Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 32295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
"You're fucking exquisite," he growls against my ear.
A tidal wave of ecstasy washes over me, stealing my breath and my sanity. I shatter beneath him with his name on my lips, stars exploding behind my eyelids.
My orgasm sends him careening over the edge with me. His raw groan rips through the room as he pushes deep and falls still, emptying himself deep inside of me.
"Karina," he pants, his voice rough as gravel. His weight on top of me is comforting, rooting me to reality as he collapses on top of me.
I drift in a haze of satisfaction, feeling his heartbeat against mine. It's strong and steady, echoing my own. His breath is ragged against the crook of my neck, hot gusts of air leaving goosebumps in their wake. He still clutches at me like I'm a lifeline.
"You… are… mine," he growls possessively, an aftershock punctuating each word as if he's reiterating his claim.
"Yes," I breathe, my heart soaring at his declaration. I never thought I'd belong to the dark, but in this moment, it feels more like home than anywhere else. He feels more like home than anywhere.
My eyes flutter, exhaustion pulling me under. I let it claim me with him still inside me, on top of me…seeping into my pores.
Chapter Five
Coda
The dining room at Rafe's is a fortress of dark wood and high windows, the air thick with the musky scent of brandy and power. Yet, it's one of the few rooms in the house that doesn't feel like a mausoleum. Despite the changes Amalia has made to the place, the whole goddamn house still feels cold.
Not this room. It's warm and inviting, laughter soaked into the walls. The last fucking place motherfuckers like us belong. Each man gathered in the room—Luca with his devil-may-care grin, Gabriel's simmering silence, Mattia's calculating gaze, Diego's unreadable expression, and Domani's stoic presence—is an extension of the empire we've built. Any other day, I'd be proud to sit among them.
Today, I don't have the fucking patience. I'd rather be home with Karina.
I can't tell Rafe that.
Time has chiseled away some of his rougher edges, leaving a mellowed titan in its wake, but he's still the Capo. We come when he calls, not the other way around.
Maybe I can hurry this shit along, though.
"Rafe," I say, my voice slicing through the laughter like a knife. His attention shifts to me, immediate and encompassing.
"Miles Alessepo may be moving a large shipment of guns into Chicago."
The words hang between us, heavy with implication. I don't need to spell anything else out. This is his kingdom. He knows why that's a fucking problem.
He arches his brow in a silent command for elaboration. "And you know this how?"
I hesitate for a long moment, my loyalty to the La Cosa Nostra warring with my desire to shield Karina from this life and her father's sins. It's a fracture in my oath I never anticipated, a crack in the armor I've worn since I was nineteen.
Cazzo. What is she doing to me?
Whatever it is, I won't allow her to quit. This feeling—I need it.
"His daughter, Karina," I admit, the syllables tasting like a betrayal on my tongue. She shouldn't be involved in this. "She overheard him on the phone."
There's a shift in the air as everyone at the table processes this. The only one not surprised to hear her name is Domani. Everyone else eyes me sideways, recalibrating, assessing—trying to figure out what I'm doing with her.
Am I so far gone that I'd use his daughter to get to him, or is this something else?
I don't answer the unspoken question because I can't. Because it's both. It started out—or so I told myself—as a way to get to him. But I think that was over before it ever started. This is something else, something that stretches far beyond her father or vendettas. This is…Cristo. I think this may be absolution.
How do you explain that? I certainly don't have the words.
"Use him," Diego's voice slices through the silence, his suggestion threatening to sever the last thread of my control. "If he wants to play the same game Santorum played, let him pay the same price. He can kneel and kiss Rafe's ring the same way."
"It worked with Santorum," Luca agrees. "Having the Superintendent under our thumb is useful."
My hand crashes down on the polished mahogany, the sound echoing like a gunshot. Glasses shudder. Heads turn.
The room goes silent, every eye locked on me.
"No. He's been dirty for too long to be easily controlled," I growl. "The motherfucker murdered my parents. He has his own daughter seeking solace in my arms. He deserves death."
The silence stretches on. I don't think anyone knows what to say, but I want Alessepo out of power. Until he falls from his perch, his daughter will live in fear. That's not acceptable to me.