say politely, rolling my eyes. I really don�t want to hear this.

�Giovanni?� Ella�s sweet voice is anxious, �Can I please say something?�

�Of course.�

�I don�t even know where to begin. I don�t� know this Ekaterina, it just seems so insane. But I do know one thing, okay? No matter what she�s done, I know she has her reasons and I do recognize that sounds nuts. But I can tell you unequivocally that she is one of the kindest, truest souls I have ever met. She has been there for me in times when no one else recognized I was hurting. Please, just�� Ella sighed, �Please give her a chance to prove herself again. I know she will.�

�I understand what you�re saying Ella,� I assure her gently. �I have never hurt a woman and I would not start with my bride. There is a lot to answer for, here. We�ll figure it out together, she and I.�

�That�s all I can hope for,� she said, �thank you.�

�You�re welcome, goodnight.�

Hanging up, I pour myself another drink and walk back into my bedroom. The moonlight�s playing over my bride�s pale, lovely breasts and I can just make out the red marks from my stubble on her skin. My cock�s rising again and I groan silently. I�ve already fucked her twice, and probably not as gently as I should have for her first time. She�s going to be sore enough in the morning.�

I don�t regret a thing.

Ekaterina�

�I�m going to fuck you now, sweet wife. Spread your legs wide for me.�

I freeze up, I can�t help it.�

When he draws back, his beautiful eyes are molten amber, concerned, and I find myself relaxing. �Yes, Giovanni,� I breathe, and I am surprised about feeling so� eager for this. So quickly. From a man who is still a stranger to me.

He hovers over me, stripping off his shirt and pants in seconds. The soft light from the windows gleams over his chest, all hard muscle and smooth skin. His body is like a weapon, firm, with an economy of movement and a sense of terrifying, coiled energy that is ready to explode.�

He is scary. He is beautiful. And he makes me so wet.�

He is between my thighs, and I can feel that thick part of him, heavy against my leg. His hands move, they stroke along my skin and dip in and out of my center again to trace wet trails of my slick on my clitoris and his cock. He is different now, no longer silent and he whispers all this beautiful filth to me.�

Giovanni�s voice is always sonorous and exquisite, and now that he is turned on, it has a growl to it that makes me shiver. It makes me want him to keep talking because he feels safer now. I can tell he wants me, that I arouse him and not just like something he owns.

That I am desirable.

The thought is so overwhelming that I moan, �Please, Giovanni��

He stills for a moment and I wonder if I did something wrong, and then those hard, knowing fingers are back, stroking in and out of me. �Such a good girl,� he purrs, �say it again.�

�Uh�� I feel clumsy and confused, but I can feel myself tighten against his fingers inside of me again and I repeat, �Please, husband? Please?�

He moves suddenly and it makes me stifle a shriek, but then he is over me, those sinuous hips of his rotate gently as he puts the thick head of his cock at my entrance, pushes in and out, in and out as I feel the broad head push through and back out of me before sliding back in halfway and makes my back arch.�

My hands almost fly off the rail where Giovanni placed them, so he puts his hand over mine and holds them there, wrapping his long fingers around my wrists.�

God, I feel so full- full almost to bursting and I know he isn�t all the way in yet. There�s a burn that makes me draw my thighs up, my fingernails dig into his wrist while I try to breathe through it.

�Sweet girl, keep breathing,� he soothes me, �it gets better.� I hope so, because I feel like he�s splitting me in two, too wide to fit inside me. He�s holding still, it takes some effort based on the tight lines around his mouth and I am so grateful.�

He is a lot. There is so much of him and it doesn�t seem like there is room to breathe with him in me. After a moment, he slides in and out again, a bit more each time until I�m finally getting impatient with his patience.�

�Aren�t you the sweetest surprise, baby?� His voice is hoarse, it feels like another set of fingers running along my skin. �Such a tight, silky little thing. I can feel my cock splitting you wide. You�re enjoying it, aren�t you?�

It takes me a minute to remember how to make my lips form words again, but I manage, �Yes, Giovanni.�

He chuckles, deep and pleased. �Such a good girl.� Giovanni thrusts hard, all the way to the top of me, and a shriek rips from my throat.�

Growling, he thrusts against the resistance of my channel, making me open for him. The smooth, blunt head of his cock strokes along parts of me inside that I�d never felt, going deeper than I thought there should be room to go. It feels so good. Why does it feel so good?�

After a moment of delirious explosions of pain, and pleasure, and an insane adrenaline rush, I can feel something rubbing against my clitoris. Something hard, and smooth and it strokes against my sensitive pearl every time Giovanni bottoms out in me.

�Wh- what is that?� I wheezed, bouncing along with the force of his thrusts. He smiles, burying himself inside and holding still for a moment as he takes my hand down to slide my fingers over where we are joined. �Is that a piercing?� I gasped.

It was, a stainless-steel barbell at the base of his cock, and it is in the perfect spot to rub insistently against my clitoris every time he pushes up into me.�

�It is,� he murmurs, �I�m going to make you feel so good.�

I forget about the ominous nature of this rushed wedding and just fall into the movement of the heat and weight of him shoving greedily in and out. When it seems like he can�t get any bigger, his cock swells more and he reaches between us to stroke my clit with his thumb, circular motions that get firmer and firmer.

Gio puts his mouth to my ear, hissing, �You will never come without my permission. I give it to you now, lovely girl. Come with me. Now.�

I do. It feels so good, overwhelming like he is inside all of me, and when his swelling cock bursts, the heat goes everywhere, making me come and feel like I�m on fire all the way to my fingertips. I�m no longer good girl Ekaterina, or car thief Ekaterina. I�m somewhere in the middle and it feels like something that maybe I could settle into with Giovanni.

We�re both panting, he is heavy on top of me, it�s kind of comforting like he�s blocking out everything else. Then, he stiffens and pulls out, ignoring my pained gasp, standing up. I can feel his come slide from me into an embarrassing puddle on the sheet and I sit up, wincing at the pressure on my pelvis.

Then he just turns and walks into the bathroom, shutting the door without another word.

Ekaterina�

I wake the next day as the yacht jolts. There are voices shouting and I can hear cars in the background.�

Groaning, I pull myself out of bed. Every step I take reminds me just how far up inside me Giovanni was last night. Pulling on a robe, I go in search of him. Maybe he�s heard something about Casey?

We are in a slip at some luxury marina. The buildings and what I can see of the town seem familiar, and then I realize this is the port town where Francois ships out all his hot vehicles. I�m still sheltered from view, awkwardly keeping to the hallway by the stateroom because I doubt the Don�s wife should be running around the yacht in just her robe.

�Look, he�s not the priority right now.� Giovanni must be right around the corner and I hear the scrape of his shoes on the deck as he paces, he�s speaking in Italian and I�m straining to catch the words. �We have bigger things to focus on right now. Put him on the back burner and concentrate.� He�s silent for a moment, listening to the caller. �I�ll come up with something to tell her, keep her from stressing out again. Mm-hmm� good.� More silence. �She�s still sleeping.� There�s a comment from whoever is on the phone with him that makes him give a deep, masculine chuckle. It totally screams I�m The Man.�

The arrogant son of a-

�Focus on the immediate threat, Dario.� He is talking to his brother, then. Yuri once told me that when they were back at university, no one at the Ares Academy would fight Dario because he insisted it �should be to the death to really count.��

Lunatic.

�Good. Talk to you tonight,� Giovanni finishes the call and I race back down the hallway to the stateroom, making a beeline for the bathroom and slamming the door shut.

Slapping my hand over my mouth, I smother the sob trying to break free. I sat on that man�s lap; he urged me to talk about Casey. I thought then how lucky I was, to end up with someone from my brother�s world who was actually kind. Giovanni�s just like the rest of them.

Casey needs me. That�s the only thing that matters. Could I call Maksim or Yuri? Surely they�d help me. My shoulders slump. They�d call Giovanni. In the vile, archaic ways of their world, I�m his property now.�

There�s only one solution to this dumpster fire. I�ll go find Casey myself.

There�s a sudden knock on the door and I jump half a foot.

�Ekaterina, come out. Breakfast is ready.�

I paste my good girl smile on my face. �Be right there, Giovanni, thank you.�

Giovanni�

I look over Ekaterina, checking for injuries or signs of abuse, but my lying thief of a bride looks just fine. She looks beautiful, in fact, with her silvery blonde hair flowing down her back and those perfect breasts demurely covered in a dark red sundress. She�s pale and there�s a tremor on her lips before she presses them together.

�You have something of mine,� I say to the weasel behind the desk. This must be the legendary Francois. �I�ll be taking it back now.� I can almost feel the fury rising in Ekaterina at being described as a package pickup, but that�s not my problem.�

�Ah, Signore Toscano. An honor indeed to see your path cross with mine this day,� he says, smoothing his pitiful mustache.�

I force myself to nod pleasantly. �Thank you for keeping my property safe, we�ll be leaving now.�

I wrapped my fingers around a rigid Ekaterina�s arm, pulling her down the stairs of the battered little trailer. �He called you?� she asked bitterly.

�No, I did not call Don Giovanni.� Francois appears behind us, holding a very large gun to Ekaterina�s head. �I called our new guests. You are quite in demand, Goddess of the Drift.�

Two explosions outside shatter the windows in the warehouse and I know someone�s blown up my cars. There�s gunfire and shouting from some of my men as they race into the building, weapons out.

�Boss, we have to go!� Carlos said urgently, �We�re down two cars and there�s company.��

There�s another explosion and Francois waves his gun, enraged. �Do not violate the sanctity of my yard, you barbarians!� he shouts. I rip the gun out of his hand and hold it to his head, gripping his throat with my other hand and pulling him closer. �Who did you call?� When he doesn�t answer, I grip him tighter, watching him choke. �Who?�

He is suicidal enough to smirk at me. �I am but a simple businessman.�

An audible �thunk!� from behind me is followed by a groan from Carlos as he collapses at my feet, a throwing blade lodged in his lower back. Three more fly in rapid succession and I pull Ekaterina behind me and Francois in front. Two hit him squarely in the chest, the third wedges in my shoulder. There�s a blur to my right and I shoot the man in the face.�

Yanking on my jacket, Ekaterina shouts, �The big truck over there; it�s Francois's pride and joy, it�s reinforced enough to break the gates down.�

I shoot again, taking down another man. �Where are the keys?� I shout back.

�They�re in the truck,� she yells, �he�s always in there listening to music.�

Waving my gun at my guards to follow me, I haul Carlos �up and throw his arm over my shoulders and race across the warehouse, keeping my body between Ekaterina and the entrance. A violent flare of light and an ear-shattering roar knock us sideways.

Fuckers.

They threw in a flashbang grenade. I keep lurching toward the truck, narrowing my eyes to slits, trying to focus through blue-white sparks blurring my vision.

There�s a yelp and another one of my men goes down, a knife jammed in his thigh. Ekaterina is the one to break loose from me, reaching down to pull him up and help him get moving again. We reach the truck with two of my guards laying down cover fire while I get the truck started. Just as I hit the gas pedal, there�s another explosion that feels right on top of us, but this behemoth barely rocks from the impact.

Now the bullets fly, trying to finish what the explosions and the knives could not. I focus on winding between the piles of crushed cars, stacks of auto parts and head for the gate as the guns outside fire faster.�

�Someone just brought out their AR15s,� Carlos said. Approaching the heavily reinforced steel gates, I growl to see more black SUVs barreling up the road leading to Francois� compound.

�More guys? You have got to be kidding me,� Ekaterina gasps, trying to hold on and keep pressure on my guard�s knife wound at the same time.

�Just hang on,� I say grimly, downshifting and hitting the gas again.�

Ekaterina is right, the reinforced bumper and grill of this tank rip right through the gates and we almost blow past the cars outside when Carlos shouts out, �Wait! It�s Dario!�

Ekaterina�

I want to stay on the deck with the Big Men making all the decisions. I want to ask about Casey. I also want to turn tail and run. Find someone to take me back to Paris, grab my bug-out bag and just� run.�

Admittedly, I had not thought much about what happens after marrying Giovanni. I shied away from the mere thought because it would mean the end of my freedom loomed that much closer, the childish kind of avoidance that is pathetic at the age of twenty-two.�

I�m pretty sure, though, that this is the worst possible start.�

Slumping into a chair on the master stateroom balcony, I watch the last of the harbor disappear. Where are we heading? Are Maksim and Yuri spending the night on the yacht with us?

Burying my head in my hands, I pray to whoever might be listening that Giovanni would be too angry at me to want to have sex tonight. I�m remembering just how loud I was last night and I would rather step over the side of the yacht and drown in the Mediterranean than let my brothers hear me having sex. Yuri would probably find it hilarious.�

Sex.

What was that last night? Inside, I still feel hollowed out, like that giant dick of his moved everything inside to make room for him. He was dominant and rough and I turned to mush, all soft and vulnerable. Everything he did felt so good.

I can�t believe this, but it�s possible that being with Giovanni was hotter than any car I�d ever stolen.

Giovanni�

My wife is beautiful.�

I stand over her, fist clenched around my glass of vodka. I don�t like vodka, but I keep it on hand for when I host my Russian associates. Now, I am drunk on it and staring at Ekaterina, asleep and almost angelic in the moonlight.�

Angelic.

No, my bride is hardly angelic, no matter how lovely she is.�

I saw her first at Maksim�s Christmas brunch four years ago, a gathering for his closest friends and associates. She wore a green dress with a modest neckline and a plunging back that showed off her sleek spine. She had pulled her hair up and it displayed her long, elegant throat so beautifully.�

We were introduced, with her soft hand in mind and a quick look in my eyes before her shy gaze darted away. It was enough. She was only eighteen then. I am ten years older, not shocking by the standards of most arranged marriages. I knew Maksim was new to his role Pakhan then, and that he was disenchanted with the idea of marrying off his sisters. Still, I resolved to approach him about Ekaterina when she turned twenty.�

He contacted me first.

�Giovanni,� he�d said, �this pains me. I never wanted to use my family��

�You aren�t using Ekaterina,� I�d interrupted. �We�ll be a good match. You already know I�ll treat your sister with respect. I�ll care for her and protect her with my life.�

�Will you agree to let her finish her education?� Maksim asked, �It�s very important to her.�

�I will,� I had promised, hesitating. �I can fly into St. Petersburg and meet with her. It will give us a chance to get to know each other.�

�That�s an excellent idea,� he said, his relief bleeding through his measured tone.

Giovanni�

�I�m surprised you�re not in St. Petersburg right now, getting ready for the big day.� Peter Olsson puts his arms over the top of the black leather seating in the VIP section of our London property, Club Venom.

�We had a change in plans,� I said, watching the dance floor, writhing bodies and colored lights overhead bouncing off the mirrored walls.�

�Oh?� He leaned forward. �Is this an unfortunate development?�

�No,� I shake my head with a practiced smile, �Ekaterina and I decided that we couldn�t wait that long. We had a quick, quiet ceremony aboard my yacht. Knowing her mother, I am certain we will still be required to have a large and lavish party this summer.�

�Congratulations,� he raises his glass to tap against mine. �I have met the Morozov matriarch. She is not the kind of mother-in-law you want to annoy.�

I chuckled, �I come from an Italian family, remember? I understand terrifying women.�

�Where is your lovely bride now?� Peter looked around as if I might have stashed her under the table or behind the bar.

�At home in Naples. She�s finishing up the last of her finals for graduation.��

Our server comes slinking up to us, wearing the scanty black dress all the female employees wore. I can tell she�s altered it to make the neckline even lower and the skirt short enough to show off her thong when she bends over. Which she is doing right now, her head nearly in my lap as she tries to get my drink on the table.

�Thank you,� I said, �why don�t you give our guest his drink and be on your way.�

She has no common sense. �I�m happy to get you anything else you might need, Mr. Toscano,� she chirps, I�m sure she thinks it is adorable.�

�Leave,� I said sharply, watching her face fall as she scurries away.

�I can hear the sound of female hearts breaking all over Europe at this news,� Peter laughs as he throws back the rest of his drink.

�And here you are to offer them comfort,� I chuckled, standing and buttoning my jacket, �Thank you for joining me to catch up on the construction plans for Monaco. I fear I must make this an early night, but the staff has been instructed to give you anything you might require.�

�Far be it for me to keep a man from his bride,� he said graciously, though I caught a glint of envy in his eyes.�

My early night is not due to flying home to be with my bride.�

Ekaterina�

It wasn�t a �couple of days� when Giovanni finally returned home, it was a week.

I wake in the early morning hours of the eighth day to see my husband standing over me. He is wearing some kind of a black tactical suit, and had several days� worth of stubble on his cheeks. He is so far from the impeccably suited businessman I know that it takes three seconds of acute terror before I realize it�s Giovanni.

�You�re back,� I say stupidly, wincing internally. Smooth, girl. Very smooth.

�I�ve been busy,� he said in a strange, blank tone.

A trickle of unease starts up my spine, making me sit up and scooch back against the headboard. �Did you get what you needed?�

Giovanni�s head tilts, watching me. He finds my comment amusing. �I did what was necessary,� he says, �as for what I need?� One knee goes on the bed, then the other and he�s crawled over me, grabbing my thighs, and yanking me down flat on the mattress.

His big hand is on my throat, not squeezing, just holding me there. �Have you been a good girl while I was gone, Ekaterina?� My sleep shorts are not providing any coverage and the rough material of his tach suit rubs uncomfortably against my bare thighs.

I give a short, humorless chuckle. �You haven�t been looking at your surveillance footage? Though I haven�t found the camera in the bedroom yet, I�m sure it�s here somewhere.�

His fingers tighten on my neck. Not enough to cut off my oxygen, reminding me that he could. �Do you expect me to trust you, tesoro?�

I sag under his grip. �I guess not.� There�s something wet on my silk top and I look down to see a small red stain. �Oh, my god are you bleeding?� I gasp.

He looks down briefly, brow furrowed. �Apparently.�

�Will you let me help?� I ask, �I can bandage you up. We should see how bad it-�

Giovanni cuts off my flow of concern with a vicious kiss, more like his full lips pressing harshly against mine before his tongue stabs into my mouth. Harshly pulling me under him, he slots his narrow hips between my thighs, spreading them wide.

�I�ve been thinking about this,� he hisses in my ear. �Every day. Teaching your little pussy how to fuck. Coming with my cock up inside you. Were you sore after that night?�

�Yes,� I admitted. �For days.�

�You should always be sore from my cock,� he says, biting my ear. �You will always remember who you belong to. Because this is mine.� He cupped my center and squeezed harshly. �But this�� he tapped my forehead with a finger, �this is trickier, isn�t it?�

I am so scared right now but in a thrilled, horrible sort of way. Giovanni is unrecognizable, harsh, and angry. He�s always been so calm when he�s been around me, controlled and slightly distant. �It�s yours, too,� I lie. �Like the rest of me.�

He smiles cynically. �We�ll see.�

Giovanni�s on his knees, tearing off the top part of his suit and I can see the cut just under his ribs, bleeding sluggishly. I try to touch it and he pulls my hands away, putting them on his belt. My fingers are yanking on it, pulling it open and then struggling with the button on his pants.�

With a growl, he rips his pants down himself, kicking them off before attacking my breast, sucking and biting the nipple through the wet silk of my camisole. His calloused, warm fingers squeeze my other breast and I let out a startled shriek when he slaps it. His hard fingers latch onto both nipples and he pulls on them, my back arching to take away some of the burn.

�So good,� he murmurs, rubbing the thick bulge of his cock against my painfully sensitive center. His hands slide to my hips and flip me over as if I weigh less than the pillow my face is buried in.

His hand slips between my thighs and pulls them open wider and I gasp as he presses his cock against me again. He's sliding it up and down, slowly, nudging my clitoris each time, fingers tightening on my hips every time I gasp and moan. He gives a dark chuckle, runs his finger through my wet lips, and lifts it to show me.�

"So wet already?" Giovanni whispers in my ear, his tone dark, and diabolical. "You are my good girl, certainly."

He spreads my lips to look at me makes me stiffen against his fingers, embarrassed. I can't believe his slip-and-slide games are making me wet. Shamelessly, blatantly slick for him and I'm glad I have my face pressed into the pillow. He grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls my head back, kissing me as his rough fingers slide inside me.�

"Still so tight," he murmured, kissing me again. "It's like I've never been inside you. I'm going to keep you stuffed on my cock for weeks, so your perfect little pussy shapes around me. You'll feel empty when I'm not fucking you."

The sexy talk from him is killing me. Maybe it's Giovanni's gorgeous voice, raspy, potent, sinful. He keeps whispering about how beautiful I am, how tight and sweet. And then he buries his face - buries it! - against my pussy and I feel his tongue swipe a long, luxurious lick from the back of me to my clitoris, wrapping his lips around it and sucking.

"Oh, my god Gio," I'm moaning, "it's too..." I don't know what it is but every single atom of my body is attuned to that part of me, feeling his tongue tickling my clitoris while he slides inside me with two fingers, stroking along my inner walls, pressing and stroking, spreading his fingers to stretch me and I grip the pillow, screaming into it, just wanting to come more than anything in the-

"Not yet, baby," he says, biting my shoulder, "you'll come with me."�

"I might die first," I wheeze, "I thought I should share that information- Oh! God!"

I feel his chest move against my back as he laughs. "I should say, 'no, I'm Giovanni, not god.' But I am your god, I will the only thing you can think of, the only thing you can feel."

He pulls his fingers from inside me and flips me over again. Sitting against the headboard, he pulls me over to straddle him. It strikes me, how much bigger he is than me. His huge, warm hands tight against my waist, and his wide shoulders that I'm currently gripping. And of course... that part.

"Keep being my good girl now and slide down my cock," he says, giving me the filthiest grin. He's holding it steady for me, pressed just inside me with his other hand on my hip.�

Looking down, I gasp. The piercing. His giant dick has me delirious, how could I not remember that barbell at the base of it until now? What would it feel like, straddling him like this?�

I sink down slowly, feeling the stretch and burn of him, like I'd forgotten how it felt the first time. His hand moves down to my ass, squeezing my cheeks and spreading me wider.

"Keep slipping that tight little cunt down," he says, his voice a bit hoarse and it gives me a buzz of power to think that maybe I'm shaking up his self-control, too. "You'll get your reward at the bottom. I'll let you grind your greedy little clit on my piercing. Do you remember how good it felt last time, tesoro?"

"I..." My head drops to his shoulder for a moment, the muscles in my thighs shaking with the effort of moving slowly. "It was all overwhelming," I manage, "your body, the piercing, your... you know."

He laughs again and the force of it pushes him up into me, making me yelp. "My cock, baby? Was that what you meant to say?" His hands move to my hips and he thrusts deep and holds, moving me side to side gently, making room inside me. "Arch your back."

I obey him and the press of the warm metal against my exposed clitoris is too much. I want to come. I want to breathe but his dick is taking up too much room inside me but it doesn't matter because all I can do is writhe against his piercing.

Then his hand comes down against my ass and I shriek, startled, and press against him. "Move with me, let me make you feel good," he says, his face barely lit from the moon shining through the windows and making him look like the Dark Lord of Hell I already know he is. No regular man could feel like this. His fingers spread across my ass, pushing and pulling me into a luxurious rhythm where that evil, wonderful, diabolical piercing rubs against me on each stroke.

�O bozhe eto tak khorosho� this is so good. Please let me come," I moan, "pozhaluysta, please?"

Thrusting up inside me, he stabs me with his dick, deeper and deeper, and then... stops. I make a high, whining sound that is in no way attractive.

"Shh, baby," he murmurs in my ear. "Hold on. It will be so much more intense if you can draw it out."

I make a half-groaning, half-sobbing noise and he strokes my back, kissing me and telling me how beautiful I look. He grabs another handful of hair and pulls my head back again, kissing my wet, open mouth. The angle he has me at pushes my breasts hard against his sculpted pectorals, the light dusting of hair there tickling my nipples and I can't breathe, I can't think, I can only feel but it's too much and then...

"Come with me, my good girl," he rasps in my ear as he thrusts up, hard and I scream and come. Like his good girl, like his bad girl. I don't know because all I am is a glowing rush of fire that incinerates everything else inside me that isn't him.

Ekaterina�

Pushing back from my laptop, I sigh, stretching my arms over my head. That was it. My last final - this one for my Behavioral Psychology class - is finished. It�s in the hands of the gods now.

Giovanni is out doing business. Aside from our conversation that night in the bathtub, he hasn�t been exactly forthcoming. At all. When I�d been playing a desperate game of catchup with my schoolwork, I didn�t mind so much. But now, the silence in the villa felt lonely.

Maybe it�s because I�m used to having people all around me; like Casey, who is so loud that he counts as four or five people. My bodyguards. My little sister Mariya. Fellow students. Here? The three men assigned to guard me patrol the grounds when not needed, and thanks to my escape attempt, none of them are willing to speak more than the bare minimum to me. Dario is never here, although that�s probably a good thing since god knows what kind of mischief he stirs up.�

I don�t know what the rules are here. What is my role? What am I meant to do?

Giovanni doesn�t trust me, that much is certain. I have a feeling that he spends a great deal of time away from home to� stay away from me? I hate thinking that it�s true, but I�ve seen so little of him.

Martina is a sweetheart, but she�s always so busy. I was allowed to help her make dinner one night, and it was the first time I�d felt useful since I have been here. We made goat cheese and spinach-stuffed chicken - which she pointedly told me was Giovanni�s favorite dish - and grilled bruschetta with a balsamic glaze. Learning to cook was not something Mother ever encouraged when I was younger, and knowing how to make a couple of Italian dishes isn�t much. But armed with the knowledge of how to create my husband�s favorite meal, perhaps I can soften him up a little.�

The only time it�s certain I�ll see him is when he�s apparently lost all self-control and intends to have me right then and there� regardless of where �there� is. Not that I�m complaining. If that�s all I�m allowed of Giovanni right now, it�s still extremely rewarding. I can�t sit down without remembering just how high up inside me he�s been, but it�s a deeply satisfying ache.

With no more schoolwork to focus on, I decided to wander the grounds. The estate is much bigger than I�d thought after Dario�s speedy tour that first day. The winding paths through the gardens and outbuildings are all designed to follow the flow of the coastline beneath us.

I�m edging along the south side of the compound, near the two guest houses and I hear it; the light, high voice of a child singing a mournful little song.

�So I�ll dance with your ghost on the terrace,

And play my guitar all alone��

There�s a child here? Whose child? The little person sings another verse or two, and I wind around Dario�s guesthouse, following the sound.

�What are you doing down here?� Dario�s sharp voice is right behind me.�

Whirling, I put one hand on my chest. �I think my heart just stopped for a second, so thanks for that.�

He�s not smiling, not even his usual taunting grin. �I told you this part of the estate is off-limits.�

�You told me not to bother your sister,� I corrected him. The intensity of his stare is unnerving, but if I don�t take a stand with Dario I know he will push me around forever. �I heard a child singing over here. Who are they?�

�None of your concern,� he says sharply. �Why don�t you head back to the main house?�

I want to shout, �Why don�t you stop being such a complete dick?� Maybe this isn�t the time. Pressing my lips together, I nod and spin on my heel.

But I�m still going to search for the little vocalist when Dario�s not around.

Ekaterina�

Graduation Day, La Sorbonne

At first, things were so shaky between Giovanni and me that I didn�t know if he would allow me to attend the graduation ceremony. But here I am, in cap and gown. I look out over the crowd in the Grand Hall, wondering if my family made it. I know Yuri and Tania will be there, she already called this morning when they landed, and she told me Maksim and Ella are close, too.�

There was nothing from Mother. Not a word since she found out about our hasty marriage. If she�s not coming, that means she won�t let my sister Mariya join us, either.

�Babygirl!� It�s Casey, wearing his cap and down and using a cane to get to me.

�Oh, my god! Casey honey, are you all right? Giovanni wouldn�t let me call you of course you�re not all right, you�ve been through hell but you�re Casey you can handle everything so-� He hugs me, and I�m sobbing helplessly.

Pulling us into an empty reception room, he hugs me again before handing me a tissue. �I was keeping that in case I lost my shit onstage and started crying,� he said sternly. �Mop up those tears or you�re going to look like hell when you�re accepting your diploma.� He flicks my tassel that signifies I�m a summa cum laude graduate. �You have a reputation to uphold, girl.�

He doesn�t look bad; Casey is too pretty for that. But he is haggard. I can still see the new lines on his face from exhaustion and to my horror, a scar that extends from his left eyebrow down to his cheekbone. I put my hand on it, trying not to cry again.

�I�m so sorry, moy dorogoy, my dear. This is all my fault, I can�t-�

He cuts off my weepy apology. �Look, we did it together. I heard about what almost happened to you. It�s not like you got off scot-free, honey. The important thing is, we�re alive. We made it out. We�re graduating and we�ve got shit to do.�

He puts his hand over mine on his cheek. �You like my scar? I think I look rugged and dangerous as fuck. I�m totally going to top now. No more bottoming with a scar like this.�

�That�s what you�re thinking about?� I shake my head, laughing, �That your scar makes you a top?�

�Yeah!� The lunatic actually looks happy about this. �I�m not a twink anymore, baby!�

�I have no response for this,� I can�t stop laughing, which was, of course, exactly what he was going for. I squeeze his hands. �I love you. You are the best, most loyal of friends and I just� I don�t know what to say.�

�Say we�re best friends,� he smiles gently. �Some things will never change.�

�Forever,� I promise fervently.�

We hear the opening strains from the orchestra and he steps back, straightening my mortarboard and tassel. �Come on, �Rina,� he grins, �Let�s go kick some French ass by being even more fabulous than they are.�

Hand in hand, we make our way to the processional, and I�m filled with profound gratitude that even when everything else changes, Casey and I still stay the same.

Ekaterina�

Saying goodbye to my family was hard the next morning - we�d all stayed in the boutique hotel in Paris that Maksim and Giovanni had opened together. While the men were off doing important billionaire things, Ella, Tania, and I got massages in the lush hotel spa - decorated in a style that Tania called �Marie Antionette�s Bordello� - and a hilarious kind of pedicure with fish nibbling the dead skin off our feet.�

�This really is a graduation gift for me, isn�t it?� I tease Ella. She hates spa days. With a passion. She has her reasons.

�You have no idea,� she says sourly, eyeing the little fish working on her pinky toe.�

�On the bright side, the chances are excellent that no psychotic ex will be waiting in your car to murder you!� Tania said cheerfully.

�She wasn�t Maksim�s ex,� Ella said, in the exhausted tone of someone who had repeated this a thousand times. �She just expected an arranged marriage to him.�

�Well, she�s dead now,� I said coldly. Just thinking about what my sister-in-law had suffered at the hands of that witch made me happy the woman was six feet under.

�Why, Ekaterina, you murderous little squirrel,� Tania says approvingly.

The attendants who are presenting us with nail polish options keep their pleasant smiles, pretending they didn�t hear a thing.

When it is time for them to head for the private airfield where their jets are waiting, I cling a little longer to Ella and Tania.

�It�s okay,� Ella whispers, �we know Giovanni cares for you. Give it a little time.�

�If he doesn�t learn to trust you,� Tania adds, �just cut him off. Swear to god that�ll turn it around in a hurry.�

I give a teary little laugh and reluctantly let go and watch them drive away.

Giovanni�s arm slides around my waist. �I will not keep you from seeing your family,� he says, kissing the side of my head. �It will be alright.�

�Thank you,� I whisper, �you have been so kind to me.�

He raises an eyebrow, looking down at me. �You�re my wife,� he said, �I�ll always try to make you happy.�

Now I really want to cry because he�s so unbelievably sweet. I think I could love unbelievably sweet Giovanni one day.

Giovanni�

My phone rings, prompting a broad smile as I pick it up. �How is my beautiful bride this afternoon?�

�Buon pomeriggio, Giovanni.� Ekaterina�s accent improves by the day, sounding more like a native speaker.

�And to you, tesoro,� I said, �have you had a good day?� My traitorous cock is already rising, just from hearing her voice. Fuck you, Pavlov, I think irritably.

Dario looks up at me, a spray of blood across his cheek and half a gallon more ruining his suit. �Is that baby talk?� His face twists with disgust, �Fuck me, are you going to be one of those pathetic fools who does baby talk with their woman?�

�One moment, tesoro,� I say, putting the phone on mute and slapping him on the back of the head. �Stop playing with your food, you asshole. Finish him and clean yourself up.� The unfortunate Barone Capo strung up in the basement of one of our warehouses is moaning and it�s irritating.

Walking outside, I unmute the call. �I�m back, tesoro,� I tell her, breathing in the air untainted by the coppery funk of blood.

�I�m well, husband. How are you?� Ekaterina�s voice is a little shy, but warm. �You sounded busy; I hope I didn�t interrupt anything important.�

�Our business has just concluded,� I assure her as a gun fires, ending the Capo�s moaning.

�Oh, that�s good,� she says, �I have to tell you something, I hope you won�t be mad at me.�

�Good ahead,� I urge, wondering if she�s finally gotten the courage to tell me about all the other cars she�s stolen.

�I�ve been hearing singing around the compound, you know, a child singing? I followed the sound back to the guesthouses and Dario sent me away. I heard it again last night, it was quite late so I got up to look for whoever was singing. It was a little boy, four or five? He said his name was Alessio, he was sitting on the seawall - which was terrifying - so I waited close by until he was ready to go back home.�

�Ah, you�ve met my nephew,� I said gently. I don�t want her to worry that I�m angry with her.

�I thought so,� she says, relieved. �I met his mother at the door of the guesthouse, she looks just like you so I�m assuming that�s Francesca?�

�Yes,� I agree, sliding into the armored Maserati SUV. The city of Genoa is Barone territory, so we tread lightly here, with double our normal security.�

�Alessio�s a sweetheart,� Ekaterina�s tone is warm. �Though� he asked me if I was going to help him find his father?�

Sighing, I rub the back of my neck. �You understand this is family business, of course.�

�Of course.�

�Francesa�s husband Domenico disappeared shortly after Alessio�s birth. We have considerable resources when it comes to finding people, but Dom�� I shook my head, �There�s no sign of him, no sign of a body. Francesca took it very hard. A couple of years ago, Dr. Lombardo examined Alessio for his annual checkup and suggested treatment for the boy. Lombardo thinks he displays the symptoms of-�

�Autism, yes,� she interrupts me. �Is he getting ABA? That�s Applied Behavioral Analysis.�

�No,� I said, cracking my neck. Questioning prisoners puts me in some contorted position that always leaves me with a strained back. �Francesca was very upset at the diagnosis and refused any treatment for Alessio.�

�Early intervention is so important,� Ekaterina frets, �is there anything you can say to Francesca? I would be happy to give you some information to discuss it with her.�

�My sister won�t listen to me,� I admitted. �She�s been without any friends for a long time, and losing my mother devastated her and Alessio lost much of his language skills at the time. He sings one song, over and over.�

�I heard it,� she said, �such a terribly sad song, too.�

�Francesca used to play it endlessly after she lost Dom, I�m sure it was all Alessio heard for a long time,� I said. �I hoped that having another woman at the estate might help Francesca out of her shell a little. She might be more willing to listen to a friend, instead of a medical professional.�

�She was pretty clear about me leaving her space,� Ekaterina said regretfully, �but I can go back and try again. I�m persistent when I have to be.�

�Yes you are,� I said, my tone deepening.

She clears her throat, and when she speaks her voice is a little strained, I know I�m getting to her. �Um� your Uncle Sal also paid me a visit yesterday.�

I sat up straight. This was news to me. �Oh? What did he have to say?�

�He wanted to introduce himself, I suppose,� she said. I could hear fabric swish slightly and pictured her lounging out on our bedroom terrace. Maybe in that thin, white sundress I had specifically picked out for her from the personal shopper�s list. �He was very nice, a little wary because�� she sighs and carries on, �I�m an unknown quantity still. We talked about your family�s history, and he told me about his wife.�

�Uncle Sal spoke with you about Aunt Caterina?� I�m a little shocked. My uncle guards her memory with great reverence.

�Mm-hmm. She sounds like a lovely person.�

�She was,� I agree, running my finger over my lower lip. This information clearly told me that my bride definitely had Uncle Sal�s approval. �Mio tesoro, I have some news.�

�Oh?�

I felt the slightest twinge of guilt; she sounded so excited. Has she been that lonely at home? �Yes, our casino in Monte Carlo is gearing up for the soft opening.�

She laughs, �The type of soft opening where you invite all your most powerful friends and ridiculously wealthy acquaintances?�

�Exactly,� I chuckled, �you�ve apparently been to more than one of these for the Morozov empire?�

�Oh, yes! It�s usually very fun. Unless my mother is there.� Apparently realizing how that sounds, she gulps and hastens to add, �I didn�t mean that to sound so disrespectful, it�s just-�

�I understand,� I said. �There should be some dresses delivered to you this evening. Pick out the ones you like and send the rest back. You�ll want two or three. I�ll be back home tomorrow to pick you up.�

Her voice is softer this time, vulnerable. �You�re taking me?�

�Of course. I want my beautiful wife by my side when we open this casino. It�s taken nearly eight years to finish this project,� I said.

�Thank you!� she gushes, �I�m so excited! I�ve always wanted to visit Monaco.� Clearly, I have left her alone too long; she sounds so giddy.�

For a woman raised in the billionaire Morozov Bratva, she is remarkably unspoiled. Her genuine pleasure for anything given to her - small or large - is deeply gratifying.

Settling back a bit against the leather seat, I glance toward the warehouse. Dario and his men are still inside, and in his case, I hope hosing himself down. Carlo and my other personal guards are outside, facing away from the SUV to watch for threats.

�Can you do something for me, tesoro?�

I can hear her breath coming more quickly. �Yes, Giovanni?�

Ah, she remembers the right way to answer. �Where are you now?�

�I�m in the bedroom, on the terrace.�

�Perfect, I�m going to hang up and give you five minutes. When I Facetime you, I want you naked on our bed.� My cock is hard enough to stab something and I need this woman now. I have clearly been away from home too long. �Hurry,� I said, unzipping my pants, �the clock is ticking, baby.�

There�s a high-pitched whimper from my lovely bride as she hangs up.

Giovanni�

Why did I agree to bring the investors on my jet? Why?

Ekaterina is talking with Hamish Duncan, the CEO of the biggest transportation company in the United Kingdom and a complete bastard. Yet there they are, heads bent together and she�s admiring pictures on his phone of his new baby girl. He�s smiling and chattering away about her birth weight and her exceptional Apgar score, whatever the hell that is. I don�t think I�ve ever seen Hamish smile before.

She looks so fucking luscious, and I can barely stand up without my erection being ready to stab something.

The flight to Monaco is only an hour and forty-five minutes. I planned to give Hamish and my other potential investor, Mariella Caruso, a private tour of the casino before the opening tonight. I�ll push that back a couple of hours and then I will be inside my bride in every possible position within minutes of landing in Monte Carlo.

�Signora Caruso, Hamish was telling me about summer camps in Scotland, do you have a favorite for your children?� Ekaterina is sweetly attempting to draw Mariella into the discussion. I should tell her she�s wasting her time. Mariella is here primarily because she wants to fuck me. It�s never happened and it certainly won�t now that I�m married, but hope springs eternal with this woman.�

She is, however, an extremely shrewd businesswoman who turned her dead husband�s fortune into a mega-fortune. She�ll still invest. The deal is too good not to.

�No,� Mariella sniffs at Ekaterina, just barely on this side of courtesy. My bride�s lips twitch, but she nods respectfully and carries on with Hamish, who is bragging about his son�s skill in archery.

I nod to the flight attendant, who hurries over with a tray of drinks. �Signora,� he gives Mariella his most winning smile, �may I offer you a glass of champagne? This is from the Shipwrecked Champagne series.�

Ekaterina held up the bottle, looking at the label. �I know this story! Divers found several crates in the Baltic Sea a decade ago, the cases went down with the ship over 200 years ago, but the chill of the Baltic kept the champagne intact and in perfect condition.�

Mariella takes a glass, sipping suspiciously. �Not bad,� she allows.

�How did you know that story?� I murmured to my bride.

�Maksim carried a few bottles in his Manhattan club. I got to drink one with Ella and Tania one night,� she says, smiling at the memory. �We teased my brother and called him a wine snob, but it really is an amazing story.�

�As it happens, your brother gave me a few bottles to celebrate the opening of the Paris club,� I said. �I hope it brings back good memories for you from that night.�

She gave a shy smile, looking around the cabin. �Why do you say things like that?�

I frown, �Like what, tesoro?�

�You know, so sweet and kind.� She laughed a little awkwardly. �You know I�m a sure thing, right? I mean, we�re already married.�

Sliding Ekaterina onto my lap, I ignore her efforts to squirm free. �Look at me,� I urge her, my fingers on her chin, lifting it. When she reluctantly does, I gaze into the clear blue of her eyes and see the gold flecks shimmering there. �My father told me that courting doesn�t end at marriage. Your happiness and well-being are important, tesoro. Every day.�

Putting her hand on my cheek, lightly, carefully, she whispers, �That is the most romantic thing you could ever say to me.�

Ekaterina�

The fist in my hair shakes my head viciously. �Don�t pass out yet, puttana.� A disgusting wet tongue runs up the side of my face and I let out a choked scream, which earns my head another collision with the shattered mirror.

Both my hands are gripping his wrist, trying to keep him from ripping out my hair and I finally focus on his reflection, bits and pieces of him refracted in the shards of the mirror. He�s in a tux, a normal-looking man in his early forties, maybe. He�s grinning, and it makes me want to vomit.

�Allow me to introduce myself,� he rasps, gripping my throat with his other hand. �Alessandro Barone. Apparently, I made a pile of money off you at our last auction, little whore.�

�Just let me go,� I said, �my guards are right outside the door. You�re signing your own death warrant.�

�Oh, those three?� He licks my face again, laughing at my moan of disgust. �Lazy fuckers.� He wiggles his fingers and I see the blood caked on them.

�Zloy ukol!� I hiss, �You evil prick! Giovanni will gut you for this-�

�No, I don�t think so,� he interrupts. �He�ll be too busy mourning his sweet little bitch, who�s about to be found dead in the bathroom, with her dress up around her waist and a gun shoved up her-�

I want to strike higher on his disgusting chest, right into his heart. But the way he�s got me twisted against the sink makes just pulling the knife loose from the sheath on my leg difficult enough. I twist my wrist and shove the blade into his stomach and slice him open from one side to the other and then straight up the center. I can hear the wet gush of his intestines dropping from the gash in his abdomen as his eyes bulge horribly. Stabbing at his wrist, I finally get his fingers out of my hair, embedding the knife in his hand as he tries to pull his gun from the holster.

Slipping on the bloody ropes of intestines snaking out on the floor, I scream, high enough to make the glass shatter if it hadn�t been already. Scrabbling backward, sobbing, I scream again when the door slams open.

It�s Mariella, her eyes are wide, horrified and her mouth moves soundlessly for a moment. �Are you all right?� she shrieks, �What did he do? I�ll go get help-�

�No please!� I can�t stop sobbing, still flailing in the mess of what used to be inside a human body. �Don�t go. M- my bodyguards, they�re��

�Get up,� she says, sliding her hands under my arms and yanking me with surprising strength. My bloody shoes are sliding uselessly against the marble floor and I kick them off, getting to my feet with her help.�

Pushing open the door, Mariella spots a security guard and shouts at him, �Get Giovanni Toscano! His wife�s been attacked.��

There are a dozen guards surrounding us in seconds, speaking rapidly into lapel mics and checking out the gore-covered bathroom.�

�My guards,� I manage through my sobbing, �Orlando and�� There�s another scream, this time from Mariella as one of the men opens a service door and my bodyguards drop out, all shot through the head.

She sits next to me on the floor, holding my hand as we cry together.

�Dio santo cosa � successo qui!� Giovanni arrives, scooping me up into his arms. �What happened? Tesoro? Look at me.�

One of his men opens the bathroom door and shows him what�s left of the man who tried to kill me and I bury my face in his neck.

�I came in when I heard her scream,� Mariella whispers, �he was trying to get his gun.�

�Thank you,� Giovanni said, �from the bottom of my heart, thank you.� Looking at his security, he snarls, �How did fucking Barone get in here? Much less within striking distance of my wife?�

Whatever answer they might have had is drowned out by a massive explosion.�

Ekaterina�

Ekaterina�

Back home at the villa, I make a new list.

Ella, who is the kindest, sweetest person on the planet, suggested I keep a �Grief Journal� to work through what happened in Monte Carlo. I�m ashamed to admit to my sister-in-law that I�m not grieving over killing Barone. In fact, I should be more concerned about the fact that I�m not sorry.�

At all.

I do get nightmares, where this time when I sink the knife in, it�s someone else�s face I see. Orlando. My other guards. The people whose deaths I feel responsible for.

Giovanni pulls me onto his lap when I have those horrible dreams, rocking me and kissing me, murmuring soothing things in Italian and Russian until I fall asleep again. He�s been keeping close to home, I�ve noticed, and based on phone conversations he has with my brothers, Maksim and Yuri are keeping an eye on his expansion in America.

I decide to tackle numbers one and two on my list.�

The first day, no one answers when I knock on Francesca�s door, so I leave the gift basket on the front porch. There are fidget toys, some art supplies, and cannolis from Uncle Sal�s restaurant in the basket, and I notice it�s gone when I check a couple of hours later.

The next day, I leave a little hand-held device that plays classical music videos that have shown a lot of success with calming younger kids on the autism spectrum, and a fruit tart from Uncle Sal�s restaurant.

The door opens on the third day as I�m setting the basket down. It�s packed with simple sensory toys and three different kinds of gelato.

�You have to stop leaving these baskets,� Francesca says. �I�ve gained two kilos.�

Laughing, I hand her the new bundle of treats and dust off my hands. �Yeah, but those cannolis are worth it. Especially the passionfruit ones.�

She gives me a small smile, though she�s still holding onto the door like she thinks I�m going to break through it. Looking around, I see the little terrace off the back of her house. �Could we sit down for a minute? Your shady spot looks so nice.�

Francesca picks at the wood on the door as she thinks about it, then nods reluctantly. Her guesthouse is a miniature version of the main villa, with low, curving garden walls and a little fountain in the middle of her terrace. There�s a carved wooden pergola with grapevines twining over it, shielding the chairs from the sun.

�Your grapes are almost ready to harvest,� I commented, �are you two joining in on the harvest festival?� I pull out the three containers of gelato and spoons to go with them.

She shakes her head, smiling slightly. �You�ve thought of everything, haven�t you?�

�Well, I don�t know if you or Alessio are lactose-intolerant, so this could go sideways in a hurry,� I admit.

This time, she laughs and I am mentally doing a gleeful little dance.

�Fortunately, no,� she said.�

I want to ask about Alessio, but I try to stay focused. Win over Francesca first.

�I�ll give you first pick on the gelatos, but I�m warning you my heart will be broken if you take the pistachio one,� I warn.

With a small, evil grin, she grabs the pistachio tub, digging her spoon in with relish.

�That�s harsh,� I laughed. �Should we leave the chocolate or coconut one for Alessio?�

Her smile fades a bit, but she nods toward the chocolate one, which is good since I love coconut. Clearing her throat, she asks, �How are you settling in?�

I get the feeling she hasn�t had much interaction with the outside world, which makes me even more concerned for Alessio. She�s trying though, and that�s what matters.

�This place is beautiful,� I said happily, �I�m from St. Petersburg, which is never warm. Never. There�s just a slight variation in how cold it is.� Francesca gives me another little smile. �I haven�t had much of a chance to explore the island, though.�

Finishing her spoonful of gelato, she shakes her head. �I had a feeling Gio would be protective of you. He�s like that.�

�Well, he has assured me that I am not under house arrest,� I said lightly. �Maybe you could show me around?�

She seems to curl in on herself, like a potato bug. �I don�t like leaving the property.�

�We could just stroll around the grounds,� I said, �you could tell me about your family? I�d love to know more about you growing up with two men as brash and outrageous as Giovanni and Dario.� I think about it, �Especially Dario.�

This time, she actually laughs. It�s a rusty little chuckle, but at least I�m getting somewhere.

The next day, I bring out a big box of sidewalk chalk and start a picture on the walkway from their house to the villa. I fill it with dragons and fairies and fantastical ocean creatures and end it with a question. �What should come next in this story?� I leave the box of chalk. When I stroll by that evening, there�s a torrent of images: cats with wings and dancing wheels of cheese, a purple ocean that soars up into a green sky filled with lavender stars.�

It�s clearly a child�s work, but the drawings are amazing, the form and style far more advanced than I would expect from a four-year-old. I take pictures of Alessio�s work and race over to the villa, knocking on Giovanni�s office door.

�This is a pleasant surprise,� he says, leaning back in his chair. He looks tired and happy for a diversion.

�I wanted to show you your clever nephew�s artistic skills,� I said, brandishing my phone. He pulls me onto his lap and we look at the images together. �Look at this, you can clearly see the addition of fully formed features, arms, legs, and the like. This isn�t something you usually see in a child's developmental stages until seven or eight. He�s even using perspective, see how the flying cat is bigger because it�s in the forefront of the picture?�

He�s not looking at the photos anymore, my husband is smiling at me, a soft, tender smile and one I�ve not seen before. �Thank you, sweet girl. I wasn�t certain anyone could reach him.�

I sigh, putting down the phone. �I haven�t yet. Francesca is understandably protective of him. But she and I are developing a cautious friendship. She needs that, too.�

Giovanni�s big, warm hand is on my throat, fingers stroking my skin softly. �And what do you need, tesoro?�

Well, the mood in the room just made a 180-degree turn, I thought.

�I�m� fine?� I said, feeling his dick hardening against my hip. How can simple flesh turn into something so big, so rock hard and so quickly? My husband�s equipment is � as Casey would crassly say - the XXXL size, so when he is aroused, there�s no hiding it. Gathering my courage, I reach behind me and gently squeeze him through his trousers. �What about you, muzh?�

�Hmm�� he runs his tongue along the shell of my ear, �I need to bury my face in your sweet, perfect pussy.� His filthy talk makes me giggle, always so embarrassed until I�m too turned on to care. He abruptly hoists me up on his desk, pushing everything away. Leaning back with his dark lord of the underworld persona very much in place, he raises an eyebrow.

�Spread your legs.�

Ekaterina�

For the next few days, I go walking with Francesca during the afternoon, always within view of her house.

�Is Alessio napping?� I ask one day.

�Yes,� she says, running her fingers gently over a rose, a rare bluish-purple color. �He�s up most of the night, so we both have to get our beauty sleep when we can.�

�Sounds exhausting,� I venture casually.�

�It can be,� she admitted. �Our housekeeper Giulia stays with him sometimes so I can sleep. She�s been with us since he�s been born. Losing my mother�� her pretty face crumples, �he stopped talking for a long time when his Nonna died. Now, it�s full sentences, but only sometimes. And his singing.�

�A lot of children regress and lose some milestones when they suffer a big loss,� I said sympathetically. �You�ve lost a lot of loved ones in a short time.�

She moves away from me, though she keeps walking. �So, you�ve heard about my husband.�

�Only the little Giovanni told me,� I said, �that he disappeared after Alessio was born.�

�Gio is supposed to be looking for him!� Francesca says angrily, fists clenched. �How could he not have found him by now? With all the Toscano connections and he can�t find my husband?�

I have a shard of guilt stabbing through my heart, remembering how quickly Giovanni found Casey for me, despite my running away. �Do they have any clues?� I ask, �Any leads at all?�

�Nothing,� she said, sitting down on a stone bench. �It�s just like he disappeared into thin air.�

I perch next to her, carefully not touching, just sitting together as we watched the sunset.

Ekaterina�

The next day is cloudy, and I drag my surprise for Alessio down the stairs from the back terrace to find Dario lying in a wicker chaise lounge outside of his guesthouse. �Today�s the day!� I leaned the canvas bundle against a tree. �You promised to help me with Alessio�s surprise.�

�Not now,� he moans, �some other time.� He looks terrible, a little pale, and based on his sunglasses and smelling like he fell in a wine vat, I�m guessing it was quite the evening for my brother-in-law.

Yanking off his sunglasses, I danced back out of reach. �You promised,� I said sternly, �you told me you would help me, Uncle Dario.�

�I thought you were supposed to be so sweet,� he complained bitterly, hoisting himself out of the chair.�

Looking down at his wrist, I roll my eyes. He�s wearing a red wristband; I know what that means. The famiglia owns a sex club in Naples. Giovanni once reluctantly explained to me what all the wristbands meant. Red signifies a Dom looking for a submissive.

�Ugh, what were you doing at Il Decostruttivo last night?�

�I was there for the free antipasto tray and drink specials,� Dario snarls, �what do you think?�

�Believe me, I don�t want to know,� I said, �just hide your wristband, SignoreDom, and get moving, there�s a lot to do.�

Squinting miserably in the low light, he says, �I really don�t like you at all.�

�Hate me on your own time,� I said unsympathetically. �Come on, this canvas is incredibly heavy.�

Within a couple of hours, our creation is ready and I knock on Francesca�s door. She opens it with the first excited expression I�ve ever seen from her.

�Is it ready?�

�Yes!� I whisper excitedly, �Is he in a good mood?�

�I believe so,� she said, �he just woke up from a very long nap.�

Alessio appears behind her, rubbing his eyes.�

�Hey, buddy,� I lower my voice, �there�s something kind of interesting in your backyard, do you want to see it?�

He looks at me. Looks at his mom. He�s not talking today, which is not a great sign but I still have hope. Finally, he nods, taking Francesca�s hand and mine.�

There�s a beautiful little patch of woods just behind their back garden with a grassy spot in the center. There is a dark blue tent erected there, just the right size for a small boy and maybe a guest or two. The exterior is painted with moons and suns and whimsical animals in silver paint. Alessio glances up at me again.

I give him plenty of time to comment, and when he doesn�t, I say, �This is for you, my friend. It�s your special place. Do you want to bring your mamma and have a look inside?�

His magical little face lights up and he hauls Francesca along, pulling open the tent flap and heading in. Dario and I stand outside, listening as they discover the sensory toys, the games and stories, the books of all our art projects, and a light board that his fingers can manipulate into different, pretty patterns.

�There is a letter here on the table, do you want me to read it to you?� Francesca asks. �Okay, it says�

Giovanni�

Two pieces of very good news came that afternoon.

The first is seeing my nephew and my sister emerge from one of the SUVs, Alessio�s hand gripping Francesca�s as he looks around, wide-eyed.

�Hey, my friend!� Ekaterina was there, smiling reassuringly at Alessio, who is clearly debating about joining the festivities or diving back into the SUV. �Do you want to see your room? We can put your blanket there and your stuffies so you can set it up the way you like it.� He smiles up at her and my throat tightens with emotion for my bride. She has made life better for everyone in my family without expecting anything for herself.

Ekaterina and Alessio walk hand in hand into the main house and Francesca turns to me. �I�m glad you came,� I said, kissing her cheek. She hasn�t joined in the harvest festival since before Alessio�s birth, and the disappearance of Domenico.�

She shrugs awkwardly, looking around at the bustling workers. �I have missed it,� she admitted, �and Ekaterina and I discussed how to make Alessio comfortable here.�

�Let me know if you need anything, yes?� I wait for her to angrily tell me to find her husband, but my sister just smiles a bit sadly, and nods, heading into the house.

I wish I could find Domenico for her. I can�t understand how, with our vast resources, my brother-in-law could have disappeared without a trace. At first, I thought he had run out on his family. But as the years pass with no clues, I suspect he�s dead. We will still search for him until we find him, one way or another.

The second piece of good news comes from Maksim.�

�We�ve got a match,� he says. My brother-in-law is not a man to show much enthusiasm, but I can hear how genuinely pleased he is. �I�m sending you the data now. But I can tell you one thing, it�s an Italian group.�

�The Barones?� I frowned, �It can�t be. They�re not sophisticated enough for this kind of campaign.�

�That, I don�t know,� Maksim says, �but I�m sure your trackers can make the match pretty quickly.�

�Thank you,� I say sincerely, �this turns the tide, I can feel it.�

�We�re family,� he said, �this is what we do for each other. Ella and I look forward to seeing you tomorrow at the festival, with hopefully several things to celebrate.�

Ekaterina comes bouncing back out of the house with a big smile. �Alessio looks like he�s handling this pretty well. I think he likes being with all his people.�

I bend my head to kiss her. �I just heard from Maksim, he and Ella are joining us tomorrow as well.�

Grinning up at me, she kisses me again. �This is going to be a great weekend! Tell me what we do now?�

Pulling her along by her hand, I run a quick visual check of the guards on top of the buildings, and the four by the gate. Another guard is running two security drones over the fields.� Everyone is alert and focused and I can enjoy time with my wife.�

�Let�s start with a quick check on the vines on the southeast slope. Grapes must be picked by hand to do this correctly. Some are perfectly ripe at harvest time. Others on the same vine can already be mushy, or still too green. We double-check them again before they go into the fermenting process.�

Helping her up into the bed of a truck, I put her on my lap so the bouncing and jolting won�t send her rattling out again. Pointing out the long, symmetrical rows of vines, so green against the black soil, I enjoy her excited expression.

She�s so beautiful, my wife. Her hair�s been bleached lighter by the summer sun, and her faint tan makes her blue eyes even more vivid. She�s soft, and warm, with the bright scent of her rosemary shampoo and something gentler on her skin, like vanilla. I want to feast on her mouth and lick her pink nipples until they harden.�

With a groan, I try to focus on the day.

Workers are singing, bending, and swaying as they cut the grapes and throw them into plastic milk crates. �There�s something about the contrast of color at harvest time,� I tell her, �the blue of the sky and sea, the rich purple of the grapes.�

�What are those two doing?� Ekaterina asks, pointing to two women who are dressed more like chemists.�

�They�re measuring the sugars in that specific grape, it�s being used to create a new varietal we�re producing this year,� I said, showing her the separate section of vines.

�I�m excited to hear more about that side of the process,� she says, watching them curiously as we drive by. Stopping by the end of one row, I help her off the truck and over to the huge collection bin for the grapes, plucking an especially large white one off the bunch.�

�Taste this,� I say, holding it to her lips. She opens her mouth to take it, her tongue touching my fingertips for a moment. Don�t get hard, I lecture my cock. This is not the time, asshole.

�Mmm�� she sighs, �that�s amazing. Warm from the sun, the thin skin gives way to all that flavor.� I give up the struggle, kissing her and shoving my tongue into her mouth to lick away the sweetness from her lips. The giggling from a group of young cousins and second cousins and cousins related by marriage makes me roll my eyes and pull away as Ekaterina laughs with the children.

�Back on the truck,� I lift her back into the truck bed and send the kids a scowl, which makes them shriek and scatter in a dozen directions. The long shadows of late afternoon are stretching across the hillside and I tell the driver to head back to the main house. �Uncle Sal will be overseeing the dinner arrangements; would you help him while I run a security check?�

The golden sunlight shines on her upturned face, and I�m helpless. Cupping her face between my hands, I kiss her slowly, thoroughly until the truck stops again. I�m pleased to know she�s as affected by it as I am, blinking slowly and trying to focus again.

By the time I�m back from my rounds, Ekaterina is kicking a soccer ball around with a couple of the younger children. Alessio is standing close by, looking like he wants to jump in.

Pulling another ball out of the mesh bag, I hold it up to him. �Let�s kick this one back and forth for a minute.� He doesn�t come as easily to me as he does to my bride, but Alessio finally nods and gives the ball some half-hearted taps with his foot until we warm up together and slowly, Ekaterina and her little group merge with ours. I can see by her barely contained excitement that this is good.

�Even parallel play at this stage for Alessio is a huge development,� she whispers, looking at him fondly.

�You are a miracle worker,� I tell her, kissing her soundly. I would kiss Ekaterina�s perfect mouth all evening if I was allowed, but now, dinner is nearly over and the musicians are tuning up. I am going to dance with my beautiful wife.

Giovanni�

�I�m sorry.�

It�s the first thing Ekaterina has said to me since I found her desperately trying to keep Uncle Sal from bleeding out. We�re in the bathroom of the master suite I keep for myself in the main house. I�m washing her bloody hands so I can bandage her cut. Her hair is hanging in her face, gore spattered through the blonde strands and turning them to rust.

�What do you mean, sweet girl? You have nothing to be sorry for. You were extremely brave.��

I prep the surgical glue and gently manipulate the skin around the cut.

�If I hadn�t screamed, Uncle Sal wouldn�t have tried to save me,� she says numbly.

�No, tesoro, no- Uncle Sal died doing the right thing, the thing he would want to do, saving his family,� I said, forcing her to look at me.�

�He�s the last of his generation,� she said sadly, �the closest thing you had to your father.�

It feels like a fist is squeezing my heart, I shove the grief down. Now is not the time. �I will mourn him, we all will. The best way you can honor him now is to live fully.�

Her head�s resting against my shoulder while I apply the glue to the cut slicing across her palm. �I saw something,� she said. �On the one that got away.�

I blow softly on the drying surgical glue. �What, baby? What did you see?�

�I ripped his shirt,� she said slowly, trying to focus. �Under his armpit, there was a brand. I thought it was a scar but the edges were too clean.�

�Can you remember what it looked like?� I ask, �Letters? A symbol?�

�Yes, I think it was the Infinity symbol,� she said, blowing on the mirror and drawing the image in the fog on the glass.

�This is important, my darling. Thank you.� I kiss her fiercely, my courageous girl. �Is there anything else? Did he speak? Did you catch an accent of any kind?�

She shook her head wearily. �No, he never spoke.�

Bandaging her hand securely, I wrap some plastic around it. �This will keep the bandages dry. The doctor doesn�t think you have any nerve damage, but he�s sending you in for X-rays on Monday. Come, tesoro, let�s get you cleaned up.�

�Is everyone okay?� she asks listlessly. �No one else got hurt?�

�No, you sounded the alarm in time. We shot two men trying to escape through the back gates. No signs of explosives, grazie a Dio per quello,� I said, stripping and getting in the shower with her. I don�t know if her legs are steady enough to hold her up.

�Thank you for taking care of me,� my sweet bride whispers. I can barely hear her over the spray of the water.

�I�m sorry I wasn�t there,� I said, kissing her forehead, her cheeks. �You were so brave.� Inside, I�m burning with equal parts fury and shame. How could this have happened to her again? How could I have not protected her? We�d locked down everything, everyone here in the vineyard was vetted, family or people who had worked for the Toscanos for years.

Her fingers slide up through my hair, gently scratching my scalp. �You don�t have to shut down, muzh. We�re together. You can feel this with me if you want.��

I allow myself four minutes to grieve Uncle Sal, to thank him for saving my wife, and then I put the grief back in the box I created for it in my heart and lock it away. This is the time for cold, clear thinking.

Gently drying her off, I help her slip into a soft sundress. �I want to go back out there,� she insists, �I know you have a great deal to handle, but� I am so angry. I want to be with our family.�

Hearing her say �our family� is the best gift she could give me. �I understand, tesoro.� She slips her hand in mine and we walk back downstairs together.

Alessio is sitting underneath a long farmhouse table in the tasting room, half-hidden by the tablecloth, and Francesca is slumped wearily in a chair close by. She gets up in a hurry, hugging Ekaterina. �Grazie a dio per la vita - thank God for your life!�

�It�s okay, I�m fine,� my wife says, hugging her back. �Just sad and really pissed off.�

Francesca gives a watery laugh. �Just like Dario.�

My brother storms into the room, jaw set and his eyes reddened. �Tell me Uncle Sal lived up to his name.�

Ekaterina puts her bandaged hand on his shoulder and whispers, �Sal the Butcher saved my life. He took out three men with a single meat cleaver. He is my hero forever.�

My arm goes around her, and I hug Francesca to my side with the other, she reaches for Dario and then the four of us are huddled tight, heads together, taking strength from each other while we can.

Reality bursts in with several of the guards, led by Carlo.�

�This has to be some kind of a- a cult,� he says, �one of the men trying to escape lived, we were about to interrogate him-�

�Maybe you should go to a more private room,� Ekaterina interrupts us, nodding at Alessio, still crouched under the table, trying to make himself as small as possible.

�A good idea,� I agreed grimly. �Come into the office, gentlemen, let�s see what we have so far.�

Once the door is shut, Carlo turns to me, �Don Toscano, I submit myself for demotion, or death. This is the second attack on the family and I have failed to protect you.� He presents his gun, bowing his head.

�Put your gun back in your holster,� I said. �We�ve all taken every precaution and they�ve still broken past our defenses. They�ve infiltrated us. What happened with the captive?�

�We were tying him down to interrogate him,� Carlo said, �and he ran for the window, smashing his head through, cutting his own throat. I�ve never seen anything like it.�

Dario paces, running his hand through his hair. �Everyone here has been with the famiglia for years. Carlo and I personally vetted everyone, down to the musicians and the harvest workers.�

�Most men have a price,� I said, rubbing my eyes. �This assassin�s guild has been two steps ahead of us the entire time. They must have someone - several someones, perhaps - on the inside.

"Here�s some good news: Ekaterina spotted a brand on the man who attacked her. An infinity symbol, on his ribcage, under his arm. In addition, we�re very close to finding the buyers of all the C4. Then it will be our turn to ambush those bastards.�

Dario turns to a couple of his lieutenants. �Start searching every adult for the brand quietly, privately. In fact, my apologies men, but start with yourselves.�

They both pulled off their shirts without comment, holding up their arms to show they were unmarked.

�Thank you,� I nodded to them both. �Start searching.�

As they leave, Francesca hurries in, looking frightened. �Have you seen Alessio and Ekaterina? She was watching him while I went upstairs, I was only there for five minutes and when I came back to the tasting room, they were gone!�

Ekaterina�

�You�re lying. That�s sick.� I can�t believe him. I won�t. This monster with a forgettable face is lying to me.�

�It�s quite true, Alessio�s father is my brother, Domenico. A failure,� he spat, the first emotion I�ve seen from him. �He was our deepest placement into the Toscano famiglia. He thought he�d fallen in love with Francesca. His child blinded him to his true purpose.�

�Giovanni�s been searching for Domenico for years,� I said, �where have you been hiding him?�

Milo gives me a condescending stare, the visual version of a pat on the head. �He had to pay for his disloyalty. His weakness.��

�You killed your own brother?� I�m nauseated, and so grateful that Alessio is still asleep.�

�Please, do not bother with the shock and horror,� he chides me. �You come from a Bratva family, what would your Pakhan do in the face of such disloyalty?�

I think of Yuri, trying to imagine what Maksim would do. My father would kill him instantly, without a second of remorse. But Maksim? �My brother is a hard man; he�s had to be. But he wouldn�t kill his own brother. He�d find another way. You murdered your own flesh and blood because you wanted him to betray his family. His real family; his wife and child. You couldn�t just have him take a vow of silence, let him walk away?�

�I thought you were brighter,� he says, clearly disappointed. �Only a fool would say something like that.�

�You�ll forgive me if your low opinion isn�t particularly emotionally scarring,� I retort, before pressing my lips together.

Shut up, you idiot! You need to keep him talking, I thought.

�So, all of this, the destruction, killing all those innocent people, this is just to take over the Toscano murder industry?�

�Just?� he repeats in disbelief, �Just? This is our life�s purpose. This is the singular focus of two generations of Costa men and women.�

�At least you�re an equal opportunity organization,� I said before wanting to slap myself across the back of the head. �This is a big world, full of people who other people want dead, Milo. You could co-exist without spending all your time and resources attempting to bring my husband down. I can promise you, he has more allies than you do, and it�s going to cost far more than you want to pay.�

�We�ve been in the shadow of fools like your husband for too long,� he says implacably. �There can be only one.�

It takes everything in me to keep from retorting, �A Highlander fan, eh?��

�You�ve been fuming all this time that the Toscanos are so� shiny, so flashy and you think it�s undignified, correct? What happens if the Costas do prevail and become the undisputed merchants of death? Your mystery is gone. Everyone knows who you are. Your greatest asset - hiding in plain sight - is no longer possible. And then, you�re just like the famiglia you claim to despise.�

Milo is perfectly still, watching me expressionlessly. But I can see the fury rising in him from the twitch of his fingertips and his jaw tightening.

�Let�s say the Costa mafia are now the kings of Murder Planet,� I continued. �And then, everyone - the Yakuza, the Brazilian Death Cartel, the Soweto Guild - comes after you instead of the Toscano mafia. How much of your resources have you already wasted trying to destroy them?�

He�s calmed himself down from his initial anger with me, sitting with a look of polite inquiry as if we�re chatting about whether to serve chicken or fish for dinner.

Alessio begins to stir, and I do not want Milo in here. I don�t want him talking to my nephew, frightening and confusing him.

�Please. Alessio is special. He can�t be part of your world,� I said urgently. �He can never be what you want and it will destroy him. I am begging you, just let him go. I will do everything in my power to get Giovanni to pull back from that side of the business. You don�t need to do this.�

�He belongs to our family,� Milo says, rising and brushing off his sleeve.

�He�s a four-year-old boy with autism,� I say coldly, trying to shove down my rising panic. �You�ve already killed his father. Don�t destroy Alessio. He�s an innocent. Doesn�t your guild have any standards?�

He smiles, and now his bland face is alive with malice. �For innocents? No one is innocent in this world, not even the children. Whether you live or die is by our will alone.�

�And you wonder why your brother wanted to leave your famiglia,� I snap back, instantly sorry that I had to have the last word.

He shuts the door and I hear the heavy click of a lock, and I�m left alone with my Alessio, now awake, confused, and terrified.

Giovanni�

Milo is stripped to the waist, hands tightly cuffed above him, and hanging from a hook in the ceiling. The men who were with him are being interrogated in another room by Maksim, and I almost feel sorry for the poor bastards.

�We don�t use these cellar rooms much,� I said, taking off my jacket and tie. �It seems� tactless to bring my work home with me.� His bland, brown eyes are following me, but he�s silent. �However, because you were helpful enough to come here, it does make it so much easier.�

His legs are spread and shackled to iron rings set in the floor.�

�It�s a bit medieval, as you can see,� I commented, strolling over to the racks of devices meant to shred a man�s body and soul. �And quite effective.� I pick up a power drill, examining the long, lethal-looking tip. �In the interests of saving time, I am willing to give you the chance to simply tell me where my wife and nephew are.�

His forgettable face is still expressionless, but I see the glint of satisfaction in his eyes.

�We picked up the three bugs you placed before they activated,� I continued, �it�s so much more inconvenient having to find a way into my home, rather than stealing all your information at my uncle�s restaurant, isn�t it?� I think of Uncle Sal, his chest heaving as he tried to protect us one last time by warning us that it was Milo.�

�How long did you work at Il Boschetto, Paolo?� I asked. �That must have torn at you, having to serve your betters, snapping up scraps of information.�

His fingers twitched when I used his real name, but that was all.�

�Paolo Costa. Both your father and grandfather are dead. It�s just you now, struggling for greatness.� Opening the case of dental drills and picks, I hold up the longest one, watching it gleam in the low light.�

�Do take your time,� Paolo says pleasantly. �Of course, your wife and nephew don�t have much of it left together. I was considering killing her slowly in front of him. The boy needs some backbone. Have you all been raised to be soft and weak?�

I nod and my guards wrestle open his mouth with a steel device that can be cranked wide enough to stretch his jaw until it breaks. But I just need his mouth open enough to go to work.

Leaning close, I smile pleasantly. �If you do decide to talk, just tap your foot three times.�

Ekaterina�

Six months later�

�Auntie Kata, I ready.�

�It�s I�m ready, Alessio,� I said, smiling down at his elfin face.

�You ready,� he nodded.

�No, sweetheart, I meant- never mind,� I laughed. �Are you ready to go see the dolphins and the manatees?��

�Yes!� he shouted. So much noise from a boy who used to be silent. It�s wonderful.

Taking his hand, we walk down to the dock where Giovanni�s boat waits. Not his monster yacht, but a new, sleek, white X-line X60 cabin cruiser that can be handled by my husband alone without his big crew of deckhands.�

Gio is already on board, flipping switches and warming up the engines. We invited Francesca along, but she violently shook her head.

�I can get seasick if I just look at the water too long from the shore,� she said. �Go ahead and have fun. I might work on my new painting.� Alessio�s lovely artistic skills came from his mother, who�d given up painting years ago. Now that he was doing so much better, she was rediscovering some of her old passions, too.

�Unca Gio!� Alessio cheers, racing down the dock. Giovanni hooks him around the waist, swinging him up before he plunges into the water.�

�Slow down,� he laughs. �Momentum can be a dangerous thing. Do you have your art supplies?�

Alessio nods and points at me. I�m loaded down like a pack mule with his big kit of paints and brushes and sketch pads.

�Good morning tesoro,� Giovanni murmurs, kissing me before relieving me of my baggage. �Lunch is already on board. Do we need anything else?�

�We�re ready,� I said, smoothing my hands down his blue linen shirt. There are a couple of buttons undone and I can see his sculpted pectorals and one of his tattoos, a sea serpent, curling along his abdomen. Why does he always have to look so good? It�s impossible to concentrate on anything but him when he�s always making me wet.

He leans closer, inhaling deeply and I blush with a groan. �I very much hope Alessio needs a nap sooner than later,� he whispers into my ear, �because I will need to throw your legs over my shoulders and eat you out.�

Sagging against him, I groan, �You�re killing me.�

�Only from la petite mort, I promise you,� he promises before biting my earlobe.

Once I have Alessio strapped into his life jacket, we�re off.�

�The Sorrento Coast is the perfect place to see the bottlenose dolphins,� Giovanni explains, �and if we�re lucky, maybe a herd of manatees.� He�s piloting the boat expertly in the shallows around the island and angling out toward the coastline. �Alessio, what do you call a group of dolphins?�

�A pod.� Alessio says seriously, �A pod of dolphins.�

�You�re right!� I praise him, �And there are over forty species, can you imagine?��

It�s taken a long time for Alessio to be comfortable out in the bright sunlight, and though I thought coaxing him onto our new boat would be difficult, he was instantly fascinated and wanted to explore it all.�

Now, Gio takes him on his lap and points out something in the waves ahead of us and all I can do is soak in the moment, the look of them together and my husband�s protective arm around Alessio�s skinny body. We�re still working on adding more foods to his limited diet, but he has gained 4.5 kilos in the last few months.

The sun�s glinting off the water as Giovanni slows the boat and I see the sleek, gleaming bodies of the dolphins diving in and out of the waves. Leaning closer to Alessio, I show off some of my research from the night before, pointing out the babies. �See the fetal folds, those lines down their side? The babies grow in their mommy�s tummy with their tail fluke and dorsal fin folded over. Can you imagine how squished you would feel?�

He shakes his head, laughing a little.

�This talk of babies is making me think about putting one inside you,� Giovanni whispers diabolically, smoothing his hand over my stomach. He chuckles, enjoying my little whimper, and pulls his hand away to point something out to Alessio.�

My husband is so patient with him, not pushing him on the days he�s having trouble using words, and when Alessio is close to melting down, he�ll fold up his long, long legs and crawl into his magical night tent with him. He�ll put our nephew on his lap and listen raptly as Alessio points out all the stars hanging down from the ceiling and the name of each one. He�s going to be an amazing father and the thought makes my knees weaken.

As if he can read my mind, Giovanni looks at me, a slow visual survey of every inch of me in my red bikini before winking and grinning in the filthiest possible way. We anchor the boat in the shallows and eat lunch with our legs dangling over the side as Alessio has a serious discussion about whether dolphins can fly. Just as my husband predicted, he falls asleep a few minutes later in my lap.

Picking him up easily, Gio whispers, �I�ll get him settled in the cabin,� leaving me to watch my husband�s perfect ass as he heads down the stairs.

I settle in the cushioned bow of the boat, staring up at the azure sky. �How did I get so lucky?� I whispered.�

�What�s that, tesoro?� He�s back, sliding in behind me and settling me between his legs.

I put my hand on top of his, resting against my bare stomach. �I was asking the universe how I could have such a fortunate life.�

�Hmm�� he links my fingers with his longer ones. �And what did the universe tell you?�

Laughing, I roll over to straddle him. �It said it would have to get back to me.�

�Good,� he growled, making my toes curl, �because I have plans for you.�

Those plans, apparently, include stripping off my bikini and burying his head between my legs.�

�Stop wiggling,� he said, pressing my thighs wider apart. His long fingers tighten on my knees, holding me in place as his tongue circles lazily around my clitoris. The sun beats down on us as his hot mouth closes over my center, shamelessly slurping my pussy, pulling and biting. Sliding my fingers through his dark hair, I scratch his scalp lazily, trying to fight my shyness and keep my legs open for him. When his lips fasten around my clitoris and pull, I shriek, sitting upright and bucking my hips against him.

His forearm, thick with muscle, lands against my hips and holds me down as his tongue plays against my swollen and painfully sensitive pearl. When he slides two fingers up inside me, scissoring and stretching me, I come with a soundless gasp, my poor hips desperately wanting to push up and bring me against his mouth again.�

There�s something about Giovanni�s fingers when they�re inside me, they�re harder, sharper than his gorgeous cock and the orgasms they pull from me are faster and overwhelming. I can see his biceps flex and bulge, the tendons in his forearm stand out as he fingers me harder and I�m trying to pull away. It's too much far too much but my evil husband doesn�t stop until he�s dragged two more orgasms from me.

His shadow covers me as he rises to kiss me, shoving his tongue in my mouth and making me taste myself. I nearly died of embarrassment the first time he did that, but now it�s wildly erotic, the proof of what he can do to me so easily.

�What do you want, baby?� he grins, kissing me again.�

�I want to squeeze your ass while you�re in me,� I mumble.

�What was that? I couldn�t quite hear you.�

Groaning, I try to be brave. �I want you to- to put your cock inside me,� I manage, �I want to squeeze your perfect ass while you make me come again.�

The effect of my weak little speech is deeply gratifying and I immediately see the benefits of frank sexual communication when he throws my legs over his shoulders, freeing his cock from his shorts and sliding deep inside me.�

He�s stretching me in such unimaginable ways. He belongs there, inside me, blazing and hard, making me so much wetter until my slick smears against his belly and thighs, soaks against his cock, and makes his skin slide along mine. I suck in another gasp of air as he groans.

I could not have imagined this in my virginal dreams - the feeling of my husband inside me, hot and so wide. His arms holding me securely and his face buried in my neck, growling occasionally with a rumble that sends sparks like lightning up my spine. His hand slides down to grasp my ass again, squeezing it with an unexpected gentleness even as he begins driving us both toward our finish.

Every part of me feels like I�m alight, some dazzling energy inside that crackled and sparked and began coalescing into the center of me, cycling around where I was joined with Giovanni and then with a scream, I come and it all flares back out again as he groans and his heat soaks me.�

�Auntie��

�Oh, my god!� I gasp while Giovanni laughs, that heartless swine, his cock moving and flexing inside me and making me wish we had time for another round. I throw on my swimsuit at the speed of light and hurry as fast as my unsteady legs can carry me down the stairs to the darkened cabin.

�Hey, malen'kaya zvezda, did you have a nice rest?�

His sleepy face smiles up at me sweetly. �Dream. Seagulls squawking louder and louder.�

I cringe so hard that my head nearly disappears into my shoulders and my truly unpleasant spouse is laughing again.

We head back to the island, a little sunburned and happy as Alessio talks about the dolphins and shows me pictures of his flying pod. Francesca is waiting for us on the dock, her hand shading her eyes from the sun.

�Did you have fun, my sweet boy?� she asks him as I wrestle him out of his life jacket.

�Mamma! Look! I show you�� She swings him up onto her hip and climbs the stone stairs cut into the cliff as he holds up his sketch pad. They turn to wave at us at the top and suddenly, there are tears shimmering in my eyes at how beautiful they are. Not for the first time, I wonder what it would be like to hold Giovanni�s child in my arms like that.

His long arms slide around my waist and I relax against his chest, still hot from the sun. �Are you tired, tesoro?� He�s nuzzling my neck and I can feel my nipples harden shamefully fast.

�Not that tired,� I say hopefully, and suddenly he�s all business.

�Good,� he says briskly, �I�m taking you over to the mainland, there�s a dress for you down in the cabin.�

�Oh? Okay�� I change and by the time I join him back on deck, we�re pulling into a boat slip in the harbor in Naples, not far from Uncle Sal�s restaurant. The family decided it was important to keep it open - after a thorough check of the staff, of course.

One of Giovanni�s men is waiting for us in the standard black SUV at the dock, and he helps me in the back.�

�Where are we going?� I ask, kissing my handsome man�s cheek, �Dinner at Uncle Sal�s?�

�Not today,� he says mysteriously.�

When we pull up in front of a beautiful old building painted a creamy yellow with green shutters, Giovanni opens my door, escorting me into the place. The huge windows in front make the main room bright and cheerful. There�s richly textured teak flooring that flows through the next several rooms. Some are smaller, classroom size, and others are open-air spaces with comfortable furniture gathered in small groupings. There�s a huge art space with excellent light, and three smaller rooms that are painted soothing blues.�

�Those would make amazing sensory spaces,� I said, poking my head in one door to examine the layout.

�I�m glad you see the potential,� he said, with that infuriating, enigmatic smile.�

Back in the main area, I turn in a circle, enjoying how lovely it is, and how welcoming. �Is this for one of your new business ventures?�

�No,� Giovanni said, leaning against a table. �It�s for yours.� He pulls a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and smooths it out on the tabletop.�

�You brought along my new life list?�

�When you trusted me enough to share this with me,� he said, �I knew it was time to share in some of your goals. This building has the right kind of layout and design to make an excellent resource center and school for young adults with autism. When you told me how underserved that population was, this seemed like the perfect project for you.�

My mouth is moving but I can�t seem to find the words.

�This is your passion, tesoro, and I want to help you make this something that can change the future for hundreds of these kids. I have designers and an architect lined up for you. They�re waiting for your plans on how to make this place come alive.�

If I didn�t know better, I would think the supremely confident, composed Don Toscano was a little nervous, but then he slides into a sly grin when he sees my happiness. �What do you think?�

�I think�� I turn in a circle, �I think I don�t deserve you and this is so perfect and there is so much we can do here and if we move the main reception area to-�

Scooping me up, Giovanni laughs uproariously. �Everything, just as you want, my little visionary.��

He kisses me. He kisses me so hard that my toes curl and I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him back. There�s laughter and a round of applause outside the open door and we turn to see our family clustered there.

�For the love of god,� Dario groans. �Is there ever a moment in the day that you two don�t have your mouths fused together?�

�Like kissing fish,� Alessio volunteers.

Smoothing my hand over the back of my beautiful man�s hair, I decide to ignore Dario�s whining and kiss Giovanni again. And again. And again, until suddenly the sidewalk outside is empty.

�I think we traumatized your brother for life,� I whisper.

�He�ll get over it,� he said heartlessly. �Come, we�re on a schedule. We�re meeting the family at Uncle Sal�s restaurant in one hour and we still must christen this place.�

�I�m guessing you don�t mean with a priest and holy water?� I tease him.

Giovanni�s eyes darken like a storm sweeping over the bay. �I have a much better idea.� His big hands slide down my hips, squeezing and stroking. �And it is far from holy.�

Thank you for sharing Giovanni and Ekaterina�s adventures! If you enjoyed their story, could I ask you to leave a review? Your thoughts are the lifeblood for an independent author. Thank you, truly!

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